#margaret would like to stop being put in situations please cia was enough

[remyfire]

"things you said when you were scared" and margbeej?

"Things You Said..." Meme (idk who sent this in because it wasn't my usual subject, but their spirit possessed me and it's 2.2k words augh. PAIN. First time writing in Margaret's voice so it's almost more a character study at this point BUT I HAD A GREAT TIME THANK YOU—) (CW for incredibly brief, almost nonspecific mention of fear of being shot and of being taken captive by an enemy force and sexually assaulted)

The moment they've pulled the Jeep off the road, BJ grabs for Margaret first, his satchel second. With her heart thudding as fast as a rabbit's, she keeps her feet sure, her knees high, bounding along with him through the brush.

"Where are we—"

"Just trust me," BJ murmurs in a confident voice better suited to a general than a mild-mannered surgeon, and perhaps that's why she listens. If it was Pierce, if it was Klinger, if it was nearly anyone else in the world, she's certain that she'd hear their hesitation and bite their head off instinctively, but Captain Hunnicutt's different.

He always has been.

Perhaps it's his height that makes him better know where they're going. Perhaps it's instinct. But either way, when a small shack in the copse of trees swims into focus, Margaret huffs out a sharp sound of relief, one that she immediately muffles by slapping her hand over her mouth. God. God. She can't keep herself quiet for even a goddamn second? They're not alone on this road. They'll be lucky if their Jeep stays in its little hiding place there, skewed between the brush and the trees, bathed in shadows.

Margaret is swiftly coming to a point where she wishes she could consider rejecting Colonel Potter's requests for her to accompany surgeons during emergencies to frantic, blood-soaked aid stations, because it seems every time she does, there's nothing but hell, enemy forces, and incredibly dangerous situations waiting for her.

And she isn't simply referring to the threat of death. Not anymore.

Right as they near the shack, BJ pulls sharply ahead, his long legs pumping faster than she's ever seen them go, and she half-fears he might be leaving her behind. But he practically rips the door open, a fist raised, and sticks his head in as he skims the darkness. By the time she reaches his side, he wraps a massive hand around her wrist and yanks her in right behind him.

Calling it a shack was a bit extreme. The one she and Pierce huddled down in for one of the greater regrets-or-perhaps-not of her life was at least capable of being a desperate but serviceable living space. This feels less like it's made to be occupied, more like it perhaps was put together to hide caches of things. She thinks absurdly of the small building her grandfather built on his property just to hold his tools, but he was never quite as rugged and put-together as she used to think men were all supposed to be. It had collapsed within a month after a particularly difficult wind came through.

When BJ shuts the door, he catches it right before it can slam. For a moment, they're in dusty darkness, panting together.

There's a small gap in the wall, the only thing allowing a cut of brilliant daylight through, and BJ steadies himself with a hand on Margaret's shoulder as he comes up unfathomably tall on his tiptoes to peer through it.

"What do you see?" she hisses.

He holds up his other fingers, a silent plea for quiet, and she doesn't dream of betraying it. He's a prankster. He's a quipper. He's put her underwear up a flagpole. But there's a calmer history between them, unlike with Pierce—that agonizing, lonely year with McIntyre where Margaret cycled between desperate want and furious embarrassment—and though she's all but trembling in the dark, BJ is still.

In a way, it's almost enough to make her disgusted at herself. She's lived on Army bases all her life, dreamed of making it her career, accomplished top marks in her training. This is supposed to be a way of life for her. Yet he's the one who is so sturdy.

For the first time, she catches herself wondering what he's lived through to make him learn to be so still in these moments of incredible fear.

There's a scuffing in the distance, like a stone being kicked, and BJ tightens his grip on her and all but drags her to the far back of the shack. She trips over something unseen and he cups her elbow, helps her steady herself, guides her with both hands all the way to their goal.

Her back hits the wood and BJ's chest collides with hers, all but pinning her in place and knocking the wind straight out of her. She grabs a fistful of his shirt, just needing something to hold onto, and as her eyes finally begin to adjust to the darkness, she can make out the situation they're in. BJ has her whole body covered with his, both hands pressed to the wall on either side of her head, the equivalent of a human shield. His head is turned, gaze fixed on the door.

A stick cracks, closer than the rock.

God. God, no. She's here again, she's fucking here again, unsure if what's waiting for her in the span of the next ninety seconds is a bullet through her skull or a stranger dragging her off to use her as they see fit. The spike of terror almost blinds her, almost turns what tiny crumbs are left somewhere in her stomach.

