Dear Helen,
it's been a week. A week in this place. It feels like I've stepped into another world, the journey here was a rabbit hole, and I arrived in Wonderland. There are no wonders here, though, just… lack, really. A lack of leadership, of discipline, of reason. A dust pit, an insane asylum lead by the Mad Hatter. The sheer number of wounded, the lack of time, always another one waiting, maybe he will have a better chance. An avalanche. It's so easy to lose your footing, to be spun around, overturned. You need an anchor, something. You need someone.

She turned around, tray in hand, looking for a place to sit. The image of every new school cafeteria she ever entered flashed through her mind. The new girl, story of her life. The stares, the whispers. Sitting alone, drawing patterns in the mashed potatoes with her fork, too tense to eat, too self-conscious to even move. Not letting anyone know she cared, not letting them know the stares burned. And then, something had always changed, there was a smile, a wave. A group that welcomed her, a 'sit with us', inside jokes, a fort built of flesh and bones. For a while, until it started all over again in a new place.
That was a long time ago, though, nursing school and all of her stationing's had been different. A group that was always hers, a spot saved, 'we waited til you got here'.

A couple of days in this place and she felt like she was 12 again.

Sitting in front of her were Pierce and McIntyre, of course, they had an uncanny ability to always be around. Constantly present, even when they weren't in the room. Pierce waved at her, held his fork up in a mock salute, and waggled his eyebrows while nodding to the empty seat next to him. No thank you, she would rather eat her dinner in the minefield.
To her right were some of the nurses, huddled close together, she recognized Nurse Gray's brown ponytail right in the middle. Margaret hadn't meant to make her cry. But the girl had been throwing bloody sponges all over the floor, too enthralled with whatever McIntyre was telling her, too busy giggling and flirting to even try and hit the bucket. They couldn't work like that, keeping a correct count was vital, how was she supposed to do that when the sponges were being kicked all over the floor. And what if someone stepped on one and slipped, maybe someone carrying a pint of blood? Or a corpsman, carrying a litter, then what? That kind of carelessness could cause someone their life, was Margaret the only one that cared? They were there to save lives, not cause more harm. But somehow, pointing this out and trying to raise the level of professionalism, was a heinous crime.
Still, she hadn't meant for the reprimand to come out so harsh.
As Margaret watched, Nurse Donoghue met her gaze only too immediately look down again. She whispered something to Baily beside her, who slowly and very deliberately started to slide to the side, closing up the open spot at the table.
Margaret felt her jaws tighten and the corners of her mouth twitch a little in a downward movement. She straightened her back. Fine. Absolutely fine, she had no desire to sit with the nurses anyway. They could giggle and gossip all they wanted, Margaret had more important business to tend to. Like go over the duty roster, thank god she had brought it.
She clenched it tightly under her arm as she made her way to the far end of the tent, to an empty table. The whole way she was incredibly aware of how she moved, why did walking suddenly feel so unnatural? Why were her palms sweaty, what if the tray slipped out of her hands? She could just hear the laughter, the applause that would erupt if that happened, á la classic school cafeteria.
She made it, thanked the lord for small favors, sat down, and stared at the tray before her. Stew, the man with the ladle had said. Then why did it look like soup? Were the grey clumps meat, and how was she supposed to eat it with a fork?
Someone laughed behind her, and Margaret knew, just knew, they were laughing at her. Not that she cared. She straightened her back and opened the duty roster, stared down at the pages. The letters formed words, she was sure, but somehow, they had lost all meaning. Her jaws were so tense, how was she even supposed to eat?

"Major Houlihan?"

She looked up, and there was Major Burns, tray in hand and a small smile on his lips.

"Would you mind if I join you?"

She relaxed a tiny bit and felt the corners of her mouth turn up a little.

"Of course, Major, sit down."

He did so. Took his cap off and smiled at her, bigger now. He had a very nice smile.

"Thank you. May I just say what a privilege it is to have some civilized company for dinner. For once."

He glanced in the direction of Pierce and McIntyre. Margaret felt herself relax a little more. Major Burns. She had worked with him only briefly, a simple case. His work had been… adequate. But then again, the situation hadn't called for spectacular. Now, his presence felt safe, like a fort. Amazing, really, how just one other person could change everything.

"Also, if I may be so bold," he continued, leaning over the table a little. She found herself mimicking him and leaned a little closer too. "I have to say, it's wonderful to have someone else who actually cares about rules and regulations around here. I heard about you straightening up that pony-tailed bubble head, and I for one applaud that."

Her smile grew, and she felt something inside her chest grow warmer, softer even. Major Frank Burns. There was something special about him, she could just feel it. This could be something.

Later, she propped herself up on her elbow and watched him sleep. This was certainly an interesting turn of events. Unexpected. It was supposed to be just one drink in her tent, in peace and quiet. One drink, a pleasant conversation Major to Major, they did have a lot in common after all, as officers. The few days Margaret had spent in camp had felt tumultuous, dizzying, and having someone to sit down and talk with in private had been wonderful. First across each other at her tiny table, then on her bed, it was after all the more comfortable option for conversation.
Then they weren't talking anymore.
He looked sweet in his sleep. Younger. He could absolutely not spend the night, of course not, what would people say? But he had fallen asleep so quickly afterward and she didn't have the heart to wake him just yet. This place took its toll, and so did a Major's responsibilities. Living with those two savages in The Swamp must be exhausting in itself, Margaret couldn't even imagine having them around all the time. What a hellish pit of doom that place was.
It was nice that he felt so relaxed with her, that she had given him a small moment of respite.
His hand lay on his chest, she could see a faint indent from a ring. Married. Married with three daughters. But it was a good thing he had told her, that meant he was honest, didn't try to play any games and lead her on. And from what he had told her, it wasn't a very happy marriage, his wife cold and distant, his private practice the one place he felt truly at home, doing his utmost for the patients of Fort Wayne. From what he had told her, they practically worshipped the ground he walked on.
He stirred a little bit in his sleep and mumbled something. 'Margaret'. She felt her throat close up and the warm feeling in her chest deepened. Their first night together, and he was already dreaming about her. Or had it been 'mommy'? No, it had been 'Margaret', she was sure of it. The sweet, sweet darling.
She curled up to him and rested her head on his chest. This could definitely be something. She closed her eyes and breathed in the scent of him. After Shave and, what was that, talcum powder? He smelled a bit like her father. A manly smell, all man, all patriot. Thank god he was here, that they had found each other. She was quickly learning that you needed someone in this place, the constant stress and lack of leadership got under your skin in a second. You needed someone to lean on, someone on your side.

Yes, this could definitely be something.

Author's Note:

Margaret and Frank were terrible together, but very entertaining. Frank brought out the worst in Margaret, and she deserved so much better. But I also think that underneath their general weirdness as a couple, there are two broken and lonely people, who genuinely found comfort in each other. And I think it's quite sad how much Margaret just wanted someone to truly commit to, so she would have one fixed point in her life. So, I wanted for this scene, the first time something happens between them, to show that, that they did share some kind of connection.