"I can't."
"You have to."
Mulcahy scuttled down into the cave, "Radar, listen to me. You HAVE to help him."
"I don't know how to-- I don't even know what's the matter with him! Why don't you all just leave me alone?" Radar sat up, squinting as he lost sight of the shadowy figure in the dim inside of the cave.
"Radar! Heed unto him! You do! You can!" urged Qotenmatch, reaching his little cuddly arms out toward his young Pooka ward, grabbing onto his shirt and clinging there.
Mulcahy stepped back from the changeling, swung around him thirty or forty degrees. "He's in great distress," he whispered to himself, then, out loud, "Radar, I can see you're penitent for what you've done."
Radar gripped the chimera to his heart, spinning around to follow the voice.
"Why don't you come back to camp with me," continued Mulcahy, lifting his chin and enunciating every syllable with authority. "Why don't you listen to these... companions... of yours." He continued circling, and Radar kept trying to keep up with him.
Mulcahy halted, driving home his speech, "Why don't you give back what you took."
Radar sighed heavily, the breath shaking with a stifled sob. He reached his hands up to his face and pressed his fists into his eyes, turning away from the voice, the voice of the man of God... God, yes, he remembered God, remembered taking a walk with his ma to church on Sundays, and how when he got out of Sunday school she'd be there to see the gold star he'd gotten for being able to name all twelve disciples with only missing one or two, and how she'd be proud of him for being her little man, and so, so grown up, so smart. And what would ma think, to see him now, to see all the pranks, the-- the stealing-- ma had always said to share, and to leave the hoggin' to the hogs, 'cause that kind of behavior wasn't suit for human beings in the image of God. Give back what you took, now, Walter, ma said, ma said he should give back what he took.
Mulcahy, looking on, physically onto the slight, sshaking body of the familiar Radar O'Reilley, chimerically upon the thoughts burning through his skull, shivered as he understood that he was the cause and source of all this. He had thought that he had had some effect on Henry, but he could only feel that effect vaguely, deep down, in a place most people would pass off as imagination. Through the chimerical spectacles, now, he could see exactly what he was doing.
He was bringing monsters, cursed to Satan, back to God.
Taking a deep breath, and, as Radar said nothing, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder, Mulcahy took his other hand and lifted the dragon off of his face, handing Bantelhopp back to Radar.
The world fell silent. The world went pitch black. Mulcahy hadn't quite expected that, and the change of perception staggered him a bit, his comforting hand clutching firmly on Radar's shoulder.
Radar looked back to Mulcahy, and reached back to take his hands and lead him safely up the rocky slope.
"My ma says... thanks."
Mulcahy nodded, trying to feel safe in the arms of the monster he's trying to reform. "Please, Radar, come and talk to me... later. For now, Hawkeye needs our help."
They came to the top of the rise, and Mulcahy put his own glasses back on. They looked down at the lights of the camp in the distance.
"I think I might have an idea." Radar said slowly and decidedly.
While Father Mulcahy had been walking around seeing the world with chimerical eyes, he hadn't looked back and noticed the pillar-like flare of a beacon of joy that spouted from the M*A*S*H 4077th.
~
"You have to."
Mulcahy scuttled down into the cave, "Radar, listen to me. You HAVE to help him."
"I don't know how to-- I don't even know what's the matter with him! Why don't you all just leave me alone?" Radar sat up, squinting as he lost sight of the shadowy figure in the dim inside of the cave.
"Radar! Heed unto him! You do! You can!" urged Qotenmatch, reaching his little cuddly arms out toward his young Pooka ward, grabbing onto his shirt and clinging there.
Mulcahy stepped back from the changeling, swung around him thirty or forty degrees. "He's in great distress," he whispered to himself, then, out loud, "Radar, I can see you're penitent for what you've done."
Radar gripped the chimera to his heart, spinning around to follow the voice.
"Why don't you come back to camp with me," continued Mulcahy, lifting his chin and enunciating every syllable with authority. "Why don't you listen to these... companions... of yours." He continued circling, and Radar kept trying to keep up with him.
Mulcahy halted, driving home his speech, "Why don't you give back what you took."
Radar sighed heavily, the breath shaking with a stifled sob. He reached his hands up to his face and pressed his fists into his eyes, turning away from the voice, the voice of the man of God... God, yes, he remembered God, remembered taking a walk with his ma to church on Sundays, and how when he got out of Sunday school she'd be there to see the gold star he'd gotten for being able to name all twelve disciples with only missing one or two, and how she'd be proud of him for being her little man, and so, so grown up, so smart. And what would ma think, to see him now, to see all the pranks, the-- the stealing-- ma had always said to share, and to leave the hoggin' to the hogs, 'cause that kind of behavior wasn't suit for human beings in the image of God. Give back what you took, now, Walter, ma said, ma said he should give back what he took.
Mulcahy, looking on, physically onto the slight, sshaking body of the familiar Radar O'Reilley, chimerically upon the thoughts burning through his skull, shivered as he understood that he was the cause and source of all this. He had thought that he had had some effect on Henry, but he could only feel that effect vaguely, deep down, in a place most people would pass off as imagination. Through the chimerical spectacles, now, he could see exactly what he was doing.
He was bringing monsters, cursed to Satan, back to God.
Taking a deep breath, and, as Radar said nothing, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder, Mulcahy took his other hand and lifted the dragon off of his face, handing Bantelhopp back to Radar.
The world fell silent. The world went pitch black. Mulcahy hadn't quite expected that, and the change of perception staggered him a bit, his comforting hand clutching firmly on Radar's shoulder.
Radar looked back to Mulcahy, and reached back to take his hands and lead him safely up the rocky slope.
"My ma says... thanks."
Mulcahy nodded, trying to feel safe in the arms of the monster he's trying to reform. "Please, Radar, come and talk to me... later. For now, Hawkeye needs our help."
They came to the top of the rise, and Mulcahy put his own glasses back on. They looked down at the lights of the camp in the distance.
"I think I might have an idea." Radar said slowly and decidedly.
While Father Mulcahy had been walking around seeing the world with chimerical eyes, he hadn't looked back and noticed the pillar-like flare of a beacon of joy that spouted from the M*A*S*H 4077th.
~