Title: Return A Man: Radar And Ray

Name: Scribe

Fandom: M*A*S*H/The Machurian Candidate

Pairing: Radar/Raymond Shaw

Criticism: Yes

Archive: Yes, let me know where

Feedback: Yes. poet_77665@yahoo.com

Disclaimer: Characters originally belong to Richard Hooker and whoever wrote The Manchurian Candidate.

Rating: NC-17

Sequel: This is the sequal to 'Radar's First Time'.

Backstory: In that story Walter (Radar) Eugene O'Reilly, a naive Iowa farmboy, is gently seduced by his superior, Sergeant Raymond Shaw, who will later become The Manchurian Candidate.

It's true love for both Radar and Ray, but alas Ray is shipped to Korea, leaving Walter bereft. Walter is sent to Korea himself, and stationed at the 4077 M*A*S*H unit. There he is contacted once again by Shaw, and the affair resumes. Their love deepens, but all is not well for the lovers. Due to the times, they feel compelled to keep their love a secret, and secrets can be dangerous.

That danger is embodied by Colonel Samuel Flagg, a CIA operative who comes to have a very

unhealthy interest in Radar. (In the television series, Flagg was a moronic bumbler. In this universe, he is a clever, cunning, and very dangerous psychopath)

The story follows Radar's suffering at the hands of Flagg, his eventual recovery, with the loving help of family, friends, and Ray, and the chilling aftermath of Ray's capture and brainwashing. Will their love save Radar, and prevent Ray from succumbing to the machinations of the powers who seek to use him?

Return A Man: Radar And Ray

by Scribe

My name is Walter O'Reilly. I know things. In advance, I mean. And things I have no business knowing, things that I'm never told or shown. I just know.

That's how I got my nickname, Radar. Most people who know me think I got it over here, during my military service in Korea. My Mom never uses it, I'm always Walter to her. But over here, I'm mostly Radar. That's because I always know when the choppers are coming. Before the others can hear the beating of their roters, before they drift over the hills with their cargos of broken and bleeding humanity, I know Trapper John told me once during an alcohol fueled ramble that I'm responsible for saving some of those lives, since I get the medics to the wounded that much faster. I'd like to believe that, I've always admired doctors.

Anyway, the nickname. It was my Uncle Ed who gave it to me. He was the first one to notice my 'talent'. At first he just noticed that I was the only one who could find all the eggs each morning, even the ones that the broody hens hid. And I could alway locate the barn cat's latest litter of kittens. I've always loved animals. Maybe that's why my talent first showed up in association with them.

Then Ed noticed how I'd pick up the newspaper or Mom's reading glasses a second before she asked me for them. Mom never notices, bless her. She'll go to her grave thinking I'm nothing but a good, sweet, attentative boy. Eventually I was picking horses for Uncle Ed.

The problem was that my talent has never been one hundred per cent. I make goofs, big ones, frequently. And picking winners off a racing form isn't like seeing and touching the animals before a race. That makes it easier. Still, I managed to pull down a long shot for him now and then. More than once, it kept us fed. Farm life isn't all that easy. Never has been.

I never intended to do anything but work the farm. I expected to get married eventurlly and raise kids on the same land where I grew up. The Korean conflict put a kink in those plans. I was drafted the week after I turned eighteen.

I don't mind serving my country. I'm a patriot, I'm willing to do my duty, even though I'm not clear on what we're doing over here. Major Frank Burns' simple statement that we're 'fighting Commies' just doesn't satisfy me. But I see what brooding about it does to people. Hawkeye Pierce, a good man, is gradually descending into alcoholism.

So I keep my head down and do my job. I'd needed electives in high school. The sweat and clang of metal shop didn't appeal to me, I couldn't play an instrument, I couldn't carry a tune, and I didn't want to risk my fingers in woodshop (too many opportunities for injury with farm equipment, anyway). I signed up for typing and shorthand instead. I took unmerciful ragging from the guys, till I pointed out the fact that while they were scratching and spitting with each other, I was surrounded by giggling females. I was the only boy in both classes. That shut them up and got them thinking.

Not that it was really that much of a thrill for me. I dated, sure. I took this one to the malt shop, and that one to see a movie. I even borrowed the Studebaker and went and parked out in the feilds a couple of times with Becky Woodward. The kissing was nice enough. I didn't mind playing with her breasts. It was kind of fun to make her nipples stand up all stiff and crinkly. But I was never too disappointed when she stopped me from going any further.

Once, as she was rebuttoning her blouse, she'd said, "You're a real gentleman, Walter." She'd sounded kind of puzzled when she said it. I found out later that Becky always stopped the boys. And she always gave in when they pushed.

So I was still a virgin when I went into the army. That didn't last long, though. See, my first lover... my only lover was a higher ranking soldier, a sergeant.

He's about as different from Frank Burns as it's possible to be, but there are certain surface similarities. I don't like Major Burns much. He's always trying to make me feel inferior. My Mom always told me that I'm just as good as anybody else, but Major Burns always makes me feel like I have dirt under my nails and cow manure on my shoes. Ray is rugged, forceful and confident without being petty and arrogant. Frank Burns is... well, Frank Burns.

Ray is considerate, Frank is the single most selfish, self involved person I've ever known. But like Ray, Frank keeps his uniforms pristine. Both of them come from socially prominent families. Both of them have overbearing, domineering mothers, though my sergeant fights to escape the influence of his, while Frank has succumbed. And become sour. He never misses an opportunity to make someone who doesn't fit his standards feel low. And since I'm outside the pale as far as he's concerned, I come in for more than my fair share of his bullshit.

But Frank Burns isn't nearly the extent of my worries in Korea. I worry about Mom, back in Iowa, trying to run the farm. Sure, she has Uncle Ed, who's a lifetime farmer. But Uncle Ed was Dad's much older brother, and he's getting up in years. Then of course there are the North Koreans to worry about. And if they aren't enough, there are the occasional round of friendly fire to deal with. Plus the constant stream of broken, burned, bloody soldiers streaming into the camp by truck and helicopter, many of them not much older than me. But those are the kinds of things you expect in a war. You expect casualties when you battle on foreign soil. What you don't expect is to be frightened by your own side.

Frank Burns doesn't scare me, except that he's been acting a little nutty since Hot Lips dumped him for that Penobscot guy. I could almost feel sorry for him, if he hadn't been such a shit the entire time I've known him. He'd be pathetic if he wasn't so mean.

No, there's only one person on our side who really scares me. That's Colonel Flagg. He's with military intelligence, which Hawkeye says is a perfect example of an oxymoron. When I said I could go along with the ox part, but I didn't think Flagg was a moron, except in the figurative sense, Hawk explained what it meant to me. I think he was right.

See, Flagg's always doing stuff that looks pretty screwy and illogical, if not downright inhuman. The doctors don't have any respect for him. I do, but it's not the good kind of respect, the kind that you give to someone you admire, and would like to be like. No, this is the same kind of respect a farmboy learns to give snakes.

They may look harmless, but you don't mess with them, because even if they're not poisonous, they bite. And it's hard to be one hundred percent sure they're not poisonous. You only have to be a little wrong to be dead. That's what Colonel Flagg reminds me of: a snake.

Oh, not that he's ugly. He's a fairly presentable guy. But there's just something cold about him. At least I think so. I don't think the other guys are paying attention. They just hear the bluster. I look at his eyes.

They're brown, but they're not a dark, deep brown like my Ray's. They're almost tan, such a pale brown that they look almost yellow sometimes. And they're... I dunno. Flat. Some poet, or author, or other famous person said that the eyes are the windows of the soul. Well, with Colonel Flagg, when you look through the windows, it's like looking into an empty house. A house where something terrible happened, and something worse could happen. A haunted house.

Part Two

What you gotta understand is that when Ray left, I had no idea I'd ever see him again. I knew he cared for me, even with as little time as we'd spent together. It doesn't take long to fall in love if you find the right person, and I knew I was in love with Ray. I also knew what stood between us. Pretty much the whole world.

I guess I don't have to tell you the prevailing attitudes about guys who like other guys. The army is particularly unforgiving about this. They could put you in jail for it. Oh, not that it doesn't happen, and not just with enlisted men, either. But you have to keep it real quiet, and be real careful about who finds out. It's not like you can dance with your boyfriend at the social club.

Besides the army, there was Ray's family. Well, his mother. He talked about her. Wrote about her, actually.

Yeah, that's right. Ray wrote to me. I got the first letter just after I'd been assigned to the 4077th, about a month after I'd been in Korea, and six months after I last saw Ray. Before then I'd been knocked around in various military offices stateside. I didn't really like being out in the boonies, so close to the front lines, but at least I felt like I was contributing.

For awhile there, when Colonel Henry Blake was commanding officer, I more or less ran the camp. Nice guy, Henry. He was like a father to me, and I cried when his plane was shot down as it was flying him back to the states. But he was one of the vaugest men I've ever known. He'd sign anything I put in front of him. He trusted me, and I tried not to abuse that trust.

Well, not too much, anyway. It's just that sometimes army regulations don't take people being human into account. A few passes or a couple of not quite regulation requisitions never hurt anything.

Anyway, since I was company clerk, I was in charge of the mail. I'd gather up the outgoing mail and hand it over every week when they brought incoming mail up from Seoul.

Every week I got a letter from my Mom, sometimes a box of cookies, too. Lemme tell you, those cookies went a long way toward getting me accepted real fast. I wrote Mom back just as steady, and Uncle Ed. Sometimes I wrote even more often because...Well, the guys in camp are terrific, and I got to be good friends with Hawkeye and Trapper John and Corporal Klinger and Father Mulcahey and...well, pretty much everyone except Major Burns and Major Houlihan. But sometimes I just got lonesome. You know?

They were swell people, but Korea wasn't home, and never would even come close. Anyway, like I said, I'd been at the MASH a little over a month, and was just getting settled in good. Some of my duties were kinda tedious, but I liked handing out the mail. Everyone is happy to see you when you have a letter for them. As long as it isn't a bill, but I didn't have to worry about that 'cause it was military mail. So I got to see a lot of smiles, and that sort of brightens up your day.

I put my own mail aside, and delivered all the others, then went and read mine. I took them to the radio room. This is the front room of the colonel's office. I have my bunk there, so I'll hear the radio if someone calls in at night.

This time I had two envelopes. I didn't think much about it right away, because I figured both Mom and Uncle Ed had written. I read Mom's letter, and she talked about all the stuff going on at the farm. About a dance they had at the Grange hall, and how old Mister Tupper asked her to dance and flirted with her. Mister Tupper was 89, and Mom said his upper plate kept slipping.

Then I looked at the other envelope, and got puzzled. It was kind of smudged, like maybe it had gotten mud on it, and someone wiped it off. It didn't have a return address, and the handwriting didn't look like Uncle Ed's. He's my uncle, and I don't want to say anything about him, but I've seen our hens scratch out clearer letters than he does. This handwriting was almost elegant.

I tore it open.

"Dear Walter, You're a hard man to find, do you know that? I had to call in favors to get a friend of mine in personell to find out where you'd been stationed. You owe me. We can discuss how you can pay me back..."

My eyes jumped to the bottom of the page, to the single word signature. Ray. I sat down hard on my bunk. The paper was rattling, and I realized that was because my hand was shaking. I just stared at it. I wasn't reading it, I was just looking at it, trying to convince myself that it was real. Finally I started reading the rest of it.

"I wish you weren't stationed so close to the front lines, but at least there are plenty of doctors there to look after you. I know you, kid, and I know you're going to worry about me here in combat, but don't. We spend most of our time at the back of the action, and when I'm in it, I keep my head down. I can't write much now, but I'd like to keep writing. We still had a lot to say to each other when I had to leave. If you're still interested in being friends, write back. I've thought of a way you can compensate me for the trouble I took finding you. How about a night like the last one before I left camp? Without Doris. Ray"

Colonel Blake came into the radio room, heading for his own office. Then he stopped, staring at me, and came over. "Radar? Are you alright?"

"Huh? Yessir, I'm fine."

"I was just wondering. You seem a little upset." That's when I felt that my cheeks were wet. I pulled off my glasses and rubbed my face quickly, wiping away the tears. "No bad news from home?"

I started to smile. I must've looked positively goofy, 'cause it felt like it was going to run clear around my head to the back. "Nossir. No bad news at all." I looked at the letter again, folded it up, and carefully tucked it back into the envelope. I was going to have to find someplace special to keep it. "Good news. A friend I was worried about is all right."

He nodded. "Oh, that's good. A great relief, isn't it?"

"You have no idea, sir." As he went into his office, I got a pen and some paper, and started to write. 'If you're still interested in being friends.'

I swear, that Ray...

Part Three

It was awful good, having Ray writing to me. Me writing to him. I was still homesick, but it wasn't quite so bad. At least someone I cared about was in the same country. But it was kind of bad, too, because I worried about him so much. He said not to, but I couldn't help it. I saw all the casualties they sent back from the front.

I was afraid that some day I'd know the choppers were coming over the ridge, and when they set down, Ray would be strapped to one of the baskets. Or that they'd unload him off an ambulance truck. My heart was in my mouth every time we had incoming, till I'd seen them all unloaded, and checked to be sure he wasn't in that batch.

But the weeks went by, and he wasn't there. A letter didn't come with each post, 'cause sometimes he couldn't get it back behind the lines. But if it didn't, there'd be two letters in the next post, or more. They always made me feel a little warmer inside. That was good, 'cause Korea could be an awful cold place sometimes, for the body and for the soul. And some people just seem to carry cold around with them.

That's how it was with Colonel Flagg. He just sort of seemed to carry a little pocket of cold around with him. I noticed it the first time I met him.

I'd been at the MASH close to three months. I was in a good mood. I'd had a letter from Ray that day, talking about maybe visiting me on the farm when the war was over, and we both got back to the states. I wasn't too sure it would actually happen. You make plans, and then the world kind of steps in and changes them for you, and I had a feeling the end of the war was a long way off. But it was nice to think about it.

What really bothered me was that I didn't know he was coming. I almost always know when anyone important is coming into camp. But I didn't have any warning on Flagg. One minute I was bending over, getting a requisition form out of the bottom of the filing cabinet, the next I turned around and almost ran into him.

There was this big guy, standing right behind me, only about a foot away. I don't mind tellin' ya, I yelled. I was that startled. I mean, I hadn't even heard the door open, and I'm not deaf. "Geez, you scared me half to death!" I gasped.

"That's my job." If it had been Hawkeye, I would've known it was a joke. But this guy had what Trapper John would've called a perfect poker face. No expression at all. I think he meant it. "Don't you believe in saluting a superior officer, Corporal?"

The only person around the 4077th who insisted on salutes was Major Burns. Even Hot Lips didn't bother much about them, so I'd kinda gotten out of the habit. But I snapped one real quick when I saw the insignia on his shoulders. Colonel. I managed to slap myself in the face with the form I'd forgotten I was holding. Most people would have smiled at that. I wouldn't have gotten sore. It was pretty silly, after all. But not this guy. He just stared at me. "Sorry, sir. Can I help you, sir?"

"You can direct me to Colonel Henry Blake."

"Yessir. Who shall I say is calling?"

"The name is Colonel Samuel Flagg, but you won't be telling him that. I can see myself in."

He started for the door, and I came after him. "Uh, Colonel, the colonel is in the middle of a meeting right now, and he..." Flagg turned those pale eyes on me, and I was suddenly cold, even though it was the middle of summer. "...probably won't mind if you go right on in."

His voice was flat. "Are you sure about that, Corporal? I wouldn't want to upset your office protocol. Routine is important in this man's army."

He wasn't asking if it was all right with me. He was telling me it had better be alright with me. "Yessir."

"So you think I should just go on in?" The voice was soft and thoughtful now. It said, 'Are you presuming to tell me what I should do?'

Geez, this was one of those guys where there wasn't a right answer. "Sir, I think you should do whatever you want."

He nodded slowly. "That's a very wise attitude." He went into the office and a minute later I heard Colonel Blake yell, just like I did. Of course, it would have been easier for Flagg to surprise him, since Henry was probably distracted by having Nurse Ripples on his lap.

Nurse Ripples came hurrying out, smoothing her hair and throwing back startled glances. She whispered to me, "I swear, that spook just popped up out of nowhere. I'm going to The Swamp for a martini. I need it."

I s'pose I shouldn't have done it, but I put my ear against the office door to try and hear what was going on. I mean, the company clerk needs to know what's going on, doesn't he? I couldn't hear much. Colonel Flagg talked in a very quiet voice. All I could hear from him was a low grumble.

Colonel Blake wasn't much clearer. I could tell by the tone of his voice and the way he laughed that he was nervous. It was one of those 'well, I better laugh even though this isn't funny, because otherwise it's just too weird' laughs. One thing I heard real clear, though. Colonel Blake saying, like he couldn't believe it, "CIA?!" and Colonel Flagg shushing him.

I heard someone headed for the door, and jumped behind my desk. My butt hit the chair about two seconds after the door opened, and I tried to look like I was working on a requisition form. Colonel Flagg came out of the office. I was hoping he'd just walk on past, but he stopped right in front of my desk.

I wasn't sure what he wanted, so I figured I'd better play it safe. I stood up and saluted. He looked at me for a long time, almost a minute, I think. Then he reached down and turned the form around. I'd been looking at it upside down. I felt myself start to turn red with embarrassment. He said, "What's your name, soldier?"

"Corporal Radar O'Reilly, sir."

He expressed the first emotion I'd seen from him: disbelief. His thin, straight mouth turned down slightly. "Do you mean to tell me that an American mother saddled her male child with a name like 'Radar'?"

"Uh, nossir. Radar is my nickname, sir. My given name is Walter Eugene O’Reilly, but I try to keep the Eugene quiet, sir."

"I don't blame you." He leaned over the desk. I stood real still, even when he got so close I could feel his breath. Some people you want to try not to flinch around. He said, real quiet, "I'm going to be watching you, O' Reilly. You interest me." Then he left.

I dropped down in my chair, and started breathing again. Colonel Blake came out, looking even more flustered than usual. I said, "What was that, sir?"

"That, Radar, was army intelligence."

"Well, what's he doing here?"

"You got me. He says it's so secret that even he's not sure. What an idiot."

I stared at Colonel Blake. Were we talking about the same person? "He scared me."

Colonel Blake waved, making a dismissive gesture. "Don't let him bother you , Radar. His kind like to play their games. You're a good kid. Just do your job, and you won't have any problem with him." He laughed. "It's not like there are any skeletons in your closet, are there?"

I looked over to where the letter from Ray was laying on my bunk, and said slowly, "No sir. Not a single bone."

