A/N: Thank you again for all your kind words, especially laurydory. On that note, I've fixed Chapter 2 so that it doesn't look as though a two-year-old wrote it. I think after this chapter I can milk just one more chapter out of this, but have no fear, I've already thought about writing a sequel. Just have to get through mid-terms first. Does anyone else think it's sad that my Latin notebook now has more of this story in it than it does Latin? As usual, I'm too broke to own anything. Enjoy.
As the early morning sunlight gently streamed across his face, Hawkeye's eyes fluttered open. He loved waking up like this. There was no stress, nothing to pull him out of bed, nothing to make him regret waking up in the first place. Then again, any day that didn't start with the sweet sounds of Radar's bugling or "ATTENTION ALL PERSONNEL!" was a good day for him. Quiet times such as these allowed Hawkeye moments for reflection, and on this morning, he chose to reflect on Major Margaret Houlihan.
Although she had calmed considerably in the years since he'd first met her, the woman was still a pistol. Hawkeye chuckled as he remembered all the times they'd clashed in Korea. That didn't happen as much now. Maybe I've calmed down, too.
Within two minutes of his return to his father, he'd already told Daniel Pierce of his and Margaret's "great plan." The elder Pierce hadn't been as convinced as the younger about the genius of this endeavor. Over the past three years, he'd received numerous letters describing the major in very colorful terms punctuated with some choice four-letter words. Despite Hawkeye's assurances otherwise, Daniel hadn't been too sure Margaret was the type of person he wanted in his son's life at that point.
Boy, did that change, Hawkeye mused with a smile. On Margaret's first night in Portland, the men took her out to dinner. By the end of the evening, Daniel had bestowed upon her a nickname – his highest sign of approval – and all the way back to Crabapple Cove he had spoken of nothing else except how they could renovate the guest room for her. The man had fallen in love with her fiery passion, her witty sense of humor, her sharp intellect, and it didn't hurt that she was nice to look at, as well. Like father, like son.
Hawkeye knew that to anyone on the outside looking in, he and Margaret bore a strong resemblance to a couple in love. He seriously doubted that many friends hugged, touched, or just stared intently at each other as much as they did. And, like many an established couple, they had fallen into a certain routine. It wasn't boring by any sense of the word, but it was a routine nevertheless. Every Monday and Wednesday evening, he called Margaret. She called him on Tuesdays and Thursdays. They would discuss how their days went and compare notes on how their readjustment to the states was going. On Fridays, she would come and spend the weekend with him and his father. And on Saturdays - right about this time, in fact - something very special happened:
"Pierce, move over. It's freezing."
"Good morning to you, too." Every Saturday morning, she would crawl into bed with him. There wasn't anything sexual in it; some things just felt more appropriate being discussed here rather than over the phone or at the breakfast table. Whereas King Arthur and his knights had their round table, he and Margaret had his rectangular bed. Most times they quietly shared their wants, needs, fears, and goals in life. Some mornings they just fell back to sleep, content in the knowledge that the person next to them would always be there for them. Hawkeye was tempted to do that today, but Margaret seemed slightly more talkative.
"Have I ever told you how much I love this down comforter? Where did you get it?"
"At that furniture store just a few blocks down from your apartment. It was my gift to myself for having survived three years' worth of khaki Hell."
"It's so nice and soft and warm."
"Would you like one?"
"Desperately."
"You'll get one for your birthday."
"You're the best."
"I know."
They were silent for a while as they listened to Daniel putter around downstairs. Hawkeye was sure his father thought his son wasn't wise to what he was trying to do. He knew it was Daniel's secret wish to see him and Margaret fall deeply in love and give him a whole brood of grandchildren. Quite frankly, he wasn't averse at all to fulfilling that desire, but he knew Margaret would never go for it. Although she had bounced back remarkably well, the failure of her marriage and her falling out with Scully had deeply shaken her. Her "minimum standard requirement" speech that night in the O-Club still stuck with him. She wanted a percentage of him along with bits and pieces of other men; he could only give her him. Also, even though she hadn't spoken with him in months, he knew she very much sought her father's approval. A serious relationship with the man he'd unceremoniously labeled a "disgrace to the flag" would not go over well, to say the least. So, despite all the feelings that lingered between them, Hawkeye was determined not to jeopardize what an amazing friendship they had by asking Margaret what she would think about them being together. He already knew the answer.
