Third chapter, woohoo! A huge thanks to everyone who followed/favorited/reviewed. Seriously, you are all so kind!
I hope you enjoy!
Disclaimer: Anything thing you recognize from M*A*S*H or any other source is the property of its rightful owner. I lay no claim on the characters, settings, plotlines, etc. found in M*A*S*H, although I am honored to have to opportunity to work with them throughout this fanfiction (emphasis on the "fan" part). All I own is my OCs and whatever original plotwork is related to them and their stories.
"Hey Radar, where you going?" Radar O'Reilly, company clerk to the 4077th MASH in Korea, jumped when he heard Hawkeye Pierce's question.
"Just bringing around the mail, sir," Radar replied, straightening his glasses.
"Oh?" Hawkeye replied. "Anything for me?"
"Yes sir, hold on just a moment," Radar answered, digging through the mailbag. "Here you go, sir, two letters and a that new copy of Nudes Weekly that you've been waiting for."
Hawkeye snatched the mail from Radar's hand, and his companion, Trapper McIntyre, asked, "How about something for me, Radar?"
"Uh . . . yes, sir, a letter from your wife, and one from your daughters." Radar handed him the letters.
"And uh, Radar?" Hawkeye began.
"Yes, sir?"
"Anything for you, Radar?" Trapper continued. "Something from a lovely redhead, perhaps?"
"Who is still way out of your league, Radar, no matter what she says," Hawkeye added absentmindedly, flipping through his new magazine.
"No, sir, nothing yet," Radar muttered. It had been weeks since he had gotten a letter from Sam, and he was getting a little worried.
"Well, don't give up hope Radar," Hawkeye admonished, looking up from his magazine. "Have you looked through this batch of mail yet?" Radar shook his head.
"Well hurry up Radar, look!" Trapper exclaimed.
The three of them stood together just outside the door of the post-op ward as Radar dug through the mailbag, searching for an envelope addressed to him in Sam's loopy scrawl. Radar pulled out three letters with his name on them: one from his mother, one from one of his cousins, and one in unfamiliar handwriting.
"Um," Radar began, "there's one here that looks like it's from Boston, but I don't recognize who wrote it . . ."
"Let me see," Hawkeye said, snatching the letter out of Radar's hands. He and Trapper both bent over the envelope, examining it closely.
"Yeah, that definitely came from Boston," Trapper concluded, taking the envelope from Hawkeye. "Looks kind of like her address, too." He shot Hawkeye a conspiring look. "Should we open it and see?"
"Hold on just a minute there," Radar snapped. He grabbed the envelope back. "If anyone's going to be reading my mail, it's going to be me, and everyone else can just wait until I'm done with it to find out what's it about."
"Easy there Radar, don't get yourself into a huff," Hawkeye joked.
"Yeah," Trapper agreed. "Why don't you open that letter up and read what's in it, and then tell us?"
"You mean right now? Right here?" Upon seeing the two doctors nod, Radar sighed and shifted the mailbag to his shoulder so that his hands were free to open the letter.
The doctors watched as their company clerk tore open the envelope. They were still watching as his expression changed from curiosity to confusion to agitation as he read through the message.
"What's wrong Radar, did she send you a Dear John letter or something?" Trapper joked, nudging Hawkeye with his elbow.
"Nah, couldn't be," Hawkeye replied. "They'd have to be a couple for that to happen, and as I keep saying, she's way out of his league." He eyed Radar for a moment, examining him. Normally the kid would at least look somewhat offended by a comment like that; his reaction was one of the reasons Hawkeye kept making those remarks, despite his actual opinion that the girl seemed to genuinely like Radar. But Radar didn't show any sign of having heard him, his eyes still firmly fixed on the words in front of him, almost as if he was still struggling to comprehend them. Suddenly concerned, Hawkeye returned Trapper's previous elbow nudge, and jerked his chin in Radar's direction.
"Hey, Radar, what's wrong?" Trapper asked, also concerned. "She didn't really send you a Dear John letter, did she?" Radar shook his head.
"What's the problem then?" Hawkeye asked.
Radar looked around, blinking. Then he gestured towards the door of the post-op. "Here, let's go inside and I'll tell you."
The doctors followed Radar into the dim light of the clerk's office outside Post-Op. The three men clustered together next to Radar's desk, and Radar handed them the letter. "You can read for yourselves. I'm just gonna . . . just gonna work on some filing stuff while you do." He wandered over to one of the cabinets against the wall, opened one of the top drawers, and leaned his head against the shelf made by the files inside.
