Chapter Text
"Beej, I can't believe they gave it to Manelli." As Hawkeye talked, he moved around as much as the not terribly long phone cord would allow. "They wouldn't recognize genius if it bit them in the tush."
"Settle down, Hawk. You said being chief of surgery would tie you down too much."
"Well, I may have said that, but I'm not sure I meant it. At least not until they gave it to someone else."
B.J. laughed. "You've gotten political in your old age."
"I'm not old. I'm older." Five years older. The war seemed a long way off. Until a nightmare came. Then it seemed like yesterday.
Fortunately he didn't have very many nightmares anymore.
"I didn't call to listen to you complain, my friend." B.J.'s voice had the tone of a boy about to unleash a really good practical joke. "But I do happen to have a solution for your woes."
Hawkeye made himself sit down. "I'm not sure I want to know."
"Sure, you do. It's good news, I think. That medical exchange post here is coming available again, and this time they want to concentrate on surgery. It's tailor made for you."
Hawkeye sighed. "I don't want to leave my father."
"Bring him with you, Hawk. It's for six months, starts in September. He'll get to miss winter."
"I don't know..."
"I think you should do it." There was something new in B.J.'s voice. Something a lot more serious.
"We've been talking about this in the hypothetical sense since we got home, Beej. Why now? Why's it so important that I come now?"
There was a long silence, then B.J. said softly, "Margaret's here."
"Here? In your office here?"
"At the hospital here."
"And you forgot to mention that?"
"She wasn't in the best shape. Was engaged apparently, and it didn't work out. Colonel Potter called me, wondered if we had any openings here. We did. I called her. She came. End of story."
"How long ago was this?"
"Couple of months."
"And you're just now getting around to sharing this news?"
"Can we get past that? She's here. You could be too. If you want to be?"
"Oh, no. If you think I'm going to pack up everything and tramp out to the west coast just to see her, you're crazy."
"As I remember, you two couldn't keep your hands off each other those last few days in the camp."
Hawkeye smiled as he recalled those days. It hadn't been just their hands they couldn't keep off each other. But passion had always been easy for them, getting along was something else entirely. "Special circumstances and you know it. Normally, we couldn't go more than a day or two without a fight."
"Maybe things have changed? Maybe it was the environment, not the two of you?"
"And maybe you're way too interested in Margaret and me. What gives, Beej?"
"Hawk, she has a daughter."
"So, she has a daughter." It surprised him, but it wasn't exactly earth shattering. Women had been having kids--about half of them daughters--since time began.
"A five-year-old daughter. With black hair and blue eyes. Tall for her age." Beej sighed loudly. "You do the math."
Hawkeye was glad he was sitting down. "You think..."
"I think. Her asking me not to say anything to you about her having a kid more or less clinched it for me." B.J. spoke more forcefully, probably to counteract the voices in the background that were getting increasingly loud. "I've got to go Hawk. I'll send you the paperwork. Just tell me you'll think about it?"
"I'll think about it."
"Good." The phone went dead.
Hawkeye stared at the receiver for a moment before replacing it on the cradle. Margaret had a little girl. He had a daughter.
But it didn't have to be his. There were plenty of black-haired, blue-eyed males in the country. Margaret could have slept with any number of them once she got away from Korea.
It...she didn't have to be his.
But Beej had seen her. He wouldn't be playing tall and hairy matchmaker if the child didn't look an awful lot like Hawkeye. If anyone knew the damage he and Margaret could inflict on each other, it was B.J., yet he still seemed to want them to be together. Or at least for Hawkeye to make the effort to get to know his daughter.
Hawkeye picked up the phone again and called home. "Dad? How'd you like to skip winter this year?"
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Margaret Houlihan walked toward the complex of operating rooms, nodding at the nurses and doctors she passed. She liked it here at Marin General. The people were easygoing and welcoming. She supposed it didn't hurt that she had the well-respected and very much liked Doctor Hunnicut on her side, but part of how she was fitting in was her doing. She'd changed since Korea. Softened, maybe. Or just learned not to push so hard. Learned how to get along.
