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“Oh, God,” Hawkeye says when the last wounded man is unloaded from the choppers, and there’s a note in his voice Margaret has never heard from him on the helipad before: panic mixed with grief and terror, emotions that all of them feel, but never when there are patients to care for. She hurries to Hawkeye’s side, ducking low to avoid the blades of the chopper, and finds him bent over a patient who has a belly full of shrapnel. It’s an ugly wound with an even uglier survival rate, but it’s nothing they haven’t seen before. Hell, it’s nothing they haven’t seen five times a day since the war started.
And then she notices the patient’s face.
“I need a litter!” she shouts, because Hawkeye is still frozen. “Get this man into the OR right away. He jumps the line. Hunnicutt!”
She catches up to BJ as he moves to check the next patient, a man with a broken femur who can wait. She crouches next to him and says, “Sidney Freedman is here with a stomach full of shrapnel, and you need to be the one to operate on him.”
BJ’s head snaps up. “Sidney’s wounded?”
“The last chopper brought him in. He’s in the OR now. You can’t let Pierce be the one to do it.”
“Why not?”
“Please.” Margaret grips his arm, and BJ stares at her. “Please trust me.”
BJ looks like he wants to question her further, but something in her face stops him. Good. He gets up, leaving his patient in her hands, and runs to the OR. Hawkeye is already in there. Margaret hopes BJ can catch him in time.
***
Margaret has known men like Hawkeye before--she’s career army, after all. She’s never met one who was so blatant about it, though, and it took her months to realize that that was his way of protecting himself. Whereas most men would ramp up the masculinity to keep the rumors at bay, Hawkeye chose a different tactic, and became so outrageously flamboyant that everyone laughed it off. He flirted as easily as he breathed, with everything and everyone, and so no one took it seriously.
She was almost impressed.
Part of her had wondered about Hawkeye and Trapper, and later about Hawkeye and BJ. She was certain she wasn’t the only one, and if it was true, she wondered why Hawkeye would be so careless.
And then she saw Hawkeye kissing Sidney Freedman in the shadows behind Rosie’s one night, and she thought oh. He wasn’t protecting himself, he was protecting Sidney. He was protecting this. The more outrageous he was, the more he flirted with his tent mates and made everyone wonder about them--it was all to divert attention from the actual object of his affections.
So when Sidney Freedman shows up at the 4077th with a wound that’s likely to kill him, she makes sure it will happen on BJ’s table. Their friendship might not survive it, but if Sidney dies under Hawkeye’s hands, she knows he won’t survive that.
***
Sidney is still on the operating table six hours after the last wounded man is taken to post-op. Charles has stepped in to give BJ a much-needed break, and Margaret wonders if he knows what she does, or at least suspects. Hawkeye is there, of course, and while Charles is allowing his assistance, he refuses to let Hawkeye lead the surgery.
They’ve almost lost Sidney twice, and Hawkeye’s face is ashen behind his mask. There are no wisecracks, no jokes, just a deathly silence that fills the gaps between Charles’s orders to Hawkeye and the nurses. BJ is napping on a bench outside the room, and Potter is there to advise and lend a hand when needed.
Two hours later, Charles makes his final stitch, and everything falls still. There are a dozen people in the operating room, and they all watch the shallow rise and fall of Sidney’s chest.
The surgery is over, and he’s still breathing.
Potter stirs first. “Get this man to post-op.”
***
Margaret is alone in post-op the next night when there’s stirring from Sidney’s bed, and she hurries to his side. For some ten minutes, she sits there and watches him fight his way to consciousness, not wanting to force it in case he should sink back into sleep. He doesn’t, though, and soon he’s blinking blearily at her, his face tight with pain.
“Sidney.” She squeezes his hand. “You’re alright, you’re at the 4077. How are you feeling?”
Speech seems to be beyond him, because he simply gives her a thumbs down. She gives him a shot of painkillers, and then summons a nurse.
“Nurse, would you inform Doctor--” She almost says Pierce, and catches herself at the last moment. Hawkeye is the man who most deserves to be informed about this, but he also wasn’t the attending surgeon, and the nurse would find her request strange. “Tell Doctors Hunnicutt and Winchester that their patient is awake.”
BJ and Charles will be in the Swamp, and Hawkeye probably is, too. He’ll hear the news by proxy. That’s the best she can do.
All three of them pour into post-op minutes later. Hawkeye, for once possessing an ounce of self-preservation, hangs back so that BJ and Charles can talk to Sidney first. He leans on the bar at the end of the bed while the other two sit on either side of Sidney. Margaret watches as Sidney catches Hawkeye’s eye for a moment, something unspoken passing between them, before he focuses on his surgeons.
“Thankfully, you had an incredibly skilled surgeon,” Charles is telling Sidney with his typical smugness. “The best in Korea, in fact. There’s not a scrap of shrapnel left in the wound, and the scarring should be minimal.””
“I’m just glad to be on this side of the dirt,” Sidney rasps. “Thank you, Doctors.”
They all shake Sidney’s hand and wish him well. If Hawkeye’s handshake lasts a moment or two longer than the others, well, Margaret isn’t going to comment on it.
