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Fic: hypochondria
Title: hypochondria
Fandom: M*A*S*H
Rating: PG
Characters: Radar O'Reilly, Henry Blake, Hawkeye Pierce, Trapper John McIntyre, Spearchucker Jones, Frank Burns; mentions of Father Mulcahy, Margaret Houlihan, Maxwell Klinger
Summary: The 4077th M*A*S*H unit with Major Burns in charge is a really rotten place to be.
Count: 1361 words
Notes: Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
chanter_greenie (from the fic request post), who asked for a more serious take on the scene in 1x09 "Henry, Please Come Home" where Radar fakes an illness in order to lure Henry back from his new position in Tokyo. Some dialogue has been adapted from the episode.
The 4077th M*A*S*H unit with Major Burns in charge is a really rotten place to be.
Radar keeps that opinion to himself, seeing as how he has to work closely with the major, but everybody in the camp would agree with it (except for the two majors, but their opinions don't count, and Radar privately thinks that even Major Houlihan is starting to get sick of being bossed around). The grumblings went through the mess tent this morning like, well -- like everything you eat in the mess tent goes through a person. Lieutenant Dish slammed her tray down in the chow line like a really mad, really blonde tornado. Even Father Mulcahy, who never says anything bad about anybody, murmured, "Well, he is enjoying his newfound power, isn't he?" when the subject came up at the breakfast table.
Radar really doesn't like lying. His mom raised him better than that, and Uncle Ed always had this amazing ability to sniff out untruths (no, really! he could smell them!), and honestly, Radar can do it pretty easy when it comes to scrounging, but he's never felt good about lying to the colonel, the same way he didn't like to lie to his mom or Uncle Ed. It makes him feel like his guinea pigs are all running around inside his stomach and then like he's going to throw up.
Radar really doesn't like lying to Colonel Blake, but sometimes, you've just gotta do it. Hawkeye, Trapper, and Spearchucker had explained it pretty neatly, and they hadn't had to get more than a couple sentences in before Radar agreed, anyway. It's for Radar and not having to file requisition reports with Major Burns until three o'clock in the morning, sure, but it's for the whole camp, too, and it's for the colonel.
Knowing all that doesn't help much with the guilt, though. During the day that Hawkeye and Trap are in Tokyo, Radar feels sicker and sicker with nervous butterflies, which means he won't be a hundred percent lying. His belly actually hurts. He decides that's a good thing, even if he doesn't feel so hot.
By the time they get word in post-op that the chopper just landed (Radar knows; Radar heard it start its approach ten minutes ago), he's hot and sweaty and dizzy all over, and he curls up on a cot with no complaint. Spearchucker is saying something about being convincing. Radar mumbles, "Okay, okay," and focuses on the feel of the pillow against the side of his face and how the earpieces of his glasses are digging into his skin, and how scratchy the blanket is. He keeps his eyes tightly shut, 'cause when he looks around, post-op spins like the Swirly-Whirl at the county fair in Ottumwa.
Spearchucker sounds kind of funny when he says, "Hey, Radar--" but then a bunch of footsteps come in.
Colonel Blake's familiar voice buzzes something low, then he's saying, "Hi fella" real quiet; Radar hears him drag a chair up to the side of the bed.
Radar thinks he might upchuck if he opens his mouth, so he doesn't say anything; somebody lightly cuffs his shoulder under the pretense of patting him on the arm. "Is that you, Mom?" he mumbles into the pillow. He knows it was probably Hawkeye or Trapper reminding him to lay it on thick, not his mom telling him to get out of bed; he knows where he is and what's going on. The pain in his voice isn't acting, though. He's scared.
"It's your colonel, son," says Colonel Blake. "Relax. Where do you hurt?" In the background, Spearchucker says something quietly.
"My gut," Radar whimpers, which he rehearsed with Spearchucker. But the way that it feels like somebody stabbed him and he yelps and tries to curl away when the colonel prods the right side of his stomach was not rehearsed.
