AN: Thank you so very much to my lovely reviewers. There's nothing like knowing your fic is hitting the spot for some people 3 Also, to M, I'll file that prompt away for when I'm done with this behemoth and mull it over. I love that episode purely because of all its potential!
Margaret's back upstairs in the safety of her own solitude before she realises it never even occurred to her to ask Daniel about his wife or what she was like, or even her name. She'd been in such a hurry to escape before any questions arose that she didn't want to answer. Mercifully lunch seems to be staying put. She doesn't know why, but she's not about to question it.
She's not enjoying how disconcerted she feels as parts of her body that she'd considered constants prove that they, too, are changing. It's like she's somehow not allowed to keep or hold onto any of what used to be normal.
So far she doesn't have much to show for it, either.
All she sees when she looks in the mirror is someone who looks increasingly bloated as her belly continues to gradually round out a little more than it used to. Her breasts, however, are far more impressive than they were.
Hawkeye would be thrilled. He'd paid them enough attention that night as it was. The night that changed it all.
Ever so slowly it was starting to sink in that she was going to be a mother. It was a huge responsibility, perhaps even bigger than that of being head nurse, and the fact that it was going to be a little person that was part her, part Hawkeye Pierce felt both stranger and more normal than she would have imagined possible.
Margaret stills from unconsciously fingering the rings, only just realising what she'd been doing.
It's possible that absence has made the heart grow fonder, but it's also possible that it's merely changed her perspective enough to let certain truths come up to the surface.
She's not sure how, she's not sure why, but she's fairly certain that some of the dull, throbbing emotion she sometimes feels in her chest is because she misses him. She continues to run a finger over the rings Daniel's just given her, stopping to look at them properly for the first time. They're both fairly simple in design, but the engagement ring in particular is beautiful. It's a silvery metal with a dark blue stone set in amongst some simple fretwork, and the effect is stunning. Tentatively she slips both rings onto her ring finger, pausing to study the results. They fit well, especially considering they weren't made for her. Her ever-present emotions rush to the fore, making her eyes sting.
Maybe, just maybe, when all said and done, she wouldn't mind actually becoming Mrs B.F Pierce. Again, she's about to tell herself she doesn't know why, that none of this makes sense, only it does. It does if she allows herself to be honest with herself, just for a second. Despite his rejection of order, his disdain for the army, authority, brass, and her best judgement, she'd been at least a little drawn him right from the start. If not from day one, then day two. Once she'd gotten past the initial shock at his antics, part of her had found him funny, part of her had even wanted to flirt back, to give in and let those capable hands of his show her the good time she suspected they were capable of providing, but that was un-military. She'd often admired his skill and integrity, his dedication, and even his bravery. For all his talk of being a coward, he'd often displayed more courage than anyone else there.
She'd noticed then but had always held herself back. He was un-military. He was everything her father had ever said a good man wasn't.
But now, stripping away the brass, the rank, the army, everything she'd been told, Hawkeye Pierce was a good man. He was someone she admired and respected, someone she was quite possibly falling a little bit in love with. There, she'd admitted it to herself: She was falling in love with that particular he. It's probably just hormones, or that's what she tries to tell herself, but she's no longer completely convinced. Though whether she believed Daniel's view on his son's feelings was another matter.
Some time later the mail arrives. Daniel's surprised when he's handed a small stack of letters. A bill for something, a letter for each of them in Hawk's handwriting, and a second letter addressed to Margaret in an unfamiliar hand. He flips the envelope over. Ah. It looked like Colonel Houlihan had figured out where his daughter was.
"Margaret," he calls up the staircase, "mail for you!"
She's frowning when she appears.
"There's one here from Hawkeye, and one from a Colonel Alvin Houlihan."
She blanches, all colour leaving her cheeks.
"It can't be that bad, can it?"
But she doesn't respond, instead moving to the lounge. Daniel blinks before shrugging to himself to himself, surprised. He'd assumed she'd just retreat back upstairs, but apparently not. He follows her into the lounge, gently asking, "Mind if I join you?"
"No, not at all," she says, her voice shaking slightly.
She looks lost, staring blankly at both envelopes in her hand, before lifting her gaze to meet his. "I don't know where to begin," she says letting out a half chuckle, half sob.
"How about Hawkeye?" he says, giving her a reassuring grin.
She nods, giving a small twitch of her lips, and goes about tearing open her letter.
Daniel does the same, but after reading the first line he goes and re-checks the postmark on the stamp. Huh. His letter must've taken the long way home.