He looked over to see what she was doing. It seemed the major had drifted peacefully back to sleep. Margaret looked beautiful as she slept. She doesn't look half-bad when she's awake, either. As he gazed upon her, Hawkeye became concerned. Her demeanor was changing, and he knew better than anyone what that meant. His suspicions were painfully confirmed as Margaret suddenly sat up, screaming.
"NO, NO, NO!! STOP!!"
"Margaret!" He quickly pulled her to him and started stroking her back. "I've got you. Sshh…don't cry. It was just a nightmare. You're okay. I'm here."
She sobbed into his shoulder. "It was horrible, Hawkeye. We were in that abandoned hut, and one of the shells came through the roof. It killed you, and I was left all alone. Then the North Koreans came and…and…"
"Hey. I've got you. I'm here, I'm alive, and I've got you."
Margaret looked up and a look of realization crossed her face. "You always do," she whispered.
"I always do."
"No, I mean really, you always have. For as long as we've known each other, no matter how annoyed we were at the time, if I needed you, you were there."
"Don't sell yourself short. You've been there for me, too. Remember that flu epidemic?"
Margaret scooted closer to him, and in response, he held her tighter. "You're a good friend, Ben Pierce." I wish you could be more.
"You're an even better friend, Margaret Houlihan." But I want you to be more. "Catch your breath yet?"
"Yeah, but I don't think I could go back to sleep."
"Fantastic."
"Come again?"
"We're wasting daylight, Major! C'mon, let's get showered and dressed, and I'll make you breakfast. Then, we'll talk about what we want to do today."
"Okay. Why don't you go take your shower first since you're cooking?"
"Margaret, you want me to shower alone? My heart breaks at the very thought!"
"Shut up, Pierce!" She pushed him out of bed and proceeded to run to her own room, giggling all the way. He watched her escape, then shook his head and grinned. A pistol, indeed.
Twenty minutes later, the doctor was downstairs in the kitchen pulling various pots and pans from the cupboards in preparation for the making of his famous French toast. When he heard the shower turn on above him, he paused. Hawkeye had learned recently that Margaret had a penchant for taking long showers and then slowly getting dressed afterward. Anything he started now would be cold or soggy by the time she got to it. So, he put the pan he was holding down and decided to hold off on cooking for a while. Now is as good a time as any to write Radar back. He pulled out a pen and paper from a drawer sat down at the breakfast nook.
March 6, 1954
Dear Radar,
I want to thank you so much for writing me. I'm so happy to hear about how well you're doing in Iowa, and, yes, I'm settled here in Crabapple Cove. You're right; the slower pace is nifty indeed. It's also good to hear that you've talked to Colonel Potter. He missed you a lot after you left. The place just wasn't the same without you. I think it was because Klinger wasn't as cuddly.
Yes, I am feeling much better now, although I still feel a lot of guilt. I inadvertently caused the death of a baby, Radar, and it doesn't matter how many times I'm told it wasn't my fault; I doubt that pain will ever go away. I still have a long way to go, but my main goal is to feel comfortable again with small children. I owe myself, my friends, and my family that.
You're going to love college. It's a great experience, and you'll have so much to write about in those writing classes. It's great you chose a college near Hannibal. I have a feeling you'll get along with the Potters swimmingly. Maybe you can find the colonel another Sophie.
As for Major Houlihan, I know exactly where she is. After the war, she transferred to the Portland, Maine, VA Hospital. Her phone number is Portland 555-1128. She lives only a couple hours from me. Margaret comes to visit my father and me every weekend and we talk all the time. Don't be afraid of her. I promise that if you call her, she won't yell at you. I'm sad that you missed watching Margaret develop into such a fantastic person. I think once she figured out that opening up and talking to people wouldn't make her any less of a major, she wasn't as abrasive to people. She even made a few friends.
Since you were so kind as to share a secret with me (by the way, I hope Patty says yes – you'll make a wonderful husband), I'm going to return the favor and share a secret with you. Don't tell anyone, not even our mutual friend Private Charles Lamb. You know who I'm talking about. I think I've fallen in love with Margaret. I can't stop thinking about her. There's just something so irresistible about a woman who will salute you one second and stuff oatmeal in your boot the next. You should have seen our big goodbye scene in Korea. I'm sure Colonel Potter told you about it. If not, make him. It was such a special moment for me, but I'm sure she hasn't even given the slightest thought to it.
