A/N: So… A couple of weeks ago I watched "Yessir, that's our baby" for the first time, and fell completely in love with the way Hawkeye and Margaret were all over the little thing. The ending of that episode was so sad I simply had to try and have a go with it—the first part of which I'm hereby giving you. I do intend to work on my other story, and hopefully one won't stand in the way of the other. Please give it a minute, and enjoy your reading!

Maple Fay

0o0o0o0o0o

"She does look a little like you. And you are doing a wonderful job taking care of her," said the woman, bending over the man's shoulder to gently caress the smooth cheek of the child he's been holding in his arms. The man looked up incredulously and crooked a brow on her.

"Did you just tell me a compliment?"

She made a face at him and sat on the bench, resting her chest against his arm as she continued to stroke the baby's hair. "I did it only for her sake."

"Yeah, right," he grunted, though inwardly he had to stop himself from bouncing happily around. Margaret actually thought he was good father material! What could he possibly want more?

The list of such 'wants' was long and complicated, with many items crossed-out and re-written again in heavier script. It was better not to pursue the answer right now.

"Any news?" Margaret's voice was soft and trembled slightly as she gestured towards Potter's darkened office. Hawkeye sighed and shook his head.

"He still ain't back from the HQ. And I'm sure you already know what they'd have told him."

Margaret nodded warily and dropped her arm, brushing his knee in the process. "'Blood relatives only'?"

"Probably, yes."

"But she doesn't have any, none that we know of! How could we give her away, anyway? She's become much too important for everybody in the camp to simply surrender her to some orphanage, or a monastery!"

"I know, I know," he patted her knee with his free hand, trying to offer some comfort. "We've been everywhere, knocked on every door. It's no use fighting with those guys. Here, hold the angel for me," he carefully deposited the child in Margaret's willing arms and stood up, stretching, before walking over to the coffee machine. "Want some?"

"Yes, please," she answered quietly, her eyes fixed upon the baby in the cradle of her arms. "I still can't think how we could possibly… There has to be a way!"

He looked down at her, eyes watery, hair in disarray, holding onto the child as if the little girl was her anchor, and looking out to him for answers. He gave her a sad smile and placed a coffee cup on the table within her reach.

"We'll think of something," he assured her, keeping his eyes fixed on the sleeping baby's peaceful face. "Damn those GIs for leaving their girls behind! If I had a baby coming—" he paused, suddenly overwhelmed by an idea that planted itself firmly in his brain and refused to move, no matter how hard he mentally kicked himself. Margaret watched his inner struggle with a frown.

"Are you alright?" she asked eventually, standing up and coming closer to him, the baby girl never as much as twitching in her embrace. Hawkeye took in the sight before him—a woman, tired, yet still astonishingly beautiful, for whom he had cared for a long time now, holding a baby with motherly affection, and giving him a considerate look that made him melt like an ice-cream in August sun.

That was positively the most wonderful thing he'd ever witnessed—and something he couldn't as much as hope for having.

Well, if he couldn't have all of this, he'd at least have one half.

"I'm okay," he answered and beamed at her, gently tugging the blanket around the child's chest. "And I think I have an idea…"

0o0o0o0o0o

"Pierce, are you serious?"

"Never been more serious in my life, Colonel. After all, she's been left at the Swamp door, and I'm its oldest resident. I've been here longer than any other man except for Klinger, to whom she bears no resemblance, and my reputation is… well…"

"I get it," Potter interrupted, raising a hand to stop further explanations. "Objectively speaking, this plan might actually work… but are you sure this is what you really want? An obligation like this lasts for a lifetime."

"I am aware of the fact, Colonel, and I have no inclinations to change my mind. I would like to officially claim fatherhood of this girl."

0o0o0o0o0o

"He did what?"

"Went to Potter and said he'd claim being the girl's father in order to adopt her."

Margaret gaped at BJ with her fork stopped half-way between her plate and her mouth. "Is he the father?"

BJ shrugged. "When I asked him that, he told me it was as relevant as it was possible—so he probably isn't. But he did say he'd like to be, and this seemed like an easy way to get a wonderful child, and to do some good in the process."

The blonde Major quietened, her fork still unmoving, seemingly lost in thoughts. BJ stole a couple of glances at her, wondering what the primary source of her thoughtfulness was: the very fact of somebody claiming to be the father in order to save the girl from a terrible fate, or the identity of the man thus doing.