"It's okay." BJ's words are nothing but a breath, barely a hint of sound coloring them. "Just hold on."

And all at once, she's so grateful that the person she's in this experience with is someone like him, that God hasn't seen fit to punish her by saddling her with another traumatizing one-on-one deathtrap with Pierce where they're constantly dueling to see who's going to take charge. It's the thing tornadoes are born from—the sharp chill of her fear, the almost soothing warmth of knowing he won't go down without a fight, that she'll have to practically be ripped out of his rigor mortis grip.

Not for the first time, she wonders how many of her other nurses can see how easily Captain Hunnicutt steps into the role of husband, provider, caretaker when the situation calls for it.

Not for the first time, she hates how sharply it overtakes her every time, that ache to be the only one who receives it, that knowledge that it never would've been an option.

Men like BJ Hunnicutt don't make it through high school, much less college or medical school, unclaimed. Someone is always smart enough to see such a sharply-rising stock value. But that doesn't mean she doesn't ache.

It doesn't mean she can't feel him watch her in turn.

Far from them, she can barely make out the elegant curve of an unfamiliar language, and she pulls harder at his shirt with a stifled whimper.

"Margaret, it's all right." One of his warm hands finds her cheek, his thumb brushing over her skin as though seeking tears to wipe away.

Suddenly it's paramount that he knows. He has to. He needs to understand, or, or— "I don't want to—"

"I know."

"I-I don't want to die before I tell you—"

"We're not gonna die."

"But—"

He presses his palm against her mouth, body trapping hers against the wall, whisper so low it's barely audible. "Whatever it is, Margaret, tell me after the war. Do you hear me?"

Her chest goes tighter, bubbling irritation at the thought that he believes he controls her voice, but there's another crack. A long series of tall blades of grass brushing together. Just loud enough that he must've been listening for them in her frantic moments of blurting.

She bites the inside of her cheek punishingly, and as though he feels it, he rubs ever so faintly over her skin with his ring fingertip, and when she thinks of the band on it, she squeezes her eyes shut.

In the darkness of her mind, she can hear the movement of what must be enemy operatives, their steps and their language both, but she can smell BJ. She can feel the weight of his grip, of his body. It's as though those two senses are fighting a war of their own against the fear stoked by her ears, and against all odds, they even seem to be winning.

She might not be brave right now, but she can be strong and true, and thank God she doesn't have to do it alone.

They wait, silent. Seconds tick by like hours. The world has never been as infinite as it is in this moment.

But like everything must, life resumes.

The footsteps fade. Seconds pass. A minute. As time rediscovers its natural rhythm, so do their bodies refocus on their current positions, and the drugging relief that floods Margaret starts to taper off when BJ moves first. He lifts his palm from her mouth, but he doesn't hurry away. He drags his hand slowly down her chin, little by little, until just the edge of his thumb catches on her bottom lip. He's right there. Right there. Close enough to suck. To taste. To add to those two senses that were already consumed by him.

She becomes aware of the slow breath he takes, deep and full, how his stomach brushes the curve of her breasts. As it so often has since coming to Korea, the edge of her fear twists in knots around her pooling desire, creating a hypnotic new connection between the two that she's not sure she'll ever be able to understand. To break.

"Hunnicutt." No. That doesn't feel right. Not now. Margaret swallows the knot in her throat, forces herself to whisper what feels somehow like the most intimate thing she ever has. "BJ—"

"After the war." His thumb stays. God, it shouldn't. She needs to wrench his hand away, begin the slow process of forgetting the pattern of his thumbprint against some of her most sensitive skin.

She begins to shake her head, but the tickle of his fingerpad makes her freeze and press her palm harder against the wall behind her. She endures it even still as she speaks, leaving a dozen impossible kisses there as she shapes her words. "At this point...I'm not sure the war is ever going to end." Or if it does, that we'll both survive it. Or if we do, that we'll ever be really, truly out of it.

There's a pause spanning all of time and space where BJ curls the hand against the wall right by her head into a fist, where his tanned face goes ruddy and flushed, where his eyes pop like stars against a sky and smolder as fiercely as a sun. When he finally lifts his thumb from her lips, it's painted the same gleaming coral as the mouth it left behind. "It has to," he murmurs raggedly as he steps backward, leaves her body chilled through.

At first, she thinks he's leaving her behind. It takes her a few seconds longer to realize he's scooped up his satchel and is lingering at the door, putting his back to her so she can gather herself—so he can do the same.