Part 4

It turned out that Colonel Flagg was at the 4077th to pursue commies. I think it was a hobby as well as his job. He never smiled, but he seemed to be enjoying it, anyway.

Seems like he suspected everybody, right down to Father Mulcahey. Trapper John said he had a bad case of 'reds under the bed'.

There was another secret agent sort of guy who came into camp, too. But he worked for some other organization, and it was like him and Colonel Flagg were in a contest, or something. Both of them were trying like heck to find one person they could turn in as being a threat to the US army and the American way of life. They ended up both settling on Frank Burns, except Colonel Flagg thought Frank was a communist, and the other guy thought he was a fascist. Turned out that Hawkeye and Trapper John had set it up. Boy, those guys were clever.

Unfortunately it got straightened out before they hauled Frank off. It was fun watching him pee his pants, though.

I was glad when Colonel Flagg left camp. Every time he looked at me it was like...Well, my Mom would call it having a goose walk over my grave. I don't know what the heck a goose would have to do with it, but I knew that meant feeling kinda shivery. That's what he did to me.

He didn't bother me the whole time he was in camp, not till just before he left. He came in the radio room, leaving the jeep that was going to carry him away parked right outside. I was sitting on the edge of my desk, reading a comic book. Well, I was off duty, okay? On break, anyway.

He came in, and I put it down, real quick. I stood at attention and saluted without having to be reminded this time. I don't know if that made him happy or not. You never could tell with him. I was learning that he usually was about as expressive as Mount Rushmore.

He stopped right in front of me. "At ease, soldier."

I relaxed as much as I could, what with him standing right there. "Sir, Colonel Blake is in the mess tent, sir."

"I'm not here to see Blake. I'm here to see you, O' Reilley."

I think I squeaked a little. "Me, sir?"

"You're a little young to be sole clerk of a unit like this. How did you get this position? Maybe some strings were pulled?"

Well, now, that was just silly, but I probably shouldn't have said anything. "Begging the colonel's pardon, but why would I pull strings to get posted so close to the front? That wouldn't make much sense."

Oh, I really don't think I should have said that. His expression got even blanker, and I didn't think that was possible. He took a step closer, and his toes were bumping mine. Then he leaned in. His tone was real smooth and reasonable. That scared me even more. "This is a very important position, Corporal. You wield a good bit of power, even if your commanding officer doesn't seem to notice it. Power, who has it and who doesn't have it, fascinates me. I'm wondering why you got this job."

I swallowed. But I told him what I thought was the truth. "Because I'm good, sir."

He blinked once, real slowly. He stepped back from me and gave me a once over. I started blushing, because I knew my pants were rumpled, and I'd left my shirt unbuttoned over my undershirt, since I was on break. Then he did something real funny. He cocked his head, kinda like a dog, and said, "Yes. Maybe you are."

From anyone else, that would have sounded like a compliment. It just made me more nervous. coming from him. He turned around and left, and I started breathing again. That man seemed to suck all the oxygen right out of the air. I hoped like hell that would be the last time I'd have to deal with Colonel Flagg, and I tried to put him out of my mind.

I'd almost managed to do it before he showed up again. This time he wanted one of our patients. He was a Korean. See, sometimes in wars, civilians get hurt, too. The doctors at the MASH always helped them when they could, but this one was brought in by a South Korean officer, who said he was a North Korean spy. To tell you the truth, I never could tell North Koreans from South Koreans. I never could notice a drawl, or anything.

The docs got the guy patched up pretty good. Then Colonel Flagg showed up demanding that the prisoner be turned over to him for interrogation and transfer back to army intelligence. Colonel Blake was off on leave, and Frank Burns was in charge.

Frank thought Colonel Flagg was terrific, even if he had scared him into wetting his shorts before. He was all for letting Flagg do just what he wanted. Hawkeye wouldn't let him, though. He was Officer of the Day, and what he said, went. At least till Henry got back. So it was a waiting game to see if Henry would be back before Hawkeye's authority ran out.

Hawkeye sat with the prisoner for a long time, but he'd been operating a lot earlier, and he needed sleep. He asked me to sit with him, to make sure Frank or Flagg didn't bother him, and I said yes.

They had his cot in a little screened off section, away from the other patients. He was sleeping, 'cause they had him doped up for the pain. I guess I kinda nodded off for a minute. I didn't mean to, but heck, I was going to bed at nine o'clock up to a couple of months before. Anyway, all of a sudden I got a prickling feeling all over, and I opened my eyes...

Okay, I woke up. And Flagg was standing right there at the screen. I sat up real quick, almost falling out of the chair, and said, "You're not s'posed to be here!"

"Insubordination, Corporal?"

I stood and saluted, but I did it in a sarcastic manner. I think I did. I'd never tried to do a sarcastic salute before. "No sir. Doing my duty, sir. Captain Pierce said the patient is not to be disturbed. 'Specially by you."

"Your devotion to duty is noted. Now, I will interrogate that prisoner." He came toward the foot of the bed.

Okay, I guess what I did was stupid. But Captain Pierce was trusting me to take care of that Korean, and by golly, I was going to do all I could. I got between Colonel Flagg and the bed and said, "Sir, I can't let you do that."

He stopped. He gave me that cocked head look again. "Do you think you can stop me?"

"I can try, sir."

"O'Reilley, are you aware that I'm trained to kill with my bare hands? I could break you in half."

I swallowed. He was big. His shoulders strained the material of his shirt, and he was a head taller than me. "Well, sir, then both halves would still try to keep you away from that patient."

He stepped in closer to me. "Back down."

"No."

I was shaking a little, but I didn't move away, and I didn't break eye contact. When he reached out and wrapped his fist in my shirt front, I was pretty sure he was going to make good on his threat about breaking me in half. I was awful glad when Father Mulcahey showed up.

"Colonel Flagg, what in God's name are you doing?! Let go of that boy!"

Flagg didn't look away from me. "This is none of your concern, Padre. O'Reilley and I are having a discussion."

"Stop this at once!" Father grabbed Flagg's arm and pulled him away from me. I'm pretty sure Flagg let him do it. "You were barred from recovery. You must leave immediately."

The Colonel flicked a glance at the priest, then looked back at me. "All right. This can wait till Blake is back. You should have a talk with the corporal about the duty of obedience to a superior officer." Then he left.

"Radar, are you all right?"

I straightened my shirt. "Yeah, Father. I'm okay. Just a little shook up."

"I don't know what that maniac was thinking of, manhandling an enlisted man like that. It's against regulations."

"Ya know, Father. I get the feeling that Colonel Flagg may be hot to enforce regulations for everyone else, but he ain't too worried about following them himself."

"Well, don't worry about him trying to get you into trouble. I'm a witness to his behavior."

"Thanks, Padre." Somehow I got the feeling that Flagg reporting me for rudeness and failure to obey an order were the least of my concerns.

Part 5

When Colonel Blake came back,he sided with Hawkeye, so we didn't get in trouble. They didn't hand the Korean over to Flagg; he left with Korean military police instead. But Flagg went off right after them. Maybe all we did was buy him some time, but we did what we could.

I'm a little ashamed to say this, but I was almost glad that Flagg had something to distract him. I figured he'd be so excited about a chance to get covert information from the Korean that he'd forget that I'd pissed him off by standing up to him. I shoulda known that guys like Flagg don't forget stuff like that.

For awhile, though, I thought he had. It was almost a year before he showed up again. The funny thing about life in a MASH unit is that things change all the time, but nothing ever really changes. I know that sounds stupid, but it's how it is. It's the same 'cause there's always more casualties, always ones that the docs can't save, no matter how they try. There's always the same chow in the mess tent (boy, sometimes I think I'd almost kick a puppy for some of my Mom's pot roast. Well, no I wouldn't. But I wouldn't share with the puppy, and that's bad enough). Everyone was too tired most of the time, and the still in The Swamp ran almost continually.

The differences were people. Trapper John went back to the states. I missed him, but his replacement was a good Joe. Not that his name was Joe, I mean. His name's B.J. Hunnicut, and he has a wife and little girl in California. He showed me pictures. They're real pretty.

Then there's Corporal Max Klinger, from Toledo, Ohio. He said he feels a kinship with me, even though he's from the big city, and I'm from a farm. He calls us 'the vowel states boys', 'cause I'm from Iowa and he's from Ohio. He wears dresses.

I know what you're thinking. No, he isn't gay. I asked him a couple of weeks after he arrived. He was wearing a flowered housecoat that reminded me of Doris, and was rinsing out some nylons. Boy, the nurses envied him for those.

I was kind of hesitant. I mean, I hadn't even asked Ray if he was gay. Of course, he'd kind of demonstrated it, so the question would have been like what Hawkeye said, 'moot'. Boy, that's a funny word.

Anyway, I didn't have anyone to talk to about Ray and me, and I was kind of hoping... So, I asked him. "Klinger? Um, don't get mad at me, but do you like guys?"

He was draping a stocking over a line to dry, and said casually, "Why, kid? You interested?" I turned beet red, and when I didn't say anything, he looked at me. "It was a joke, kid, a joke. I got nothing against guys. Some of my best friends are guys. But I don't like guys, if you know what I mean. Don't let the lavender lingerie fool you. I'm doing this for a section eight."

I nodded. "Oh, I see."

"Not that there's anything wrong with that. My Uncle Casden has been with my Aunt Herbie for over twenty years."

"Wow. They're married?"

"Not in the strictest legal sense, but yeah, to all intents and purposes. You shoulda heard Herbie when Unc forgot their anniversary. It took him roses, champagne, and a moonlit cruise to pull his butt out of that crack."

"Twenty years," I marveled. "I... didn't know guys could stay together that long."

Max shrugged. He sat down and lit a cigar. It looked kind of funny, since he was wearing rhinestone chandelier earnings. They were a little much for afternoon wear, but he was breaking them in. "It depends on the guys, Radar. Sure, they have more crap to deal with than a traditional couple. But it happens." He blew out a big cloud of smoke. "You mind telling me if this is just casual interest in my family, or does it have some personal significance for you?"

I shuffled my feet, then took my glasses off and polished them. Uncle Ed says I polish my glasses for the same reason a cat spends so much time washing himself; it gives me an excuse to not pay any attention when someone is talking to me. But Klinger didn't say anything else. He just looked at me. And there wasn't any apprehension in his face. It wasn't like he was dreading what I might say.

"I... um... I got... a friend."

"Is this friend gay?"

"Yeah, he... Oh. You think I mean me, but I'm talking about a friend. No. Wait. Yes. Oh, heck, I got a friend and we're both gay. Wait, I think he said he's bi. That means sometimes he likes girls, too."

"I'm aware of that, Radar."

"I'm babbling, aren't I?"

"Yeah, but that's not unusual for someone your age who just decided he was gay. This is recent, I take it?"

"Not really. It was like a year and a half ago. But... but that's all there was. Of the actual gay stuff, I mean. He had to ship out before I did."

"That's rough."

"Yeah." I brightened. "But he writes to me." Suddenly I looked at Klinger doubtfully. I didn't know him all that well, and I'd just told him a couple of major secrets, ones that could really make things difficult for me.

I guess he understood what I was thinking. "Don't worry. Your secret is safe with Uncle Max. But I wouldn't spread it around any more, though. The US army can be kinda harsh if you're a square peg and they decide you should go into a round hole. They're likely to try to pound you in to make you fit."

"And I wouldn't just leave those letters laying around, either." he continued. "Lotta nosy parkers in this world who just can't keep their mitts off other people's personal stuff. I ain't naming names, but the initials that come to mind are Frank Burns."

"Yeah." I thought about cold yellow eyes. "Well, at least he's the worst we have to deal with."

"He's bad enough."

Klinger and me got to be good friends after that. He even got his mom to send Mom a recipe for something called 'warak malfoof'. I'm not kidding you, that's what it's called. It means something like 'cabbage cigar rolls'. Any way, Mom said they were a big hit at the Quilting Circle pot luck dinner. Uncle Ed ate five of them, and was kind of hard to be around for a few hours, if you know what I mean.

It was nice, having someone who knew about that part of me, but didn't mind. I could talk about Ray to Klinger. I didn't use his name, though. It isn't that I was ashamed of Ray. Gosh, no. But I wasn't going to go telling people about his private life without him knowing about it. I figured he'd do the same for me.

Any way, I took Klinger's advice. I didn't just leave my letters from Ray laying around. I bought a nice little wooden box from one of the locals who did carving. It had scroll work all over the top. The guy had wanted me to buy one with a big heart on it, but that would have been just too much. It'd be like pasting a big sign on it saying 'LOVE LETTERS INSIDE'. I tucked the box deep inside my footlocker, and I kept the footlocker locked.

Not that there was really anything in the letters that would have gotten me in trouble. I mean, we didn't talk sex, or anything. But it kinda came through that we weren't just pen pals. Ray would talk about how much he missed me, and thought about me. Things he'd like to show me in the states when the war was over, places he'd like us to go together. It was awful nice to think about, but I tried not to take it too seriously. Much as I hated the idea, I figured he'd go right back to his old life, and so would I. I couldn't hope for something like Max's Uncle Casden.

Could I?

Part 6

Like I said, it was almost a year after the Korean patient incident before Colonel Flagg showed up again at the 4077th. I hadn't missed him at all. How he showed up was pretty typical of him.

This time he didn't come to the office first and announce himself. I was helping out in recovery, we'd had a fresh load of casualties just pass through the OR, and there were some of them the docs wanted to keep a pretty close eye on. I don't know much about medicine, but I can take a temperature and monitor fluid output. That's kinda a fancy name for emptying bedpans and catheter bags. I don't mind, though.

One of the guys was kinda embarrassed when I had to help him pee, because his hands were burned. He asked if I wasn't disgusted, having to mess with stuff like that, and I told him heck no. It's not like they're doing it on purpose to make my life hard. I told him if he was just drunk, and he asked, then I'd worry about him. That gave him a laugh.

Anyway, the thermometer got broke. I was taking a guy's temperature while one of the nurses was changing a dressing on his groin wound, and some hairs got pulled out of a sensitive area at the wrong time. He bit clean through the thermometer. We were worried for a minute that he was going to swallow glass and mercury, but he spit everything out. But then I needed another thermometer, so I went to the supply room.

I opened the door and found myself looking at a broad back. Someone was in the supply room, with an open duffle bag at their feet. That didn't look good. I knew who it was even before he turned around, and I got a cold lump in my stomach. "What are you doing here?"

Flagg didn't jump or flinch, didn't even seem surprised. He just turned around and looked at me. I was never going to get used to those eyes. "O'Reilly, you have a very bad habit of not showing proper respect for rank. You should work on that."

I catch him where he has no business being, and he's going to call me on rank. But this was the army, and rules were rules, even if they were stupid rules. I saluted. "What are you doing in here, sir?"

"Explain to me why I owe an enlisted man an explanation of my actions, corporal."

Technically speaking, he didn't owe me an explanation. So I avoided the issue. "Does Colonel Blake know you're here, sir?"

"I seriously doubt it."

"You should check in with the commanding officer before wandering around the camp, sir."

Colonel Flagg moved toward me. He was a bad one about getting in a guy's personal space. I guess it's some sort of intimidation thing they pick up in intelligence. It's pretty effective. "I will contact Blake if and when I deem it necessary. You will keep your little mouth shut about this. Do I make myself clear?"

"As crystal, sir."

"Good." He didn't say anything else for a minute. He just stared. Then he reached over and straightened my collar where it had gotten flipped up in back. His fingers grazed the back of my neck, and I guess I shivered. He took a deep breath, then said, "I'm going to have to make time later to have a serious talk with you about your attitude, soldier. Get on with your duties."

I didn't bother with the thermometer. I left the supply room and went straight to where Hawkeye was checking out a patient's chart. I wanted to do this right. I just hoped he was good at charades.

I tugged on his arm. "Yeah?" He didn't look up from the chart, so I tugged harder. He still didn't look up. "What is it, Radar?"

I grabbed the chart and hung it on the hook at the foot of the bed again. "Hey!" I shook his shoulder, trying to tell him by the look on my face that it was important. "What, cat got your tongue?" I crooked my finger at him, then pointed toward the hall, out toward the supply room. He smiled slightly. "I know, Mulcahey has talked you into joining a monastery after the war, and you're practicing your vow of silence."

I stamped my foot in frustration, and the smile faded. "Okay, this is serious, whatever it is?" I nodded. I made a motion of someone spreading a bag open. Then I started grabbing imaginary supplies and stuffing them in, looking around furtively. That part was my imagination. Colonel Flagg hadn't been the least bit ashamed of what he was doing. I pointed toward supply. Then I pretended to hook a flag on a line, hauling it up the flagpole. I gazed up and saluted, then pointed toward supply again. He got it. Most of it, anyway.

His expression got grim, and he headed toward supply. I sighed in relief and followed him. Hawkeye opened the door. "What the hell?"

Colonel Flagg was holding the open duffle bag. It was half full of bottles and boxes, and he was taking more of them off the shelf and stuffing them in it. "Flagg, what do you think you're doing?"

Flagg paused, then put another handful of stuff in the bag. "I'm commandeering a few of your supplies for CIA use, Pierce."

"A few? You've got most of two shelves in there. What do you think you're taking?"

"It's no concern of yours. I need it, and that's all you need to know."

"The hell you say. It's my concern if you take something I need to save a life." He grabbed the bag, but Flagg hung on. "Colonel, let go of that bag. Stealing army supplies, particularly life and death supplies, is a serious offense."

Flagg's expression didn't really change, but he turned red. He let go, though. Hawkeye started to sift through the contents of the bag. "This is all our penicillin, and most of our sulfa drugs. And morphine?" He stared at Flagg incredulously. "You were going to leave us without antibiotics and pain killers?"

"I'm going to pass along another order for more, but I need those."

"What, you're planning on opening up your own stand and going into competition with us? These don't leave here, Colonel. Lives could be lost."

"Lives could be saved, Captain. Do you have any idea what kind of information I can obtain with those drugs to use as barter?"

"I'm sure that would be of great comfort to the soldier with a compound fracture, screaming in pain. Or the families of the ones who die from septic wounds because we can't fight the infections."

"You're over reacting, Captain. Two days, at most..."

"Not a second, Flagg. I'd have Henry hand your butt over to the MPs right now if it wouldn't take me away from some injured boys who need the attention a hell of a lot more than you do. You're a menace. Get out of my hospital."

Flagg glared. His eyes moved past Hawkeye, and fastened on me. "You."

Wow. You have no idea how much someone can say with just one word. I folded my arms, and lifted my chin. "I didn't open my mouth, Colonel, just like you said."

