A/N: Here I go again, writing more. Oh, well, it's Radar. I can't help it; he's too sweet and smarter than he lets on.
I watched-- and taped-- "Abyssinia, Henry" today. It's the second time I have seen that episode, and I still cried. McLean Stevenson played Henry so well, and his interaction with Radar was just... Well, it was almost like a real father and son.
Sigh.
Anyhow, this is my one-shot dedication to that episode, Henry, and Radar. Cheers, guys.
Enjoy.
I was proud of myself for not outright crying as he said his last words to me and boarded that helicopter. I think he was proud of me, too, from the look he gave me. I saluted him with as much respect as I had for the man who became my surrogate father in the short time we knew each other. He was my hero, and he knew that. I stood there and saluted until the helicopter was well out of sight, then-- finally-- I sighed and walked back towards the camp itself.
It didn't hit me until just before I walked into my office.
He will die before he reaches home, a voice in my head whispered gently.
I knew that voice. It was the one that always told me what was going to happen. I froze where I stood and stared at the door without really seeing it. Everyone was rushing around me, checking the wounded or getting supplies. A bus had just pulled in with several more in addition to the two that had come on the helicopter, and behind me I heard Frank yelling, heading the triage this time. I heard Hawkeye snap at him, as usual, and Trapper was hollering for a nurse to begin an IV.
I heard all of it, but I still remained where I was, frozen and staring at the door. Slowly, I closed my eyes and let a few tears fall. I wrapped one arm around myself and held my head with other one, my hand over my mouth. Slowly, I turned around and glanced at the last place I had seen the helicopter before it had disappeared over the mountain.
Aw, Henry... I thought.
"Radar?" a kind voice asked. I flickered my glance over to Father Mulcahy, who looked at me with concern. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine, Father," I whispered. I took a deep breath and let a few more tears fall. "He... He's gone, Father. He's gone."
"Yes, he is, but remember-- he's going home to his family who miss him terribly," he said, gently putting a hand on my shoulder. I glanced at him again; he was smiling.
"No, Father. You don't understand," I murmured.
"I'm sorry, I--"
"You'll find out in a few hours, Father," I said, then turned and went into my office.
I sat down on my bed and cried. I cried and cried and cried; it felt like the tears would never end. I had taken my glasses off and thrown them onto my bed. My hat laid on the floor where I had thrown in anger. I was sad and I was angry, angry that my gift, my curse, my radar was too late. It was too late.
Deep down, I knew that even if it had come in time, I wouldn't have been able to stop Henry. He was going home, end of story. He missed his wife and his kids, his hometown, his practice, all of it. He missed home, just like everyone else that was in this godforsaken place. I wouldn't have been able to stop him from going because... I wouldn't have been able to tell him. In my heart, there was just no way I would have been able to hurt his happiness, even it had meant saving his life.
Maybe that was it had come late. Maybe it had known, just like I always do. Still, I was still angry... and I still cried.
The call came in several hours later. When I answered, I simply told Sparky-- who was relaying the message-- that I knew. He knew my gift, so he hadn't said anything and hung up. I wiped my eyes, retrieved my hat and glasses, steadied myself, and went to tell them in the OR.
"I have a message," I said, ignoring Hawkeye who told me to put a mask on. "Lieutenant Colonel Henry Blake's plane... was shot down over the Sea of Japan. It spun in... There were no survivors."
I left and stood outside the OR door, much like I had earlier. The tears fell again, but I made no sound.
He is coming, the voice whispered. I waited and wasn't surprised to see Father Mulcahy come out, pulling off his mask as he did so.
"Radar?" he asked, his voice trembling.
"I knew, Father," I said. "I knew he was going to die."
I looked at him; he was crying, too. He opened his mouth, but closed it again, unable to say anything. I knew he was thinking. He was wondering why I hadn't said it earlier. I had no answer for him, so I said nothing. I turned and began walking back to my office, but then I stopped and glanced back at him.
"I knew," I repeated. I gave him a small, sad smile. "I always know."
And then I left.
Goodbye, Henry. We miss you. I miss you...