Korea had changed so much of her life.
"Hey, Margaret." B.J. smiled as she walked up. But he had a look she hadn't seen since Korea. When he'd been playing all the practical jokes.
"Doctor." She let her tone dip into that of disapproving major--a role she so rarely played anymore, except with Elaine when the child would not respond to reason or bribes. Her daughter was no fool; she could recognize "mother on the edge" when she saw her.
"How's Elaine?"
"Fine. Doing well."
B.J. and Peg had taken to Elaine immediately, as had their daughter Erin. They'd taken Elaine to the circus with Erin a few weeks ago, and Elaine had talked about nothing else for days.
Handing him the chart she was carrying, Margaret said, "Heavy schedule today. Ever since Landham left."
"We're getting a replacement. Temporary though."
"Another exchange doctor?" She'd just get him trained and it would be time to leave.
"You'll like this one." Again B.J.'s eyes glinted.
She felt her stomach drop to her toes. "You didn't."
"I did." He met her eyes, and there was nothing amused in them anymore. "The man's got a right to meet his daughter."
"You always were his friend, not mine." She could feel panic fill her, and she wasn't sure if it was for Elaine's sake or her own. Hawkeye Pierce had a way of spinning her world the wrong way. He also had a way of making the sun shine brighter while he was doing it.
"Margaret, that's not true."
She sat down in one of the plastic waiting chairs. "You just had to interfere." Sighing she imagined what it was going to be like to see Pierce every day. "You told him about Elaine?"
"Yep." He sat down next to her. "Peg told me I should have minded my own business."
"You should listen to your wife."
"She doesn't know Hawk."
"Well, you do. And don't you think that I would have taken Elaine to him if I wanted him to get to know her? Crabapple Cove is pretty easy to find."
"That sounds like the voice of experience? Have you done it?"
She looked down. Elaine had been almost three the summer Margaret had driven to Hawkeye's home town. The child had been asleep when Margaret had pulled up in front of his house. She'd idled there for a few minutes, then she'd put the car in gear and driven back home to Hoboken. Six months later she'd met Martin. A year later, he'd proposed, and nine months after that, he'd called their engagement off.
"I'm just not ready for an instant family," he'd said.
"No? Or are you just not ready for someone else's instant family?" She'd let the major come out to play that time.
The funny thing was, Elaine had never warmed up to Martin. Margaret wondered if she'd warm up to Pierce.
"Yes, I've done it," she finally said. "And I chickened out."
"Why?"
She stood up. "Because putting Benjamin Franklin Pierce and me together is like hooking up matches and gasoline. And you know it." She took the chart back from him. "I'm really mad at you."
"I know." He smiled up at her, a gentle, "you'll thank me in the morning" smile. It was a hard smile to not react to, even if she was relatively sure she wouldn't thank him in the morning. Or any other time.
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"So, son?"
"Yes, Dad?" Hawkeye concentrated on finding the right turn off. The billboards behind them had said there was food just ahead.
"Why are we really going to California?"
"I told you. To enjoy the balmy weather. To get a change of scene. To get us out of the New England rut."
"That's my life I left behind. Not some damn rut."
"It's only for six months, Dad."
"This wouldn't have anything to do with a woman, would it?"
Yeah, two of them, Hawkeye wanted to say. But he didn't want to explain this just yet. Not until he knew how Margaret was going to take seeing him. "But of course. California is full of women. Most of them stunning." He waggled his eyebrows, but he could tell his father wasn't buying it.
"Son, I know when you're not telling me the truth."
"Oh, look, the exit. And lunch." Hawkeye veered off the main road toward what he hoped was a town interesting enough to take his father's mind off giving him the third degree.
"If it's a choice between eating and talking about this, I'll skip lunch, Hawkeye."
"Well, I won't. Your driver is a growing boy and needs his sustenance." Just like his child was a growing girl. He wondered what she liked to eat.
"You're as stubborn as your mother was."
