Colonel Potter, Hawkeye and B.J. were in the middle of a little mid- afternoon libation as they chatted over the details of that night's festivities. B.J. was perched on the filing cabinet near the window, Hawkeye's feet were propped up casually on the desk's surface, and Colonel Potter was up pouring another for himself.

Father Mulcahy bursting into the office doors with a tormented- looking Radar held in a wrestling lock and Radar's glasses clutched tightly high in the air in his other hand was about the last thing they were expecting to happen next.

Mulcahy waved the glasses about in the air, causing them to clatter a bit. "Look! Here is the work of Henry Blake!" he declared, his face red with exertion and anger.

Hawkeye looked over his shoulder, hiding his surprise under an innocently confused mask. "What, Henry gave Radar myopia?"

B.J. shook his head, "Can't be. You just left your opia in your other pants. Hm. Henry stunted Radar's growth?"

Hawkeye shrugged. "I always blamed that on the coffee."

Colonel Potter shuffled around the desk. "Down, you two. Father, what's all this about? Let him go, will you?" He reached out for Mulcahy's arm to pry the two apart, but the priest's arm tensened and he jumped back.

"No. I won't. He'll get out of here, and make... make more! More of these things!" he waved the glasses around in the air.

He looked around at the room full of incredulous faces beginning to tint with concern. He twisted Radar's arm up further behind his back until he shrieked. "Don't look at me like that. Don't look at me like I've lost my mind. Can't you see this demon here?" he shoved Radar forward a bit demonstratively. "Don't you see this creature?" he rattled the glasses.

Potter held up his hands in a peaceful gesture. "No, Padre, we don't. But we'll listen, all right? Just stop hurting Radar-- err-- um-- the demon."

Radar gave the Colonel a pained look at being called such a thing, but Potter ignored it for the moment, trying to reason with Mulcahy.

"You won't let him leave?"

"He'll stay right here."

Mulcahy released Radar tentatively, then, having lost his grip, tried to reaffirm it, seeming to change his mind. But Radar was ready, and was already halfway across the room, well out of the priest's grip. He fled, tripping briefly over a chair leg he couldn't quite make out, and took refuge between the two doctors. B.J. hopped down to look at Radar's arm.

"I think it's broken," Radar moaned slightly, wincing at the examination. "Make him give me back Ba--- my glasses."

"Padre..." urged Potter, reaching a hand out for the glasses.

"What? What glasses? What glasses?" Father Mulcahy demanded, jitterily repeating himself.

"Look at your hand, Padre. What do you have there?"

Father Mulcahy looked up toward the dragon--- and his mouth fell open and shut a few times in an attempt to speak. He indeed held Radar's glasses in his clenched fingers. For a second he didn't quite feel as if the hand was his, but somebody else's, and he looked back to Colonel Potter in anguished confusion.

"Now," Potter continued, "look over there... who's over there with Pierce and Hunnicutt?"

Father Mulcahy turned himself, and fell to his knees to see Radar kind of frowning at him from between the two doctors.

"Oh, Lord." He murmured. "Tell me what the truth is."

"The monster will kill them all. Will drain them." The voices promptly replied, and Radar's skin seemed briefly marked with signs and sigils.

Mulcahy's eyes welled up with tears, and when they fell, he saw Radar once more as the others saw him. He handed the 'glasses' to Colonel Potter, who handed them to Hawkeye, who gave them to Radar, who put them on, sneaking a comforting patting stroke across one of the rims.

The chaplain stood up and straightened himself into a dignified posture, wiping the tears from his eyes and flicking them away with something like disdain.

He turned to the Colonel, "Colonel Potter, sir, I believe that Henry has done something to change Radar into... something like him." Mulcahy scrunched his forehead up and frowned. "Sir? What happened to your hair?"

Colonel Potter reached up and touched his hair, and Radar couldn't hold in a giggle. Potter shot him a glance.

"Oh. Yes. I... saw." Mulcahy mumbled, recalling the showers. He strode across to the chair next to Hawkeye, keeping his eyes on the ground and sitting as if weary.

Potter went around behind his desk again and sat down, gesturing to the priest's bathtime ensemble. "Looks like you had the luck not to walk into the same trap. But still, a little practical joke hardly means Radar's a vampire. Besides, Padre, did you get a look at the nice /sunny/ sky today?"

"He's right, Father," B.J. piped up, "Radar's been out and about all morning."

"Well, there's just got to be a connection. First Henry shows back up... and now Radar!"

Hawkeye stood up. "Now Radar what, exactly, Father? Pulls a little stunt? Look, we've all been under a little stress. Disapprove if you want to, it's your job, I suppose, but it doesn't mean there's anything wrong with him."

Mulcahy shook his head. "It's not that. He's... changed. I know it."

Hawkeye was about to disagree more virulently, but Potter lifted a hand. "Hey, fellows, settle down, okay? Maybe we ought to give the Father a little more leeway here. He WAS right about Henry, and none of us believed him then, either. He's obviously got some kind of inside scoop." He looked up a bit, looking a bit uncomfortable with the idea that God might be talking directly to his camp chaplain.

Hawkeye leaned back and looked to B.J., "We've always known he was getting betting tips."

Potter continued, "So, in the name of all the weird hoo-hah that's been going on around here, I think we ought to get it straight from the horse's--"

"Sheep's," interrupted Mulcahy pointedly.

"Mouth," finished Potter forcefully. "Radar? You know what the Father's talking about?"

All looked toward him expectantly. "No! I mean, yes... well... see..."

~