Dear Dad,
It's only been a day since Margaret left camp, and it turns out I miss her more than I thought I would. She and I aren't anything, not officially, and for some reason that bothers me.
I'm guessing you'll be meeting her real soon. She can be tough, our Margaret, but don't let that hard exterior fool you. For all she likes to pretend otherwise, there is a human being in there somewhere. I know, I've seen it once or twice. She's not one for showing vulnerability. I don't think her family were that big on showing love and care. From what little I know, they measure value by rank in the army rather than human decency.
The new head nurse arrived today, and she's more dull than Henry's facial expression when someone asks him a tough question, which hardly makes this any better.
I've gotta go now, dad, Trapper's in here hovering around like I need a babysitter.
Say hi to Margaret for me. I've tried folding myself up in all kinds of ways, but I still can't seem to fit myself in the envelope.
Your son, as always,
Hawkeye
"Ah Hawk," he mutters to himself as he folds the letter and places it back in its envelope. The letter itself is yet more evidence of his son's feelings for the young lady sitting across from him. For Hawk to be concerned and not just outright glib spoke volumes. He wondered how he was holding up the fact that anyone was hovering over him meant that a few chinks in his armour were probably showing. There was no doubt alcohol was involved. He wondered what Hawk would think about the fact that Margaret was wearing his mother's rings.
Daniel looks up to see how Margaret is going. She's swatting tears away from her eyes.
"You okay, sweetheart?"
She looks up at him with surprised eyes. He hasn't called her that in a while, but after Hawkeye's letter it seems fitting.
"Oh I'm fine, thank you." But her tears say otherwise.
"Hawk says to tell you hi, but looks like he's managed to do that himself already. This one took the long way home," he says, holding his letter up. "How's he doing?"
She shrugs, trying to appear nonchalant. "Oh y'know, he doesn't like the new head nurse and him and Frank Burns aren't getting along."
Daniel grins. "That last part isn't that unusual, though, is it."
"Nor the first part."
"From what I hear the reports have been greatly exaggerated."
"Yeah, well," she scoffs
"So, have you come up with an official story to go with the rings?"
She blushes. "I figured it'd probably be best to stick closest to the truth," she snorts, "at least that way people will have less to talk about when the baby comes out with dark hair and looking like a Pierce." Margaret eyes him with the warily, not quite sure what to expect next.
Daniel grins at her, gently teasing, "Who's to say it won't look like a Houlihan?"
Margaret scoffs "Somehow I doubt it."
The mood sobers as Margaret glances over to the unopened letter from her father, and Daniel decides to change the subject. "Hawk was worried, y'know, about how you and I would get along. He sent this before you arrived here asking me to be patient with you if I needed to be."
"Your son is a good man," she says quietly but evenly, slowly bringing her eyes up to meet his. The wariness is still there along with the sheen of tears, but they also hold steely determination. Again, he can see how she became the fabled and fearsome head nurse described in Hawkeye's letters.
"You guys are going to have one hell of a kid."
Margaret's face is instantly incredulous. "What makes you say that?"
"Well, you're both fine human beings," Daniel says, blue eyes twinkling, " and besides, you said it was going to look like a Pierce."
Margaret stays downstairs chatting to until she can stand it no longer. The layers of paper in her hand weighing heavier on her mind with every passing moment until she makes her excuses and retreats. Daniel knows, judging by the sympathetic look he gives her. He knows. He knows of the heavy blow no doubt awaiting her still encased in its envelope. Much like Hawkeye the man doesn't miss a trick. She scans him for signs of judgement but finds none.
Once alone in her room she settles herself onto her bed, trying desperately to damp down on the feeling of dread threatening to overwhelm her as she finally tears open the envelope.
Margaret,
I was chatting to Colonel Mulligan in Tokyo the other day when he asked me how I felt now that my daughter was no longer in the army. I, of course, had no idea what he was talking about. I then had the displeasure of finding out from him that you'd been discharged because you were pregnant.
Pregnant! To some draftee doctor from Maine with enough blemishes on his record to earn him a dishonourable discharge! I Then had to degrade myself further and ask him if he knew where you'd gone! Harold then tells me you're hiding out in Maine with that lowlife's family like a coward. To think that a daughter of mine would do such a thing, I have never been so humiliated in all my life! You could have at least had the decency to stick to Generals - Don't think I don't know how many of them you've had through your quarters with you behaving like a regular army tart!
I hope you enjoy lying in this bed you've made for yourself, Margaret.
Yours,
Colonel Alvin Houlihan
Margaret lets out a shaky breath, tears forming as the weight of the words settle over her. She's sick to death of crying, but lately there's been so much to bear.