"I'll take that as a compliment," Hawkeye said, as he pulled into a parking place on the street near a diner that had been featured on several very colorful billboards. Rubbing his hands together, he said, "I'm holding out for a milkshake and a hamburger."
"This is cattle country. Maybe they'll have liver." His father smiled.
Hawkeye tried not to shudder. They'd had liver far too many times in Korea. He hadn't liked it when he'd first arrived there, and he'd hated it with a passion once his tour was over. But it was a favorite of his dad's, so he didn't comment.
"Okay, now I know something's wrong with you. Since when do you let a chance for a snappy liver insult go by?"
"You like liver. If they have it, order it. Why should I object?"
His father grabbed his arm as Hawkeye tried to put on a burst of speed and get to the door first. "Damn it, Hawkeye. I don't think you even realize how distracted you've been on this trip. About two hundred miles back I asked you if you'd like to enlist in the army, and you said yes."
"Road hypnosis."
"Nonsense." His father sighed, as if he could read on Hawkeye's face that the conversation was not going to go anywhere meaningful. "Fine. Don't tell me. Don't tell me a damned thing." Pushing past him, Daniel Pierce was the picture of wounded parents everywhere.
Rolling his eyes, Hawkeye followed him into the diner. He felt a moment's urge to confide in his father then pushed it relentlessly away. He would not tell his father that he was a grandfather.
Not until he knew for sure that Margaret was going to let them be a part of her daughter's life.
-----------------------
Margaret and two of her nurses came in late for the staff meeting. An emergency in the post-operative ward had kept them, and now there were only chairs in the back left. As she followed Kaminski and Lewis to the vacant seats, she heard Lewis whisper, "Who's that?"
She didn't have to look to know who the younger nurse was talking about. She'd heard that question too many times in Korea to have to wonder about the identity.
"His name's Pierce," she said softly, not smiling when Lewis turned to her with a raised eyebrow. As she sat down, Margaret looked around the table until she found him. Their eyes met. He didn't look at the other women, just stared at her as if riveted. It wasn't the friendliest look though.
He was mad about this?
She looked away, then their age-old attraction made her look back. He was still staring at her, then he turned away.
"History?" Lewis whispered.
Margaret gave her the major look and the other woman turned away, but she had a grin on her face.
"History," Lewis said to Kaminski.
"Lucky Margaret."
She wanted to say that running into Hawkeye would be something she considered the opposite of lucky, but held her tongue. He was a guest surgeon. Doctors were at the top of the medical aristocracy, and surgeons were the acme, and she would not win friends by badmouthing him his first day on the job.
The meeting seemed to drag on, and when it finally ended, she tried to escape, but her position in the back made it hard to get around people and make a quick exit.
"Going somewhere?" Pierce stood at the door. His smile was very wide, and she was struck by how sexy he looked. It wasn't fair. Martin had been more handsome. Half the men in the room were more handsome. Why did Hawkeye have to have so damned much charisma?
It was hard not to return the smile, but she managed. "I have work to do, Doctor."
"Don't we all?" His smile faded, then it disappeared entirely when she tried to push past him. "I want to see her."
She pulled him out of the conference room; they were earning some odd looks, not to mention blocking the door. "I'm not sure that's a good idea."
"Is she my daughter?"
Margaret sighed, looking away. "Yes."
"Then I want to meet her."
"We'll see." She turned to go.
"Margaret." His voice was the voice of midnight seductions, of comfort needed and given, of huddling down together in her tent while the mines around them exploded all on their own in the cold ground. "How are you?"
She met his eyes. "It's been five years. And you're just now asking me that?"
He looked away.
"I'll see you around." She hurried away before her wildly beating heart could make her do something stupid.
-------------------------
"How'd it go?" B.J. asked, but Hawkeye thought his friend had a pretty good idea how it had gone. "That well?" B.J. finally said, when Hawkeye wouldn't answer.
"The thing that grills me is that she's treating me like a criminal because I didn't know she had a baby." He was playing with the things on B.J.'s desk as he talked, trying to make sense of the guilt that was warring for supremacy with the irritation he also felt.
