Margaret Houlihan had a strange insistence as a four year old: if I throw a sheet over my head, I don't exist. She'd sit on her little stool in her parent's kitchen at Fort Ord and wouldn't respond to conversation, the resident ghost of all things unsaid in the Houlihan family. Her father tanned her hide a few times about it, but she refused to cry and insisted on the "disappearing act", as Howitzer Al called it.

That night, lying in Iris's guest room, Margaret pulled the sheet over her head. It was comforting at first, but the adult thoughts of covered battle corpses crowded out any sense of security. She resurfaced ashamed and gasping for air.

Margaret began to cry silently into her pillow, missing Hawkeye's patient touch. But mostly it was out of longing to disappear the way she once had. She wanted to make the dark clouds of war disappear from her family's lives. She wanted to forget the rush of air as the shower walls collapsed, the screaming artillery and the taste of Hawkeye's tears on her tongue on those long nights he cried. All this would haunt her forever, and it would never go away. It was the smudge on her life she couldn't clean away.

Maybe going crazy isn't so bad, she thought while drifting off into a troubled sleep.

XXX

"Hawkeye, you're wanted in Post-Op."

Someone was tugging at his leg. Opening one eye just a crack, Hawkeye halfway expected to see a young Margaret in her green fatigues. Instead of feeling his ass scrape the Swamp floor, the feathery feeling of a bolster told him he was far away from the 4077th.

"Huh?"

Someone came into focus. It was his daughter.

"Dad, Benny's wanting orange juice and I don't have any money and I don't want to wake up Grandpa," Ellie said, shaking his foot.

"My wallet," he mumbled, turning over, vaguely aware of the smell of bacon. He heard Ellie grab a few bills and quietly close the door. Hawkeye almost immediately fell back to sleep.

Ellie was feeling a little better, but still made a point of bundling against the chilly rain. Down the street her own house sat dark and silent. It was the only home on the street without smoke wafting from the chimneys. Climbing down her grandfather's front steps, Ellie threw the paper on the porch and splashed her way down to the sidewalk. She hummed a little, just to see the steam come from her mouth and smiled when she was close enough to see the lights on in the Sunny South store.

"Ellie Pierce! What can I get you?" yelled Jack Colvin, the store's owner.

"Never mind, I can find what I need," Ellie yelled back, startling a little at the sound of her own voice. She fished a carton of orange juice from the long flat cooler and a can of Moxie from the soda display. The penny candy display was a personal weakness.

"Give me ten cents worth of root beer barrels, four black jawbreakers and a nickel's worth of licorice and two Bazookas," Ellie said.

Jack Colvin smiled at her. "Say, I heard about that raccoon that got into your house."

"A what?"

"Yeah, someone said it just about ruined your kitchen and your dad got a fat lip chasing the damn thing down."

Ellie didn't say anything for a long second but realized she had to say something. "Oh, that. Yeah."

Colvin gave her the change and the bag. "Tell your dad to come down and play checkers sometimes, fat lip and all."

Ellie just waved and stepped out into the damp air. She was beginning to hate Crabapple Cove, where everyone's business was public knowledge. As she walked back down the street, she passed Iris Todd's house. Her mother was staring out at the street, not noticing the sad-eyed girl in the lumpy rain slicker. Ellie was about to walk away when they made eye contact. Margaret knocked on the window and waved, but Ellie dropped her eyes and walked slowly away, a tornado of churned-up feelings twisting through her body, all the love and fear she had for her mother. It made her feel worse than she had the day before. When she got back to Daniel Pierce's house, Ben eagerly grabbed the orange juice and the candy. Ellie went down the hall and threw herself on the bed, torn between crying and screaming. She settled on crying. Ben came in and sat on the edge of the bed, watching his sister.

"You can have all the jawbreakers," he said after awhile.

XXXXXXXXXX

Hawkeye was up in time to watch the kids leave with Daniel for a trip to Portland. Ben loved eating lunch at the jetport and watching the planes take off and land. Hawkeye smiled at the thought of little Ben's face pressed against the glass, going absolutely nuts over the Viscounts and DC-8's as they loaded up and took off. They were very different from the Constellations Hawkeye used to love, how they stomped and bucked before the take-off roll. This couldn't compare to Ben's excitement over seeing the 880's kick up smoke on their landing.

Hawkeye realized he was daydreaming, just standing in the middle of the den. He missed Margaret terribly. He wondered if she was lonely, too. There's so much we all don't know about each other, he thought. Her outburst had frightened him terribly. Not the violence but the strange insistence he didn't love her. Didn't he tell her he loved her every day? Didn't she know how he savored every moment they were together, because they really weren't supposed to be together at all? In Korea, when they were lost and found each other in that shack, he remembered being taken aback by her passion.

When they were through he collapsed on top of her, gasping in the stale air. Margaret's hands roamed up his back and he felt her urgent, hot breath on his cheek.

"Let's do it again," she whispered in his ear.

Hawkeye lifted his head. He was exhausted from their first go-round.

"Again? You want...again?"

