They called her a delicious dish. Leslie "Dish" Scorch was one hot meal and was always ready to go…or so the guys said. Henry Blake didn't care for it at first and tried to keep it in his pants every time he thought about her. She wasn't his to begin with. Hawkeye, Trapper and many more conspired to push her into the Mess Tent after Painless Pole tried committing suicide. The two had been a hit item for a while, but then things fizzled out and she was looking for another mate. Nobody knew what happened, but that Leslie was going cold.

Henry listened to this gossip with little interest and continued his initialing and signing and ignoring the nagging feeling below. He knew what the camp was up to concerning Painless Pole. He hardly went through his day without someone complaining about their love affairs anyway. It was normal. If he didn't have that (or Klinger coming in with some phony letter or being ushered in by some MPs), then he'd have to question his sanity.

But when Leslie came to him in his office, tears streaming down her face about the while affair and how Painless Pole was being an ass, Henry knew that there was a problem indeed. He listened to her complaints with sympathy and feigned being so concerned. He patted her hand and told her it would be ok in the end. Deep inside though, that acting was for real. He definitely was surprised. To have another woman ring his bells (other than his wife) was a relationship worth having indeed.

Well, except that, in the end, Leslie was truly after Henry. It all started at the movies a few nights after the incident in his office. They were watching Million Dollar Baby for the…well, millionth time that week. While the movie wasn't all that great to begin with, Henry began to snooze off as Ronald Reagan (playing Peter Rowan) breaks it off with Priscilla Lane (playing Pam McAllister). From way behind him, there was a tap on his shoulder.

Henry almost screamed bloody murder. For God's sake, this was a war zone. He was always cautious and carried weapons whenever he could (mostly keeping a revolver under his pillow in his tent). Being caught off guard was not his favorite pastime, especially in a dark tent and with a movie playing. But when he saw Leslie and her brown curls lighting her face, he sighed with relief. She was signaling for him to come with her.

And indeed, Henry followed the crook of her finger. The darkness melted away and all he saw was a shining figure, dressed in a white gown. It wasn't the one he always saw her in either, when they were in the OR. This was different, akin to a wedding dress, but not as fancy.

"I thought you'd like to come to my tent," Leslie said to him when he drew closer.

Henry stuttered for a moment. "I'd love to."

Leslie took him by the hand and led him down to her quarters. Henry thought that it was a little unusual. He wasn't complaining though. To have a beautiful woman take him into temptation and without his wife around was a dream come true. There was no personnel in the camp who came up to him or whispered some inane gossip as they passed. The war even seemed to come to a standstill.

Leslie opened the door and darted inside with a giggle. Henry was oddly quicker. He passed her and stood before her, grinning like a madman and laughing mechanically. He thought it strange that the walls melted away and that they were no longer in her tent and outside by the creek, but that was no matter to him. His feet stomped in the water as she rushed into his arms and kissed him passionately.

Leslie's kiss was almost as stunning as Margaret's was. Henry staggered under the weight of such lips. He returned the favor and tried opened his mouth a little more, but she stopped him. She pulled away and just held him. It was childlike in many ways and begged for some help. Henry's heart melted. He set aside his urges and pushed himself to accept that Leslie wanted a little love. Happiness was always fleeting, he figured, and she was trying to take it a little slower. He was running much too fast!

And she was the one instigating. Hmm…

"Henry, what am I to you?" she finally asked after a few minutes.

"A beautiful star," Henry replied. "You're a shining example."

"Yes, but I am so much younger than you. You have a wife and children."

"They are not here. You are, my dear."

Henry knew that Leslie wasn't quite content with the answer. She remained quiet though and curled closer. They remained that way for some time. Eventually, she pulled away, but her fingers lingered on his. Something had changed about her. Her white dress soaked up some water from her bare feet. The liquid traveled up the fabric and somehow managed to make her body cold and blue, like she had drowned. It was almost like she was dead!

Henry was terrified. Over and over again, he asked her if she was all right. Leslie kept shaking her head. He could not tell what the answer was or if he should call for more help. When he tried opening his mouth, something silenced him. His tongue was stilled.

"It won't be long now, Henry," Leslie announced. "You can't run and hide for long. Everything here is always a distraction. Nothing can prepare you for the worst."

A creeping fear rushed over Henry. For a split moment, he thought that this war would be the death of him. His mind went to Lorraine and their children. It was bad enough that she was alone and pregnant with their third child. Worse, she had to care for their daughters by herself. His death would be a crushing blow to them. He couldn't stand for it, not even from Leslie.

Henry was about to say something, but was soon jolted from the horrifying scene. When his eyes opened, he was in the Mess Tent and supposed to be watching some movie. He saw Cary Grant and Katherine Hepburn ahead and sighed with relief. The fantasy about Leslie and the death she foretold was just a dream.

However, her presence was very much felt. Leslie sat next to Henry on the right. She held his hand tightly, whispering to her other neighbor about how many times she had seen The Philadelphia Story and her wish that the Army would send them something else. She also mentioned something about her date snoring away and that it was a sure indicator that they should be elsewhere.

Henry smiled broadly and leaned over. "Want to come to my tent?"

"What?" Leslie was startled. She appeared to be the child caught with a hand in the cookie jar.

"Why don't we go to my tent? It'll have more than darkness and less company."

Leslie thought about it for a moment before getting up. "I'm in. Let's go."