AN: So, I found out that my school has a writing club, and now I get to dedicate at least 40 minutes a week to writing (preferably there will be more time for that, but it's a good bare minimum). I also got a job, and a place on the equestrian team, and a volunteering opportunity at a local clinic, so the writing club is a great way to guarantee that I'll have time to work on my stories.
Anyways, I'm sure you all care far more about Sam and Radar than you do about me, so I'll stop rambling and let you get on with the chapter. Enjoy!
Special thanks to Arctic Winters, who is a very hard worker in her own right - she makes me appear downright lazy! - and who left an incredibly sweet review on the last chapter. Seriously, you rock!
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.
A week later and they still hadn't heard anything. Everyone was on edge, but no one more so than Radar. The usually friendly and helpful camp clerk had developed a nasty temper, snapping at people left and right, scowling everywhere he went, and generally stewing in the foulest mood anyone could recall ever having seen him in.
"Colonel, I insist that you do something!" Frank Burns said, storming into Henry's office with Major Houlihan a few steps behind him. "That little vermin has gone too far this time!"
Henry groaned, lifting his head off the stack of papers it had been resting on. The search for Sam, in addition to the usual never-ending influx of ordinary paperwork, had left him feeling fried. "What is it now, Frank?"
"That . . . that enlisted man yelled at Major Burns!" Major Houlihan replied. "Colonel, I insist that he be punished immediately, to the fullest extent of military law!"
"Well that's a bit harsh, don't you think, major?" Henry asked wearily. "What was Frank doing at the time for Radar to yell at him for?"
"Nothing!" Frank replied.
"Major Burns was simply reminding some of the kitchen staff of the procedure for properly sorting and disposing of the mess hall garbage," added Major Houlihan. She, of course, had been a totally impartial witness to the entire affair. "Corporal O'Reilly had just walked out of the mess hall when the major was discussing the separation of waste products from compostables, and he began yelling at Major Burns before dumping his entire tray on him!"
Henry eyed Frank, who did indeed have what appeared to be the remains of powdered eggs and oatmeal plastered across his uniform. He sighed. "I'll speak to Radar about it, majors. You may go."
"No, Colonel," Major Houlihan said, slamming her hands down on the desk between them. "That's not good enough this time."
"For goodness' sakes, Major," Henry stood up behind his desk to face her on even footing. "The kid is just upset. I'll talk to him about it, it'll be dealt with. But right now, he needs sympathy and understanding, something which you, as a nurse, I would have expected would know something about!"
"Sympathy for what?" The major demanded.
Henry opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted by Frank. "Oh I know, that stupid penpal of his, right?" He sneered and turned to Margaret. "The little snot has been over in my tent every night crying to those two perverts about how much he misses the girl." Margaret's eyes grew wide, but Frank didn't notice. "Hmph, serves her right whatever happens to her, running off and joining the army when it was her brother who got drafted, cheating Uncle Sam out of a good soldier, trying to play hero in a man's world . . ."
"Frank, enough!" Henry snapped at him. "That kid is going through hell, both of them are! You saw how Radar was when she was writing to him, he is completely broken up about this! And as for her . . . she is at this moment fighting for her life along with the best of them, and if anything happens to her, Frank, it is going to break. Radar's. Heart. Which I know you don't care about, but there are a lot of other people around here who do, including me, so you can take your heartlessness and your bigotry and you can get the hell out of my office!"
Frank's eyes had grown wider and wider as Henry's speech, and his mouth had fallen open midway through, giving him the appearance, in Henry's mind, of a drowned fish. His jaw worked up and down for a few moments, as if he was trying to speak, but no sounds emerged. Finally, he gave an offended huff and stalked out of the room, doing his best to slam the door behind him. Henry let his head slump back onto his desk, glad to be rid of Frank the Foul-Faced Ferret.