Hawkeye suddenly understood what had happened, and he grinned. "That's right, he didn't. Not a peep. You ought to consider politics, Radar."

"I don't think so, sir. Uncle Ed says most politicians should get more respectable jobs, like playing piano in a whorehouse." I located another thermometer. "Excuse me, sirs. I'm s'posed to be taking somebody's temperature."

I didn't worry about leaving Hawkeye alone with Flagg. I figured Flagg wouldn't try anything with an officer. At least not one with Hawkeye's attitude. A couple of minutes later, Flagg came out of the supply room. He walked through the recovery, headed toward the exit. I kept my head down, looking at my watch as I counted off the time for the thermometer. His footsteps stopped. When I looked up, he was right beside me.

"If you didn't tell Pierce I was in there," he asked, "then how did he know?"

I was tempted to say, That's for me to know, and you to find out but I think he might have hit me. So instead I said, "I never said I didn't tell him. I just said I never opened my mouth."

"Oh? Oh. I see." He studied me closely. What was it with this guy? It was like he was going to try to sketch me from memory later. "Clever. I knew you were smart mouthed, but I didn't realize you were clever, O'Reilly. You just keep getting more interesting all the time."

"I sure don't mean to, sir."

"I know. And that's the most interesting thing of all."

Hawkeye had come back into recovery, and was glaring at Flagg. "Leave the kid alone, Flagg."

Flagg's eyes flicked to Hawkeye, then back to me. He said, so quietly that I know I was the only one who heard him. "For now." Then he left.

Hawkeye was muttering under his breath. "Jerk off. Got his priorities bass-ackward. Christ, what a joke."

"I don't think he's the least bit funny, sir," I protested.

"Oh, I guess you're right, Radar. He's more pathetic than anything else."

Pathetic? What was Flagg doing around everyone else when I wasn't there? He had them all convinced he was nothing but an incompetent blunderer. Maybe his schemes hadn't worked out the way he wanted them to so far, but he wasn't a safe man to laugh at. I seemed to be the only one he was showing his dark side. Maybe it was part of that weird sense of things I have. I dunno. I just know that it made me feel kinda lonely, knowing that I was the only one who thought he was really dangerous.

He didn't leave right away. I saw him at lunch in the mess tent, and at supper, too. Both times he had a full plate of food in front of him, but wasn't eating anything. He was just drinking coffee. I didn't blame him at lunch. Our mess is... well, usually a mess. But almost everyone is usually hungry enough to eat by supper.

He dumped his food in the trash, stacked his tray, and came and sat next to me. Of all the luck. He didn't look at me, he just stared straight ahead, sipping his coffee. I'm not really good at silence. Finally I said, "You weren't very hungry, sir. "

"Some sort of intestinal bug, I guess. Nausea and belly ache. Why? Are you concerned, corporal? Worried about my well being?"

I poked at my food. How was I supposed to answer that? I didn't really wish anything bad on anyone, but if I ever did, Flagg would be pretty close to the top of the list. "If you're sick, you should talk to one of the doctors."

He snorted. "Yes, I'd really be safe in their hands."

That made me mad. "The doctors wouldn't ever hurt anyone who came to them for help! They're too good for that. If you're worried, talk to Major Burns."

He snorted again. "Burns is an incompetent fool. But a useful incompetent fool." He winced, and rubbed his belly. Maybe he was getting an ulcer. I wouldn't have been surprised. I bet being a spy has a high stress level. He really didn't look so good. Flagg usually had a lot of color in his face, but he was looking kind of pale. "You think a lot of your doctors, don't you?"

"Yes sir. They're the finest men I know."

"So that's what impresses you, eh? The intellectual, educated kind. The ones with those soft, smooth, white, long fingered hands?" I stared at him. What on earth was he talking about. "Don't care much for the common man, O'Reilly? The worker, with rough hands, rough edges?"

"I am a working man, sir. I worked my butt off on the farm. I really don't understand what your problem is with me."

"You bother me, soldier." He winced again, and stood up abruptly. The way he ran for the latrine, he was going to lose something, though I couldn't tell if it was going to be the kneeling or the sitting kind of problem. From the look on his face, it might have been both. That could be tricky.

I went over to The Swamp after supper. Hawkeye was reading the Stars and Stripes, and BJ was writing a letter home to his wife, Peg. He looked up as I came in, and smiled at me. Captain Hunicut is a nice guy. "Hey, Radar. I hear you've taken up extra duties as guard dog. Way to go."

"Thank you, sir. Sirs? I think Colonel Flagg is sick."

Hawkeye peered over the top of his paper. "See, Beeg? I told you. Even Radar can tell. He's one sick puppy."

"No sir. I mean sick, sick. He's holding his belly like it hurts, and he made a real dash for the latrine. And I don't think he had much to work with, cause he didn't eat any lunch, or dinner."

BJ put down his pen, looking interested. "Where does he hurt, Radar?"

"Well, he wouldn't tell me. But he grabbed himself here." I folded my hands over my belly button. "And then here." I moved my hand down and to the right.

"Hm. Nausea and/or diahrrhea, abdominal pain locating in the lower right quadrant. Did he look feverish?"

"Kinda. He was sort of red in the face, 'cept when he grabbed his belly. And I think he was sweating a little."

Hawkeye folded his paper. "Sounds like appendicitis. We'd better go check on him."

He wasn't in the mess tent, or the latrine. One of the nurses was in the latrine, and boy, she used some unladylike language when Hawkeye banged on the door. There was a strange jeep still parked nearby, so we figured he hadn't left yet. "We gotta make sure he doesn't leave camp without being examined," Hawkeye said. "If it is his appendix, and it ruptures, the idiot will die in a few hours from peritonitis. God knows, I don't think he'd be a loss, but it's against my religion to let someone kill themselves through stupidity if I can prevent it."

I wasn't too surprised when we found him in the supply room. He had the duffle bag full again, but he was sitting on the floor, holding himself, white faced. I found out that Hawkeye knows some real colorful swear words.

Beeg and Hawkeye got him up and on a cot in recovery, then took a blood sample. Flagg swore right back at them, but he was hurting too bad to do anything but lay there. Hawkeye came back with a hypodermic and a grim look on his face. "Congratulations, Colonel. Your white count is higher than the hopes of a horny teenager at his senior prom. Your appendix is inflamed, and you have an abscess. We have to get rid of it before we can operate. Luckily we just happen to have penicillin on hand, so you won't die."

Before Colonel Flagg knew what was going on, Hawkeye rolled him on his side, shoved his pants half down his behind, and gave him the injection. Flagg grunted, but didn't yell, or anything. It must've hurt, too. It was a pretty big injection. When he was done, Flagg rubbed his rump, gritting his teeth, and staring at me. What did I do? I wasn't the one who stuck him. He just laid there a minute, watching me, before he finally pulled his pants back up. I guess he didn't want to have them pressing against the sore spot.

The penicillin got rid of the infection, and Hawkeye removed Flagg's appendix the next day. He said Flagg would probably make up some espionage fairytale to explain how he got the scar. We had to have him hanging around the camp for a couple of days, recuperating. I got Igor and Klinger to trade off shifts with me so I didn't have to work in recovery while he was there. It cost me a pair of opera gloves for Klinger, and an agreement to be a guinea pig for some of Igor's new recipes later. I figured Colonel Flagg was more dangerous than Igor's cooking.

Flagg was ready to leave a lot sooner than the doctors expected. BJ just shook his head over it. "The man has the constitution and personality of a rhinocerous."

He stopped in to see me before he left. *sigh*

He was moving a little more carefully, he looked a little paler, but there wasn't really all that much difference in how he usually was. What did it take to phase this guy?

He started right into the middle of a conversation, no greetings or anything. "Pierce tells me you saved my life."

"He's the one who did the operation, sir."

"But if you hadn't informed him of my condition, it might have gone untreated. I suppose you think I should be grateful."

My voice was stiff. "I wouldn't presume that, sir."

"Maybe you think I owe you now, Corporal? Perhaps you think that this gives you some sort of hold over me?"

"Begging your pardon, sir, but have I said anything like that? I think the colonel may be just a little bit over suspicious."

"Are you saying I'm paranoid?"

"It wouldn't be my place to say, sir."

"Damn straight."

He leaned in. His mouth was close to my ear, and he whispered, "Are you afraid of me, O'Reilly?"

I didn't say anything. I didn't move. You don't admit fear to someone like Flagg, but they can smell it, like a dog.

He smiled. It was one of the scariest things I've ever seen, because it didn't reach his eyes. His eyes were still flat. "That's good, O'Reilly. That's smart. Remember that is our future dealings."

He did something really weird. He unbuttoned the top button on my shirt. Then the second button. He kept watching my face. I could feel sweat break out on my forehead. He sort of pushed my collar open, and laid his hand in the space, against my chest. My throat went dry. I whispered, "Get your hand off me, sir."

That smile widened...

...and I heard the knob on Colonel Blake's office door rattle. When the door opened, Colonel Flagg was standing by the outside door. Henry frowned at Flagg, "Leaving so soon, Colonel? I thought they wanted to keep you for another day at least."

"I have things to do. Can't loll in bed while the whole intelligence infrastructure goes to hell in a handbasket." He saluted Henry, then looked at me significantly, hand still raised. "Corporal?" I hated like poison to do it, but Colonel Blake was right there, so I saluted. "Button your collar, Corporal." He left.

"What a jackass." Henry turned to me, but I was sinking down in my chair. My knees were weak. "Radar? Did he say something nasty to you before I came in?"

I buttoned my collar, fingers shaking. "No sir. Nothing significant."

Part Seven

He'd mentioned it before, but I never really expected it to happen. I mean, I did get leave sometimes, we all did. It wasn't easy to come by but it existed. Ray was rotated back a little further behind lines, and he wrote to me about maybe meeting me in Tokyo 'for some R and R. Mostly R.' I almost hyperventilated. That's a fancy word for I had a hard time breathing, just thinking about it.

Things had been as quiet as you could expect things to be in a war zone, I guess. I s'pose even the enemy gets tired and takes a break every now and then. In any case, there weren't many casualties coming through, so I asked Colonel Blake about a pass. I hadn't taken any for a long time, what with it being kind of crazy up till just recently, and I was due.

I was ready for any objection. I'd already asked Klinger if he would cover for me in the office. Max knew typing and shorthand, too. I hadn't expected that. But like he said, "I'm a man of many and hidden talents, kid. I don't just look good in a pair of nylons."

I didn't have any trouble, though. "Hell yeah, Radar. I'll put the paperwork through right now. You deserve it. You saved my butt, typing up that quarterly report so quick."

"Thank you, sir. Next time maybe you might start on it sooner than the day before it's due. It didn't make a whole lot of sense."

"Those things never do, son. But you got the margins even, and the spacing neat, and you did it with triple carbons. That's what they look for. I don't think anybody reads the damn things unless they're bucking for scrambled eggs on their shoulders."

(Don't think Colonel Blake is goofy, or anything. About the eggs. He means in case someone is trying for a promotion, because the braid that goes on their shoulders... Ah, it's kind of an army thing.)

So that's how I ended up flying to Tokyo to meet Ray on a three day pass. I got to spend two nights before I had to fly back the third evening. I was so excited when the plane touched down that I was almost doing that hyperwhachacallit thing again.

We taxied around the run way, and I was peering through the window, kind of anxious. Ray was s'posed to meet me here. I didn't know what I was gonna do if I couldn't find him.

I got off the plane and started toward the little office, with everyone else. Some people came out of the building to meet the passengers. And there was Ray.

You couldn't miss him, he was the tallest one. And, well, Ray just sort of stands out in a crowd anyway. At least I think so.

I could feel myself break into a big, goofy grin, and I ran. While I was running, part of my brain was saying, *Geez, Radar! What are you thinking of? Do you want to embarrass him in front of everybody?* But I wasn't really listening.

I managed to control myself just before I slammed into him. I skidded to a halt, snapped to attention, and gave him a salute with the kind of enthusiasm I'd never have for Colonel Flagg. "Hi, Sarge."

He laughed. Then he hugged me, hard, pounding my back. I laughed, too, but I was kind of wondering if maybe we should be doing this right out on the airstrip, when he grabbed my butt. I yelped.

"It's okay, Walter." he said, letting me go. "Look." He indicated two other guys, one of whom I'd flown over with. They were hugging and pounding and yelling and... yeah, grabbing each other's butts. "It's okay when you haven't seen someone for a long time. Or during sports, though I haven't been able to figure that one out."

He picked up my bag from where I'd dropped it. "Come on. We need to go find a room."

A room, as in one. No questions, no hesitations. I felt relieved. As we walked through the streets, he slung an arm around my shoulders. "So, Walter. Made the trip okay? Not feeling dragged out by the traveling."

"Nope. I had a nap on the way over."

"Good. Glad to hear it. Because I don't know how much rest you're gonna get." He looked down at me, eyes gleaming. "But you're going to get a hell of a lot of recreation." He leaned down and whispered in my ear. "I intend to fuck you through the mattress."

I gulped. Oh, man, he was bad, talking to me like that out on the street where I couldn't do anything to him. "You're such a sweet talker."

"What can I say? You bring out the romantic in me. This looks like a good place. Right next to a bath house."

It was small, not more than a dozen rooms, but clean. When I tried to help pay for the room, Ray shoved my wallet back in my pocket. "What kind of a date do you think I am, Walter? I asked you."

A bellboy, the manager's son, I think, carried our bags up to the room. There wasn't much in it. Just a sink, a bed, a rickety table and an old armchair. There was a window that looked out on the marketplace, and a portable fan on the table. That was going to come in handy. Air conditioning was starting to get more widespread, but it sure wasn't available in cheap hotels in Tokyo.

The bellboy dumped our bags on the bed, and opened the window. He started pointing. "Bed. Wash. Fan. You want booze?"

Ray started to loosen his tie. He was watching me closely. "Nah. We can get some for ourselves later."

"You want girl? Very clean. Pretty."

Ray tossed the tie on the bed, and started to open his shirt. I could feel myself starting to sweat, and it wasn't because the room was hot. "No thanks."

The bellboy sighed, and looked at me. "You want girl?"

"Maybe some other time." The shirt landed on the chair, and Ray pulled his undershirt over his head. It was getting hard to breath again.

The bellboy shrugged, laid the key on the table, and left. I bolted the door after him.

As I turned around, Ray slammed into me. All of a sudden I was pinned up against the door, Ray's body pressed the length of mine. One hand grabbed my chin, and he kissed me. He licked my lips in the second it took me to get them open, then plunged his tongue into my mouth. He kissed me like someone had told him that both our lives depended on it.

I wrapped my arms around him and started sucking on his tongue. His hand moved down between us, and I heard the rake of a zipper. I didn't know it was mine till he reached in, and his hand closed around me, digging my cock out. I was already hard.

I jerked my head back in pleasure, banging against the door. "Ray!"

He growled. His hand moved away, and there was another zip. I felt the brush of soft, heated skin, and his cock slid against mine. I moaned, pushing back at him. He gripped my shoulders and started to thrust against me.

I wanted to respond, but he had me pressed so tight to the door that I really couldn't move. All I could do was hang on, but that was enough. He was muttering to me, "God, baby, I'm sorry, but I can't wait. Next time. Next time, slow. But I need this."

"Me, too. Don't stop, Ray. Please don't stop." I spread my legs, trying to give him more room. But I also needed to brace myself, because he was moving me. I was thumping against the door with every lunge. With those thin walls, it must've sounded like someone was trying to knock it down with a battering ram.

We were both really close. I hadn't been with anyone else since Ray. I knew I'd missed him, but I didn't realize how horny I was till he grabbed me. Now I felt like I was about to just explode.

I could tell he was close, too. There was that extra little strain when he pushed against me. I wanted to help him along. I reached around and grabbed his ass. I dug my fingers in hard, squeezing the firm muscles, pulling him even tighter against me.

Ray's head dropped, forehead pressing to my shoulder, and he cried out, "Walter! Oh, damn, kid!" I felt hot, sticky liquid bathe my cock as he came. His hand wrapped around me again, big and warm, and he began stroking me strongly. "You, too, baby boy. Come for me."

His hand slid on me easily, slicked by his own spunk and my pre-come. I whimpered as he stroked the pad of his thumb over my cock head. "That's it, baby. Give it to me, don't hold out on me." I banged my head back against the door again as I came.

It felt like the jizm was boiling up clear from my toes. I read a... *ahem* adult book once, that was translated from French. They called an orgasm 'la petite morte', which means a little death. Yeah, I can see that. I mean, I know I stop breathing. And I could pretty much have died happy right then, if it wasn't for the fact that I still had about 48 hours to spend with Ray. And I was pretty sure A lot was going to happen in those 48 hours.

Ray finally stood still, leaning against me. He was breathing heavily. I looked up at him. He had that look on his face again, the one that I love. The one that makes him look younger, and peaceful, and just pleased to be alive. I put that look on his face. I figure that was one of the things I was proudest of.

He smiled at me. "Well, I know I said the mattress. I almost screwed you through the door, though."

"Sh." I turned my head so that my ear rested against the door, and listened.

Ray dropped his voice to a whisper. "What is it?"

I whispered back. "I think someone's out in the hall. I heard a scrape."

"Oh. Well, they had a nice little show, didn't they?" He nibbled my ear.

I was worried, but I giggled. Well, it tickled, okay? You try and be serious while someone's nibbling your earlobe. "No, really Ray. You don't think they heard us?"

He propped his elbows on the door, still keeping me between his arms, but holding his weight off me as he looked down, smiling. "Kid, I wouldn't be surprised if my mother and her lap consort heard us back in the states."

"Oh, geez."

He stood back, but pulled me into a hug. "Walter, don't sweat it. They don't notice things like that in a place like this. You'd have to skin and gut someone with a dull knife for them to make enough noise to annoy the management." He grabbed my hair, and shook my head gently. "Just relax. You brought fresh clothes, right?"

"Yeah. A good thing, too." I pulled away and looked down at myself. "I really can't think of any way to explain this."

My shirt and pants were splattered with ropey white strands of come.

Ray reached out and dabbed at a pearly smear. "Yours or mine?"

"Heck, who can tell? Both, probably."

Ray raised his finger to his mouth, popped it in, and sucked with a considering look on his face. Then he withdrew it and smacked his lips. "Tastes like you."

"Ray..."

"From what I can remember, anyway." His eyes were warm. No, sultry. Sultry's a good word. "I'll need another sample later to be sure."

Was I ever going to get where this man couldn't make me blush? "You aren't any neater. That's the first time I've ever seen you less than squared away, Ray."

