A/N: Hey everyone! So...I had like 75% of this chapter written about a year ago. And then it just kind of sat on my flash drive while I did other fun things, like organic chemistry and human physiology and setting up cricket fights for a grade (no joke; also, word of advice, don't choose to run your independent research with crickets if you're as afraid of them as I am, lol). The final quarter of this chapter was written in one-sentence spurts over the course of the summer.

Which is all a really long way of saying that I am, once again, sincerely sorry for how long it's taken me to update.

As always, I would like to thank all of you who have reviewed, favorited, and followed this story. Y'all are often the main reason I can motivate myself to keep writing. Thank you so much :)

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 the 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.

When Radar walked into the post-op ward, he was greeted with the sound of laughter. Startled, he froze for a moment in the entryway, just behind the curtains that were kept there, and looked around for the source of the noise. His eyes quickly zeroed in on Sam's bed, on the far right corner of the room.

She and Father Mulcahy were laughing over what looked like a bundle of reddish yarn. Sam was fiddling around with it and talking to the Father, while Mulcahy was listening with great attention. Radar paused, a lump in his throat, wondering if he could – if he should – interrupt them.

"Hello, Radar!" Radar jumped at the sound of Lt. Kellye's voice. "Are you here to visit Sam?"

"Uh . . . y-yes?" Radar stammered. "I mean, I was gonna, but she looks like she's busy right now, so I think I'll just come back later . . ."

"Oh, Radar, don't be silly!" Kellye interrupted him. "She's been waiting to see you! And I'm sure Father Mulcahy won't mind a bit."

Radar meant to say that it was fine, that he would just come back later and not bother Sam while she was talking to Mulcahy. What came out instead was: "Are you sure they wouldn't mind?"

Kellye laughed. "I'm sure, Radar." She pointed over towards Sam's bed with the pen she was holding. "Go on over, you'll see."

Radar nodded. He started walking, eyes fixed on the redhead at the end of the room. However, in his excitement and nervousness the poor boy had forgotten to look where he was walking. His foot caught on the corner of Kellye's desk, and he went sprawling across the floor.

Radar shut his eyes tightly, wishing he could just sink through the floor. He heard a few people asking if he was okay, but mostly it was drowned out by the sound of the group of Marines to his left howling with laughter.

He bit his lip, and crawled to his feet. A gentle pair of hands handed him his glasses. He looked up and saw Father Mulcahy kneeling in front of him. "My goodness, Radar, are you alright?"

He groaned internally. "Yeah, I'm okay," he replied, forcing himself to get up onto his hands and knees, and then all the way standing upright.

The priest nodded. "Good, good," he said, standing with Radar. "Now, would you mind telling Sam that yourself? I'm not sure she'd believe it coming from anyone else."

"Really?" Radar asked. "Is she really that worried about me?"

"Yes!" a scratchy alto called from across the room. "And I can hear everything you're saying, too!"

The Marines set off laughing again, but Sam was there and awake and alive, and with the cutest little crooked smile on her face as she watched him. So Radar didn't care. He so much didn't care that he was across the room and by her side before he even realized that he'd moved his feet.

Sam's heart was pounding as Radar approached her. She hoped desperately that she wasn't blushing, but the way her face was feeling warm and tingly made her suspect that her hope was in vain. Anyways, she hoped that anyone with the last name O'Reilly was Irish enough to understand her problem with blushing at random moments.

"Hi," she said softly when he was finally standing next to her. His mouth moved, and he looked like he was trying to greet her in turn, but no sound came out. A hysterical giggle threatened to burst out of her throat – at least she wasn't the only nervous one, then. "Um, would you like to sit down?" She gestured to the chair set behind him, and wouldn't her mother just be so proud of her for remembering her manners?

You mean, besides the fact that you're sitting in a MASH because you took your brother's place in the army? Yeah, I bet she'd just love that.

Radar turned to grab the chair, but ended up knocking it over. He grabbed it before it hit Sam's neighbor, but it was a close call. Sam bit her lip hard to smother a laugh, and smiled as she watched a blush spread across Radar's own complexion.

