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Hawkeye decided that he had every right to be on edge. They’d removed some live ordinance from a Soldier and they’d been careful enough that they’d not died.
He could have died, and so could everybody else in the room if he’d not been so careful, so Hawkeye decided he was allowed to have complicated emotions about the whole situation. He could have died, Henry could have died, Margaret could have died.
Margaret could have died.
All Hawkeye could think about was how Margaret could have died, and it could have been his fault. He didn’t think he’d ever be able to forgive himself if he hurt Margaret in any way.
In any case, he was certainly confused about why his brain had suddenly started referring to her as Margaret rather than Hot Lips or Houlihan or Major Baby. Why did his brain suddenly respect Margaret enough to refer to her as Margaret? It wasn’t that he didn’t respect her when he called her Hot Lips or Houlihan or Major Baby, but to have enough respect to actually refer to her by her name? That was something very unusual for Hawkeye.
It was an incredibly convenient turn of events when Sidney Freedman turned up two weeks later, to deal with one of the boys who’d actually been injured.
Sidney could tell something was up with Hawkeye. He was his normal, joking self on the surface, trading barbs with Henry Blake and Radar and Trapper, but there was something different. He seemed softer, more careful, slightly more delicate.
He was completely unsurprised when he found himself invited into an empty Swamp that evening by Hawkeye, who quickly poured himself a drink.
“Well Hawkeye, what brings me here?” Sidney asked as he perched on the edge of Trapper’s cot.
Hawkeye sighed heavily.
“I can’t work it out, Sidney, I just can’t work it out” He replied, downing the Martini in one. He put his head in his hands, and sighed again.
“Can’t work what out?”
“Her” Hawkeye replied quickly. He looked up to see Sidney’s eyebrows raised so far up his forehead that they were at risk of blending into the rest of his hair.
“Her who?”
“The ‘her’” Hawkeye said, “the ultimate ‘her’, the one true ‘her’”
“Major Houlihan?” Sidney guessed.
“Ding ding ding, we have a winner” Hawkeye replied, “I’m guessing you heard about the kid who arrived with a live grenade inside him?”
Sidney nodded, listening intently. He hadn’t heard about it, to be truthful, but he knew interrupting Hawkeye to say as much would put him off his stride and would undo the progress of the last five minutes.
“Well, we got it out, and it was all ok, the kid lived and we lived and it was all fine, but I can’t stop thinking about how guilty I would have felt”
“How guilty you’d have felt?”
“If anything had happened to her, if I’d not been so still and careful and it had exploded and we’d all got hurt or died, if something happened to her, I’m not sure I’d cope, and I don’t know why” Hawkeye said, downing another martini. Sidney smiled to himself. He knew exactly what was wrong, or right, with Hawkeye.
“Sounds to me like you have some feelings towards Major Houlihan” Sidney replied.
Hawkeye looked up at Sidney, and his jaw dropped when he saw the light in Sidney’s eyes.
“No no no, I do not love Margaret Houlihan, no way! I don’t, Sidney, I swear to you”
Sidney smiled, “I never said love, did I?”
Sidney patted Hawkeye on the shoulder, and left the Swamp without another word. He figured from now on, it was best to leave Hawkeye to stew in homemade alcohol and let him realise his affection for Hot Lips Houlihan on his own.
Hawkeye spent the next few days telling himself he was definitely, absolutely, one hundred percent Not In Love with Margaret Houlihan. Besides, what good would it do when Margaret seemed to spend all her spare time necking with Ferret Face Burns, anyway?
The problem was, every time he saw her, he was right back to the start. Ever since he’d spoken to Sidney, a little voice in the back of his head had been saying ‘you love her, you love her’, and every time Hawkeye got it to be quiet, he’d see her and it would start up it’s refrain again.
The day that Margaret Houlihan and Frank Burns had a huge row in the middle of the compound was simultaneously the best and worst day of Hawkeye Pierce’s life.
It was the best day because, for a few hours he supposed, Margaret would be available. Free and single and available.
It was the worst day because it actually gave him an opportunity to confront his feelings, and see if there was anything being thrown back in his direction.
By the time he’d worked up the courage to go over to Margaret’s tent and profess his feelings (Definitely Not Love, he kept telling himself), Frank Burns had made it there before him, and his opportunity was gone. He was glad, it saved him a probably awkward conversation with Margaret, but it also gave him a little longer to stew in his thoughts, and that was never a good thing when the Still was right there to help with the stewing of both Hawkeye’s liver and his thoughts.
He stewed for three or four weeks, he had no idea. The space-time continuum never worked quite how it was supposed to in Korea. Something else Korea had to offer was constant explosions, and Hawkeye was caught in the blast radius when the Houlihan-Burns affair blew up with enough power to knock out the whole camp.
Bottles were thrown, glasses were smashed, clothes were ripped, and the Houlihan-Burns affair was absolutely definitely history.
Hawkeye had his moment, and he wasn’t going to bottle it this time.
He marched over to her tent, knocking on the door. He was surprised to be invited in so quickly.
“What do you want, Pierce” Margaret asked, head in her hands. She didn’t even look up.
“You” Hawkeye replied, sitting on the edge of her cot. Margaret looked up in shock and surprise.
“What?!”
“Margaret please, I know you’re still calming down from the whole thing with Ferret Face and this is absolutely the worst time to tell you this but I have to do it….I love you” Hawkeye said, looking more earnest than Margaret had ever seen him look.
Margaret Houlihan, for the first time in a very long time, was speechless. She’d have thought he was joking if he hadn’t looked so very serious as he told her that he loved her. For once, she actually believed it first time.
Hawkeye smiled weakly at her and left the tent, retreating to the Swamp for a drink. He’d actually done it without cracking jokes or bottling it, and he was proud of himself. He hadn’t expected her to stay completely silent, but he guessed it was better than a screaming match.
Nothing happened for a few days, and Hawkeye was fine with that. He was absolutely fine with it all being quiet on the western front, so to speak. If it was all going to be quiet and this was it and nothing came of it then that was fine by him.
All was not quiet on the western front when it came to the inside of Margaret’s head. The thoughts of loathing towards Frank Burns had stopped being the dominant thought, replaced by thoughts of Hawkeye. Thoughts of her and Hawkeye together. Surprisingly, she didn’t hate it.
When Hawkeye called her Margaret quietly over the operating table the next day, she was sure her heart skipped a beat, and that confused her. Since when did Hawkeye Pierce make her heart skip a beat?
Since the day he told her he was in love with her, she supposed.
Why did Hawkeye make her heart skip a beat? She wasn’t in love with him.
Was she?
The realisation dawned on Margaret, and she knew she had to act fast before she chickened out. She ran out of her tent and across the compound to the Swamp, praying that he was in there alone.
Luckily for her, he was. She ran in, the door slamming behind her. Hawkeye looked up at her from behind his book, and knew why she was there the second he saw the look in her eyes. He smiled widely, marking his place, and placed his book down. He stood up, and the floodgates open. Before either of them realised, their lips had found each other, and the build up and hidden longing was exploding out. Neither Hawkeye nor Margaret could remember a kiss so electric. They smiled and laughed into the kiss as Frank walked in, and instantly began screaming and crying.
“I don’t really care for you” Hawkeye joked as they pulled apart. Margaret laughed and rested her head on his chest.
“Me neither” She replied, kissing him again.