"Well, it was in a good cause. Let's get changed, and go hunt up some lunch. I suddenly have an appetite."

Part 8

We changed clothes. I wore some civies, and I could tell that Ray wanted to tease me about the shirt, but he didn't. But he kept sneaking glances at it while we got dressed, and his lips kept kinda curving. Finally I sighed. "It was a going away gift from my Mom, okay? So, yeah, she dresses me funny. What can I say? She likes bright colors. It's okay, you can laugh."

"No, no, it's not that, Walter. It's just..." *snort* "It's just..." *snicker* "Well, you'll be easy to find in the dark." And he burst out laughing.

I had to smile, too, but I punched him on the arm to let him know I wasn't letting him get away with anything. Ray looked good. His hair was longer than I was used to, covering his ears. Not much chance to go to a barber out near the front, I guess. But he had great hair: heavy, dark, and shiny. He'd been gettin a tan, being outside so much, and his simple white shirt set it off. Of course, like my Mom says, someone you love would look good wrapped in a feed sack.

We wandered around the streets, looking for a good restaurant. Of course, it was hard to tell. You couldn't look for all the trucks parked outside, like you do in the states when you're looking for a good diner.

Ray kept his arm looped around my shoulders. I kinda wondered about that till I noticed there were a lot of other GIs doing exactly the same thing. Seems like they just wanted to stick close to their buddies here in a strange country, so we weren't out of place. But I began to wonder if maybe some of them were walking like that for the same reason me and Ray were.

We finally settled on a place that looked clean and smelled good. Ray tried to get me to eat sushi, but I held firm on that. "Yeah, Ray, the squid back in the states was all right, but it was cooked. No, I'm not eatin' anything raw except fruits and vegetables. I grew up on a farm, Ray. We're real careful about undercooked meats."

They had some nice fried stuff, though, called tympani or tempest or something like that, and I had it instead. We also had little, tiny cups of saki, warmed over a candle. It was pretty strong stuff. The Japanese customers were knocking it back like it was milk, but we only had one each.

"There's plenty of time to get drunk, Walter. We can get drunk before we go to sleep." Ray covered my hand with his on the tabletop, stroking his thumb over its back. "I want you awake, aware, and fully functional this evening, sport."

"Oh? And what happens this evening that I need to be so alert for?"

He gave me a 'funny, ha ha' look, then said archly, "I thought I'd take you to a poetry reading."

"I really don't think you should. It might corrupt me." He was taking a sip of water, and almost sprayed it laughing.

That afternoon we spent some time shopping from the street vendors. Man, they sold all kinds of stuff, and for pretty good prices. I bought a real pretty fan to send to Mom. It had ivory sticks, and all kinds of flowers painted on the silk fabric. Ray bought a beautiful silk scarf he said I should send to her, with his compliments.

Mom and Uncle Ed knew about Ray. Well, they knew that we were real good friends. They didn't know how good. Mom was just happy I'd found an older man to be friends with while I was away from home. She always worried about me, growing up without a dad, even though I figure that Uncle Ed was just as good.

We ate supper at a place that served American food, as well as Japanese. Ray sort of kidded me about eating a hamburger. He said that Americans could always get American food, and he didn't understand why they wouldn't eat the native foods when they traveled. I reminded him of the tempo stuff I'd had that afternoon, and told him that after months of liver and fish, a hamburger was exactly what I wanted, and if I could get it, I was going to.

He gave me an almost gentle look, and his voice was more serious when he said, "Yeah, Walter. I want you to have what you want. You should. You deserve it."

"What about what you want, Ray?" He touched my arm, and I shivered.

He could do that to me. Just a touch somewhere no one would think of as sexual, not even on the bare skin, and he'd make me shiver. "Kiddo, you know what I want. And that involves making you happy."

After supper, Ray suggested that we go to the bath house that was next door to our hotel. I'd never been to one before, so I said it sounded like a good idea to me.

It was getting dark by the time we finished eating. On the way back to the hotel, Ray said, "Let’s stop at the bath house. I know I could use a good soak." He gave me a squeeze. "And it’ll get you nice and relaxed."

"I thought you wanted me awake."

He gave me a look that gave me warm butterflies in my stomach. "I think I can keep you from falling asleep too soon."

Part 9

Inside the bath house, Ray talked to the lady who was managing it. "I'll get us a private room, Walter, but we need a dip in the communal bath first. It's fed by a natural hot spring. They claim it'll cure anything from dandruff to impotency."

"Really? But neither of us suffer from either one of those." That got me a poke in the side.

We went back into a room that had lockers on one side, and open showers on the other. Ray explained that the community baths in Japan weren't like regular baths back home. Here, you washed off first under the showers, then relaxed by soaking in the public pools or a private room.

Our fee had included soap, shampoo, a sponge, and a big towel. We stripped and put our clothes in a locker, then stepped into the showers. I was glad that we were the only ones in there. Ray's about the only person in the world I can be bare-assed around without just about dying of embarrassment. I don't know why I let him talk me into the bath house visit, except that it was what he wanted, and I wanted to be nice and fresh for when we... you know.

I scrubbed quickly but thoroughly. Ray washed my back for me. I felt his soapy hands move down and smooth over my ass, and swatted at him. "Ray! What if someone walks in?" He just smiled and pinched me, then turned around so I could wash his back.

When we were rinsed off we wrapped the towels around our waists and Ray led me down a narrow hall to a bigger room. I could hear a quiet murmur of voices floating from it. It was hot and humid when we stepped inside. The floor was covered with straw mats, and there were a couple of big, round wooden tubs right in the middle of the room. You know how in those Italian movies they show them making wine by standing in a vat full of grapes and stomping them with their bare feet? Well, these were about the same size as those vats, except they were full of water instead of grapes, and the people were sitting, not stomping. They all looked at us when we came in.

I froze and Ray was halfway to the tubs before he realized I wasn't following him. He stopped and came back. "What's wrong, Walter?"

I stared at him. What did he mean, what was wrong? "Ray, there are girls in there!"

He nodded. "Walter, I told you this was a communal bath house. What did you think that meant?"

"We have communal showers at the bases, and they don't have ladies in them."

"That's because the base communities don't have any women in them. Here, they do. Come on."

I shook my head, hanging back. "Ray, I can't."

He sighed, but he was smiling. "Baby, it doesn't mean anything to them. It's considered perfectly natural."

"It means something to me. What if I get... well, you know."

The smile widened slowly. "I didn't think that was a problem with you around the ladies."

"Yeah, well..." I rubbed my toe on the tiles, not looking at him, and mumbled. "You're gonna be in there, too."

He patted my cheek. "Bless you, baby boy. Just for a little while, Walter. For me?"

Now that wasn't fair. He knew I'd do just about anything legal for him. Still, I guess it was harmless enough. And all the Japanese people were looking at us now, probably waiting for me to run. It was kind of like being dared. I never liked having anyone think I was a chicken.

"All right. But don't be surprised if I decide to leave real quick."

"All I ask is that you give it a chance. C'mon."

We went over to the tub that had the most room in it. Ray bowed to the people in the tub, and they all inclined their heads politely. I did the same thing, and they nodded to me. Ray pulled off his towel, dropped it to the floor, and climbed in, settling on a bench that ran around the inside of the tub under the water.

Everyone was watching me. I took a deep breath, took off my towel, and climbed in. Boy, that water was hot! I had to sit down in it an inch at a time, and I was kind of worried about putting my... uh... well, it stung my behind, I figured it would... But it really didn't hurt, so I managed to sit down beside Ray.

The water only came up to mid-chest on him. For me and the Japanese, it was lapping up around our shoulders. I just kind of huddled there. I mean, logically I knew that I wasn't close enough to touch anyone. It didn't stop me from worrying about it.

I was grateful when the other customers started talking to each other again. "There you go, Walter. Feels good, doesn't it."

"Yeah." I had to admit that it did. I like hot baths, and you just don't get them in the army. I was still nervous, but I could feel my muscles starting to relax. The heat was seeping in, and it felt like it was going all the way to my bones. Like I could store it up for when the frigid Korean winter started.

There was a lady sitting next to me on the other side. She must've been someone's grandma, `cause her long hair (pulled up in a knot, like all the other women in the room) was all grey. But she only had a few wrinkles around her eyes, so it was hard to tell. She must've been really pretty when she was young.

She was watching me. Her eyes were even darker than Ray's. And she wasn't just looking at my face, either. She stared at my arms, my chest, and then... she looked down in my lap.

I turned red as a beet, and it wasn't from the heat of the water. Then she looked up at me, and smiled. "Oh, geez." I sank in the water up to my chin.

"What's wrong, sport?"

"That lady's staring at me."

Ray leaned over and looked around me, then said something to the little old lady in Japanese. She smiled again and said something back to him. I jumped when she reached over and touched my chest. It wasn't a sexy touch. She just ruffled my chest hair, speaking to Ray. He was grinning. "What's she saying, Ray?"

"She's remarking on your chest hair, Walter. Japanese men are smooth skinned for the most part. She says you're like a teddy bear."

"Oh, wonderful."

"Well, you are." The lady was speaking again. This time she pointed to my lap as she spoke. Ray suddenly howled with laughter. The other Japanese ladies were covering their mouths with their hands and smiling or giggling.

"What'd she say, Ray? What'd she say?"

It took him a long time to get control of himself. He kept looking at me and busting out laughing again. Finally he covered his eyes and said, "It... it wasn't an insult, Walter. Believe me."

"TELL ME!"

"You know she called you a teddy bear? Well, she says that she'd heard GIs talk about `being hung like a bear' and now she knows what they meant."

I sank the rest of the way under the water and stayed there as long as I could. Finally I felt Ray's hand on my shoulder, and he pulled me up. "Mother says don't drown yourself. It would be a waste."

"Look, Ray, if you want to kill me, use a gun. Dying of embarrassment is too painful."

He hugged me. Mother looked at us, then raised her eyebrows. "Aijin?"

Ray looked at me. "Hatsukoi." The old lady smiled, and nodded.

"Okay. What was that?"

"I'll tell you later." We soaked a little while longer, and Ray said, "How'd you like a steam? I got us a private sauna."

"I dunno. I've never been in one."

"Then you should. It sweats the impurities out. After a steam, be have a quick rinse, and you'll feel reborn. I promise."

"Okay." "I'll be right back."

The room we went to was about the size of a closet and completely lined with tile. There was a bench on one side and a kind of pit full of white hot rocks on the other. A tap was on the back wall, and a shelf obove it held a china pitcher.

Ray motioned me in and I sat next to the wall. He closed the door, then he filled the pitcher with water, and dribbled some on the rocks. Immediately a cloud of steam rose up.

He sat beside me, putting the pitcher near the pit. I had started sweating a little when I came into the room. Now it really got going. You know, it's funny how sweating in summer can be so uncomfortable and awful, but this felt good. I never will understand it.

"Like it so far?"

"Mhm. Makes me kinda sleepy."

"Don't go to sleep. It's not good for you to sleep in this kind of heat."

"Then talk to me."

"What shall we talk about, baby boy?"

"Tell me what the granny lady said."

"Later. Let's talk about... Boston."

"Boston?"

"My home town. I think you'd find it pretty interesting. You like history?"

"Heck, yeah! And Boston... they had a lot of things happen there way back when, right?"

He chuckled. "They did. I'd like to show it to you. We could see Bunker Hill, Boston Common, Paul Revere's house, the Old North Church..."

I sat up straighter. "Listen, my children, and your shall hear of the midnight ride of Paul Revere on the eighteenth of April in seventy-five. Hardly a man is still alive who remembers that famous day and year. He said to his friend, `If the British march from town tonight, hang a lantern aloft in the North Church Tower. One if by land, and two if by sea, and I on the opposite shore will be waiting to ride and spread the alarm to every Middlesex village and farm... Boy, the class laughed when we got to `Middlesex'. The teacher had to explain that `sex' just meant something like `county'"

He was staring at me. "You amaze me, Walter. You are a man of hidden depths."

I shrugged. "I memorized it for English. It came in handy. On the history test, they asked the date of Paul Revere's ride, and I was the only one in class that got it right. You don't have to talk if you don't feel like it. I won't fall asleep."

"Then let's just sit. I like just being with you."

"Me, too."

So we just sat there awhile. There aren't too many people in the world you can do that with. Just sit, not having to say anything.

Every now and then Ray would pour more water on the rocks, and we'd get a fresh cloud of steam. I looked at Ray. He was sitting with his head back against the wall, eyes half closed. Every inch of his skin was shiny with sweat, he looked like he was coated in glass. The moisture was gathering in beads on his shoulders, and they started rolling down his chest.

One of them landed on his right nipple and kind of hung there. I looked over at the door. It wasn't locked, because they had to be able to get in if someone fainted, or something. But then, the Japanese were real polite people, and I was pretty sure no one would come in without knocking for permission.

I leaned over and licked away the drop of sweat. Ray sighed, and his hand came up to hold the back of my head. I licked him again, and the little point stiffened. He tugged gently, pulling my head toward the other side of his chest. I took the hint and gave the same attention to the other nipple. Then I bit him, just a little bit.

He groaned. "Feels so good, baby. Don't stop."

I sucked and tugged, sliding my hand over his chest to find the other nipple. His skin was slick with sweat. It felt like hot, wet satin. I kept switching sides, till he started arching his back, pushing himself toward me.

Then I let my mouth wander down the center of his chest. I nipped at the slight arch that showed at the bottom of his rib cage, then trailed my tongue down to his belly button.

He started breathing really heavily, and whispering, "Oh god, oh god..." He pushed lightly on my head. "Please. Please, Walter."

I untucked his towel and opened it. His prick was half hard, arching against his thigh. He spread his legs as I bent over. First I nibbled at the skin on the inside of his thigh, and he shuddered, moaning. Then I gripped his cock, and very carefully licked the little slit at the tip. A thick, clear bead of fluid oozed out, and I licked it away, then took the head in my mouth.

I tried to remember what Doris had done to him, what he had done to me. It had been so fantastic. I wanted to make him feel like that. I wanted to give him what he'd given me.

I sucked softly, being careful of my teeth. I guess I was doing all right because he sure did sound pleased. After a minute I went down a little farther, then back up. Down a little farther, then up again. Pretty soon I was managing to take most of him in my mouth.

I started to use my tongue more, stroking along the shaft, and he whimpered. His hands left my hair to brace on the bench, and he lifted his hips, pushing deeper into my mouth with a grunt. I didn't pull back.

He started thrusting up steadily, till I felt his cock nudging the back of my throat. I wasn't going to be able to take any more of it, but that was okay, because he was almost done, anyway. I could tell.

I pulled off, and took hold of him tightly, stroking hard and fast. His back bowed, and his come spurted out over my hands, thick and warm. He didn't scream this time. He almost whispered, "Oh, fuck..."

He slumped, panting, as his dick started to soften. I picked up the towel and cleaned us off, then snuggled under his arm and listend as his breathing returned to normal. "What did the old lady say, Ray? Aijin?"

"Aijin means `lover'. She was asking if you were my lover."

"And what did you say?"

"Hatsukoi."

I waited. Finally I poked him. "And that means?"

He tilted my chin up and kissed me softly. "That means `first love.'"

Part 10

I was feeling really relaxed by the time we left the bath house, almost ready to fall asleep on my feet. The manager's son was sleeping in a chair behind the desk when we came back.

"Do you really want anything to drink?" I shook my head. I was fine. "All right. Go wait by the stairs, Walter." Ray told me. I did, leaning against the wall sleepily. I heard someone start down the stairs, but they paused, then went back up. I didn't pay it too much attention. Ray woke up the desk clerk and talked to him in Japanese.

He went back into the room behind the counter. In a minute he came back with a couple of little cardboard boxes. Ray gave him some money and came over to me. "Okay, kiddo. I had to get some supplies. C'mon."

We trudged up the stairs. Before we reached the top, I heard footsteps going back down the hallway quickly. The door of the room next to ours was closing as we came into the hall. Ray chuckled. "Looks like someone doesn't want anyone to know they're here."

In our room, he opened the window, and switched on the fan. It wasn't too bad like that, almost cool. Ray opened the boxes, and set out a tube, and three little foil packages. Then he looked at me, and held out his hand.

I walked over to him and walked right into his arms. I just moved up against him, as close as I could, and he held me, tucking my head under his chin. "I want to love you, baby boy," he whispered. "I want to love you long and hard. Let me?"

"Anything you want, Ray. You know that. You don't have to ask."

"I know." He tilted my head back and kissed me. "But I love to hear you say it."

Ray undressed me slowly. Every time another piece of skin was bared, he'd spend a little time kissing, stroking, and licking it. By the time I was down to just my shorts, I was so hard it almost hurt. "Lay down, Walter." I did, stretching out on the bed.

Ray started to take his clothes off, real slow, too. He stared at me the whole time. When he got his shirt off, I saw that his nipples were hard. I reached down in my shorts, and he said sharply. "No. Don't do that, Walter."

"Ray?"

"No." His voice was soft, but firm. "That's mine, Walter. I'm the only one who's going to touch it. Do you understand?"

I put my hand back at my side. "Yes, Ray."

"Good boy." He resumed stripping.

"Please hurry."

His grin was wicked. "Oh, no, sweetheart. No, no. You've already had fast and furious. This one's going to be slow... and sweet... and deep."

When he was naked, he pulled down my shorts. My cock bounced out, so stiff it flopped back up against my belly. He reached down and covered it with his hand, pressing it, and I groaned. "Mine, Walter," he crooned. His hand slid down, over my balls, and delved under them, prodding gently. "And this, too. All mine."

"All yours," I agreed.

He started to touch me, his hands moving over me in long, slow strokes. "Jesus, Walter, you're beautiful," he murmured. "Such a sturdy little body. Do you have any fucking idea how difficult it is for me to not get hard just looking at you?"

I had to do something, and I didn't know what to say. His hand was on my cheek. I turned my head and bit him tenderly. He drew in his breath, leaned over, and kissed me, sliding his tongue into my mouth.

I ran one hand up into his hair, holding him. With the other, I reached down the length of his body, trailing my fingers into the crisp hair below his belly. But before I could reach my goal, he caught my hand. He whispered against my lips, "Uh uh, sweets. This goes inside you. You keep those clever little hands away."

"Ray, please..."

"Patience. We have all night, Walter."

He laid light kisses along my jaw, and down. He found my pulse point on my throat, and began to suck a patch of skin over it. Every now and then I'd feel the scrape of his teeth. It set up a hot, sweet ache that traveled down my body, settling in my groin. I felt my belly growing wet with the warm precome that was leaking from my engorged cock. I whimpered, and Ray broke the suction. "Did I hurt you, baby?"