Okay, I've got to go. I hear the major finishing up her shower, and I promised to make her breakfast. Write me again soon, Radar.
Your friend,
Benjamin Franklin Pierce
P.S. We put your teddy bear in a time capsule about a month before we left the 4077. Your little friend came to symbolize all the people who'd come to fight as boys but left as men. Sounds a little like a friend of mine.
Hawkeye closed the letter, found an envelope, and addressed it. He set it on the table, but quickly reconsidered. He instead picked it up and put it in his pocket. The last thing he needed was for Margaret to get curious.
He started to make breakfast, and by the time he sprinkled the last sugars on the toast, Margaret was sitting at the table waiting for him.
"So have you figured out what you wanted to do today?" Hawkeye asked as he set the plates down.
"Well, as I was waiting for you to finish your shower, I started reading the Crabapple Cove Courier. It said there was a farmer's market downtown today. I need some new flowers for my place. The bouquet you sent me – thank you again, by the way…"
"You're welcome again."
"…those are starting to wilt, so maybe they'll have some nice ones there."
"I don't know, Margaret. I doubt we'll have much flower-wise this early in the year."
"You think?"
"However, I'm sure they'll have some nice arts and crafts things, so maybe we can find something to decorate that room of yours."
"It is bland, isn't it?"
"Yes, but I think at least one good painting should liven it up."
"I agree. Oh, and after that, I want to stop at a store downtown. There's something I want to get us, but it's a surprise, so don't ask."
"Fine. Can I guess, though?"
"Nope."
"Party pooper."
"I do my best."
Hawkeye and Margaret finished breakfast and ran out to her car. Minutes later, they'd traveled the few blocks it took to get downtown and arrived at the farmer's market being held in Julia Ward Howe Park. As Hawkeye had predicted, very little was to be found in the realm of horticulture, but Margaret did succeed in finding the perfect decoration for her room. It was a painting made by Mrs. Winston, who lived down the street from the Pierces. In it, a little boy and girl were playing outside. The boy was pulling the girl's pigtails as she covered his face in mud. Once Mrs. Winston told them that she called it "The Joys of Friendship," the two knew they had to have it.
"What's your shoe size?" Margaret asked as they walked back to her car.
"Huh?"
"Shoe size. Yours. What is it?"
"Um…10 ½ C. Why do you want to know?"
"It's for the surprise. Here, open this door so I can put the painting in." Obediently, he did as she asked, all the while wondering what kind of surprise required his shoe size. New shoes? No, she said it was for both of us, and we definitely don't wear the same shoes. Well, not anymore, if you count combat boots as shoes. Socks, then? Maybe, but Margaret's not quirky enough to get excited over socks. So lost in thought was Hawkeye that he didn't even notice when Margaret parked in front of the toy store and told him to come in with her.
"Pierce!"
"What?"
"Would you like to join me, or do you want me to guess which roller skates would fit you best?"
"Roller skates? You're buying roller skates? Major, we're both mature, reasonable adults…" Just then, a group of kids skated by them, laughing, joking, and generally looking as though they were having the times of their lives. Hawkeye thought for second. "I want some."
"Let's go."
Although the kid working the counter at Ye Olde Toy Store thought it a little odd that the local surgeon and his friend from the army were looking to buy roller skates for themselves, he wasn't one to turn down a sale. Soon, the pair was walking back into the drafty house at 14 Thoreau Avenue, purchases in hand.
"Looks like you guys had fun."
"Indeed we did, Dad. And did you have a very rewarding day?"
"Oh yes. Hey good news: Nurse Ellis is going to be a grandmother."
"How nice! When is the baby due, Daniel?"
"Late August, early September. She said that she's going to retire then to spend more time with the child."
"So we need a new nurse?"
"So we need a new nurse." Suddenly, the same thought passed through the minds of all three standing in that living room. They stared at each other for a second, but soon thought better of it. The notion was shrugged off as swiftly as it had come to them, and they hastily tried to change the subject.
"Look at my new painting!"
"Margaret bought me roller skates!"
"Florence Merkeson has the flu!"
After a dinner of leftover pasta, Margaret and Daniel sat in the living room listening to Hawkeye excitedly tell a story. "And then, I saw a big red bird with fuzzy pink feet!"
"My, Korea sure has some exotic birds."