BJ Hunnicutt was a sharp-witted man. He knew when something was cooking, and the way his best friend and the Head Nurse had been circling around each other for quite a while gave him an impression of there being quite a piece of pie in the proverbial oven. He found the fact that both of them were completely unaware of the tension between them highly amusing, at least until the baby girl found her way into the 4077th. Since she appeared in their lives, Hawkeye kind of took hold of her, and the only person he'd allow to come close and share some intimacy with the child was Margaret. Of course, the two would argue fiercely about the way the child should be taken care of, and other details of quasi-parenthood, but when they stood close to one another and either tended to the baby or spoke to somebody about her, they looked exactly like BJ and Peg must have looked a mere year before—like a happy couple presenting their firstborn.

He wondered how long it would take them to realize that—and Hawkeye's newest scheme was bound to quicken the process. Of course, BJ would never have taken the chance and tried talking to either of his friends (he wasn't all too eager to risk losing his front teeth), but he would be quite content to see them together for once.

"Where's he now?" Margaret's question broke his train of thoughts. "Has he talked to the Army yet?"

"I think he's off to HQ right now," BJ answered, jabbing a seemingly inanimate lump of food with his fork. "He should be back in an hour."

"I see." The frown on Margaret's forehead was a visible sign of a highly complicated thinking process taking place in the woman's lovely head, and BJ could bet he knew exactly what it was all about.

After another moment of tensed, dull silence, they were interrupted by a bright flash of light coming from the front lamps of a jeep pulling into the compound. Margaret jumped to her feet and ran outside, clutching on to Hawkeye's jacket even before he as much as had a chance to get off the vehicle.

"Well? What did they tell you?"

He gave her a long, tired look, and walked away towards Potter's office, not bothering to answer her question. Perplexed, Margaret ran after him, feeling a nasty weight pushing down on her lungs, leaving her completely out of breath.

"Pierce! Wait up!"

Still no recognition of her presence. The Major rushed in to the office on Hawkeye's heels, desperate to hear about the results of his peculiar mission. She came just in time to see Potter stand up from his chair and give the Chief Surgeon a hopeful, expectant look.

"Any good news?"

"Partially." Hawkeye sat heavily down on a desk by the wall, and loosened his tie. "Nobody questioned my statement; they even congratulated me for making a noble decision—and so I am now a proud father of one Kimberly Pierce. But they still won't let me take her to the States with me."

"What?!" Potter's face color came dangerously close to purple. "Whyever not?"

"They think I'm inept to raise a baby, being a single parent." Hawkeye's voice was full of venom and hurt. "They told me that 'overcoming prejudice and racial issues that would inevitably arise around my daughter would be far too difficult for one person'—so they'd advise me to leave her in an orphanage in Korea for a couple of years rather than take her to the States right away."

"Pack of old fools," Potter grumbled, resting his chin on his fist. "What are you planning to do?"

Hawkeye shrugged, apparently nonplussed. "Since I can't hope for some girl falling madly in love with me and agreeing to marry me in the next couple of days, I would have to do what they said—leave Kim in Korea until she's about five, maybe seven, then send for her. If she's still alive by that time," he finished, groaning, and accepted a glass of bourbon Margaret thoughtfully poured for him. "Thanks, Major, you're a real sweetheart." He washed the contents of the glass down his throat in one shot, winced from the power of the drink and stood up, pocketing his tie. "I shall be going. I want to get some sleep before the reality and its senselessness kicks in. Goodnight."

They both watched him go, crushed, all chances for providing a happy home to the child he came to love gone. The Colonel stood up, leaning his bodyweight on his arms, and turned off the desk lamp, motioning Margaret to follow him outside.

"I don't know what else we could possibly do about it," he murmured more to himself than to the Head Nurse, which was a good thing, for she didn't really hear him, lost in her own thoughts.

"Now, I have an idea," she whispered, and rushed through the compound towards her tent with a look of determination written upon her face.

0o0o0o0o0o

"Hawkeye? Hawkeye, are you asleep?"

"I apparently am. Go away, Margaret."

"Wake up, you fool! I need to ask you a question."

He opened his eyes reluctantly and blinked in amazement. It was Margaret, it had to be, but she looked quite… different. Her hair was combed and pinned up the way he liked it most, she had put a touch of lipstick on and wore that pale blue blouse he enjoyed imagining taking off her every once in a while. Her cheeks were flushed, and she was sitting on the edge of his bunk with a solemn facial expression and straightened back.

Suppressing a yawn, Hawkeye sat up, and combed his hair with one hand. "What can I do for you, Major?"

She bit her lower lip, which made her look absolutely gorgeous, and raised her beautiful eyes to meet his. "Say, Hawkeye… would you like to get married?"

He chuckled and massaged his stubbled chin with one hand. "I sure would, one day… The sooner, the better, considering I'm a single parent."

She winced impatiently and shook her head. "That's not what I meant."

Taking in a deep breath, like a diver about to jump off the boat, she cleared her throat before she continued.

"I meant—would you like to get married—to me?"

TBC…