"No. It feels so good."

He licked the spot. "I left a bruise." He kissed the discoloration. "That’s my mark. I branded you."

"I'm glad."

He moved down. His tongue traced around one of my nipples till it was stiff and pointed, then flicked over the tip before moving over to give the same attention to the other one. When they were both hard and straining, he worked his way down my torso. At my stomach, he gently pushed aside my prick and licked the slick fluid off my skin. He kissed my balls, and sat back.

"Give me your hand, Walter." Bewildered, I held out my right hand. He took the tube of lubricant, and squirted some on my fingers, then spread it evenly.

"Turn over, and get on your hands and knees." I did, looking back at him curiously. He gripped his own hard dick and began to stroke slowly. "Now, honey, spread yourself, and get your sweet ass ready for me while I watch."

My breath caught for a minute. Then I reached back and gripped one buttock, pulling gently. With my right hand, I felt along the spread crease, searching. Then I felt the little puckered ring of muscle. "Be gentle with yourself, Walter." Ray said softly.

I sort of rubbed a little, and after a minute, I could feel that I wasn't quite as tense, so I pushed. It was a weird sensation. Different from when Ray did it. But kind of interesting. I thought maybe I'd remember that. I slid the first finger all the way in, and it didn't really hurt at all, so I went ahead and slid the second one in. That made it tight, and I groaned.

I heard an answering groan behind me. I peeked back. Ray's hand was still moving slowly, but I could see that he was really squeezing his dick with each stroke. "Move your hand, baby," he directed. "Fuck yourself for me. You look so damn hot."

I slid my fingers in and out slowly. It felt good, but it wasn't enough. I couldn't reach my own prostate this way. I started to speed up, then I was pushing back onto my own hand, trying to force my fingers deeper, wanting that magic jolt. I sighed. "I need you, Ray. Need you so bad."

"All right, darlin'." I felt him move up behind me, and I pulled out and spread my legs, bracing myself. I felt his hands on my hips, then his thumbs pressed into my crack and opened my. He must have put on the condom when my head was turned, because I felt the slick nudge of greased latex against my loosened opening.

Then he started to move into me with agonizing slowness. I swear, it took a slow count of ten for him to bury himself completely inside me. Halfway through I tried to push back onto him, but he held me tight. "No you don't, baby boy. I told you, slow and easy."

Finally he was flush against me, his thighs running along the inside of my own. And he just held me there. "Ray..."

"Sh. Hush, Walter. Let me just feel you all around me for a minute." I stayed quiet, and I just concentrated on how he felt inside me: so hot and solid and strong.

Then he pushed. I had thought he couldn't go any farther, but somehow he slid just a little deeper. "Yes," I breathed. He pulled back as slowly as he had entered me, withdrawing till only his cock head was caught inside, then began the return trip. Over and over, slowly emptying and refilling the moist needy hollow of my body.

"I'm going to take my hands off your hips now, Walter. Don't push back, okay?"

"I'll try."

"No, baby, don't try. Do."

"You're so mean to me." He chuckled. When he let go of my hips, I didn't push back, but it was an effort. His hands stroked along my sides, sliding around to skim over my nipples, then pinch. Then they moved down and finally encircled my throbbing prick. He began to stroke me in the same, lazy rhythm. As he thrust into me, his hands would slide squeezing down my cock. As he withdrew, they milked up to finish with a rub of the thumb over the glans.

I almost came. But Ray felt me starting to clench around him, and his hands stopped moving, squeezing tightly just above my balls, holding the orgasm inside me by pressure and sheer force of will. I was panting. "Oh god, Ray, let me come."

"Not yet." He kept pumping into me, but he wouldn't release his grip, and he wouldn't resume jerking me. I finally began to move away from the brink. He felt me loosen around him, and started his caresses again. He did that twice more. I was shaking all over, almost crying with pleasure and frustration, but I didn't complain.

"Ray, please..." I could scarcely speak.

"All right, baby boy." He didn't speed up at all. But suddenly there was extra force in each pump. And he shifted, so that he was entering me at a slightly different angle. His cock head slid over my prostate, and I cried out, grabbing at the sheets. "Yes, baby. Like that." Another strong push, and he hit the hot spot again. I wailed. "Oh, yes. Feels so good. Take it, sweet boy."

Then suddenly he was pounding into me, hard and fast, bumping the prostate with every lunge, and I felt like I'd been attached to a live wire. I couldn't breath. Since I couldn’t breathe, I didn't scream when I came. I just gasped, and exploded all over his hands.

I tried to stay up, but it was just too much. I collapsed, and Ray never missed a stroke. He braced himself on his hands to keep most of his weight off me, and finished up with a few rams. His hands were braced next to my head, and I could see the muscles in his forearms cording and trembling. I closed my eyes and smiled as I felt the subtle pulse inside me that meant he'd reached completion.

Ray pulled out carefully, and discarded the rubber, then dropped down beside me. I turned my head and looked at him. There was a serious look on his face. "Whatcha thinkin' about, Ray?"

"You. I was just wondering..."

"What?"

"I don't know." He sighed. "Kid, you're either going to kill me, or save me."

I rolled over and cuddled up against him. His arms went around me. "I'm a soldier, Ray. But I don't think I'm a killer."

"No, you're not." He stroked my face, staring into my eyes. "I don't want to hurt you again, Walter."

"I know."

"This... this isn't just sex. You know?"

"I know." I put my head down on his chest. "You don't have to talk about it, Ray. I understand."

"I want so much..."

"Sh." I didn’t look up, but I reached up and laid a finger on his lips. "Don't worry about that right now. You don't have to promise me anything. I'm happy."

He sighed again. We were both quiet for a long time. I thought he’d fallen asleep. Then he said softly, "I love you, Corporal Walter O’Reilly."

Eyes closed, I smiled. "I love you, too, Sergeant Raymond Shaw."

We slept. It was morning when we woke up, and the room was already starting to heat. We got dressed quietly. The only plane that would take me back left early, so we didn't have a lot of time to linger. We walked to the airport, not speaking, but absorbed in each other. The world swirled around us, but we wouldn't have noticed anything less than a truck running into us.

At the airfield, they were already boarding. "Well, I gotta go."

Ray took both of my hands in his. "I hate this, Walter. One of us is always going away."

"Yeah, it's pretty rotten."

"I want you to do something for me when you’re back at the 4077."

"Sure."

"I want you to think about coming back to Boston with me when this is all over."

I froze. "Boston? You mean... to stay?"

He nodded. "To live with me. I want to be with you, Walter."

"But...Ray, the farm... My mother..."

"I know it isn't an easy decision. Maybe... maybe I could come stay with you? I just thought it would be easier in Boston, with it being a big city. You don't have to decide right now, sugar. I want you to take your time and be sure about whatever you decide." "What about your mom?"

His face became grim. "My mother can go fuck herself."

"Ray, that isn't a nice thing to say about your mother."

"She's not a nice woman, Walter. You don't know her like I do. Just think about it, okay?"

"Okay." I looked at him shyly. "Ray, does that hugging thing apply when you're leaving besides when you're meeting?"

"It does for me." He pulled me into a quick, fierce embrace, then smacked me on the back, and let me go.

I backed toward the plane. "You take care of yourself, Ray."

"I will."

"I mean it. Keep your head low."

Someone was leaning out of the plane. "Move it or get left, corporal!"

I ran the rest of the way before I could turn around and go back to Ray.

Part 11

I had a lot to think about when I got back to the MASH. I felt really good after finally seeing Ray again, but I felt bad, too, because...well, because here I was again. Away from him.

And now he wanted me to go to Boston and stay with him. Or come to the farm, and stay with me. I loved him for offering that. He knew how important the farm was to me, how I worried about Mom there, and Uncle Ed. Either way, it would be an awful big decision.

I talked to Max about it. He listened carefully, filing and buffing his nails. He only wore clear nail polish. ("The colored stuff shows the chips too easy. Looks tacky.") "So, kid, what your saying is that basically, your guy asked you to marry him?"

"Aw, geez, Klinger. I don't know if you can call it that."

Max frowned. "What? He doesn't intend to make an honest man out of you? The cad!"

"Klingeeer..."

"I'm sorry, kid. But you're such an easy target." He sighed. "I dunno what to tell you. Long distance relationships are a bitch. Just be pretty sure before you do anything. Once you're over the age of, say, twenty, society looks at you funny if you're livin' with another guy. Well, if both of you have a job, anyway."

That wasn't much help. I thought about it a long time, and finally decided that I had to talk to Hawkeye. Colonel Blake was terrific, but...Well, he was kinda... uh... unworldly. If you know what I mean.

Anyway, I remembered the time that Major Burns accidentally found out that a wounded soldier was gay, and tried to have him dishonorably discharged. Hawkeye managed to stop him. So, I figured that my secret would be safe with him. I waited till Major Burns was off taking a shower.

Captain Pierce was having a drink when I came in. Yeah, okay, he was usually having a drink pretty much any time I came in. "Sir? I was wondering if I could talk to you about something."

"Sure, Radar. Pull up a camp stool and unload."

I sat down, and tried to decide how to start. He was watching me with that friendly, amused look he usually had. "Let me guess. Girl trouble?"

"Um, no. Not... exactly. I'm gonna suppose something to you, sir."

"Suppose away."

"Okay. S'pose a person met another person, and they kinda sorta got involved. On a personal level. And then this second person asked this first person to go live with him way across the country from the first person's home, like in Boston. Or he was willing to go and live in the first person’s home if he would want him there. And the first person really, really wanted to be with the second person, but the first person's mother needed him pretty bad, but would probably tell him to do what would make him happy, because she was just that sort of a person. What do you think?"

"Personally?"

"Sir..."

"I'm sorry, Radar. I can see it's important to you. Okay. Do these two unnamed people love each other?"

"Yes sir. A whole lot."

"Hm. Well, I'm all in favor of love. I think these two unnamed people should definitely be together. But whether in person one’s... Oh, hell, Radar. You're in love, and you want to know whether or not you should move in with your sweetheart when you go home, right?"

"Right."

"And, for some reason, you think that there might be a problem with their family accepting you, or your family accepting them."

"Right again."

"Is it because they're Korean?"

"No."

"Is it because they're a different religion?"

"No."

Hawkeye studied me. "Is it because they shave, but not their legs?"

"Uh... yeah."

Hawkeye took another drink. "You said that you think your Mom wouldn't have a problem with it. From what I've heard about your Mom, I think you’re right. But I take it that your amore’s family isn’t so tolerant?"

"Not to hear him tell it. He hates them."

"Will he be living with them when he returns to the States?"

"I don't think so."

Hawkeye thought for awhile. "Boston, huh?" He scratched his chin, then shook his head. "On one hand, Boston is a big city, and big cities usually make that kind of lifestyle a little easier. Not so many questions, neighbors aren’t as interested. On the other hand, it is Boston, capital of banning everything that raises an eyebrow, much less a libido. I'm afraid I don't know what to tell you, Radar."

I sighed. "That's okay, sir. I guess this is something I'll have to figure out on my own. Thanks anyway."

"Look, Radar, what do I know about relationships? I don't have anyone waiting at home for me. Well, I might, but they're more likely to want to neuter me than cohabit with me. Just take your time, and listen to your heart. You've got a good heart, kid. I don't think it will steer you wrong."

I kept writing to Ray, and life went on in the camp. There were some significant changes. Trapper John left, and we missed him, but he was replaced by BJ Hunnicutt. He was a real nice guy from California. He had a wife and a little girl back in the States, and he missed them an awful lot.

Something really sad happened, too. Colonel Blake went home. No, that's not the sad part. We were real happy for him. We were sad to see him go, but gosh. Going back to your family? How could we not be happy for him? Then... I think it may have been worse for me than for some of the others. We'd been awful close, colonel Blake and me. Ya see, I was the one who got the message. The message that said that his transport had been shot down over the Sea of Japan, and there were no survivors.

I took that hard. When my dad died, it didn't affect me much. I was just tiny. But I had time to get to know Henry Blake. To know what a kind, decent, good hearted man he was. And he never made it home. And no one could really take time to mourn, because the wounded don't stop coming.

Major Burns wasn't all that broken up. Ya see, he thought that, since he was senior officer, HE would take over. Boy, was he upset when Colonel Potter arrived.

Colonel Potter was a real, old time soldier. He started off in the calvery. Boy, that must've been neat, getting to work around horses all the time. I even managed to get him an old horse to ride, after I knew him for awhile. He sure did love Sophie. It was kinda for me, too. I missed the animals on the farm. I kept as many as I could: rabbits, and mice. But a horse... that really reminded me of home.

Major Burns left, too. It's funny. Klinger was trying so hard to get a section 8, and Major Burns just kind of walked right into one. I always thought he was wrapped kind of loose, personally, but he really went off the deep end when Hot Lips dumped him. Got really paranoid. I mean, even more than usual. I mean able to give Colonel Flagg a run for his money.

Colonel Potter shipped him off to Tokyo to get him out of our hair, and in hopes that some rest would help. He kinda went berserk over there. Totally wacky. The army showed it's thought process by giving him a promotion and transferring him to a VA hospital in Indiana. That's how we got Major Charles Winchester as a replacement.

I was kind of excited when I heard that Major Winchester was from Boston. He was a little snooty, but not too bad. At least he was a good surgeon, and Hawkeye and BJ had some respect for him, not like they had with Frank.

After he'd been at the MASH for awhile, I started asking him about Boston. He sort of brushed me off at first, like he didn't believe I'd really be interested, or could 'appreciate the finer aspects of a cultured and urbane environment after my immersion in the bucolic'. I think he meant it would be kind of a 'untry mouse'thing. But when he saw that I was really interested, he thawed a little. He was real proud of his hometown, and didn' mind bragging on it.

I finally asked him if he knew the Shaw family. He wrinkled his forehead in thought. "haw... Well, of course, Radar. The Shaws are a very old and respected Bostonian family. Their history is quite as distinguished as the Winchesters. Though some of the faction have fallen a bit into disfavor in recent years."P> I thought about Ray, and hoped I wouldn't say anything to get me in trouble if Major Winchester said anything about him. "Like who? How?"

"Oh, nothing scandalous. And not even by blood, actually. No, it's just that Eleanore, a Shaw widow, married a politician."

I was puzzled. "The Boston high society folks don't like politicians?"

"No, no, I mispoke myself. It wasn't so much that she married a politician, it was the kind of politician she married." Major Winchester sneered. "John Iselin. A crass, plebeian she has shamelessly promoted and tried to elevate. At present he is riding the crest of the 'red menace' panic, purely to advance himself, I'm sure."

Yeah, that was Ray's parents alright. Well, mom and stepdad. "Do you know Raymond Shaw."

"Ray?" Winchester's face lit up. "Why, of course. He was several years behind me at school, but I remember him well. Fine fellow." He suddenly looked at me closely. "And how, may I ask, do you know Raymond Shaw, Radar?"

I tried not to blush, but heck, I can't very well control my blood, can I? "He... uh, he was at my boot camp. He was real decent."

Major Winchester studied me for a minute, then said, "Yes. Raymond Shaw is a decent man." That's all he said, but he gave me a little smile. I kind of wondered if maybe there were some of his friends in his society circle that knew about Ray's... interests. Well, if he did, it didn’t seem to bother Major Winchester.

A few months after I had my weekend in Tokyo with Ray, we had a scary incident. I got word from Sparky that some North Korean prisoners had escaped in the area. You might think that they wouldn't come near a military post, but a MASH is different. We aren't really fighting soldiers, and they know it. And they would have known that we’d have all kinds of supplies and medicines they could use. So we were pretty tense around there.

Then Major Margaret Houlihan, Hot Lips, went missing. She went into her tent one night, and the next morning she was nowhere to be found. We were worried sick, let me tell you. We searched the camp from top to bottom. They even looked inside the latrines. Yuck! No Hot Lips. So Colonel Potter had me put a call through to headquarters to inform them and ask them for help.

I guess I should have been expecting it, but I was so worried about Major Hot Lips that I wasn't thinking about any of my own problems. I mean, I'm the guy who knows things, right? And I hadn't felt a twinge or a hint. Looking back, I can see that was a good thing. Maybe if Major Houlihan had been in any actual danger, I would have felt something. As it was, I was really beating myself up over not being able to help any more than just searching, like everyone else. I felt like I should be doing more. I felt rotten.

And it didn't help any when Colonel Samuel Flagg arrived to investigate.

Part 12

The whole camp was in an uproar. I don't know how Max managed to sleep through it. Well, yeah, I do know. He was just flat exhausted. He'd been on duty an extra long time, and had been up a long time before that, and he just almost went unconscious when he hit his cot. When I asked him about seeing Major Houlihan the night before, he didn't make any more sense than I guess old man Tupper did with his upped plate popping out. Then he conked right back out again.

When Colonel Potter had me call headquarters and report, I figured they'd send some marines or MPs or something to help us search.

They sent Flagg. I kinda think he must've maneuvered it. Any way, he showed up in camp, and started givin' orders before his boots hit the dust. And he started questioning everyone. He took over Colonel Potter's office fo`interrogation'. Boy, Colonel Potter didn't like that one bit, but he said that if it would help us find Margaret, he'd hand over his eagles (those are the things they put on a colonel's shoulders to show he's a colonel. Kinda like the scrambled eggs I told you about with officers, you know? It's kinda funny that one would be a bird, and one would be eggs, huh? Kinda like...Never mind. I gotta get back to the story.)

Boy, I never saw so many ticked off doctors in my life! Hawkeye cussed, BJ fumed, and Charles muttered about `outrages' and maybe having his attorney back home look into defamation. So I guess you can understand that I was pretty worried when it was MY turn to be questioned.

I went into the office, and he was sitting at Colonel Potter's desk. I remembered to salute. I didn't want to get on his bad side right off the bat. Being on his GOOD side was bad enough.

He was making some notes when I came in, and he didn't look up right away. He just kept writing, and I stood there, at attention. He took his time. It started to dawn on me that he was keeping me waiting on purpose, to make me nervous. And it was working. I followed army etiquette, and held the salute.

Finally he put down the paper. He planted his elbows on his desk, pressed his palms together, and stared at me over them with that scary, blank look. Finally he said, "O'Reilly." He returned the salute, so I could lower my arm.

"Sir." There was a chair in front of the desk. I knew that the others had sat there while being questioned, but he didn't give me permission to sit. Probably only for officers.

"We have a situation here, O'Reilly."

"Yes sir."

"When a nurse goes missing, and not just a nurse, but an officer, we can't just pass it off and hope she returns. We take action. That's why I'm here. I'm having certain elements of the local population rounded up. I've detailed men to make a thorough search of every building in the area. If any of the population object...they will be dealt with."