"Should you have known?"
"What's that supposed to mean?"
B.J. leaned back, holding up his hands. "Just asking."
"I guess if I were a mind reader, I'd have known." He slammed down a stapler that matched the rest of the desk set. "How dare she!"
B.J. laughed. "Do you realize you always say that when you feel guilty?"
"I do not." He glared at his friend. "Do I?"
B.J. nodded.
"Damn." Getting up, he walked to the window. B.J. had a nice view. "The hell of it is that I'm really glad to see her." There were scads of good looking women in this hospital, many prettier than Margaret, and all he'd seen at the staff meeting had been her. Why did she get to him this way? They didn't even like each other.
"I imagine that's the hell of it for her too. Has it occurred to you that she's overcompensating? Being mean because she's so happy to see you?"
"When did you get so insightful?" Hawkeye turned to look at his friend. "What did you think would happen when she and I met up?"
"Pretty much what happened. You two are extremely predictable." B.J. sipped at his coffee. "How is your dad settling in?"
"He's the hit of the apartment complex. All the widows are in hog heaven."
B.J. laughed. "I can imagine. Acorn didn't fall far from the tree. Or the maple, in your case. You two are still coming over for dinner tonight, right?"
"You bet. I can't take another night with him trying to figure out why we're here."
"When are you going to tell him?"
Hawkeye shrugged. "When I figure Margaret out, I guess."
"You're going to wait that long?" B.J. laughed gently, but his eyes were full of support.
"No, I'm going to go look for her right now. Wish me luck that her mood has improved."
"Make it improve, Hawk. You both care for each other. If you'd put your hackles down, maybe you'd see that."
"Yeah, well how about you tell her that?"
"I no doubt will." Another grin, and even more support. "I'm rooting for you guys."
"That may be really dumb of you." But Hawkeye felt better as he went to look for the mother of his child.
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"He never gives up." Margaret muttered as she saw Hawkeye coming toward her.
"Old flame?" Kaminski asked, a note of envy in her voice.
"Nope. Feel free to head him off at the pass."
The other nurse shot her a look as if to see if she was serious. "If you're sure you don't mind...?"
"Have at it, Greta." Margaret took the opportunity to head in the opposite direction.
A moment later, Hawkeye found her in one of the ORs, taking inventory of the equipment. "Nice diversionary tactic. She's a pretty thing."
"Go back and ask her out. I'm sure she'll say yes."
"Will you say yes?"
"For her? Sure. She'll go. Now, leave me alone. I'm busy." She tried to brush by him, but he moved and she found herself starting at his chest. "Hawkeye. Move. Now."
"No." His voice was very tender. It was the voice he'd only used when she'd come to him for help.
"Stop it. I'm not gullible anymore."
"Meaning...?"
She laughed, and the sound came out so bitter she wanted to wince. "I know you want to meet Elaine. Fine. You'll meet her. But don't seduce me to get to her. Don't even think of it." She turned away, afraid her anger--and other feelings--were going to make her cry.
"Margaret, I didn't mean to--"
"You never do mean to, do you?" She glanced at him. "It's been five years, Hawkeye. You never cared enough to find me, so don't pretend that I'm suddenly the only thing you want." She smiled and knew it was her mean smile. "Don't confuse having a child with having a relationship."
Taking a deep breath, he turned to go. "I don't know why I even try."
"You call this trying?"
He whirled, and she was surprised to see how angry he was. "I didn't know where you were at first. I thought you'd call me. Everyone knew where I was headed."
"Call you for what?"
His smile was mean this time. "You're right. What was I thinking? Here you were pregnant, and you couldn't tell me. What else would we possibly have to say, if we couldn't talk about that?"
She tried to get by him again, and he grabbed her and pulled her close.
"Don't," she said, but her arms--traitors that they were--stole up his chest, around his neck.
"Forget talk; we've always done much better with non-verbal communication," he said just before he kissed her.