Hawkeye and Trapper exchanged a glance, then turned to the letter and started reading.
February 4, 1951
Corporal O'Reilly,
You don't know me, but in some ways it seems like I know you. My sister has certainly talked about you enough. My name is Samuel Wilson, also known as Sam. My sister, Samantha, has been writing to you for a few months now. She spoke very highly of you, and her eyes would always light up whenever she saw a letter with your handwriting on it in the mail. I know she considered you to be a great friend. With that in mind, what I have to say next is going to be very difficult for both of us.
I'm writing to you because Sam has gone missing. No one has seen her for a few weeks now, and no one can figure out what happened. She just vanished in the middle of the night without a trace. I am writing to you because you two seem close, and I was wondering if she might have mentioned anything to you about why she might want to leave, or where she might go, or if there was someone who might want to take her.
Please respond as soon as you can. Everyone is very worried, and we all miss her very much.
Sincerely,
Sam Wilson
Trapper finished reading first, and looked up to see Radar still in the same position against the filing cabinet. Hawkeye looked up a second later. They both looked at each other, neither of them wanting to break the silence but both wanting to know what was going through Radar's head at that moment.
Fortunately for them, Radar once again lived up to his name, muttering, "I don't know anything, if you're wondering."
"Nobody said you did, Radar," Trapper said.
Radar let out a shaky sigh. "What could have happened to her?"
Hawkeye shook his head, forgetting for a moment that Radar couldn't see him. "You're really worried about her, huh?"
"Yeah," Radar answered quietly. He straightened up and slammed the filing cabinet shut, shoving his hands in his pockets and turning back around to face them. "I mean, she's gotta be one of the nicest girls I've ever met, and now she turns up missing. How is that fair? How is that okay? She's funny and kind and sweet, and whatever's happened to her can't be good, can it? She deserves better, she deserves the best in the world, and now look what's happened to her." He shook his head, biting his lip. The most beautiful girl he'd ever had the courage to talk to, and now nobody knew what had happened to her. Please, Sam. Please be alright.
"Radar," Hawkeye began, a new though occurring to him. I know I tease him about it a lot, but I never thought it might be true. "Do you like her?"
"Of course I like her," Radar snapped. "She's my friend, ain't she?"
"He means as a little more than a friend, Radar," Trapper explained.
Radar's jaw dropped. "Well, I never! You two . . . you two can never see a boy and girl talkin' to each other without thinkin' that the two of 'em are a couple, can ya?" He spoke quickly and loudly, his Midwestern accent coming out thick. He ignored the butterfly feeling in his gut at the thought of Sam and him, a couple. "She's already got a boyfriend, ya know? And besides, as you all keep pointing out, I'm hardly good enough for her, am I?"
"Come on Radar, you know we didn't mean it like that," Hawkeye said. "It's just that you seem very worried about her, that's all."
"Well, of course I'm gonna be worried about her," Radar said. "She's missing, God knows where, with God knows what happenin' to her. And I've got her brother writin' to me now, too, askin' me where she is, as if I had anythin' to do with her disappearin' or knew anythin' about it. I only just heard about it, for goodness sakes!" He sniffed and wiped at his eyes, frustrated with the way they were watering.
"Hey, it's okay Radar," Trapper told him. "Just write to her brother and tell him that."
"Besides," Hawkeye added, "they'll find her soon enough. Just wait."
"Yeah," Trapper agreed. "She probably just ran off with that boyfriend of hers or something." Neither he nor Hawkeye wanted to bring up the concern they felt over the fact that she had been missing for more than just a couple of days.
"Yeah, alright," Radar replied. He realized that they were trying to make him feel better by not mentioning how unlikely that was, and decided to just go along with it for the moment. "But it'll have to wait until after the choppers."
"What choppers?" Trapper asked out of reflex, but Radar was already out of the room, yelling to the rest of the camp that they had incoming wounded. He shot a look of despair at Hawkeye; the added drama of wounded was not something that either one of them wanted to be dealing with at the moment. "Well," he asked, "you coming?"