"Begging your pardon, sir, but I don't think you need to be tough with the locals. They're all pretty good people. They'll help all they can."

"Your trust touches me, corporal. It must be nice to be able to believe the best of everyone. I don't have that luxury. There's no telling what sort of torments that poor woman may be experiencing even now. You know, of course, that all those heathen devils aspire to get their hands on American women."

"I wasn't aware of that, sir."

He got up, and came around the desk. I didn't move. "Come now, corporal. You can't be that naive. You must have noticed that Major Houlihan is a very attractive woman."

"Yes, sir. I suppose so."

He'd walked behind me. I jumped when he spoke, right beside my ear. "But maybe you don't care for... her type."

"Not understanding what you might mean by that, sir." I was starting to sweat.

There was a pause. I could feel him breathing on me. It took every bit of will power I had not to cringe. Finally he said, "Blondes. I'm thinking you'd prefer dark hair, and maybe not so much of it? Cut rather short?" Oh, geez. I didn't like how this was sounding. "But still military. Yes, I think you go for the regular army type."

Then he touched me. He ran his finger down my spine from the top to the small of my back. Then I DID jump. I jumped and turned, staring at him. His expression was flat, but now his eyes glittered. "Awful skittish there, boy. Are you sure you don't have something to hide?"

I swallowed. The best defense is a good offense. "Sir, you're s'posed to be looking for Major Houlihan."

It didn't work. He came toward me, and I backed up till I bumped against Colonel Potter's desk. "You're deeper than you look, O'Reilly. You have secrets behind that innocent face, I'm sure of it."

He was right up IN my innocent face, and I didn't have anywhere else to go. I leaned back, trying to put some space between us. "Nossir. I'm an open book, I swear."

I went farther back as he leaned over me, till I was bent back over the desk. He braced his hands flat on either side of me, trapping me between his arms, and peered down into my eyes. His voice was low. "God, I'd like to get you into a secure room and give you some intense, deep interrogation. I bet I'd uncover wonders."

His lower body was pressed against mine, and he moved. I jerked, my eyes going open wide. He was hard.

I don't know what might have happened next. I'm afraid to even think about it. I might have ended up getting court marshaled for striking a superior officer. But right then the office door opened, and Father Mulcahey walked in.

"Margaret is back, safe and sound! Praise the Lord! She..." Flagg was moving off of me, and Father trailed off, looking bewildered. I grabbed the opportunity to slither away from him and head for the door.

Before I could reach it, Flagg said sharply, "Soldier!" I stopped reluctantly. "You haven't been dismissed."

Gritting my teeth, I saluted. "Permission to leave the room, sir?"

"Permission granted."

I got out of there.

Margaret was fine. A Korean girl had showed up in the middle of the night, wanting help because her mother was having a baby, and Margaret went to act as midwife. She HAD told Klinger, but he was so bombed out after his long shift that he just hadn't been making sense. Everyone was relieved that she hadn't been captured and molested by the North Koreans. She was kinda tart when she said that it figured that was what a bunch of men would first think would happen. But I think she was happy that we were so worried about her.

I went right to the mess tent. Igor didn't mind if I hung around, and I helped him peel potatoes. A little later, Father Mulcahey came in. "There you are, Walter. I was thinking that you might want to talk to me."

I didn't look at the priest, carefully cutting eyes out of a potato. "Sure, I always like to talk to you, padre. Have a seat."

He glanced at Igor. "I thought perhaps privately? We could have coffee in my tent."

We got coffee, and I went with him, a little reluctantly. I knew what he wanted to talk to me about, and I really DIDN'T want to talk about it. In his tent we just sort of held the coffee cups, both of us quiet. Finally he took mine away from me and set them both aside. "Is there anything you want to tell me, Radar?"

"I'm not Catholic, Father."

"I know, son. But it doesn't have to be as a priest. Talk to me as a friend. I'm worried about you."

"I'm okay."

"Are you? I'm not sure of that. When I...when I came into Colonel Potter's office, I was...very disturbed by what I saw."

I sighed. "I was very disturbed by what you saw, too."

"Radar, has Colonel Flagg been behaving in an inappropriate manner to you?"

"I guess that depends on what you mean by inappropriate. If you just SAY what he's been doing, it doesn't sound like all that much. I mean, he hasn't... uh... he hasn't, like...grabbed anything... uh... private. Or really said anything. It's more the way he doesn't say things, you know?"

"Radar, has he made...advances to you? Threats?"

I blushed. "Like I said, nothing you could really call him on."

"Oh, Walter, that is SO wrong." He saw the look on my face and said, "No, son, no! Not you. I mean the fact that he's your superior officer, and he's taking advantage of the situation. It would be wrong whatever gender were involved. Because I know you aren't interested. I saw the look on your face."

"You're right about that."

"Would you like me to go with you to Colonel Potter?"

"Thanks, padre, but I don't think so. I think Colonel Potter would believe me, but what then? Flagg is Intelligence. I don't think the guys in his own section are gonna believe me over him. Trouble is, he knows that. But anyway, he finally got caught messing with me. Maybe he'll ease off now that he knows that someone else knows."

"Well, alright, son. But remember, if he gives you any more trouble, you can come to me. Or one of the doctors, perhaps Hawkeye. You don't have to face this alone."

I smiled, but I was thinking to myself *Sure I do, Father. Cause I'm not the only one involved in this. I think he might suspect about Ray, and I'm not gonna risk him.*

I figured Flagg would leave, now that Hot Lips had been found, but he hung around. I just made sure I was never alone. I was relieved when he finally left.

I had some sheets hung up on a line out behind the Colonel's office, and I went to take them down after supper. It was a nice evening, kinda cool, and I was in a good mood. That was until I unpinned one sheet and found Colonel Flagg standing behind it. I didn't yell, but I took a step back real fast. "I saw you leave!"

"Yes. I'm not here, O'Reilly. Ask anyone. I left camp over an hour ago." I dropped the sheet in the basket, trying not to let him see I was nervous. "What are you doing? Why aren't you having the camp laundry do your sheets?"

"I do them myself. The soap they use is too strong."

"Ah, I see. It makes the sheets rough." He reached out and touched my throat. "Too harsh for that delicate skin."

"Stop it." I pushed his hand away, and turned away from him. I wanted to get out around other people as quickly as possible.

All of a sudden one of his arms went around my throat, and the other went around my waist, and he dragged me back against him. I tried to pull his arm down, but it was like iron. He hissed in my ear, "You don't walk away from me, soldier!"

"Let me go!"

"Shut up." His arm tightened, pressing on my throat, till I was gasping, then it loosened a little. "I could snap your neck like a twig, O'Reilly, but I really don't want to do that." He shifted, and I felt a hot, hard prod at my ass. I groaned. "Yes, that's better." He pushed against me, grinding. "Good, good."

"You bastard."

He grabbed my crotch, and squeezed roughly. It hurt, and I cried out, but his hand went over my mouth. "This doesn't have to be rough, O'Reilly, but it CAN be, I promise you that."

He hooked a foot through my legs, and I tripped. He landed on top of me when we fell, and I got the breath knocked out of me. I was gasping, trying to suck in enough oxygen to DO something, and he was reaching under me, jerking at my belt.

Then I heard Klinger calling, "Radar! Where are ya, buddy? Margaret wants to call Penobscot?"

I heard Flagg hiss "Fuck! This isn't over, O'Reilly." Then his weight lifted off me, and he was gone.

I heard footsteps, and Max came around the building. "Radar, c'mon. Hot Lips..." He saw me, and hurried over, helping me to my feet. "Damn, what happened, buddy?"

I brushed off my uniform, looking around. No trace of Flagg, but I heard a jeep start up out in the bushes, and drive off. I sighed. "Nothing, Max. You know what a klutz I am. I tripped."

I went inside to make the call for Margaret.

We'd never locked the office before. We wanted to be sure that there wouldn't be any delay in case of emergency. That night, before I went to bed, I found the key, and locked it.

I still didn't sleep well.

Part 13

I've only ever been close to that scared once in my entire life. That was in the arcade, back in the states, when I was on what amounted to my first date with Ray.

This really big guy named Antonio took a fancy to me. I was only eighteen, and I looked younger than I was, and 'Tonio liked young guys. I mean he liked them. Young. Too young. And he was very, very pushy. He grabbed me and pretty much just started humping me right there against the baseball machine. I don't know what would have happened if Ray hadn’t been there and jumped on him. I think maybe I'd have gotten beat up real bad, or... or worse.

This was worse. 'Tonio had been drunk, so you knew some of it was the booze. Flagg was stone cold sober, he didn't have any excuse, no matter how pitiful. He was just mean. And in the arcade, there had been people around. They would have done something Eventually. I hope. This time, I was alone. It's weird. I knew there were people walking around and talking and drinking coffee, all within a few dozen yards, but I felt like I might as well have been on the dark side of the moon.

I didn't tell anyone. What would have been the point? Nothing could be proved. Like Flagg had said, he had left camp over an hour before, ask anyone. God, he was cunning. He had everyone thinking he was a jack ass, when he was really a fox. Or maybe a wolf is more appropriate. And the fact that he HAD them convinced was one of the smartest things of all.

I kept the office locked at night. I didn't wander off alone. It was like laying in the dark, alone, and hearing someone moving around outside, just waiting for the door knob to start rattling.

The only bright spot was Ray's letters. They still came, regular as clock work. Till...

All right, so the letter I was expecting was a day late. No big thing, right? I mean, we were in a combat zone, they aren't going to deliver mail as regular as back in Iowa. But another day passed, and another, and another...

Then the gossip came into camp. I heard it while I was in the mess tent. I was just putting my tray away, and someone behind me said, "Yeah, a patrol got captured, all of them. Gone for three days. Two of 'em got killed..."

The tray made an awful clatter when I dropped it. Some of the guys and nurses started whistling and clapping. You know, joking about me being clumsy. I just stood there. I couldn't think. It was like something had just... just cored me. Hollowed me out, and filled me up with pain.

Finally I felt someone touch my shoulder, and looked around to see Klinger. He was wearing a pillbox hat with a veil that just about covered his beak of a nose, but he was looking at me through the net with concern. "What's wrong, kid?"

The talk had resumed. "Who was the guys got killed?"

"Dunno. Wonder what they did to 'em while they had 'em. Those communists are pretty rough on prisoners from what I heard."

I stared at Klinger, and whispered, "Max..."

He understood. "C'mon, kid." He led me out of the mess tent. Hawkeye and BJ watched us go. I saw them look at each other, puzzled.

Max took me to the swamp, sat me down, and made me drink a shot of booze from Hawkeye’s still. "Do you think it's your friend?"

"I... he hasn't written. Max, I'm scared."

"Don't be, kid. It could be nothing. It might not even be his patrol, we don't have any details yet. Don't go giving yourself any heartache before you absolutely have to."

Hawkeye and BJ came in, and saw the empty glass in my hand. Hawkeye looked at BJ. "This is serious. He's drinking something stronger than Nehi."

Max touched me gently on the shoulder. "Can I tell them, Radar? They might be able to help. Captains can get more information than enlisted men can." I nodded numbly. "You heard about the patrol that got captured?" They agreed they had. "That patrol that was taken prisoner, and escaped? Radar thinks his good friend might have been in it."

Hawkeye looked sober. "The person you talked to me about, Radar?"

"Yessir."

"Oh, Jesus." Hawkeye shook his head. "Two of them got killed. Was ..." He trailed off.

I looked at him, and I could feel tears swimming in my eyes. "I don't know."

BJ said quietly, "Radar, this is more than a poker buddy, isn't it?" I looked at Hawkeye, and Max, and they both shook their heads. I didn't really think they had told. BJ noticed my look, and said, "No Radar, no one told me. But that kind of reaction isn't for a casual friend. I know how I'd act if I suspected something had happened to Peg, and it isn't much different."

Hawkeye said, "The first thing you have to tell yourself, Radar is that they escaped. This capture is past tense. They're with our forces again."

"Yeah. But two of them are dead."

"And they aren't saying which," Hawkeye finished. "All right. That's the first order of business. We get on the wire and find out."

They went back to the radio room with me, and I got Sparky on the line. He didn't know anything more than we did about who it was who’d died. He did know that, since the soldiers had been in the hands of the Communists for several days, they were going to be 'debriefed'. The remaining members of the patrol were in isolation now. No word in, no word out.

Hawkeye said, "Uh huh. Get the commanding officer on the horn."

In a minute and irritated voice said, "This is Colonel Turnbull. Who am I speaking to?"

Hawkeye made his voice deep, slow, and drawling, "This is General Douglas MacArthur, Colonel Turnover."

The voice was suddenly unsure. "Uh, that's Turnbuckle, sir. What can I do for you?"

"You can pro-vide me with a bit of information, Turncoat."

"That's Turnbull, sir."

"Of course it is. I need to know the names of the brave soldiers who were killed when that patrol was captured by the North Koreans. I’m thinking of nominating the boys for posthumorous medals."

"Posthumous medals?"

"That’s what I said, Bullturn. Clean out your ears."

"Turnbull. Yes, sir. Let me check." There was the rustle of papers, and I closed my eyes, praying. "Okay, sir, that would be... Ed Malvole and Lembeck. Bobby Lembeck. Oh, Lembeck was a young one, sir. Only sixteen."

I wilted in relief, then felt ashamed of myself. Ray was alive, but some other guy and a kid younger than even I was when I went in the army were dead. I could see the anger rising in Hawkeye’s face. Not at me, but at the whole rotten situation. But he kept his voice smooth. "That’s a waste, Turnip. A damn, criminal waste."

"Turnbull. Yes, sir, I agree. Oh, and you might want to recommend Sergeant Raymond Shaw for a medal, too. He’s the one who saved the patrol and led them to safety."

I would have made a terrific fly catcher right about then. My mouth just dropped open. Hawkeye noticed, and mouthed, "Yours?" I nodded. "You’re sure about this?"

"Oh, yes sir. They all say so: Melvin, Silver, even his captain, Bennet Marco."

"Splendid, splendid. Well, Bullcorn, I’ll let you get back to your duties. I just left some boys at the bar, and I promised them that I would return." He shut off the transmitter.

I slumped in my chair and put my hands over my face, shaking. Max patted me on the shoulder, and Hawkeye said gently, "Walter, it’s alright. He’s safe now."

But I’m afraid Hawkeye was wrong.

There was no more gossip about the escaped patrol, and we didn’t really dare call again. I just had to try to be patient. Oh, but it wasn’t easy. I checked the Stars and Stripes over and over, hoping there’s be just the tiniest bit of news. And then... boy.

There I’d been, searching for little squibs, and Raymond makes the front page. There he is, on an airfield in America, standing between a general and a beaming, middle aged man. He looked...grim. He was smiling, but it hadn’t reached his eyes. His eyes were pissed off. I read the caption.

"Heroic Congressional Medal of Honor winner, Staff Sergeant Raymond Shaw is greeted by his parents, Senator and Mrs. Yerkses Iselen, and General Thomas Walden upon his return home."

I studied the picture carefully. So those were Ray’s parents. Well, his mom and stepdad. Ray was always very particular about that. Anyone with one eye open could see that in the picture. Iselen had his arm around Ray’s shoulders, and Ray looked like he wanted to jump right out of his skin.

Iselen looked like... Well, he looked like a politician. You just knew from looking at him that every time his mouth opened, there was going to be a gush of hot air escape. Ray’s mother...

Eleanor Iselen was a fairly attractive woman. She looked kinda young to be Ray’s mother, and the senator’s wife. She must’ve had Ray early in life. And she was turned out perfect, but unassuming. Like she didn’t want to attract attention to herself, but she had to look just perfect because she was the senator’s wife. I squinted at her, trying to see why Ray hated her so much.

There was something about her that reminded me of Colonel Flagg...

Oh, I don’t mean she looked like him, heck no! But something about the smile, and the eyes. Except that her eyes were kinda opposite of Flagg’s. His usually looked empty. Her’s looked like there was way too much going on behind them. I could tell that her mind was just working ninety to nothing, figuring out what was the best thing for her and her husband. She seemed like those chess masters you read about, the one’s who plan a game twenty or more moves ahead, with different possible moves for any variation their opponent might throw at them. The one’s who can tell a long time before a game is over, whether or not it’s over. Whether they’re going to win, or lose.

She looked like she was pretty sure she was going to win, and that was scary. ‘Cause I knew she was thinking of Ray as a chess piece, and I didn’t know if it was as a white knight, or a pawn, to be sacrificed.

I was glad to know that Ray was safe and sound back in the states. But I was a little disappointed that I hadn’t heard from him. Oh, I didn’t expect him to drop by, or anything. But maybe a letter...

...which came in the next mail. I couldn’t even wait to take the mail to everyone else like I usually did. The second I saw it, I ripped it open.

I felt cold. There was only one person that could be, and he was in charge of my Ray. Okay, Radar, was. was. You already know that Ray is out of his reach. Start breathing again.

I was so relieved, and touched, that I just sat there and cried. And I was worried. Ray had never been so open in his letter about our feelings for each other. He hadn’t come right out and said, "I love you.", but he might as well have. And that type of revelation wasn’t safe in the army.

Still, I supposed it was alright. He wouldn’t have been back home, being decorated and having his picture taken if it wasn’t, huh?

Goes to show you how wrong a person can be.

Part Fourteen: Assault

Radar’s POV

There are some things in your life that you don’t want to think about. I’ve heard that there are some people who can just deny something happened so hard that they’ll actually wipe it from their memory. As far as they’re concerned, it never happened. I wish I was one of those people.

It isn’t easy to talk about this. It still hurts. Not physically, though at the time I was sure that I would never be free of pain again, no matter how long I lived. No, the kind of hurt that doesn’t leave a mark on your body, but scars your soul, is so much, so much worse.

I thought I’d escaped that. Ray was back in the states, he was safe. He’d escaped the North Koreans. And Flagg. Yeah, that’s how I thought of it, as an escape. The colonel scared me more than the North Koreans ever thought about scarin’ me. At least with them I knew it was nothing personal. With Flagg, it was all personal.

Flagg...

There’s only one person on the face of this earth that I ever told all of this to. I couldn’t tell Ray. God, no. It would have killed him to know the details. It was bad enough when he found out. I couldn’t even tell most of it to Father Mulcahey, no matter how nice he was, and how much he wanted to help. Hawkeye? I didn’t have to tell him--he saw the physical results. I might have told my Uncle Ed, but I never got the chance. No, the only person I ever told was Sidney. That’s Major Doctor Sidney Freedman. He’s a head doctor.