Margaret was right back in Korea, in this man's arms as he caused shivers to run down her spine to points farther south. Martin may have been more handsome, but his kisses hadn't even come close to Hawkeye's. She finally pulled away. "Damn you."
His smile was surprisingly tender. "It's nice to see you too."
Then he turned and walked away, leaving her to finish an inventory she suddenly couldn't concentrate on.
-----------------
"This seat taken?" Hawkeye stood with a tray near the picnic table Margaret was sitting alone at. It was an off time to eat lunch. He had a feeling she'd picked it deliberately, and that she'd been doing it for the week since he got here. But now he was wise to her devious tricks.
Her scowl when she looked up, confirmed that she hadn't wanted to see him. "You can have the whole table. I'm finished." She picked up a tray that looked like it hadn't been touched and started to rise.
"Coward," he said as he sat down.
As he thought she would, she sank back to the bench. It was nice to know he still understood her that well.
They ate in silence. He finally said, "Nice day."
"It's always a nice day here."
"Dad's really loving it."
Her look suddenly softened. "I didn't know you brought him with you."
He nodded, glad to see her smile as she said, "That's nice."
Then the smile faded. "Does he know?" she asked.
"I haven't told him."
She sort of huffed, as if it was what she'd expected of him. "Ashamed of us?"
"No. I just don't want to put him through the ringer."
"Like I'm doing to you, you mean?" She grimaced. "I didn't keep her from you out of malice. You weren't around; you weren't going to be around. What was I supposed to do?"
"I might have been around. If you'd given me the chance to know I should have been." Touching her hand, he counted it a victory when she didn't snatch it away from him.
"Pierce, I didn't want you with me because of her." Her expression was suddenly very open. Very vulnerable.
He nodded. "I can understand that."
"It never works between us. I was afraid we'd force it to work for her sake. And we'd end up miserable." She pulled her hand away gently. "Call me crazy, but I want my guy to want to be with me, not just feel he has to be."
"You're not crazy."
She nodded.
"B.J. said you were engaged." He didn't want to open wounds but thought they needed to at least raise this.
"I was. He's a nice man."
"Why'd you leave him, then?"
"I didn't. Martin left me." She looked up, meeting his eyes fully. "Actually, he left us. It's funny, really. You want me for her. He wanted me without her. I can't win." She shrugged and went back to picking at her food.
"Is it bad to say that I'm glad he's not in the picture?"
"It's selfish of you to say that. But then you've always been that way."
He decided not to argue. They weren't yelling at each other, and he didn't want to wreck that. Besides, she was probably right.
She seemed to be waiting for the sarcastic retort and looked surprised when she didn't get one. "You feeling all right, Pierce?"
He nodded, grinning.
"Stop it. You know I'm a sucker for that look."
He did know that. It was why he had done it. He could have recited a list for her of all the things she was a sucker for. He let his grin fade so she'd think he was being good. "Why did you pick Elaine for her name?"
"It's a family name. My great aunt's."
"So not after the Arthurian Elaine?" He hated to think she'd name their child after a woman who, according to legend, always ran second best with the man she loved.
"I'm not that imaginative."
"Oh, I wouldn't say that." He waggled his eyebrows, remembering all the times she'd used her imagination with him.
"You know what I mean." She was blushing a little.
"I imagine it's been hard...a woman alone with a daughter. No husband in sight. People talk." He'd found out how much people talk when he'd gotten back to Crabapple Cove. Things that would have been tame in Korea were cause for gossip here at home.
She shrugged. "I tell people I'm divorced. They assume Houlihan was my husband's name."
"Cagey."
"I don't do it for me. I do it for her. I couldn't care less what they think of me."
He smiled at her. "I think a lot of you."
"Pierce..." Her voice was very soft and lacked its normal starch. "I've missed you." Then she started to eat a little faster, as if she regretted having said that.
"I missed you too." It wasn't a lie. He'd thought of her more than she'd probably ever believe.
"When do you want to meet her?"
"When do you want me to meet her?"