She shook her head and ran her fingers down to his stomach, kissing his neck at the same time.

"Again...is...a possibility," he smiled, embracing her.

Their passion had not cooled when they were married and the kids came. But earlier that

year, Margaret's behavior had reverted to her old fire-dragon Korea days. Just weeks before she'd screamed at Ben for going outside without a jacket. Not yelled, but screamed. Ben was mortified and Margaret felt bad later but couldn't remember what she'd said. There was also something terribly wrong between her and Ellie, as if something had passed between them had severed all lines of communication.

Suddenly just wondering wasn't enough. Hawkeye went to the window just in time to see Iris's car pull away for one of her weekly trips to Lewiston to see her grandkids. Margaret was there alone. He only paused long enough to pull on a pair of boots. Clad in only a t-shirt, pajama pants and a bathrobe, Hawkeye fought his way through the steady drizzle as Crabapple Cove rose out of the mists.

Iris had locked the front door. He looked in the front window and only saw the dusty house plants and couch. Around the side, window to window he searched until he found Margaret in bed, facing the wall. She was lying on top of the covers, shaking and crying. With the rain dripping into his eyes, Hawkeye watched her for a few minutes before he tapped on the glass. Margaret turned over slowly, wiping her eyes. Seeing who it was, she laid her hand on the glass pane and he did the same. Her gaze focused on his swollen lip for a moment. She threw the window latch and heaved it open. The damp, cold, salty air hit her like a load of bricks as Hawkeye shimmied through the window.

"Rapunzel!" he yelled, catching his foot on the bottom sill, almost toppling into Iris's cloying Hummel collection.

She stared at him for a minute before flinging herself into his wet arms. Hawkeye held her tight, not saying anything. He pressed his lips to her forehead and winced on making contact.

"I'm so sorry. I hurt you. I'm so sorry."

Hawkeye kissed her lips. He could taste her tears. She pulled away and stared at the floor.

"Why'd you come here?" she asked.

"Why the hell would you think I didn't love you?" Hawkeye asked, making eye contact.

"I...uh...no reason..."

"Come on, Margaret."

She took a deep breath. "You don't want to be married to the town drunk, and..."

"Margaret, you're not the town drunk You know why? Because you're not a drunk. It was wrong of me to say that, especially after Korea."

"Then why do I feel like I'm spinning out of control all the time? I can't even remember hurting you," she said, furrowing her brow. Hawkeye took her hand and they both sat on the bed.

"Sometimes even small amounts of booze can throw your chemicals off balance. You know that because it used to happen to Father Mulcahey. He went from saint to Ali in nothing flat. Then he'd have a hard time remembering what happened. I think you're wired the same way."

Margaret became very quiet, thinking this over. There was one incident she remembered and it still horrified her beyond reason.

Hawkeye rattled on. "So you just need to back off on the whole thing and my father wrote you this prescription."

She took it and read it at a glance. "Estrogen?"

"He thinks it'll help."

Margaret snorted. Why did all men think women were dictated by hormones alone? She was just creeping up on menopause and exhibited none of the classic symptoms. While she was shaking her head, Hawkeye pulled her into his arms.

"Look, unless you want to stay here a little while longer, the kids are in Portland with Dad. I'm going to get my things and head back to the house. Do you want to come home, too?"

Margaret nodded. "Just go on so I can write Iris a note and gather my things together. I'll meet you in about an hour."

Hawkeye smiled and kissed her again. She walked him to the front door and watched him walk down the sidewalk. Soon as he was out of sight, Margaret grabbed the phone and dialed a number she knew by heart.

"Sherman? It's Maggie. I really need to talk."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

September 1968.

Ellie had picked up some salty language from her parents but had the good sense not to use it around them. But one day, when it was just Ellie and Margaret in the house, one little word would send their lives crashing down.

Ellie was studying math that September day, just sitting at her own little desk lost in the world of algebra. The only problem was her mother kept calling her downstairs for meaningless little tasks, derailing her train of thought. Then Margaret decided to take the ice out of the trays and put it in a bowl. Ellie's pencil broke at the sound of a metal tray against the metal counter.

"Ellie Pierce! Get down here now!"

Her frustration at a boiling point, Ellie slammed her book shut and threw the broken pencil in the garbage. She slammed her door and stomped down the stairs. In the kitchen all the lights were blazing and ice was all over the floor. Margaret was leaning over the sink, her knuckles white with exertion. She didn't see Ellie come to doorway to assess the situation. A board creaked under her feet and her mother whirled around.

"When I ask you to come, that means shake a leg, not take your sweet time," Margaret said in a false sugary sweet voice. Ellie wished she'd gone to the airport with her father and brother..

"Well, are you going to say anything?" Margaret said, moving close.

"No."

"For Christ's sake, what's your problem now?" Margaret said, her volume growing with every word.

"Every time I start studying you call me down here and ask me to do something stupid. If you think I'm picking that goddam ice off the goddam floor you can shove it!"