("Did you--?" asks Trapper.
"Uh-uh," says Spearchucker.)
"Whoa," says Henry; "what's the matter with you guys? He's been like this for a week?"
"Oh, Colonel Blake!" says a new voice. "I just heard you were here, sir, and I-- What's that man doing in bed?"
"He's sick." Trapper sounds serious.
Somebody touches the back of their hand to Radar's forehead. "He's burning up," says Hawkeye. "Leslie, a thermometer."
"God damn," says Spearchucker's voice. "He's been quiet all morning; I just thought he was nervous--"
"Oh, fooey!" interjects Major Burns. "He's got to be goldbricking. We've had a lot of that lately. Out of bed, back to the office, and finish filling out those--" There are footsteps coming toward him, and then Major Burns squawks in a scuffle and there are no more footsteps.
"Do us all a favor and stuff it, Frank," Colonel Blake snaps, madder than Radar has ever heard him.
"What are you-- You can't examine patients! Not until you sign a transient medic form!" Major Burns protests shrilly, his voice getting farther away all the time. It sounds like somebody is dragging him. "And initial as a visiting physician in a combat zone!"
"Stuff that, too," the colonel says sharply, still right by Radar's side. "I need somebody to prep this man for OR."
OR? Radar thinks in alarm, and his eyes snap open. He immediately regrets it; the lights are too bright and he is definitely going to upchuck. Somebody obviously realizes it, because there is suddenly a bedpan in front of him.
"The kid's khaki-green," somebody mutters, patting his head once he has quit throwing up and is curled up on his side again, and then they're having a fast-paced conversation full of big medical words that Radar couldn't follow even if he wasn't really sick.
Mostly, what he gets out of it is Colonel Blake snapping furiously, "Stay out of my way, Frank, or I'll have you busted down to male nurse!"
Everything after that gets pretty fuzzy.
Radar wakes up feeling groggy and weird and with a sore gut. He grumbles at the overhead light as he slowly blinks his eyes open, and instinctively reaches for the extra pillow to shield his face -- then the motion pulls at his stomach and he realizes he's not in his bed in Iowa, so there's no extra pillow, and he has stitches.
"Aha," says a very familiar voice. "Sleeping Short Stuff awakes!"
"Nuts to you." Radar's voice isn't totally under his control, so it comes out a little garbled, but his intent is clear enough.
"Radar," says Hawkeye, clearly grinning, "you're the only person I know who could fake himself right into an actual bout of appendicitis."
Radar isn't wearing his glasses, so he pulls a cranky, irritated face in the general direction of the taller khaki-green blur.
"Aww, get out, Pierce," says the colonel, who seems to be sitting beside the cot, and somebody pats Radar's foot.
"You're in very capable hands, Corporal," Hawkeye says warmly, and then he must leave because it gets quiet.
Radar is in very capable hands, between Hawkeye, Trapper, and Spearchucker checking on him and bringing him dirty magazines and decks of cards so he can learn to shuffle like a professional (he's pretty sure they feel guilty, and he's more than happy to take advantage of it); the nurses, who he's got spoon-feeding him until Major Houlihan catches on and puts an end to it; Father Mulcahy, who delivers Bearington without a word about Radar still sleeping with a teddy bear, and then tells Radar the whole plot of the new Betty Grable film that showed in the mess tent on Saturday night; Klinger, who sneaks Ms. Squeakers in wrapped in his skirt, so that Radar can see that he is feeding her; and mostly the colonel, who comes by a bunch of times every day and brings him his mail and helps him write to his mom. He isn't even mad about the part where Radar actually thought he was lying about being sick at first; he waves it off, anyway, when Radar haltingly tries to apologize, and that's the end of it.
After three days, Radar realizes that Colonel Blake isn't going back to Tokyo.
Fandom: M*A*S*H
Rating: PG
Characters: Radar O'Reilly, Henry Blake, Hawkeye Pierce, Trapper John McIntyre, Spearchucker Jones, Frank Burns; mentions of Father Mulcahy, Margaret Houlihan, Maxwell Klinger
Summary: The 4077th M*A*S*H unit with Major Burns in charge is a really rotten place to be.