"Yeah," Hawkeye replied. "Just give me a moment." Trapper shrugged and pulled his coat tighter before leaving the warmth of the office to go begin triage. Hawkeye took Samuel Wilson's letter and made sure that it was hidden safely under Radar's pillow, guarded by his ever-faithful teddy bear. Then he, too, left the cozy office to face once again the misery of the cold and the horrors of war.
Every muscle in Sam's body was hurting, and her foot was starting to ache again. She was already in fairly good shape from all of her ordinary physical activities, but basic training was still quite an adjustment. The food alone was disgusting, not to mention having to sleep in a room with a dozen men – and she'd thought her brother was bad!
But at long last, it was almost over. They'd all gotten their orders: they were shipping out to Korea the next day. Most of her fellow trainees were off somewhere, partying while they still had the chance. Sam and a few others had elected to stay in the bunkroom, sleeping or reading or, in Sam's case, finalizing letters to be sent to loved ones before they left the states. Sam had been working on the letters for weeks, never seeming to be able to get the words just right. She read through the top page she was holding; she figured she had gotten it close enough, but something still felt off. She couldn't think of any other words to use, but it still felt just . . . wrong somehow. Not that it wasn't wrong that she should have to be sending this letter in the first place, anyways.
The ones to her parents and brother were the easiest. All she had had to do was explain to them what she had done and why. It was impossible to phrase gently, and after several failed attempts she gave up and settled on a blunt approach. To her brother, she also included a plea that he avoid blaming himself for the situation she was in – after all, it was a decision she had made of her own free will, and anyways there was nothing to be done about it now.
Nothing to be done indeed. Sam resisted the urge to run her fingers through her newly-shorn hair. Her hair had always been her proudest feature, and she had felt the silliest sense of grief when she had attacked her fiery locks with the old pair of scissors she had found in the bottom of a kitchen drawer. It was foolish, of course, a minor change compared with all the major ones she was facing, but it somehow seemed to lend her actions a level of permanence that hadn't seemed real to her before then.
The letter to Johnny had been difficult. He was a very old-fashioned person, in many ways. On the few occasions when they had been discussing Radar and MASH units and the war in general, he had commented on how unseemly it was that women should be at all involved in a warzone, even as nurses. She had the strong suspicion that having his girlfriend become a regular foot soldier, without even the excuse of following a traditionally female occupation such as nursing, would be met on his part by disgust and disapproval. It was a shame, really – as she had told Radar, while he could be mean at times, he was always courteous and gentle towards her. She enjoyed being with him, and he offered her one more reason to wish that the thought of taking her brother's place had never crossed her mind in the first place. But Sam was, more than anyone else, her family, and no one else would ever come before him in her mind.
Oddly enough, it was the letter to Radar that made her the most nervous. While her family and Johnny would certainly be upset by her putting herself in danger, Radar was the only one who knew firsthand how serious that danger could be. She had done her best to convince the others that the risk to her, personally, was minimal, but Radar would certainly know better. And what could she tell him, anyways? "Hello, Radar, my brother was drafted to I decided to go to Korea in his place, I guess I'll be seeing you soon, huh." That was ridiculous. And stupid. Just like the rest of this whole situation.
In the end she had written down whatever words had come into her mind. She had carefully explained to him what she had done and why, as well as mentioning that she might not be able to write for a while as she didn't know if she would have to time or the opportunity quite yet. She tried to be as gentle and lighthearted as she could – she thought that, more than the others, Radar would need something to try to lessen the gravity of the situation.
She shifted position in her bunk, sighing quietly. Her voice was a slightly scratchy, slightly boyish alto, and she had had a great deal of practice in imitating and mocking her brother, but even so, she had tried to keep talking to a minimum. It had been awkward enough getting through her required physical – it had been extremely difficult to talk the doctor into letting her go through basic training and off to war, although eventually, after a good twenty minutes of him staring at her incredulously, he had agreed to let her pass, saying that perhaps she would have a better chance of coming home alive than someone who didn't have such a good motivation to fight and stay alive. She didn't want to have to go through another scene like that if she could help it.
God, was she tired. She lay back on her bunk, debating whether she should get up and drop her letters in the mailbox now, or wait until morning and try to find some time then. It struck her that in all of her letters there was a tone of farewell, something sad and final. After all, Sam wasn't sure what she would be facing, and there was a little voice in the back of her mind telling her that she would definitely not be returning as the same person who left, or even the same person she was at that moment, if she was fortunate enough to be returning at all.
Thanks for reading!