The words hung in the air. Margaret's face turned red. And all Ellie had time to say before Margaret pushed her was "shit!". Ellie was caught off guard and tumbled backwards into the dining room, grabbing for purchase on anything but failing. Her head hit the side of the table with a sickening crack and she sunk to the floor, out cold.

Margaret stood in the doorway for a moment, panting. She saw spots and closed her eyes slowly, twice. Then everything cleared and there was her daughter, on the floor and not moving at all.

"Oh God!"

She rushed to Ellie's side, fearful of a broken neck or a brain injury. Ellie's pupils were rolled back into her head. Margaret became frantic, crawling beside her prostrate daughter and moaning and crying and apologizing. A thin stream of blood ran from Ellie's ear and down her shirt. Then a shudder ran through her body and Margaret turned her over quickly, fearing a seizure. It was then that Ellie began to come around, moaning like a pitiful ghost. Margaret scooted beside her again.

"I'm sorry. Oh dear, if anything's wrong..."

Ellie was trying to sit up. Her hands went to the back of her head. When she opened her eyes they were slightly out of sync.

"Ellie, we need to get you upstairs. Can you walk with me if I help you up?" Margaret said.

Ellie swayed and began to lift herself hand-over-hand on a table leg. Margaret kneeled on the floor, suddenly fearful of her daughter. She was in the perfect position to backhand her mother. Instead, Ellie reeled drunkenly away.

"Don't ever touch me again," Ellie whispered in a cracked voice as she catapulted herself to the stairs. She ascended like Frankenstein and bumped into the wall a few times before going into her bedroom and collapsing on the bed.

The subject of that evening was never brought up between them again. Margaret hoped Ellie didn't remember, but even when they were on civil terms, she was always waiting for her daughter to push back. Neither of the them ever told Hawkeye, either, because he was very protective of Ellie. It would have ripped a chasm in the family no one could repair. Ellie didn't tell Ben about it until the night before she was married, when she told her future husband as well. Margaret only told Sherman Potter. That's who she called the moment Hawkeye left that drizzly day in November.

November 1968.

"Well, don't tell him and just trust your daughter will do the same. I'll send you some Lithium and we'll see if that works. You just can't drink anymore, honey, or they're liable to lock you away. I guess you know about the Hunnicutts. You don't want that, do you?" asked Potter through the crackling phone line.

"It's just so hard. The further I get from the war, the more it's just there, just there all the time," Margaret said.

"I know, dear. I miss all of you. Soon as the misses finishes this church cookbook she's putting together in March, we'll come up to visit. That way I can check on you myself."

"Oh, I'd like that so much."

Potter chuckled. "And in the meantime, call me if it gets too tough. And promise me you'll talk to a professional at some point."

"I promise. I love you. You've always been like a father to me."

"I love you too, dear. Kiss those kids for me. Give your husband a kiss for me too, but don't tell him who it's from," Sherman said, hanging up the phone.

XXXXXXXXX

Back at the house Hawkeye walked through the kitchen. It was immaculate. Everything was back in place as if nothing ever happened. He started a fire so Margaret wouldn't be cold.

She came in soaking wet from the rain.

"Come on, let's get warmed up," Hawkeye smiled, taking her hand and leading her to the bedroom. He sat on the edge of their bed, watching her undress.

"Are you going to be okay?" he asked, getting up. She welcomed his embrace and exhaled as he wrapped his arms tightly around her. They stayed like that for a long time.

They were both napping on the couch when Daniel dropped the kids off. Ben ran into Margaret's arms, laughing and happy to have his mother back. She pulled him on her lap as he explained the workings of an airplane model Daniel bought at the airport.

Ellie looked pale and tired. Margaret sent Ben upstairs to put on pajamas and put a hand under her daughter's chin.

"Are you doing okay?"

Their eyes met for a second. Ellie was about to say something when Hawkeye came over and felt his daughter's forehead. Margaret let go of her chin and sat back.

"I'll make some tea for you and then we can all watch Carol Burnett," Margaret said, trying to conceal any notes of pleading in her voice.

Thirty minutes later, they were all settled in the upstairs bedroom. Ben had a bowl of dry cereal, Margaret and Hawkeye had popcorn and Ellie was content with her mug of hot tea. Margaret regarded them all with fear and awe, the same way she'd feel almost twenty years later when Ben got his medical degree and Ellie did something that made national news. What Margaret didn't know was that Ellie often felt the same degree of awe for her mother, especially after hearing war stories from the other 4077th denizens.

Hawkeye caught Margaret's faraway look and leaned over for a kiss and a better grasp on the popcorn.

The show ended and the news came on. Ben was out cold against Hawkeye, his cereal circulating its way through the sheets. Ellie was asleep, too, and not looking quite so pale. Noticing Hawkeye had dozed off, Margaret pulled Ellie close and stroked her hair.

"You're my little dolly," she whispered. "I hope you'll forgive me someday."

"Harvey Korman," Ellie mumbled, before turning over and stretching her legs out.

Margaret turned off the television and laid there for a long time listening to her family breathe and the rain beat on the windows, a sound like the boots of many soldiers marching off to war.