Count: 1361 words
Notes: Written for
chanter_greenie (from the fic request post), who asked for a more serious take on the scene in 1x09 "Henry, Please Come Home" where Radar fakes an illness in order to lure Henry back from his new position in Tokyo. Some dialogue has been adapted from the episode.The 4077th M*A*S*H unit with Major Burns in charge is a really rotten place to be.
Radar keeps that opinion to himself, seeing as how he has to work closely with the major, but everybody in the camp would agree with it (except for the two majors, but their opinions don't count, and Radar privately thinks that even Major Houlihan is starting to get sick of being bossed around). The grumblings went through the mess tent this morning like, well -- like everything you eat in the mess tent goes through a person. Lieutenant Dish slammed her tray down in the chow line like a really mad, really blonde tornado. Even Father Mulcahy, who never says anything bad about anybody, murmured, "Well, he is enjoying his newfound power, isn't he?" when the subject came up at the breakfast table.
Radar really doesn't like lying. His mom raised him better than that, and Uncle Ed always had this amazing ability to sniff out untruths (no, really! he could smell them!), and honestly, Radar can do it pretty easy when it comes to scrounging, but he's never felt good about lying to the colonel, the same way he didn't like to lie to his mom or Uncle Ed. It makes him feel like his guinea pigs are all running around inside his stomach and then like he's going to throw up.
Radar really doesn't like lying to Colonel Blake, but sometimes, you've just gotta do it. Hawkeye, Trapper, and Spearchucker had explained it pretty neatly, and they hadn't had to get more than a couple sentences in before Radar agreed, anyway. It's for Radar and not having to file requisition reports with Major Burns until three o'clock in the morning, sure, but it's for the whole camp, too, and it's for the colonel.
Knowing all that doesn't help much with the guilt, though. During the day that Hawkeye and Trap are in Tokyo, Radar feels sicker and sicker with nervous butterflies, which means he won't be a hundred percent lying. His belly actually hurts. He decides that's a good thing, even if he doesn't feel so hot.
By the time they get word in post-op that the chopper just landed (Radar knows; Radar heard it start its approach ten minutes ago), he's hot and sweaty and dizzy all over, and he curls up on a cot with no complaint. Spearchucker is saying something about being convincing. Radar mumbles, "Okay, okay," and focuses on the feel of the pillow against the side of his face and how the earpieces of his glasses are digging into his skin, and how scratchy the blanket is. He keeps his eyes tightly shut, 'cause when he looks around, post-op spins like the Swirly-Whirl at the county fair in Ottumwa.
Spearchucker sounds kind of funny when he says, "Hey, Radar--" but then a bunch of footsteps come in.
Colonel Blake's familiar voice buzzes something low, then he's saying, "Hi fella" real quiet; Radar hears him drag a chair up to the side of the bed.
Radar thinks he might upchuck if he opens his mouth, so he doesn't say anything; somebody lightly cuffs his shoulder under the pretense of patting him on the arm. "Is that you, Mom?" he mumbles into the pillow. He knows it was probably Hawkeye or Trapper reminding him to lay it on thick, not his mom telling him to get out of bed; he knows where he is and what's going on. The pain in his voice isn't acting, though. He's scared.
"It's your colonel, son," says Colonel Blake. "Relax. Where do you hurt?" In the background, Spearchucker says something quietly.
"My gut," Radar whimpers, which he rehearsed with Spearchucker. But the way that it feels like somebody stabbed him and he yelps and tries to curl away when the colonel prods the right side of his stomach was not rehearsed.
("Did you--?" asks Trapper.
"Uh-uh," says Spearchucker.)
"Whoa," says Henry; "what's the matter with you guys? He's been like this for a week?"
"Oh, Colonel Blake!" says a new voice. "I just heard you were here, sir, and I-- What's that man doing in bed?"