Margaret, however, stayed where she was. Like most other people (with the apparent exception of Frank), she had seen the change that had come over Radar when he had been writing to Samantha. While he was usually cheerful enough on his own, whenever he received one of the girl's letter, he would be positively glowing with joy. She been in love often enough herself, and it didn't take a nurse to recognize the symptoms.
Not to mention that the girl seemed genuinely sweet in her own right. While she had often entertained the idea in her youth of running off and sneaking into the army to fight alongside her father, Margaret had always known that she didn't truly have the strength to go through with it and face the world as a soldier. She couldn't imagine what Samantha must be going through, not even the kind of courage it must have taken for her to take her brother's place on the front lines. Sure, it may not have been the most honest thing but . . . Margaret couldn't find it in herself to agree with Frank. Not this time.
"Colonel?" She asked, her voice softer than usual, almost timid.
Henry raised his head off the desk, ignoring the paper that fell off his forehead, likely leaving ink prints on his skin. "You're still here, Major?"
"Yes, sir," she replied. She took a breath to steady herself. "I'd like to help you try to find Sam."
Henry blinked in surprise. "Well, that's very kind of you Major. But I've been all over Korea. No one knows where she is, or at least no one cares enough to look too hard." He paused, letting that sink in for both of him. "How did you know I was looking for her anyways?"
"I-I figured you were, Colonel, considering how important she was – is, to Radar," Margaret stammered. In reality, she had cornered Captain Pierce on his way to the shower to ask him what was going on with Radar. He had informed her of the entire situation, including his opinions of Radar's feelings for her, and the colonel's search for information (as well as throwing in some lewd comments about what he had – or rather, didn't have – on beneath his robe and would she like to see, comments which were swiftly and firmly rebuffed). "But I have some contacts of my own, sir. I can't promise anything, but I'd like to try to reach out to them and see what I can find."
The colonel gazed at her for a moment. "You really do want to help, don't you?"
"Yes sir, I do," she replied.
"Why?"
There was a pause as the major mulled over her response. "Because it's bad for morale to have the company clerk going around sulking all the time," she finally settled on. "It has to stop, and if finding out what happened to this girl is what it takes, then so be it."
Henry nodded thoughtfully, still staring at her. "You know Major," he said, "you're not half bad sometimes."
Margaret gave him a tense smile in response to the partial compliment. "Thank you, sir."
Henry finally looked away, shuffling through some of the papers on his desk. "Go find Radar and ask him to put your calls through as soon as possible. The sooner we get this all worked out, the better it's going to be, for everybody."
Margaret nodded, snapping a salute with perfect military precision (it ought to be perfect, she had worked so hard for so long to make it flawless) before turning on her heel and marching out the door.
"I don't see why I have to interrupt my dinner just to make a stupid personal phone call for you, Major," Radar griped, sitting down at his desk. "I'm sure that your date with the general could wait to be scheduled for another half hour."
"With the amount of food on your tray, Corporal," Margaret replied coolly, "the war would be long since finished by the time you were through eating. Now, put my call through to General Hammond."
"It's dialing, it's dialing," Radar snapped. "Geez, I can't make it dial any faster, can I?"
No, I suppose not, but you can cut it out with the attitude, Corporal, Margaret thought to herself.
"There, your call's through," Radar handed her the phone. "Now, may I go back and eat, or do you have more pointless assignments for me? Would you like me to go sanitize the garbage or calibrate some tongue depressors or something?"
Margaret bit her tongue for a second to keep from responding. It isn't his fault, he's lashing out because he's worried about Samantha. "Thank you, Corporal, that will be all. You may return to your dinner."
He glared at her for a couple seconds before walking off, muttering about there not being a point in returning to a dinner that had gone cold that was barely worth eating when it was hot to begin with.
Letting out a sigh of relief (really, the clerk was just about impossible to deal with these days), Margaret pressed the receiver up to her ear, pasting a smile on her face and a cheerful tone to her voice. "General Hammond? Margaret Houlihan. I was wondering if you could do me a favor . . ."
Hope you liked it!