Repost: My Favorite M*A*S*H Fic

Sorry for the multiple reposts lately, but I'm working on a very ambitious project whose beginnings are not quite ready to be unveiled. Please stay tuned!

Title: The Horse

Fandom: M*A*S*H

Character: Radar O’Reilly

Word Count: 754

Rating: General Audience

Spoilers: Set during Dear Mildred.

Disclaimer: M*A*S*H and its characters are the property of the writers, actors, and Twentieth Century Fox. No copyright infringement is intended.

Prompt:

When the world says, "Give up," Hope whispers, "Try it one more time."

-- Author Unknown

This one-shot was originally written in the 2000's.

Radar knew that Hawkeye didn’t understand – and that Captain Hunnicut was thinking merciful euthanization – a word Radar guessed probably meant killing – might be the best option. But it didn’t matter because Radar had convinced them, and they were helping, however reluctantly. Holding the sedated horse’s head in his arms and rubbing his cheek against her skin, Radar closed his eyes, relieved in his victory.

The procedure was simpler than anyone had anticipated once the sedatives had taken effect. Within a day, the horse had nearly kicked apart the rest of the shed, and Radar was forced to sneak her to a new hiding place.

From that point on, Radar spent every free moment with the horse, disappearing for hours at a time - and even, on some evenings, falling asleep on the straw beside her. Hawkeye woke him up from this position once, concerned, but Radar, self-consciously brushing pieces of straw out of his hair, assured him that he was okay and no, he was not becoming a single-minded fruitcake.

That’s probably why Hawkeye and Captain Hunnicut came by one day and encouraged him to give the horse to one of the local farmers. But Radar remained resolute, Hawkeye and Captain Hunnicut left, night fell, and Radar stayed with the horse, brushing her beautiful hide and feeding her vegetables he’d pilfered from the mess. Deep down, he knew that his friends were right – that he couldn’t hide her forever. But the thought of giving her up filled him with the strange choking sensation he’d been fighting ever since –

The horse shifted restlessly, releasing a low whinny of complaint, and Radar wrapped his arms around her muscular neck, burying his face in her mane. “’Sallright, girl,” he murmured. “Don’t pay me no mind at all. We’re gonna be just fine.”

That was something most folks didn’t understand – animals could hear your ghosts. The others had heard them, too, when Major Burns ordered Radar to release them all. “I won’t have your filthy vermin contaminating the compound,” the major had said. “This is a hospital. If Colonel Blake – God rest his soul – had cared at all about regulations, he would’ve shipped these creatures out months ago.” And Radar obeyed because Major Burns was his commanding officer and no amount of righteous hollering from Hawkeye was going to change that one bit. Radar obeyed, loading every single cage into a jeep and driving them up into the hills where, he hoped, they wouldn’t be hit by any ambulances barreling down the road. Hawkeye had gone with him then, and he didn’t say a single word. He just silently fumed as Radar said goodbye to Black Beauty, Mungo, Fluffy, Dopey, and all the others.

Before he released them, Radar remembered, they’d skittered about in their cages, nervous and expectant. And when Radar picked up the last possum and rubbed his - by then - wet face against her fur, he had felt her little heart racing beneath his fingers. Yes – they’d known. It was like they could smell it in Radar’s skin.

Radar hoped – oh, he hoped – that Colonel Potter – even though he was regular army - would turn out to be different if he found his clerk harboring an abandoned horse. He was cavalry once, after all, and seemed to have a love for horses in particular.

Then a noise startled Radar, and he squeezed the horse tight, willing it to hush. It was Majors Burns and Houlihan walking towards the colonel’s office. Dispensing with his usual reluctance to deliberately listen to people in every way he could, he concentrated on their conversation – and the not-words beneath. That’s when he remembered – and felt his heart flutter with excitement.

Later, as Radar watched Colonel Potter lead his gift through the compound, he felt genuinely happy for the first time in a long while.

“You know, Radar,” Hawkeye mused, resting his hand on the top of Radar’s cap, “before we get that drink, you may want to stop by the showers.”

“Huh?”

“You smell like horse.”

“Oh, yeah?” Radar squirmed out from under Hawkeye’s touch and glared at him indignantly. “Well, when’s the last time you washed your socks, huh?” He jumped up and tried to snatch his cap from Hawkeye’s hand. Grinning, Hawkeye pulled it away, then wrapped that arm around Radar’s shoulders, ruffling Radar’s hair with his other hand. His chin stiff, Radar worked his hat free from Hawkeye’s grasp and pulled it back down over the tops of his ears.

Hawkeye’s laughter could be heard for miles around.