Their eyes met, and Hawkeye felt the strange mix of tenderness and lust and exasperation this woman always inspired. He thought she probably felt the same.
"Maybe this weekend? You could come over..."
He hated how tentative she sounded. "You're sure you're comfortable with that?"
"I'm not comfortable period. You make me crazy, Pierce. You always have."
"If I say 'ditto,' will you hit me?"
"Probably."
He laughed. "Then I won't say it." He let her eat for a while, then said, "So...Saturday?"
She nodded.
"Good."
He felt as if he'd been negotiating between the U.S. and the Soviets. Only that probably would have been easier.
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Margaret watched as Elaine finished her cereal. "A friend of mommy's is coming over today."
Elaine looked up from the cereal. They didn't get many visitors.
"He wants to meet you."
"Okay." She went back to her breakfast.
Margaret sighed and finished washing her breakfast dishes. Pierce wouldn't be here for several hours; they'd said he should come over around lunchtime. She ignored her sudden need to put on more make-up, to take a little more time with her hair. Pierce had been looking at her for a week now; he knew what she looked like.
"Can we go to the park with your friend?"
She didn't turn around. "Maybe." Her voice was tight, and she immediately regretted it. Her daughter was too young to understand how much this hurt.
Elaine pushed her chair out and hopped down, picking up her dishes and carrying them to her. "Are you mad?" She was smiling up at Margaret. And it was Hawkeye's smile. The one that could cajole her out of any bad mood.
"No, you little scamp," she said, as she scooped Elaine up. "I'm not mad." She kissed her daughter's neck, blowing hard and making Elaine laugh at the slightly rude sounds.
When she stopped, Elaine pulled back, her eyes solemn, her hands twisted in Margaret's hair the way she loved to do. When she'd been younger, it had hurt, but Elaine had learned to grab big hunks that wouldn't pinch when she twisted the strands. Margaret smiled, charmed as much by this more serious female version of the man she loved as she had been by seeing his mischievous grin on her girl's face.
She kissed Elaine's cheek gently, kept her mouth there as she said, "Mommy knew this man during the war."
"Korea." Margaret didn't talk much about the war, but Elaine knew where it had taken place. She could say the name as if she too had spent a lifetime there. As if it was in her blood somehow.
Margaret put her down. "Go play now."
Her daughter ran off, and Margaret had the sudden urge to talk to her father. She dialed his number and he answered on the fourth ring in his brusque voice: "Houlihan."
"Dad?"
"Hello, Margaret." His voice was somewhere between cool and unwelcoming, which sadly was an improvement over the last few times. "Something wrong?"
"Does something have to be wrong for me to call?" She could hear the Jersey lilt rising--talking to him seemed to bring it out in her. As a true army brat, she'd grown up all over the world, but somehow Jersey had stuck. She didn't think it was apparent most of the time, but when she got upset--especially with her father--it came flying to the surface.
"No, but it usually is. Do you need money?"
She'd never asked him for money. It infuriated her that this was the first thing he always thought of. "I'm fine. We're fine."
He didn't follow up her correction. He'd been appalled when she'd told him she was pregnant out of wedlock and with no plans to marry the father. If she'd told him the baby's father was of a lower rank, Howitzer Houlihan might have had a stroke right then and there.
"I just called to see how you were."
"I'm fine. I'm happy you are too. Now, I have to go. I've got a meeting to get to."
He always had a meeting to get to. No doubt his friends were waiting: Mister Scotch, Mister Rum and Coke, and Mister Beer.
"Fine, Dad. Go to your meeting."
She expected him to hang up, but he suddenly asked. "The girl's okay?"
"Elaine is more than okay. She's beautiful, and smart, and very sweet." She didn't think anything but smart would matter to her father.
"Good. That's good." There was a long pause, as if he was trying to think of what to say.
She took pity on him. "The milkman's here, Dad. I've got to go."
The milkman never delivered on Saturday. But her father wouldn't know that.
"Bye, Margaret." The line went dead with a soft click, as if he'd put the receiver back into the cradle very, very gently.