Not for the first time, Margaret misses the young woman who didn't have to compose herself. Nineteen-year-old Margaret would've slinked up behind him, wrapped an arm around his waist, nuzzled between his shoulders, murmured something so playful and silky that he would've taken her right there on the floor. She would've gone straight back to her dorm room and crawled in bed with Lorraine and giggled out her gossip, playing through every moment from start to finish.

But she's not that girl anymore. She's a woman who's been the mistress time and time again. And though she'll never tell BJ that she heard every whispered piece of gossip about him and Lieutenant Donovan that her nurses spun, his devotion to his wife continues to be the most powerful aspect of him that she prays will never be shaken.

She needs to believe that men that truly, deeply, achingly devoted are real. Because if they're not, then what on earth is left for her?

Margaret takes a deep breath and presses a hand to her stomach, trying to soothe the riotous nerves inside. At least it's quiet. No more sounds. No godforsaken shelling. As she lets out the shivering air, BJ rubs the back of his neck, his shoulders shifting here and there.

"Does it look clear out there?" Margaret murmurs. "Are we safe?"

"As safe as we can be," he confirms just as quietly. "If we wait much longer, we might be risking an actual patrol, not a couple of stragglers."

"Then by all means." She hurries forward, reaches toward his hip to move him out of the way, then freezes before she can touch him. No. She's done all this work to calm herself back down to the same woman who could handle an entire unseen landscape of snipers, if she had to. If she's going to imagine the shape of him under his fatigues, then she'll save that for her quarters once the moon is peeking out. "Shall we?"

"Let me?" BJ asks. She nods. He steps out first, a hand behind him to keep her at bay, then nods. As he moves forward, she stays right by his side, sensing that quiet authority, that confidence he has that if he can't guarantee her safety, he'll at least die trying.

Yet another point in his favor. Yet another endless bullet to add to her long, long, long list of hopes for a lifetime lover, if she even still deserves one.

[mash-notes]

Season 2 Episodes, Ranked

Here’s the list! As before, please feel free to dispute and cite your preferences! Something I noted doing this is that there are many “vignettes” shows in this season, all of them excellent. It’s hard to keep track of what happened in which show, but this is a testament to the high comedic density of the season. Out of 24 episodes, there is one that contains cringey moments. The 23 others, even those ranked low, are beautifully done.

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24. Operation Noselift

Stuart Margolin returns to the show, this time as a creep plastic surgeon called in to operate on an enlisted man with a prosthetic nose smaller than Klinger’s. For the second time, he assaults Margaret and it’s played for laughs. Get it together, MASH.

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23. Mail Call

A vignettes show: everyone receives various letters and shipments. The main drama is Pioneer Aviation, the made-up stock that the Swampmen convince Frank to buy. Radar switches his picture out for Hawk’s in a pen-pal letter and Margaret receives some seriously hot shoes.

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22. For Want of a Boot

Based on the success of “The Longjohn Flap” in s1, a show about trading commodities and services in the camp. Hawk promises many things to many people in order to replace his broken boot—resulting in chaos at Frank’s birthday party when the deals all fall through.

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21. Divided We Stand

The season premiere. A psychiatrist (Anthony Holland; NOT Sidney) is sent to observe the MASH and decide if they should be broken up and sent to other units. After a day there, the shrink becomes a degenerate himself.

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20. Henry in Love

Henry’s new girlfriend Nancy Sue (Kathrine Baumann), who is half his age, captivates Henry and irritates everyone else. She ends her visit by tackling Hawkeye in his tent, prompting the lecture: “one of us loves Henry Blake, and I think it’s me!”

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19. As You Were

A slow day turns busy. Hawk and Trap order gorilla suits in the mail and Frank arranges the condiment bottles so they’re perfectly aligned. Later, Frank’s hernia acts up and he’s prepped for surgery. +1 for Blake’s ineffective sex lecture with Figures A and B.

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18. The Chosen People

Henry finds a cow in his office, initiating a stalemate with a group of Korean villagers who settle at the MASH. Meanwhile, Radar pretends to be the father of a Korean woman’s baby. A lot of great quips from the dynamo Captain Sam Pak (Pat Morita), and snide remarks from Frank.

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17. Radar’s Report

Radar describes Hawk’s new intrigue with Erica, and, notably, Trapper’s anger when an enemy soldier attacks the OR and causes him to lose a patient. Notable also for the debut of Allan Arbus as Sidney Freedman (yaaaayyy!), and his landmark consultation with Klinger.

