Radar had managed to only get sick once on his way back to his room, but as he entered, his head was still spinning, and no matter what he tried to do, the thought of Hawkeye's blood running around in Henry's body hounded him, made him feel sick, made him almost physically hurt. He sat down on the edge of his bed, and, folding his hands under his mouth, recited a generic bedtime prayer he'd used at bedtime when he was little. Well, okay, so he'd used it up until the night before he left for Korea. He wanted to do something with his mouth other than throw up. In the pauses between his words, the silence in the room became conspicuous. It was eerily quiet. It wasn't normally ever /this/ quiet. Immediately Radar turned and untucked his blanket where it had been settled over a bulge.

He jumped about three feet in the air as the bulge was revealed to be not the smiling face of his teddy bear, but instead a displaced pillow. On some level of which he was probably not even fully aware, he was glad for this new development. While he was panicking over his teddy bear's disappearance, he didn't have to think about Colonel Blake.

In a few moments his blanket and sheet were on the floor, and he followed suit after them, rummaging through them and sliding under the cot to see if it hadn't fallen behind. The shelves above his bed next caught his attack, which was growing in intensity each second. For no reason whatever he moved to his desk and skewed the papers about. There was no way the bear could be hiding among them. But he let himself go at it, anyway, giving a much-needed vent to some of his emotional backup. He yelled a few times, and stamped his foot childishly, and threw his hat across the room, and finally sat down in his desk chair, removed his glasses, and buried his face in his hands.

"Need some help redecorating?" Sidney called from the door.

Radar startled. He hadn't noticed the Psychologist standing there, nor had he heard him enter.

"No." he retorted crabbily, "And I don't need no head-shrinking, neither,"

"You got it, Radar, no head shrinking."

Radar looked up warily, staring somewhere in Sydney's direction. Or, at least, he thought that was about where he was standing. "You're just saying that so you can shrink my head."

Sidney chortled. "You're sharp, kid. But really, I'll tuck away my mumbo-jumbo for now, hm? Why don't you tell me what's wrong."

"I can't find my teddy bear." Radar whimpered in a grudging tone, like one who just wanted to be hugged.

"Well, you don't need a psychologist to tell you why that is."

Radar looked hopeful, "Oh?"

"You don't have your glasses on, Radar."

Radar huffed and put his hand out to pick up his glasses again. "Of course I /had/ 'em on when I was looking!" his hand fell flat on the disheveled paperwork. He ruffled around in them a bit, then shrieked, "Aaagh! I can't find those, either! Captain, gimme a hand, here!"

Sidney walked forward and came to the desk. He organized the sheets of paper into piles, though he wasn't quite sure what belonged with what, while Radar helplessly called out admonitions about getting the daily reports all in with the supply requisition forms.

The specs were, in fact, nowhere to be found.

"Jeez! I must be cursed or something!" Radar cried.

"Radar, you're not cursed." Sidney tried to comfort him. "Just calm down a moment. Where did you last put them down?"

"On the desk!" Radar insisted.

"Are you sure?" Sidney leaned down and examined the floor.

"Yes, I'm sure!"

"Well, then, they can't be far. It's not like they have legs. Calm down, we'll find 'em. Why don't you go sit down in bed, and I'll look for a while, hm?"

Radar acquiesced, and went to bed. He half-pulled the covers over him, and, groping for his bear, and not finding it, redoubled his sulking. "Look for my bear, too..." He tossed out.

"No problem. Meantime, why don't you talk to me about Henry..."

~