It turned out that walking with a fever wasn't that easy. Radar had hardly been sick before, at least as far as he could remember, so it was kind of a new experience. Not a pleasant one, though. He mustered all of his strength not to drag his feet too much as not to bring to himself the attention of the nurse, who was currently changing someone's dressings. Good that Captain McIntyre wasn't there, as he'd surely try to stop Radar from walking around. And he had to see what was going on, he just had to.

Fortunately, his office was separated from post-op only by a short entryway. He crossed it in a few steps and, his heart beating like crazy with unease, pushed the door.

Though he'd seen many weird and even gruesome things during his not-yet-too-long stay in Korea, none of them could have prepared him for what he saw now. The most eye-catching thing was the unwound black typewriter ink ribbon which covered almost half of the room, then wrapped around Klinger's satin dress like a frill. Klinger himself was struggling madly to free himself from it, dragging the ribbon over the floor and furniture, leaving black marks on everything.

The other uncanny sight was the MASH Commanding Officer Henry Blake, who was jumping up and down and stopping himself from screaming while trying to remove a staple from his finger. A second after Radar had entered, he managed to do this. The staple coming out was followed by a jet of blood – it must have damaged an artery.

Radar wasn't particularly squeamish – after all, he was a stretcher bearer in addition to company clerk, but there were some things that he couldn't take and that was why he avoided coming too close to the tables during O.R. sessions. Now, one of such things had happened right before his eyes. That sight, right after seeing his office covered in ink ribbon, combined with his illness and the worry about Hawkeye and the whole camp, caused him to black out.

"Snow White is waking up," he heard Klinger's voice.

"You mean Sleeping Beauty," Colonel Blake corrected him.

"Maybe to you he is, sir. Either way, I'm not kissing him."

"You look more like a princess than a prince, anyway."

Radar blinked a few times and tried to lift his head. He decided against it after his sinuses protested with pain. He saw that he was still in his office, which was still covered in typewriter ribbon. Someone had, however, laid him upon his bed. Klinger and Colonel Blake were standing next to him, the latter holding a handkerchief around his finger.

"You gave us quite a scare, Radar," Henry said, "We weren't expecting you to come here and faint."

"I'm sorry, sir," he apologized.

"Why did you come, anyway? I told you, we had everything under control."

"Um…" Radar didn't know how to politely suggest otherwise, so he just looked at the disaster area which most of his office now constitued.

"Well, okay, maybe we didn't have everything under control, but still, it's nothing so serious that you should be worried. I told you, we'll somehow pull through, you just rest and get better."

"Uh, sir… there's another thing. Captain Pierce… what's that with him going AWOL? Are you really going to press charges against him?"

"Ah, no, of course, no, Radar. I just wanted to show him I was being serious and that he should be more serious about his work. Now, I'm more worried, though. He's over a half an hour late. If he doesn't turn up soon, maybe we'll have to send a search party or something. But don't get too worried about it!" Henry quickly tried to mitigate the seriousness of his previous statement, "He's probably asleep somewhere around Rosie's bar, and later I'll just scold him for this and that'll be it."

"I hope so, sir."

"Okay, how about returning to post-op now? Klinger and I will give you a hand."

"Actually, sir… Could I maybe- could I maybe stay here? I can lie in this bed just as well as over there and here I can at least see what's going on… I'd be calmer this way. I was really worried about the camp before."

"Radar, Radar, you're the best company clerk I could have asked for," Henry smiled, "Fine, you can stay here. But no working! I'll personally keep an eye on you. And if we have to work at night, you'll go to post-op to sleep in peace."

"Alright, sir," Radar smiled contently, then he shifted on the bed to put the covers over himself. Meanwhile, Klinger had started gathering up the typewriter ribbon.

"Don't worry, kid, I'll have this office just the way it was in no time," he reassured Radar, "Maybe I'm not the best when it comes to clerk's work, but I'm really good at cleaning!"

"Okay, you boys behave yourself, I'm going to bandage that finger," Henry said before turning towards the door. He hadn't yet reached them, when they opened, revealing Hawkeye Pierce. Henry didn't even have time to look surprised, before Pierce exclaimed:

"Gentlemen, I got us an autoclave!"

"What, how?" Henry asked, bewildered.

"I did what I'm best at when we play poker – I bluffed. I told a Colonel I'm going to send his wife photos of him with his mistress – though I wasn't sure that he had either. But it worked! The autoclave is already on its way!"

Klinger and Radar gasped in awe simultaneously. Henry looked impressed, too, but he reminded himself to act as a Commanding Officer should.

"Do you know you've been AWOL for almost an hour?"

"I got held up on a checkpoint. Sorry about that. And I gotta say sorry to Trapper. But I still think it was worth it."

"Yes, it was," Henry admitted, "But now, get your butt to post-op right away! And I'm going with you. The first thing you're gonna do is put a bandage on my finger."

"What happened to you, Henry?"

"It's a long story…"

"And why is Radar here instead of post-op?"

"Also a long story. But I let him stay, just no working."

"Okay, let's go."

They left the office. Then, Klinger went to get rid of the ruined ribbon and get some cleaning supplies. Radar was left alone in the quiet room. Now, he had the time to take in the fact that he was back. For the first time since coming down with the flu, he finally felt at ease.