Work Text:
Radar wasn’t sure exactly how it had started. He knew Henry didn’t remember.
They had both been drinking.
Well, Radar had only one sip (or two(or three)) of whatever Henry had poured into his overfull glass.
It was the end of a rough day. A few rough nights and days preceding. Henry had lost a patient on the table.
There hadn’t been anything he could have done differently, but the mind still wonders, especially at night.
The room had been quiet with the weight of the dead.
The conversation must have started with life back home. Henry missing Lorraine. Radar missing his family. The ways their old world had of soothing them.
The way wives soothed men, that other men couldn’t.
The conversation wasn’t what Radar remembered. It was what came after that occupied that place in Radar’s memory.
From that night, an awkwardness came between them. But it wasn’t long before that awkwardness was overcome by the sheer necessity of their constant communication.
Among other reasons.
FADE IN:
INT. HENRY BLAKE’S TENT, M*A*S*H 4077, 1953 - LATE AT NIGHT
HENRY BLAKE is in bed, EYEMASK on. RADAR is also here, not yet asleep. He is holding his bear, staring at the ceiling of the tent.
RADAR:
Sir?
Can I ask you a question?
HENRY:
You just did, Radar. But go ahead.
RADAR:
Do... you ever have bad dreams, sir?
HENRY:
Yes, Radar, I do.
I keep thinking I’m asleep in bed at home,
then I open my eyes.
pause.
HENRY lifts his eye mask, so he can see RADAR next to him.
HENRY:
The worst part of ‘em is the way some
don’t stop when I wake up.
RADAR:
You miss your wife a lot, sir?
HENRY:
Some times more than others. Yes, I miss her.
When I dream about home, I miss her.
Have you been having bad dreams, Radar?
RADAR:
..Yes, sir.
I dream of people that I love dying.
pause.
RADAR:
I dream of you dying a lot.
HENRY:
Well, whenever I have a bad dream, I make sure to
write it down so I won’t have the same dream again.
RADAR:
Does that work?
HENRY:
Sometimes.
RADAR turns to face HENRY. He can smell spirits on his breath still, but he doesn’t mind.
RADAR:
Are you ever afraid they’ll come true?
Your bad dreams?
The ones you keep having over and over?
HENRY:
No, not usually. I mostly see things that
are out of my control, anyway. Or things that could
never really happen.
RADAR:
I keep having this one about a plane crash, a terrible crash.
You die in it, sir. It makes me afraid...
Sometimes I get so afraid of losing you
that I can’t get back to sleep.
Even when you’re right next to me.
HENRY:
Oh, honey.
You don’t need to worry about me. I stay out of trouble.
RADAR:
There’s certainly plenty of trouble around us...
HENRY:
I wouldn’t leave you like that.
RADAR:
Well, I know you wouldn’t mean to, sir..
But I can’t help but worry.
HENRY pulls RADAR a little closer to him.
Brushes a stray strand of hair, nowhere in particular. Radar’s hair isn’t long enough to go behind his ears like Lorraine’s is.
HENRY:
It’s just a dream. It’s okay.
It’s not a prophecy. It’s normal to have bad dreams in a war zone.
I don’t know anyone in this camp who sleeps soundly.
I mean, you SEE how much I have to drink to stay sane around here.
RADAR:
Yes, I do, sir.
You’re right, sir, I guess I shouldn’t worry so much about it.
HENRY:
That’s right, honey.
Just close your eyes, okay? It’ll be morning soon.
RADAR nods, closes his eyes, and shifts his position.
HENRY: (whispering)
Goodnight, sweetheart.