He helped a lot. I don’t have the nightmares any more.

Well, not like I did. I’ll probably never get rid of them entirely. Sometimes even an old, faded scar will throb.

It was a few days after Ray had gone home. I should have been feeling good, and I was--sorta. But...

Well, you know how sometimes when everything is going swell, you find yourself waiting for something bad to happen, because good stuff just can’t go on forever? That’s kinda how it was. I was getting nervous.

That’s how I thought it was, anyway. The one time I shoulda really listened to my instincts, and I ignored them. Though I don’t know what I could’ve done to prevent it, aside from sleeping with Max or in the Swamp. And I’m not sure even that would have stopped Flagg for long. I might have been just walking along, and suddenly found a hand clamped over my mouth...

That’s how it started--with the hand over my mouth.

I’d gone to sleep on my bunk in the Radio Room, like every other night since I’d been at the 4077. I had locked the outside door, like I’d been doing lately. I shoulda known that a little old knob lock wasn’t going to stop someone like Flagg. Lock picking was probably one of the first things they taught them in spy school.

I was sleeping as peacefully as I had been lately. I had Ray’s teddy bear tucked in my arms, so that helped. Couldn’t hug my fella, but I could hug somethin’ he gave me. I already knew that the colonel could be quiet, but I had no idea how quiet he could be when he really wanted to. Well, he wanted to that night.

I may have mentioned it, but the thing inside my head doesn’t work all the time. The equipment was down that night. The first thing I knew that anything was wrong was when that hand clamped down over my mouth, and pinned me to my pillow. Usually, when you wake up, the nightmare is over. With me, it was just getting started.

Well, my eyes flew open, but I didn’t start fighting. That was because I knew something must be wrong, but I had no idea how wrong. I thought at first that Hawkeye might need something done, like the time he got me to help him reach the states and had a load of barbeque ribs sent over. Well, he said it was an emergency.

But there was some light in the room (not much, just the little lamp over on my desk.), and I saw who it was right away. Flagg. Flagg, squatting down next to my bunk, like the worst dream I ever had made solid.

He didn’t even really need to lay that knife against my face. I think he knew that, too. He might have told himself that it was ‘procedure’ or something, but the real reason was just because he wanted to.

He spoke to me in a quiet, calm voice--like he was striking up a conversation somewhere instead of holding a sharp object on me. "You’re not going to scream. I expect you to make noise, but you aren’t going to do anything that might be even remotely interpreted as calling for help. Is that clear?" I blinked. Well, I couldn’t nod. "Good."

He took his hand away, and it was all I could do to keep from spitting. It was like... like... like how you’d feel if a lizard or a spider crawled across you when you were asleep. I think he knew what I was thinking, because he turned the blade just a fraction, so that it scraped the little bristles that were going to make it necessary soon for me to have one of my three times a week shaves. I didn’t move.

I hissed, "What are you doing??"

He smiled, and I felt a lump of ice forming in my belly. "What? No ‘sir’, O’Reilly? Tsk, tsk. I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again. You need to learn a little discipline, and some respect for your superiors. I think it’s finally time for that lesson."

I knew that in a situation where someone is holding a weapon on you, the smart thing to do is to tell them whatever they want to hear, and hope something will happen to get you away from them. But I couldn’t. I knew it wouldn’t make much difference what I said, anyway. "Go to hell! There’s nothing you can teach me, and nothing I’d want to learn from you."

His smile never wavered, but suddenly that hand was back on my mouth, and his other hand flicked, and there was a sharp pain high up on my right cheek. "Have I got your attention now? Don’t make me do that again, O’Reilly. It would be a fucking shame to mark up that pretty face any more than I have to." Still gripping the knife, he stuck out his thumb, wiped up the drop of blood that had oozed from the tiny cut, and licked it away. I felt sick. I was in real trouble.

The hand moved again. I whispered. "You are in so much trouble. Colonel Potter will..."

"The old man will do nothing, because you’re not going to say anything to him."

"Yeah? Well, I got news for you. I will tell."

"No, you won’t, O’Reilly."

"You think you can argue me out of it?"

"Yes. With two words, three little syllables. Raymond Shaw."

Flagg’s POV

The look on his face. I swear, if I wasn’t already hard just thinking about him, being close to him, touching him, smelling him... that would have done it. He looked wounded. "I know you’re not stupid, O’Reilly, and I hope you’re not going to act like I am. You’re not going to pretend that you don’t know what I’m talking about, are you?"

"No." He hesitated, staring at me. The next syllable almost seemed to choke him. "Sir."

I stiffened even more. Yes, this was good. This was right. This was how it should be. I moved the tip of the blade down, tracing a line down his throat. "You know that I was the one who debriefed Shaw. He didn’t come right out and say it, but there’s no way you could have missed it with what he wrote you. Oh, yes, I saw it, " I assured him, answering his unspoken question. "There’s a copy of it in a safe place. There are copies of a good number of your correspondence. They’re very sweet, O’Reilly. It’s wonderful how much can be conveyed without actually using the words ‘I love you’ or ‘I want you.’"

"Those were personal and private."

God, he sounds so indignant. It’s all I can do to keep a straight face. "Personal? Oh, my , yes. But private? Not in this army, soldier. Now, let’s see, what is there besides the letters? Oh, yes. There’s statements from the attendants at the bath house, and the manager at the hotel you stayed at. He found it very curious that you two would need condoms, but didn’t take a girl up with you--and after he so generously offered to find you one."

He had turned pale, and his eyes were enormous. He could feel my grip tightening on him, and I didn’t even have my hands on him--then. That was all I needed to tell him, really, but I was having so much fun. He reacted beautifully.

"That was a dreadful place, wasn’t it? The walls were so thin. I mean, if someone just sneezed in the next room... And you and Ray certainly did more than sneeze."

I stroked the flat of the blade over his chest, wrinkling his T-shirt. "It almost drove me crazy, listening to you two. I must have beat off four... five times. But you know, O’Reilly? No matter how much jizm I dropped, I just couldn't get satisfied. You’re going to help me."

I waited to see if he would protest any more. I had him by the balls, and he knew it. Like I’d told him, he wasn’t stupid. That was a little of what had attracted me to him from the beginning. He isn’t what he seems--like me.

He didn’t say anything, but his breathing speeded up. I kept stroking him with the edge of the blade, like I was trying to shave him. You learn all kinds of interrogation techniques. This is one of my favorite. It scares and confuses them at the same time. That’s because it’s very physically and emotionally stimulating. The body reacts to stimuli--any kind of stimuli, and often in strange and wonderful ways. His nipples started to get hard.

I could see how shocked and angry he was when I flicked the little peak thrusting up against the soft cotton, and he realized what was happening.

Radar’s POV

I couldn’t believe it. How could that happen? I hated the man. Not disliked--hated! And now my body was responding to him. It was giving the same sort of reaction it had to Ray.

Flagg was silent for a minute, watching me. He was gaging my reaction, I guess. I just waited for him to say something. I knew there wasn’t a thing in the world I could do or say right then that would change what he intended to do.

He slid the knife up under my shirt at the hem, back against my belly, then pulled up slowly. The knife was as sharp as any of the scalpels the doctors kept in OR. The fabric of my shirt split apart like it was tissue paper. He kept cutting till he had it completely off me, talking all the while.

"I couldn’t believe my luck when I managed to get assigned to Shaw. Let me tell you, there were a lot of operatives after that assignment, but I pulled a few strings. I’m so glad I did." He still held the knife in his right hand. He put his left hand on my chest, and started to play with the hair. "You see, O’Reilly, I already knew enough to make this little visit, but I got more. When I go back to the states, Ray Shaw is my ticket to a cushy job--one where I can really make a difference, shake things up."

I thought about Ray’s stepdad, Senator Iselin. It had to be something to do with him. "And when he wrote that letter I figured he’d be disoriented enough to slip a little, but I never dreamed he’d give me so much I could use. He more or less handed you over to me, O’Reilly. Do you think I should thank him?"

I didn’t know he was cutting my shorts till I heard a kind of purring sound. It was the noise his knife made splitting the material from the hem to the waistband on my right leg. Then he repeated the process on the left side. I didn’t move. I didn’t breathe.

He used the blade again to move the rags aside, leaving me naked. The air was warm in the room, but that didn’t stop me from shivering. The blade slowly stroked my belly, and it felt like my balls were trying to crawl back up inside my body and hide. I didn’t blame them.

He slipped the blade down between my thighs, with the blade facing up my body. It was only about two or three inches from my crotch. Flagg’s voice was almost tender, and I wanted to vomit. "Spread your legs." I did like he said, moving slowly and carefully, praying that he wouldn’t slip, or I wouldn’t have a muscle spasm.

He reached down with his free hand, and started to fondle my balls, rolling them in his fingers. "Yes, I really should tell him thank you. This was going to happen any way. I’ve wanted to fuck you from the first time I came in here, and you were bending over that file cabinet. I never saw such a sweet little package in all my life. And then you turn out to be interesting, too."

He was stroking my cock now. I clenched my fists at my side, and gritted my teeth, but that was all I dared do.

Flagg’s POV

Hm. He stopped responding physically. Ah, well. Sometimes, if the psychological resistance is strong enough, if the subject’s hatred is strong enough, you can’t carry that form of interrogation to the conclusion. He must really hate me. He's going to hate me a lot more after the next hour or so.

"Well, I guess you aren’t going to get hard for me, are you, corporal? That’s all right. I was trying to be generous, but it isn’t necessary for you to enjoy this. I’m going to put this," I wiggled the knife slightly, "away. What do you think I’ll do if you do something foolish, like try to take it, or try to run from me, or fight?" I waited, but he didn’t answer. "Do you think I’d kill you?" He hesitates, then nods. He looks almost hopeful. I judged his thinking correctly.

"No. Do any of those things, and I’ll make my way to America, hunt down Raymond Shaw, fuck him, then cut his throat. I’ll do it, O’Reilly. Please don’t think I won’t. Ray’s a good looking man. I really wish I could have gotten better acquainted with him, but they just wouldn’t let me have the isolation I would have needed. Do we understand each other?"

"Yes." Again the hesitation. "Sir."

"Outstanding." I put the knife on the floor, stand up, and start to open my pants. As much as I’d like to strip and feel him all over me, I can’t risk taking the extra time. "Turn over."

I get my belt undone as he shifts, lying on his stomach. I hardly notice the soft thump near my feet. When I glance down, there’s a brown teddy bear with a red ribbon around it’s neck there beside my boots. I can’t help smiling as I kick it under the bunk.

He hugs his pillow, burying his face. I feast my eyes on the sturdy grace of his compact body as I work my fly open. So small, so perfect. Mine for the taking. I only wish I could have been the one to open him for the first time, but I suspect there haven’t been many, if any, besides Shaw. He’s still fresh, and the way I intend to take him, he’ll be as good as a virgin.

I strip off my pants, leaving my boots on. You never take your boots off unless you have to. Never know when a hasty escape will be necessary, and it isn’t your ass that will be in contact with every stone and thorn out there on the ground in the dark. Then I get on the bunk with him, kneeling between his spread legs.

I almost wished I could take my time with him. I was sure I could make him enjoy it, if I just had enough time. But... Well, it isn’t a perfect world, is it? And I was past ready. My cock had never been harder. I mean, I was rampant. I had a passing thought that this was going to hurt him--a lot.

Good.

I spread him open, exposing the tiny, pink asshole. Greasy pre-com was drooling from my glans, and I smeared it quickly over my cock head. That was all the lubrication he was getting. I fitted myself against his opening, holding myself steady with one hand, and pressing the other down on the small of his back, pinning him in place. He wasn’t going to try to get away, not with what I’d threatened to his boyfriend. But I didn’t want him jumping with pain and unseating me before I could get lodged firmly.

He was as tense as a strung wire under me. He was only making it harder on himself. If he’d relaxed, it might not be quite as bad. As it was, I was really going to have to push to force my way in.

I gritted my teeth, and rammed. He cried out. He wasn’t trying to attract attention, so I didn’t punish him for it. It just hurt too bad for him to stay quiet, and I kind of liked that.

I’d only sunk in about three inches, only about a third of the way. But I had to pause for a moment, and catch my breath. "Damn, you are tight, soldier boy! This is gonna be fantastic."

I grabbed his hips, and made another hard jab, and again he cried out. I could see his hands working in the pillow, nails scratching at the fabric. One more strong lunge, and I was in. My balls slapped against his, and I grunted with triumphant satisfaction. "There! You took it all, soldier."

His voice was faint and strained. "Just... just do it and get it over with."

"Oh, so you want me to do it?" He groaned, and I laughed. "Sure, soldier. I can give you all you want." I started to move inside him. It wasn’t easy at first, he was so dry. But I wasn’t about to stop now, not even if it rubbed my cock raw. It was worth it for the hot, sweet grip of his flesh.

He whimpered quietly now and then as I pounded into him. This wasn’t going to last long. I’d waited too long, and he was just too damn good. Just as I started to slide a little more easily, I could feel myself hurtling toward the edge, and knew I wasn’t going to be able to stop it, so I just went with it. I pounded as hard and as fast as I could, drilling into him, bracing my booted feet and pushing him up in the bed till his curly head bumped the wall. And I came with a gush of heat and wetness, throwing my seed into his tight channel, hips bucking in the closest thing to helpless I’d ever experienced.

Radar’s POV

It hurt so much I didn’t think I could stand it. I kept wishing I could faint, but the O’Reilly’s have never been fragile. Anyway, if I had fainted, I expect Flagg would have just slapped me awake again, then finished fucking me.

I just kept telling myself,It’ll be over soon. It’ll be over soon. That one sentence kept running through my mind as I felt his sweat dropping on me, as it felt like I was being split apart. Finally he went tense, and it seemed like his dick swelled even larger, and he came. It was the first time I’d ever felt a man’s come spurt inside me. Ray had always used a condom. Careful, neat, gentle Ray. I hated Flagg for that first, if for nothing else. It should have been Ray.

When he was through, he just let his weight drop on me. I could hardly breathe, but that was okay. If I could have breathed, then I would have had enough air to cry, and I didn’t want to cry for him.

Any way, it was over, finally. I don’t know how long we lay there. A long time, it seemed like, though it probably wasn’t more than fifteen or twenty minutes. Finally I couldn’t stand it any more, and I muttered, "You got what you wanted. Now get out."

He shifted. I thought for a minute he was going to do it, get up and leave. But he hadn’t even pulled out of me. His prick was still deep inside me. And, to my horror, I could feel it starting to swell again. "That was the easy one, soldier. I got what I needed, and now I’m gonna get what I want."

Flagg’s POV

He hasn’t cried yet. I need him to cry before this is over. He may not be that physically impressive, but he’s a tough little cookie, I’ll give him that. That was one of the things that attracted me. The way he’s always stood up to me, only giving enough to keep from out and out insubordination. There’s nothing better than breaking someone with high spirits.

It doesn’t take me long to recover, and I’m ready for a second go round. He wasn’t expecting that. I wonder if his boyfriend can do the same. I think about asking him, making him think about how I’m taking what he’s preserved for his precious Ray. But that might be a little too much. You have to be careful that you don’t push them past the breaking point, or they sometimes turn on you.

The second time was even better than the first. He was a little more open, but still good and tight. And the slide was easier, what with my come greasing the way. I took it slow. This was probably going to be my only chance with O’Reilly, and I intended to take away some memories. I’ve had sex a lot of different ways. I’ve had pussy, and I’ve had both male and female blow jobs and ass. I’m telling you now, I’ve never had anything sweeter than that boy.

I had stamina, now that the first orgasm was out of the way, and it lasted a long, long time. Finally I couldn’t hold back any more, and speeded up. When I really started pounding into him, I lifted him a little, changing the angle of penetration so that I could scrape over his prostate with each lunge. I knew that, even with the pain, this would give him raw physical pleasure that he wouldn’t be able to ignore, no matter how he tried. I think that’s what finally got me my tears.

He never did get hard, but he started gasping each time I went into him, and I knew that the little pleasure bump was doing what nature had intended. I grabbed his hair with one hand, pulling his face up out of the pillow, and touched his cheek with the other. My fingers came away salty-wet, and I shot my load into him again.

Finally sated, I pulled out. He took a great whooping inhalation at the fresh pain, but otherwise made no noise. His body had finally lost it’s rigidity. Now he was limp, trembling.

I used the rags of his clothing to clean myself quickly. Judging from the mess, he might just as well have been a virgin. He certainly bled like one.

I retrieved my knife, and looked at him, consideringly. The sensible thing to do would be to slit his throat before I left. There was no danger in that, and loose ends are to be avoided, but I didn’t really want to. I liked the idea of O’Reilly having to live with what I’d done to him. I liked the fact that, for a long time, if not for the rest of his life, every time he woke up suddenly in the dark, for that first second, he’d see me crouching over him.

I sheathed the knife, and bent over him again. "Remember me, O’Reilly. Every time your pretty Boston Brahmin fucks you, think about my cock in your ass. Remember that I took you, and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it. And if I ever want you again, I can take you again. Remember that."

I left.

Part Fifteen: Trauma

He picked up the knife after he got dressed. I thought that maybe he was going to go ahead and kill me after all. And, to tell the truth, right then I just didn't give a damn. That was the worst of it. The way he managed to make it seem like it might be preferrable to just go ahead and die, instead of dealing with what had happened.

But he didn't. He just left, as silently as he had appeared. I lay there for awhile. I needed to be sure that he was really gone. The thought that I might get up and go for help, and find him waiting for me outside...

But no, he was gone. 'Surgical strike'. Get in, get it done, get out. That's Flagg's style.

I had to move. There was too much warm wetness pooling under me. I'd been hurt and, unless I really did want to just give up, I had to do something about it.

What finally got me going was the thought of Ray, of what it would do to him if I went like this. I couldn't let that happen to him. I had to pull myself out of this, for his sake, if not for my own.

I managed to sit up, but it took me almost five minutes to do it. Every time I moved, it felt like I was being stabbed in the gut with a sharpened red hot poker.

The clothes I'd had on were no use. They lay on the floor, no more than rags. I'd left my pants hanging over a chair by the bed, so I got them instead, and pulled them on. I didn't bother with a shirt. You know, it didn't even occure to me that I didn't HAVE to get dressed. Who would be out in the camp at that time of night? But I've never walked around naked in public before, and I wasn't about to start. I didn't bother with the button, just zipping them so they'd stay on my hips.

Then came the long, long trek to get help. The compound isn't all that big, but it was like I was trying to walk across Korea, just to make those few yards.