***
The next few days pass in a haze of pain. Sidney isn’t conscious often, but when he is, it’s downright miserable. It feels as though someone has lit his insides on fire, and not in the pleasant first-spark-of-attraction way.
He knows that Hawkeye has shifts in post-op, but he’s never awake when Hawkeye is there. He wishes they could catch a few minutes alone together, even if it’s in the middle of the night while all the other patients are sleeping. Even that much would almost make the whole ordeal worth it.
He’s awake once when Margaret is on duty, and she comes to his side after he catches her eye.
“How long am I here, Major?”
“We’d like you to be a little bit more stable before we move you,” Margaret tells him. “You’ll probably be transferred to Tokyo General at the end of the week.”
That was far from ideal, but Sidney can’t protest without arousing suspicion. He had planned to visit the 4077 for Christmas, just not like this. He hadn’t counted on spending it hundreds of miles from Hawkeye.
“Thank you, Major,” he says, hoping he keeps the disappointment out of his voice, and she moves on to the next patient.
***
Potter looks up when Margaret breezes into his office the next morning.
“Major, what can I do you for?”
“It’s about Dr. Freedman,” she says, and Potter regards her curiously.
“Go on.”
“Well, sir, he’s supposed to be transferred to Tokyo General with the rest of the wounded from post-op. I’d like to put him up in the VIP tent for the rest of his recovery instead.”
“You would, huh.” Potter’s eyes narrow. “That’s highly unusual. Can I ask why?”
“Because he’s our friend, and it’s Christmas,” Margaret says. “He’s done a lot for us, sir. He doesn’t only treat our patients, he treats us. The number of times he’s come to us and helped our doctors or our nurses…well, sir, I think we should be the ones taking care of him, for once.”
Potter hums consideringly. “That’s a kind thought, Major.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“You’re up to something, though.”
“I would never.” She gives him her best affronted look.
“Hm.” Potter stares at her for a minute more, and then looks back down at his paperwork. “Well, just don’t burn down my camp, whatever you’re up to. Permission granted.”
***
Hawkeye storms into her tent, and Margaret almost scolds him for it. Then, she sees the expression on his face.
“Why?” he demands.
“Why what?”
Hawkeye regards her, uncharacteristically solemn. “You’re the one who persuaded Potter to keep him here. Why?”
“I thought he’d rather recover while surrounded by friends instead of strangers,” Margaret says lightly. “It is Christmas, after all.”
“Uh-huh.” Hawkeye clearly doesn’t believe her. “And why did you actually want to keep him here?”
Margaret takes a deep breath. It’s only the two of them in here, after all. Still, she lowers her voice when she says, “And I thought he might appreciate the company of his particular friend during his recovery.”
Hawkeye pales, but his eyes flash with anger. He takes a step closer, lowering his voice to match. “Insinuate what you want about me, Major, but leave Sidney out of it. He’s a good man, and he doesn’t deserve to have his career--his life destroyed because of some baseless accusations--”
“I saw the two of you behind Rosie’s,” she says quickly, “months ago now. I didn’t say anything. I won’t say anything.”
Hawkeye freezes. She has well and truly caught him off guard, and he gapes at her. “You--”
“Tell me, is he as good a kisser as it seemed? Because it looked very nice.”
That, finally, gets a laugh out of him. “Trust me, it’s even better than it looks.”
“Well. Good for you, Pierce.”
***
When Sidney wakes, he spends several moments staring at the ceiling of the VIP tent.
“This isn’t Tokyo General,” he says finally.
“Disappointed?” Hawkeye perches on the cot. He’s heartened to see that Sidney’s eyes are clear, and not overbright with fever.
Sidney’s mouth quirks. “With a doctor as handsome as you, how could I be?”
“Good to see that you’re your usual charming self even with a belly full of shrapnel.”
“I was informed that the shrapnel has been removed.” Sidney pushes aside the blankets and surveys his bandaged torso. “How bad was it? Really?”
“Twelve hours on the operating table and we almost lost you twice,” Hawkeye says grimly. He can’t even muster a bit of dark humor; there’s no amusement to be found in this situation.
“I did tell you I’d be home for Christmas, didn’t I?”
“Sidney, you’re Jewish.”
“Well, so are you.”
“If I’d known that this was what you meant by coming home, I’d have told you to forget it.”
“I arrived in style, though, didn’t I?”
Hawkeye looks away, unable to bear Sidney making light of this. Sidney settles a hand on his knee in silent apology.
“How’d you manage to get me the VIP tent?”
“I didn’t. That was all Margaret.” Hawkeye looks back at him. “She knows.”
“Ah. I wondered if she might.” Sidney squeezes his knee. “I assume, based on my current accommodations, that she doesn’t have a problem with it.”
“Let’s just say that it bothers her more that I have no respect for the Army. Who I sleep with is low on the list of sins I’ve committed, in her eyes.”
“Speaking of sins…” Sidney moves his hand to Hawkeye’s thigh, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “How long until we can get back to committing a few of those together?”
“Eight weeks, for the sin I’d really like to commit,” Hawkeye says. “But if you’re good and don’t pull out any of your stitches while you’re here, I’ll give you a handjob for Christmas.”
“I’ll take that offer,” Sidney says, and pulls him down for a kiss.