Prologue

The early morning air was hot and balmy. It didn't seem to move at all, like a physical being pressing against her face.
Margaret leaned out from her open window a little and took a deep breath. Closed her eyes and tried to find the scent of those yellow flowers from last night. Or not last night, it had only been a few hours. That one, quick drink had turned into several, thanks to General Lester, and when she had finally slipped out of his rather persistent arms, after once again turning down his offer to 'spend her last night of civilization in the most uncivilized way' and started her somewhat wobbly walk back to her hotel, the whole city had been drenched in the scent. Almost like honeysuckle, but more exotic. More exciting. She couldn't find the scent now, though, she could only smell exhaust fumes and the pressing humidity.
Her scalp felt sweaty, and the slip she was wearing clung to her back, but that was okay. She would have a shower before she got dressed, and then just order herself not to sweat. She could do that now; she was a Major. A brand new one, but still a Major.
She smiled and let the smile grow into a grin. Let the grin drift through her body, her whole being suddenly felt like it was full of tiny bubbles and she bounced a little on the balls of her feet. Major Margaret Houlihan, Head Nurse. That sounded so damn good.

Voices and laughter drifted up from below, she looked down and saw a group of people making their way up the street in the early morning. Her smile faded a little, and the bubbles inside disintegrated as a vague feeling of loneliness spread instead. Just a couple of weeks ago, she had been a part of a group like that, surrounded by friends, laughing and joking. Helen by her side.
Now, she was alone in a hotel room, on the brink of something new. She wasn't scared though, of course not, just excited. Majors didn't get scared. Nervous, a tiny bit, but that was only to be expected. Focused. Determined.

"Don't show weakness, Margaret, they will never respect you if you do," her father had told her when they said their goodbyes. "Be a firm leader, show them that you're serious and won't tolerate any monkey business, and they will follow your lead. They need to see that you are strong. Fearless." Then he hugged her quickly and even saluted her, his face serious and proud. Really proud, for once.
Her father hadn't gone with her to the airport, though. Neither had her mother, of course, she had just kissed Margaret's cheek and went to lie down. "So sorry, sweetheart, my migraine is acting up again." Left Margaret with the scent of orange liqueur in the air.
It had been Helen who came to see her off. Looking so proper in her Class A uniform, but with eyes full of tears.
"You be careful now, Houlihan. If the enemy even glances in your general direction, you tell me, and I'll get over there and kick their butts. Don't go to bed with wet hair, stay away from fire and open water. And don't take candy from strangers."
Margaret smiled again, she already missed Helen so much. She really wanted to give her a call, but it was afternoon back in the States, Helen would be working. Or wait, was it afternoon? Her brain felt slow and fuzzy, thanks to the drinks and the pressing humidity, and for a second she felt lost. Lost among the time zones.

Being on another continent still felt surreal. She had been in Europe, served both in Berlin and a short stance in France just as the war ended, but that was years ago. And Europe had felt familiar, she had recognized the smells, the sounds. The light. Here, everything felt so strange, so incredibly foreign. Just the tempo, all the people in the streets. The rickshaws, the bicycles. The markets. She had quickly learned to stay away from those, couldn't bare the sight of all the animals in tiny cages. The sounds they made. But there was so much beauty too, the store windows with the paper umbrellas, colorful fans, and gorgeous kimonos. The women with their red lips and dark, shiny hair.
The light was different too, like everything was wrapped in a haze. It had made the streetlights glow dim last night, and now it enveloped the street below in the peach color of dawn. It was beautiful, and a little bit eerie.

It was quiet down below now, no voices. Just the occasional car and delivery men with their bicycles packed with disproportionately large packages. A scrawny boy who looked way too young to be up at this hour walked by with a huge stack of newspapers over his arm just as a garbage truck passed, making the papers flutter. Then the street was deserted again. Margaret stood still for a while, listening for the sounds of a town slowly waking up, once again trying to find the scent of the yellow flowers. But there was only the faint smell of garbage.