"He's sick." Trapper sounds serious.
Somebody touches the back of their hand to Radar's forehead. "He's burning up," says Hawkeye. "Leslie, a thermometer."
"God damn," says Spearchucker's voice. "He's been quiet all morning; I just thought he was nervous--"
"Oh, fooey!" interjects Major Burns. "He's got to be goldbricking. We've had a lot of that lately. Out of bed, back to the office, and finish filling out those--" There are footsteps coming toward him, and then Major Burns squawks in a scuffle and there are no more footsteps.
"Do us all a favor and stuff it, Frank," Colonel Blake snaps, madder than Radar has ever heard him.
"What are you-- You can't examine patients! Not until you sign a transient medic form!" Major Burns protests shrilly, his voice getting farther away all the time. It sounds like somebody is dragging him. "And initial as a visiting physician in a combat zone!"
"Stuff that, too," the colonel says sharply, still right by Radar's side. "I need somebody to prep this man for OR."
OR? Radar thinks in alarm, and his eyes snap open. He immediately regrets it; the lights are too bright and he is definitely going to upchuck. Somebody obviously realizes it, because there is suddenly a bedpan in front of him.
"The kid's khaki-green," somebody mutters, patting his head once he has quit throwing up and is curled up on his side again, and then they're having a fast-paced conversation full of big medical words that Radar couldn't follow even if he wasn't really sick.
Mostly, what he gets out of it is Colonel Blake snapping furiously, "Stay out of my way, Frank, or I'll have you busted down to male nurse!"
Everything after that gets pretty fuzzy.
Radar wakes up feeling groggy and weird and with a sore gut. He grumbles at the overhead light as he slowly blinks his eyes open, and instinctively reaches for the extra pillow to shield his face -- then the motion pulls at his stomach and he realizes he's not in his bed in Iowa, so there's no extra pillow, and he has stitches.
"Aha," says a very familiar voice. "Sleeping Short Stuff awakes!"
"Nuts to you." Radar's voice isn't totally under his control, so it comes out a little garbled, but his intent is clear enough.
"Radar," says Hawkeye, clearly grinning, "you're the only person I know who could fake himself right into an actual bout of appendicitis."
Radar isn't wearing his glasses, so he pulls a cranky, irritated face in the general direction of the taller khaki-green blur.
"Aww, get out, Pierce," says the colonel, who seems to be sitting beside the cot, and somebody pats Radar's foot.
"You're in very capable hands, Corporal," Hawkeye says warmly, and then he must leave because it gets quiet.
Radar is in very capable hands, between Hawkeye, Trapper, and Spearchucker checking on him and bringing him dirty magazines and decks of cards so he can learn to shuffle like a professional (he's pretty sure they feel guilty, and he's more than happy to take advantage of it); the nurses, who he's got spoon-feeding him until Major Houlihan catches on and puts an end to it; Father Mulcahy, who delivers Bearington without a word about Radar still sleeping with a teddy bear, and then tells Radar the whole plot of the new Betty Grable film that showed in the mess tent on Saturday night; Klinger, who sneaks Ms. Squeakers in wrapped in his skirt, so that Radar can see that he is feeding her; and mostly the colonel, who comes by a bunch of times every day and brings him his mail and helps him write to his mom. He isn't even mad about the part where Radar actually thought he was lying about being sick at first; he waves it off, anyway, when Radar haltingly tries to apologize, and that's the end of it.
After three days, Radar realizes that Colonel Blake isn't going back to Tokyo.
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Jeez, that scene never fails to make me go all fluttery, whatever the take on it. It's something about Henry's reaction--not the snapping at Frank bit, just his treatment of and reaction to Radar. &hearts this whole fic tons!
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You're making me seventeen kinds of nostalgic for the afternoons I'd come home from middle school and mainline M*A*S*H reruns before dinner.
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and good gosh, Radar sounds like he could be from, you know, the house on the corner of my street even more than usual here. That is to say, tons and tons. <3 *Midwestern bias*
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