She watched as he got himself settled in the chair. He perched himself far forward, right on the edge, and his hands were gripping the sides of the seat so hard that his knuckles were turning right. "I don't bite, you know," she told him. "Promise."

"Oh, yeah, uh, right," Radar stammered. "I knew that." He lapsed into silence again.

Sam's smile fell, and her heart starting thumping again. "Are you very mad at me, Radar?" It felt strange, saying the name out loud. When talking to her family, she'd always called the boy Walter, or Corporal O'Reilly. Never Radar.

Radar jerked in his seat, and for a moment Sam was worried that he was going to fall (again). He managed to steady himself, though, she noted with relief. "Mad at you?" he asked. "Why would I be mad at you?"

"Because I came to Korea when I didn't have to," she said sheepishly. "I know you were worried. I saw your face as you were driving the jeep down from the helipad."

"Oh," Radar said, the blush on his cheeks deepening. "Sorry you had to see that, I'm usually a lot tougher than that." Was it her imagination, or did his eyes dart over at the group of Marines at the other end of the room for a second?

"I don't mind," she told him. "It was kind of sweet, actually. Seeing how much you care about your work here, I mean."

If anything, her statement only made Radar blush more. Sam found herself thinking that it made him look adorable.

"I, uh, was thinking I could bring you some things," he said. "Comic books and stuff. I don't have a whole lot of 'em, but I figure you must get even boreder than I do sometimes, just laying here and all, so I'd be happy to share some with you."

A wide smile blossomed across Sam's face. "That would be wonderful, Radar, thank you!" The name came out easier the second time. Sam thought she could really grow to love using it.

Radar looked like he wasn't quite sure how to continue. "A-and, uh, if you want some paper and a pen, or pencil, or something, to write to your family I, uh, can get that for you too."

Sam's smile froze. "Um, I guess, maybe that would be good too," she said.

Radar nodded, seeming happy to have found something to say. "Yeah, good, I'll get that all for you."

Sam hesitated a moment, then said, "Hey Radar?"

"Yeah?" As he looked at her, she thought that he must have the widest eyes she had ever seen on a boy (well, besides her brother when he was begging for her to steal some cookies from the home ec. classroom for him).

"Do you know how long I might be here?" she asked.

"Um, no, I don't actually know all that much 'bout the medical stuff. But I could go find one of the doctors to ask for you?" he replied.

Sam shook her head. "Never mind, I can ask later, it's not that important right now." She made herself smile for him. "Uh, what kinds of comic books do you have here?" she asked, genuinely excited to be able to read through them with her only comic-loving friend.

He grinned back at her, although his smile was shyer than hers, growing slow and soft on his lips like a daisy blossoming in the spring. It was sweet and genuine, and made a warm feeling bloom in Sam's chest, just beneath her sternum.

Although he really did have only a short list of titles to share with her, Sam held onto his every word, memorizing the sound of his voice. She knew that, once she left the hospital, there was no guarantee that they'd ever be able to see each other in person again. So, even with a growing fatigue working its way into her bones, she kept him talking for as long as she could, even playing several rounds of gin rummy with him when he produced a deck of cards from his coat pocket.

Their conversation didn't stop until her exhaustion had completely and totally caught up with her. Radar had been examining his hand of cards while chattering away to her, and looked up when she didn't answer one of his questions. Sam had fallen asleep, her head lolling to one side, her own set of cards still cradled gently in her slim fingers.

He hesitated for a moment, then gently reached out and pulled the cards away from her. He was surprised to feel the calluses on her hands, and to notice the raggedness of her fingernails as if she had been chewing on them. As he put the cards away, he made a note to himself to ask Klinger if he could stop by and give Sam a manicure – a classy girl like her deserved nails that were clean and polished, not dirty and rough.

As he stood up to leave, a sudden impulse stopped him. He talked himself out of it, of course – it was a crazy thought, "bananas, crackers, and nuts," as Hawkeye would say. But, for the half a second it lasted, he wanted nothing more than to lean over and kiss Sam's forehead.

A/N: See you all next time!