"No, no, Daniel. It was just Klinger. We found him unconscious a mile outside of camp."
"His tailwind gave out."
"Oh. That explains the feet. Okay, Magpie, your turn. Regale me with a tale."
"Has your son ever told you about the time General MacArthur was scheduled to inspect the 4077?"
"No! Ben, is this true?"
"Yep."
"You met MacArthur, and you didn't have the courtesy to write a little note?!"
"Dad…"
"Daniel, I said MacArthur was scheduled to visit. We had the camp all cleaned up. The general's aide had briefed us. Major Burns had put together a little photo album of the camp for him."
"Frank said that Trap and I ruined it."
"Well, I didn't think a shot of Frank in the latrine was absolutely necessary, either."
"Good job, son."
"I do what I can."
"Anyway, we were in the middle of a rehearsal when we heard the general had passed Checkpoint Able. We raced into formation, saluted, everything. And then we watched as the general drove right by."
"Drove by?"
"Didn't even stop, which was a good thing believe me. If General Douglas MacArthur had made his visit to the MASH 4077, he would have found our commanding officer in a fly-fishing cap, our chief surgeon in a bathrobe with camera around his neck holding a flask, another of our surgeons wearing sunglasses, and our company clerk in a General MacArthur costume, complete with pipe! We would have been kicked right out of Korea!"
"That was the goal, Margaret. But you forgot one thing. The general did see something."
"What did he see?"
"Oh yes, he drove by Klinger, dressed up as the Statue of Liberty."
"And MacArthur didn't give him his Section 8?"
"No, Dad. He saluted him." By now, Daniel was roaring with laughter. Hawkeye was soon to follow. Even Margaret couldn't help but chuckle at the memory.
"Okay, I've made my decision. Magpie wins the weekly storytelling challenge!"
"Yes!"
"I object! I provided the punch line for that story!"
"It makes no difference, Hawkeye, my boy! Decisions of the judge are final. You know what you have to do now."
Hawkeye rolled his eyes as he got up from his chair and walked to the middle of the room. As his audience waited with baited breath and suppressed giggles, the thoroughly humiliated surgeon began to mumble, "I'm a little teapot, short and stout…"
"Louder!"
"HERE IS MY HANDLE, HERE IS MY SPOUT!"
"Where are the hand motions?"
"WHEN I GET ALL STEAMED UP, HEAR ME SHOUT. TIP ME OVER AND POUR ME OUT!" Hawkeye bowed deeply while Daniel and Margaret gave him a standing ovation. "Thank you, thank you. I'll be here all week. Tip your waitresses and try the meatloaf."
"You're a good sport, Ben."
"I need a drink."
"You've earned it. I'll go make it." Margaret got up and went over to the bar.
"You kids have fun. I'm going to bed."
"Again? Dad, you're beginning to act dangerously like an elderly man!"
"Perhaps it's because I am one. Goodnight, Hawkeye. Goodnight, Magpie."
"Night, Dad."
"Sleep well, Daniel."
Hawkeye leaned back on the sofa. Margaret handed him his drink and sat down next to him. "If Trapper John ever saw what I just did…"
"Oh, Hawk. He probably does the same thing all the time for his little girls."
"Doubt it. Of course, I haven't had any communication with the man since he left Korea, so what do I know?"
"None? Not even a letter?"
"Not even a letter."
"Oh, I'm so sorry, Hawkeye."
"It's okay. Sometimes the best of friends drift apart. Don't worry about it."
"Still, you were more than friends. You were like brothers."
"That's how I felt, too, but I understand why he didn't want to keep up. At first, you're trying to get used to being back home, and then you get busy, and then it just slips your mind. Did you keep up with Frank?"
"How do you think Louise Burns would have reacted to him getting letters from the infamous Major Houlihan? Besides, Frank and I had drifted apart before he left. We had nothing to talk about."
"Good points. Do you ever think it's weird how close we became?"
"Only everyday. Never in my wildest dreams would I have imagined three-and-a-half years ago that today I would be sitting on a couch next to the man who stuffed pudding in my pillow."
"Nor did I ever fantasize that I would be regularly inviting into my home the woman who had me arrested more times than I can count."
"We've changed."
"For the better."
"Thank God."
Meanwhile, Daniel lay upstairs in his bed listening to their conversation through the vent. But when will they realize how perfect they are for each other?