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16. Kim

Trapper adopts a little boy thought to be an orphan, who has won the hearts of the whole company. When the kid walks into a minefield, they must work together to maneuver him out. Sappy, but undeniably cute—and, when the boy’s real mother is found, also a little sad.

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15. L.I.P.

Hawkeye helps a G.I. marry a woman from the village to start their new family. This offends Hawk’s new girlfriend Regina (Corinne Camacho), and she is quickly put in her place. Serious and heartfelt; Regina’s shaming is very satisfying. The prank pulled on the mean lieutenant (Burt Young) to bring the marriage off is funny also.

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14. Officers Only

This episode creates the MASH Officers’ Club, scene of many brawls, heart-to-hearts, and dances in the nine seasons to come. When the surgeons operate on General Mitchell’s son, he gives them the bar—Hawk insists that everyone, not just officers, be welcome there.

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13. Dear Dad… Three

A letter-home show, this one is a favorite for its heavy involvement of Ginger, #1 Nurse We Wish We Saw More In The Series. We also see Henry’s goofy home movie, the first of many, in a sweet device that will recur for other characters.

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12. The Trial of Henry Blake

This vignettes show is held together with Henry’s court-martial—and it doesn’t look good for him until the end. Gurney races, a regiment of wingtips, and the hang-gliding Klinger endear it to us. Also Henry and Radar giggling during the trial, an A+ moment.

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11. Dr. Pierce and Mr. Hyde

Sleep-Deprived Hawkeye, away! His dedication makes him refuse to take a break, until his exhaustion makes him go off the rails even more than usual and question the war. Arguably the first of the “Alan Alda soapbox episodes,” a hallmark of the series, which are Hawk-centric and deeply moral.

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10. For the Good of the Outfit

A brilliant, brave, political show in which Hawk and Trap raise an investigation against the Army for bombing a village. In the end Frank, resentful of the attention they’re getting and bucking for praise, causes the complaint to go through.

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9. The Incubator

Another show about red tape: the doctors can’t get an incubator for the hospital without obscene amounts of bribery. The scene in Henry’s office where they discuss the pizza oven is iconic; Hawk and Trapper in their Class A’s is terrific.

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8. Carry On, Hawkeye

Hawk is the only surgeon available when everyone else at the MASH has the flu… except for Margaret. This episode shows us the first glimmer of friendship between the captain and the major, an association that will grow incrementally and, by the end of the series, become something really beautiful.

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7. A Smattering of Intelligence

In the season finale, two CIA men descend upon the MASH, flashily, ridiculously, and hilariously. Edward Winter brings the laughs as Colonel Flagg, hyper-serious enough to never be taken seriously. Nobody knows what to make of this situation; it perfectly embodies the show’s early approach to madcap comedy.

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6. George

Yes, this was in the same season. A queer soldier is battered and persecuted; Hawkeye and Trapper cleverly thwart Frank’s plan to discharge him. For its thoughtful treatment of homosexuality on TV, this show was decades ahead of its time. I will never stop being in awe of it.

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5. Hot Lips and Empty Arms

Who knew she had emotions, desires, and raging benders like a normal person? Just like that, in a watershed moment, Hot Lips turns into Margaret. Warm, feminist, and extremely funny—thanks to a staggering star performance by Loretta.

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4. Crisis

Why can’t these turkeys bunk together every night? If every episode of MASH featured this amount of cuddling, I would be fine with that. Also, Henry standing wrapped in a blanket, a cigar sticking out of his mouth, is one of my favorite images of all time. ALSO also, Father Mulcahy’s “bag of peanuts” prayer works on every conceivable level.

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3. Deal Me Out

A poker game is broken up—first by Frank’s CID-protocol problem, then by a hostage situation. More Sidney, more Sam Pak, a glimpse of Ed Winter, and a LOT of John Ritter in one of his first acting roles. This show is full of wonderful close-ups around the table as the boys gamble the “conference” away, and is a truly deserving fan fav.

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2.  Five O’Clock Charlie

Action, cosplay, aeronautic stunts, and a shower scene—what doesn’t this one have? It’s kind of the platonic ideal of a “funny” MASH episode, and nobody gets hurt except the Jeep. +1, as if it needed it, for the debut of Henry’s doll.

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1. The Sniper

The bullets landing all over the camp—how did they do that? In this incredible show (which also features Teri Garr and Radar’s ass), a lone gunman terrorizes the MASH, sending them into an unprecedented emergency, until he’s finally shot and has to be treated by Hawk himself. It has competition, but this is undeniably the jewel in season 2’s fancy crown; a gorgeous blend of danger, fun, and the blurred morality of war.