She turned around and looked at the room. Her bags were packed but still open, her toiletries would go in there as soon as she had showered and put her makeup on. Her uniform hung on the bathroom door. It looked impossibly crisp in the stale room, almost like it was glowing. But that was probably just in her head. She was probably still a bit drunk, to be honest. Dear lord, she could not be drunk when she headed off to the airport. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to collect herself. She should have some coffee, but there was no way she would put any warm liquids into her system. Maybe some candy, though, a bit of sugar might help, she knew she had some in her purse. Bought it just the day before, from a tiny man in a tiny shop just off the Ginza. They tasted like ginger, and she had bought them only because the tiny man was missing his left arm. And had a kind smile.
Margaret walked over to her purse on the desk and rummaged through it. Why was it full of so much stuff, she really needed to clean it out. Why did she carry around so many pens, all those hair pins, two packages of tissues, and a pocketbook she was sure she had read but couldn't for the life of her remember what it was about. A box of matches from the airport bar and several packages of sugar, she didn't even use sugar. She found the candy, unwrapped two pieces, and popped them into her mouth. They were strong, sweet, and chewy, and they did help to clear her head a little bit. Ginger was apparently the key to health; did science know about this? Margaret giggled a little and kept chewing.
She sat down and unceremoniously emptied the bag of all its content on the desk. She could not arrive at her new stationing with all this junk, a Major, a head nurse, needed to be organized. Lead by example.
She flipped through the book, trying to remember what it was about, and something fell out. A photograph. A small one, cut out from a larger one. She swallowed the remains of the candy and stared at it. Helen and her at the beach. Fourth of July, they were both holding small flags while smiling into the camera, their arms around each other's shoulders. Helen in a polka dot sundress and Margaret in a white bathing suit. It had really been way too expensive for such a small piece of fabric, but it glistened in the sunlight and was the prettiest thing Margaret had ever seen. Like frost on a December morning, a small piece of winter to be worn on a hot summer's day. It was back in the States now, and so was Helen. A world, a lifetime away.
Margaret looked at happy, smiling Fourth of July-Helen and smiled too, that day so clear in her mind. The beach party, the colorful umbrellas. The barbeque smoke and the volleyball, the cold beers, and the melting cherry popsicles. It had been the summer of Good Boyfriend Andy for Margaret and Bad Boyfriend Michael for Helen. The first dumped in early August due to boredom and the other dumped two weeks later due to necessity.
"Hey, Houlifield, smile for the camera!"
Margaret laughed a little, Dina had been all over with her camera that summer, brand new and very expensive, a perk of having a distant father with a bad conscience.
Lorraine had been there too, moving like a quicksilver, chatting, laughing. More in Margaret's periphery now, not in the center like when they were teenagers. Closer than sisters, two army brats getting drunk on stolen liqueur, sneaking out, sharing milkshakes down at the all night-diner, enjoying the glances from strangers, tying cherry stems with their tongues for practice. Sending friendship bracelets across the country when they were forced apart. Promising nothing would ever come between them, not time, not distance, not boys. But then there were boys, and time and distance took their toll, and even together again Lorraine had twirled off in her own direction, and there had been Helen. Tall, regal, fearless Helen.

Margaret ran her finger over the photo and traced the contours of the two of them. Houlifield, the great duo, legendary hostesses of the most decadent of parties. Smiling, partying, wreaking havoc, and breaking hearts. Picking up the pieces of their own hearts and gluing them back together in endless, whispered conversations in the small hours of night. Sewing each other's buttons back and wiping away tears.
Margaret felt a sudden pang of pain when she thought about the distance separating them. Just Houlihan and Whitfield now. On an impulse, Margaret grabbed a sheet of the hotel's stationery and a pen that had fallen from her purse and started to write.

Dear Helen,
It's dawn and the air in my room is barely breathable thanks to the lovely Asian humidity. I've only gotten a couple of hours of sleep, but I'm wide awake. I was just thinking about Fourth of July in Texas. Remember? Seems I have carried that picture with me all the way across the world, you know, the one from the beach.
In a couple of hours, a car will come and take me to the airport, and I'll be on my way. MASH 4077, I guess that's as good an address as I've ever had. I am supposed to report to Lieutenant Colonel Henry Blake. I told General Lester that last night, we were having drinks. He got quiet for a little bit, then he patted my thigh and told me 'You'll whip him into shape in no time, Major'. Seems a bit ominous, but I'm sure it will be fine, of course it will be. It will be wonderful to do some real good, to truly help these brave soldiers. To get to know the nurses, to guide them, make them better, we can all be better together. It's gonna be hard work, of course, but so rewarding.
I really wish you were here.
Right now, I feel suspended, just waiting in the space between two moments. My old life and my new one. Major Margaret Houlihan, head nurse, nice to meet you. Who is she even?
I can't wait, Helen, but I also want to go back in time, to that beach in Texas, you know? I just miss you; I miss us already. You better write me, at least a letter a day. That's an order, I can do that now. Look at me, my first order. Take care, Whitfield, I love you. I'll write you soon.
(Oh, and I'm eating candy I got from a stranger. I'm out of control already.)

Love, Margaret

Margaret put her pen down. The tiniest little breeze from the open window hit the back of her head, like a light touch. Like the whisper of the way Helen used to ruffle Margaret's hair every time she felt Margaret was too caught up in something and Helen craved attention.
"Thank you, Whitfield", Margaret whispered. She felt better now. Calm. Her head a bit more sorted. Helen always had that effect on her, even when she was a world away, apparently.

Margaret folded the letter, put it in an envelope with the hotel logo, and stuck in between two pages of her book together with the picture.
There. Enough with this nostalgia now, she needed to get organized.
In a minute, for just a little while longer, she wanted to be suspended in time, caught in the moment between. Between night and day, between her old self and her new one.
She returned to the window and took another deep breath. And there, like a shivering silver thread in the morning air, it was. The scent of the yellow flowers.

Authors note:

Margaret deserved a "Dear"-episode. She evolved and grew so much as a character and is just so stunningly complex and interesting. So, I decided to take matters into my own hands and write her one. The story took on a life of its own, though, and what was supposed to be just a few, short scenes now spans over all 11 seasons... Some chapters are related to the scenes we see on the show, and some just stand on their own. I hope there is someone out there who loves Margaret as much as I do and will find enjoyment in this.
English isn't my first language, and I apologize for any grammatical errors, they are due to my Swedish-ness.