"Hawk? Weíve got a guy in supply who needs to see you. He said to bring along some penicillin with you. The clap again." Klinger smiled guilelessly at Hawkeye.
"Okay, Klinger. Iíll swear, we show these films, give those lectures, and still, nobody listens." He shook his head in mock dismay.
"You go, Hawk. I donít think I should uh, well, um, Iíll see ya." He scuttled off.
Hawkeye chuckled. His mood was improving. He hadnít seen hide nor hair of Donald, and he hoped not to ever do so again. But, no jeeps were missing, and no new faces in camp. He was around somewhere. He loathed the man with a passion. He didnít know why, but he didnít care to think about it. He pulled his robe around him and tied the sash. He set off for supply, stopping to pick up the antibiotic on the way.
He was whistling jauntily as he reached the door to supply. There was a hanger on the door, probably to keep people from intruding on the "procedure." He laughed again softly. One would think that people who worked in a hospital would know better. He opened the door and stepped in.
What was going on? The room looked like a setting for a seduction. Lighted candles graced the empty shelf space, and soft romantic music played on the record player.
"Jeez, what some people will do to keep folks from suspecting hanky-panky. Huh," he muttered. Oh well. He plopped down on a chair and availed himself of the sumptuous-looking food laid out.
The door opened. He looked up, expecting to see a careless corpsman slinking in the door. What he saw instead shocked him beyond all belief.
"Margaret?" She had GC? How in hell...
"Oh, Hawkeye! Why are you here? Were there complications?" She was confused. There must have been unforeseen complications. Maybe the baby was breech.
"Okay, Margaret. I canít believe youíre here, but Iím game if you are. Drop your pants." He couldnít believe he was saying this to her.
"I beg your pardon!!" she gasped, affronted.
"Come on, Margaret. Drop Ďem. I wonít tell if you wonít." He felt strangely upset. How had she gotten the VD? Probably from Donald. She must have taken him back.
He was so caught up in his musings that he didnít see the small fist aimed at his eye until it was too late. He hit the floor with a thud.
He rolled over, holding his eye. She was staring down at him, horrified that she had actually hit him. "Oh, Hawkeye, Iím so sorry." She reached down to help him up. "But, what were you talking about? And, why are you here? Klinger just said for me to come. Is the baby okay?"
"Baby? Radar told me to come because there was somebody who needed a shot of penicillin. When you came in, I just figured it was you."
"Uh, no, no, I donít need any penicillin. Klinger told me that there was a delivery to be done on an LIP."
"I think weíve been taken, Major. How Ďbout you?" He shot her a look and shook his head.
"I think Iíd be inclined to agree with you, Hawkeye." She arched one perfectly shaped blonde brow at him and waited for a response. She couldnít figure out why somebody would set them up like this--she hadnít told anybody how she felt, and he certainly couldnít return her sentiments.
"Well, two can play that game. Iím a fair to middliní actor. You wanna give Ďem somethiní to talk about?" He grinned, eager to get the best of BJ and Charles.
"What did you have in mind?" she asked, smirking wickedly.
"Oh, just make my bunkies, who almost certainly dreamed this up, think that their little seduction scene worked. Think you can pull it off?" Not only would the charade afford him a good laugh, but also a good excuse to touch Margaret.
"Youíve got yourself a partner." She smiled, shaking her head. Only Hawkeye Pierce would do this. Anyway, pretend that she was his mistress? How hard could that be? She certainly had some practice.
"Great," he whispered. "And now, let the games begin." He gave her a questioning look.
"Oh, Margaret!" he gasped, just loud enough to be heard outside the door.
"Hawkeye!" she exclaimed, and giggled.
He snickered softly and gathered her in his arms, backing her into the door. He kissed her softly and they pulled apart seconds later. They stared at each other. In agreement, they came together again and began to kiss in earnest. They parted again, after a longer time and looked hard into each otherís eyes again. Their game had suddenly turned serious. They parted slowly, Hawkeye was worried that sheíd be angry with him, or worse, figure out how he felt. She reached out and grabbed the collar of his shirt, as she did when she was about to hit somebody. Instead, she jerked him closer and kissed him, tilting her head to one side, and his to the other. His arms went back around her, and they leaned against the door again, never separating.
Hawkeye awoke in the Swamp to the sound of BJ calling his name.
"Yo, Hawk! Get up." BJ looked down at his sleeping bunkmate. It had been three days since the episode in supply, and BJ knew what had happened. As Hawk and Margaret had suspected, he had been listening, and had heard everything said. He had also peeked in after all sound had disappeared and seen them wrapped around each other in a pile of blankets, asleep. Yet, neither had said anything to anybody. He wondered what had happened afterward.
"What do you want, Beej? Iím asleep, couldnít you tell?"
"Well, weíve found a certain Lieutenant Colonel, and we need to decide what to do with him. I took the liberty of drugging him so that you could help mete out his punishment. What do ya say?"
"Oooh yea! Oh boy, Beej, I canít wait. What are we going to do? String him up on the flagpole? Freeze his shorts? Box him up and send him off to I-Corps? Maybe even force him to eat Igorís food until he explodes. Any ideas?" He grinned wickedly.
"Youíre vicious, Hawk. I was thinking more along the lines of making him into Igorís food. But, your idea had merit..."
Later, in the compound...
"Attention all personnel! It is time to meet in the compound to salute the flag. Your presence is required!" the PA squawked.
"Oh, Beej, Iím so excited!" Hawkeye clapped his hands with glee.
People began to stagger into the center of the compound, all around the flagpole. There were gasps of surprise as they looked up, and slowly people began to applaud. Donald Penobscott was dangling from the flagpole by a harness fashioned from the rope used to hoist the flag every morning.
"Oh my God, what did you do? Oh, this is great!" Margaret exclaimed with delighted glee.
Donald awoke from his drugged sleep to the sound of the entire camp solemnly saying the salute to the flag.
Later, in the office...
"Okay, boys, what did you do with him?" Colonel Potter asked, trying to cover his amusement with a stern face.
"Oh nothing. If I-Corps asks about him, tell Ďem heís on his way." Hawkeye snickered as he remembered dressing Donald in Klingerís girdle and matching bra, sticking him in a crate with airholes, food, and water, and addressing the crate to I-Corps. What fun.
At Potterís unamused look, he and BJ explained the whole thing.
"Oh, boys, what am I going to do with you. Well, I-Corps wonít be too upset. It turns out that heís AWOL, and wanted by the MPís." They all had a good laugh at this one. "Anyway, Pierce, how did Margaret feel about this whole thing?"
"Oh, well, she was glad we got rid of him. He wanted her back, but on his terms only. He got to keep all the mistresses and such, and she got to be his door mat. She didnít like the arrangement." Hawkeye skirted around the real reason that Margaret didnít care about Donald. It was odd, but nobody had noticed the new diamond on Margaretís left hand. It had been his motherís.
"So, Hawkeye, how did things turn out between the two of you after that day in the supply tent, anyway?" BJ just had to know. And Potter might just as well be informed at the same time.
"Oh, that. Nothing much. Weíre getting married."