I fell down the first step I took away from the office. I'd been holding on to the wall for support, and I just went down when I let go. Knees folded neater than someone with a pair of dueces seeing that someone else was holding three kings. When I hit the dirt, I was tempted to just lay there for awhile.

But I'd worked around trauma enought to know that I didn't have a lot of time to spare. Not the way I was bleeding. It had already made it's way down my legs, and I ended up leaving a blood trail across the camp that you wouldn't need a tracking dog to follow.

I managed to get to my feet again, and staggered on. I knew exactly where I was heading. Thank God The Swamp wasn't located any farther away. I might not have made it.

It was dark when I got there. The only sounds were soft snores. I knew where Hawkeye's bunk was, and made my way to it.

Then I just stood there, swaying. What was I going to tell him?

I was starting to get dizzy now, so I knew I'd better do something, quick. I touched his shoulder, and said quietly, "Hawkeye?"

He stirred, yawning, eyes closed. "Five more minutes, Pop."

I closed my eye, and tried again. I shook him gently. "Hawkeye, please wake up."

Another yawn, and a blink. "Radar? What is it? Wounded? Something wrong in recovery?"

I swayed more. "I... I think..."

"Radar?" I heard BJ behind me, his voice concerned. There was a click, and the light went on. "Jesus!"

I sank to my knees. "I... need help..." Then I passed out.

Only for a little while, though. No more than a minute, I think. I woke up when I was being lifted onto a stretcher. I heard Hawkeye saying, "No! We can do this ourselves. No one else, not now, anyway. Maybe later. We just need to get him to the OR."

As they went to lift me up, I managed to tug at Hawkeye's robe. He looked startled. "Radar, thank God. Buddy, what happened?"

I bit my lip, staring at him. What could I tell them without endangering Ray? "I... don't know."

"You don't know? Christ, Radar! You... you're bleeding! There's a fucking pool..."

"And we need to get it stopped, Hawk." BJ said firmly.

Hawkeye seemed to snap back to himself. Like he says, he's a man first and foremost, but being a doctor is his second nature. "You're right. As soon as we get him in OR, I want two units of blood."

He leaned over me, and his voice was soft. "Walter, we're going to be as careful as we can, but we have to hurry. The ride may be a little rough."

"'Sokay."

They carried me to the OR, and got me on one of the tables. BJ went for the blood. When Hawkeye reached to undo my pants, I knocked his hands away. He hesitated, and I could see the pain in his eyes. Not from what I'd done, but from what it told him. "I have to, Radar." he said gently. "You're hurt, badly, what with all that blood. I have to see the damage, stop the bleeding, and... and try to repair you. Let me help you, please."

I didn't try to stop when he started again. But I covered my eyes when I finally lay on that cool operating table. On my belly. Like before. I started shaking so hard, I thought I might fall off.

Hawkeye hesitated. When BJ came back, he took the blood units and said, "Go get me some morphine."

"Do you think that's wise?"

"Beej, look at him. You know what I have to do. Even if he could go through it without something, he shouldn't have to. Should he?" BJ left, and came back with a syringe. When I felt Hawkeye's hand on my ass, I flinched. He said hastily, "It's all right, Radar. Just some alcohol. This is going to help with the pain, and make you sleep. Don't fight it..." I groaned, and he gasped, suddenly understanding what those words might mean to me. "I... I'm sorry...This will only sting a little."

The bite of the needle was negligible, after what I'd been through. And it helped quickly. Grey fog rolled in and swallowed me. I don't know how long I was out, but I woke up in recovery. My cot was screened off from the rest of the room, like the North Korean's had been. I could hear the doctor's talking on the other side of the partition.

Charles: "He came in on my shift, dammit. I want to know what happened."

Hawkeye: "I don't really know, Charles. He wouldn't tell us."

Charles: "But you have your suspicions?"

Hawkeye: "Of course I have my suspicions. I think maybe a certain looney tunes colonel isn't the harmless jack ass we've been thinking he is."

Charles: "Flagg?" I heard Hawkeye hiss at him. "But... but the man's an officer."

BJ: "Maybe, but not a gentleman."

Charles: "Did Radar say...?"

BJ: "He wouldn't say anything. He's scared, and I don't blame him. This sort of thing can ruin a person's life."

Hawkeye: "It wasn't his fault!"

BJ: "No, it wasn't. But the world can be very cruel to victims, Hawk. You know that." I think maybe I've mentioned before that Captain Pierce can be real creative with swear words. Boy, he did a masterpiece right then. And when he could get a word in edgewise, BJ said, "I don't like it either. But that's the way it is, and we have to deal with it. He may really not remember anything. It isn't unusual for victims of assaults like this to experience traumatic amnesia. Or he may not want to remember."

Hawkeye: "But this has to be reported! We can't let that... that... thing get away with it!"

BJ: "We may not have a choice."

Hawkeye: "As an officer, it's my duty to report things like this, take care of the enlisted men."

I was a little surprised when Major Winchester spoke up.

Charles: "You're also a doctor, Pierce. And there's doctor/patient confidentiality. If the boy doesn't want it reported, I really don't think you should go against his wishes."

They were quiet, then Hawkeye came back into my space. He stopped when he saw that I was awake, and I could tell he knew I'd been listening. He came over and sat in a chair beside my cot. "Hey Radar."

"Hey, Captain Pierce."

He noticed the formal title. "How you doing?"

"Okay. Sore."

"Yeah." He cleared his throat. "Yeah. I had to do some... uh stitching." I nodded, showing that I understood. I figured he would have. The rate I was bleeding, something must've been torn pretty bad. "You're going to be on a liquid diet for a while. You don't need to irritate... irritate the, uh, damaged area any more than necessary." I nodded again. It made sense. "I used dissolving sutures, so you don't have to worry about having them removed."

"Thanks."

He was quiet for a minute, then said, "Radar. Talk to me." I put my arm over my eyes. "I think I know who did this, but you have to tell me for anything official to happen."

"I don't know." My voice was dull.

"Christ, kid, you can't let him get away with doing this to you! He needs to be court martialled. He needs to go to Leavenworth. He needs to be fucking gutted!"

"You don't know... you can't know what he said he'd do."

"Radar, we can protect you."

"Could you?" I looked at him, and he could see the doubt in my face. I respect Captain Pierce. I know he'd do everything he could. But I knew Flagg, too. "I'm not the only one involved in this, Hawkeye. Look, I'll be all right. I want to sleep now."

That was a lie, but I think God forgave me for it. Hawkeye couldn't stop asking questions that I couldn't answer. I knew if it kept on, I'd get angry with him, for nothing more than trying to do what he thought was right.

I really didn't intend to tell anyone at all. But Colonel Potter showed up at my bedside the next morning, and sat down beside me. "Well, son, it seems that something nasty happened to you last night." I glared at Hawkeye, but he shook his head. "Don't blame Pierce, Walter. If you all didn't want me to know something was really wrong, then you should have sent someone to clean up that mess in the front office."

Hawkeye winced. He'd been so worried about taking care of me that hadn't occured to him. Colonel Potter continued. "So I come into the office this morning, Igor's powdered eggs not doing anything to settle my digestion, and what do I find? Blood. Lots of it. My clerk gone, and his clothes sliced to ribbon and crusted with more blood, and what can only be semen. It doesn't take Sherlock Holmes to figure out what happened, son, so don't blame Pierce. I was just relieved to find out that you were in a cot and not a body bag."

"Don't worry, Colonel. I'm all right now."

"Horse hockey. What I saw was enough to tell me that you've been to hell and back Radar, and it was a hard walk both ways. Pierce says you won't say who did it." I clenched my jaw. He sighed. "I guess you have your reasons. But you have to talk to someone. No one should go through something like that alone."

"Begging the colonel's pardon, but it's none of your business." I was shocked with myself. Colonel Potter cared about me, he was trying to help. My tone had been downright nasty.

But he didn't take offense. He just said calmly, "That's where you're wrong. I'm you're commanding officer. Your well being is my responsibility. You need to get this out of you before it starts to fester and poison you from the inside out. This doesn't have to go any further, if you don't want it to. But you will talk to someone about this. Now, there are two people I know could be trusted with a secret and take it to their graves, so I'm giving you a choice. You talk to either Father Mulcahey, or you talk to Sidney Freedman. You're choice, son. But you will talk."

Colonel Potter's eyes were sympathetic, but his voice was stern. He wasn't going to back down on this. I thought. I saw Father every day. I would see him every day for as long as I stayed at the MASH. He was a good man, and would not hold me accountable in any way for what had happened. But it would be there.

"You can call Sidney."

Part Sixteen: Sidney

I've told you about Doctor Major Sidney Freedman, haven't I? Or is that Major Doctor Sidney Freedman? I never can remember which, but it doesn't bother him. He said I should just call him Sidney. I guess he knew some guys feel kind of awkward about telling personal stuff to an officer. He says, "I'm just a man. Maybe I've been trained to listen a little better, and help people see things from the outside, but I wasn't given a crystal ball, or a magic wand when I got the letters after my name."

I woke up the next day to find him sitting next to my bed. They'd moved me into a back storage room, so I could have a little more privacy. I knew it was because I was going to be talking to Sidney. Well, they hoped I was going to be talking to him. I wasn't so sure.

Anyway, there he was. Just sitting quiet, watching me. He... I don't know how to put it. But you can just look at Sidney, and feel like he could understand things that no one else in the world could. He kind of reminded me a little of my Uncle Ed, even though they didn't look a thing like each other. Uncle Ed never went past high school, but boy, could he read. Everything. I told Sidney about him at one point, and he said that just going to school didn't necessarily mean someone was wise, or even smart, and that there was a difference. I said I knew what he meant, and he said that he thought that I might.

"Hi, Sidney."

"Hello, Walter. Do you need me to get anything for you? Maybe call one of the doctors?"

"No. I'm fine."

"Are you?"

The words had slipped out automatically. It was just something you said, you know? Most people aren't really listening for an answer when they ask you how you are, but Sidney listened. I thought for a minute, then said slowly, "No. I guess I'm not."

He nodded. "Good. Sometimes the hardest part of getting help is admitting that there is a problem. You've jumped that hurdle like Jesse Owens. Now, want to tell me what the problem is?" I shook my head. He settled into his chair a little more comfortably. His voice was light. "So I was being overly optimistic."

"What did they tell you about... about what happened?"

"Not much. All Potter told me was that you were hurt, pretty badly, and you weren't a casualty, and it wasn't an accident." He looked at me. "I see no casts, or splints. You're not in traction. No large bandages, or visible bruising. No stitches, but a little cut..." He pointed to his cheek. "right there, and I don't think you got it shaving."

"You're pretty smart, Sidney."

"I'd say I was Sherlock Holmes in another life, but being Jewish, I'm not supposed to believe in reincarnation.

I stared at him. Then I said, "I'm not going to tell you who did it."

"That's your choice, Radar. I can't advise you either way, because it's far too personal. And I still don't know exactly what happened." I just bit my lip. "I'm going to tell you something that may make this easier for you, Walter. I'm not here as your friend. Oh, I am your friend--don't doubt that. But I am here now as your doctor. And that means that anything... and I mean anything, that you tell me in this room, stays in this room."

"Anything?"

"You can confess to kidnaping the Lindbergh baby and leading the bombing run on Pearl Harbor. No one will ever know."

"What about your bosses?"

"On this? The brass can kiss my tochus."

"What if they make you?"

"They can't. Doctor/patient relations are held inviolate in law. It would be as illegal for them to ask as it would be for me to offer. I could lose my license to practice, and be brought up on charges if I gave away anything you told me in confidence. But I'm not worried, because I know that, whatever you have to tell me, it isn't going to concern any hideous wrong doing on your part. My conscience will remain clear."

"I dunno. Different people have different ideas of what's hideous wrong. Like, say, Hawkeye and Major Burns."

"Walter, in case you weren't paying attention, Frank Burns was a deeply disturbed man. Hawkeye has his own issues to deal with, but he's one of the most basically decent humans I've ever run into. Look, you don't have to just leap in and give me a detailed account of what put you in that bed. Just talk about anything that's been bothering you lately. You can work up to it gradually."

I hesitated again. But...I wanted to talk to Sidney now. I just couldn't understand why this had happened to me. Maybe if I could, I could deal with it. At last I began.

"I figure I'm a pretty good guy, doc. I mean, I work hard. I take care of my mom. I always try to be nice to other people. At least as nice as they'll let me. Some of 'em make it kinda hard, sometimes. I'm not what you'd call real popular, but... I'm not disliked."

"No, you're not, Radar. Many people think very kindly of you, myself included."

"So I can't understand why someone, someone I never saw before, would... Just right off the bat there was...It was like we were a couple of strange cats, circling each other, you know? No reason I could see. It was just there."

Sidney nodded. "There isn't always a clear explanation. Some people just clash."

"Well, if he thought I was so irritating, seems to me the sensible thing to do would be avoid me, right? But he kept coming around, even when he didn't have to be here, and...and I just told you it isn't someone in camp, didn't I?'

"Yes. But don't worry about that right now. Like I said, I won't ask, and I won't make any guesses to the brass. So it seemed to you like this person was drawn to you?"

"Uh huh. And I just can't understand why. I know I sure don't try to be around someone when they rub me the wrong way. I figured he was just messing with me, 'cause he didn't like me. Then... he started acting... funny."

"I'm assuming you don't mean amusing?"

"Heck no. Weird. Saying things I couldn't understand. Like, I said what good men the doctors were? He was like, 'Oh, so you don't like regular men, you only like the fancy, college type? You don't like the rough working man?'. What was that s'posed to mean? I like all kinds of people."

"Sounds like maybe he was feeling a little inadequate."

"I don't see how. He always seemed pretty pleased with himself. Then it... got worse. He... uh... he... touched me. A couple of times."

Sidney's face was grave. "Touched you how, Walter?"

"He didn't, like, hit me, or anything. But... Just putting his hands on me, and I told him not to. That it wasn't right, him doing that, because I didn't like him...that way."

His voice was gentle, non judgmental. "In a sexual way?"

My voice was barely a whisper. "Yeah." I cleared my throat, not looking at him. "I... uh... I've never really gone with girls, Sidney. I... there's a guy..." I was blushing.

"You don't have to tell me this, Radar. But you can, if it will help you."

"My friend... He said the word they... we use, is gay."

Sidney nodded. "A good term. More personal, not so clinical, or mean spirited as some."

"Well, like I said. I got a friend. And that's all I want. This other... I don't know how he knew that..."

"Hold it right there, Walter. You may be making a wrong assumption here. This man didn't necessarily know that you were gay. It's entirely possible he would have targeted you any way."

"You think so?" He nodded. "Even if he knew for sure I wouldn't be interested in him?"

"I'd say that was probably one of your greatest attractions for him. There is a certain type of individual who is only interested in what they can't have, or aren't supposed to have. You've seen the kind, Walter. We all have. It's just that, in some people, it goes to pathological lengths."

"Pathological?"

"It makes them sick. So this individual's attentions to you escalated gradually?"

"Yeah. It...got real bad recently. The last time he was here." I swallowed hard, realizing now how close I'd come to being raped that first time. If Max hadn't shown up when he had. "He kinda jumped me. Told me he could break my neck if I fought him. He could've, too. He's strong. But I got lucky. Someone came around, and he ran."

"You didn't report this? It would have helped, Walter, if there was a record of this man's activities."

"I couldn't, Sidney. I was afraid...They'd ask so many questions, and my friend..." Sidney was nodding in understanding. "And... he's higher up than me. I noticed that the brass tend to believe their own first."

He sighed. "God, Walter, I wish I could tell you that you were wrong about that, but I make it a practice never to lie to my patients. You were probably right about that. Nothing official would have been done. But son, you have a few very determined and fairly influential friends here at the MASH. They might have arranged something unofficial. I've spoken to Hawkeye. He had a few downright diabolical and highly illegal thoughts on the matter--including neutering and castration, performed with dull instruments and no antiseptic or aenesthesia."

That made me smile. Good ol' Hawk.

The smile faded. "I really tried, y' know? I told 'im every way I could that I wasn't interested. I started locking the office at night. I made sure I wasn't ever anywhere lonely by myself. I even started to shower when there was someone else around, and I hate that. But... It just wasn't enough."

"Walter, if this man was as determined as he seems to have been, nothing short of armed guards would have been enough. This sounds like an obsession."

I could feel my eyebrows rising. "With me?"

"Don't act so surprised, Radar. After all, your friend thinks you're special, doesn't he?"

"Yeah." My voice was soft. "Yeah, he does. But after this..."

"No!" I was a little startled by Sidney's firm tone. "Don't you dare suggest that this has made you any less than what you were, Walter. That man only dirtied you if you allow it to cling to you. You can scrape it off."

"I don't know how, Sidney." I put my hands over my face. "You don't know what he did, what he said. I can remember what he smelled like, what he felt like, the sound of his voice in my ear. Telling me how much he was enjoying himself, telling me I asked for it." I looked at him quickly, desperate for him to understand. "I swear, Sidney, I didn't! I just told him to do it and get it over with, I didn't mean..."

"I know, Walter. He knew it, too. The problem is, Radar, you're looking at this as a sexual act. It wasn't."

Now I was confused. "It wasn't?"

"No. And our legal system will never be what it should be until we recognize rape for what it is: violence and anger taken to another level. Rape isn't real sex, Radar. No matter what the rapist may tell himself, it's about control. Controlling someone else, making them helpless, taking their control. Hurting."

I shivered. I could see what Sidney meant by this. Flagg had always been so concerned about getting me to follow protocol, show him the little subservient gestures the enlisted man gives the officer. The salute, the title. Now I could see the satisfaction he got every time I caved in on one of those. He probably got hard when he made a reluctant soldier salute him and call him 'sir'.

"You've been with your friend, Walter. I'm pretty sure that, aside from the crudest biological mechanics, what you experienced with him was nothing like what happened to you the other night.

And he was right about that. With Ray, it had been sex, love. With Flagg... It had been something else. Something that was deliberately made as hurtful as possible, physically and emotionally.

"He didn't beat me up, exactly."

"No? I'd say he battered you horribly, Radar, even if he didn't use his fists and feet. Did he threaten you?"

I touched the cut on my face, unconsciously. I saw something I'd never expected to see. Hot anger flared in Sidney's usually mild eyes. For a moment, they blazed with rage and hatred. Then he forced the emotion back, with an obvious effort.

"He didn't threaten me."

"Oh." Sidney could put a lot into one syllable.

"So I can't tell."

"I understand."

"I feel better now."

Sidney sighed. "I'm sure you do. The first telling of something like this is like lancing a boil and letting out the infection. But just like that, if you don't continue treatment, Walter, the infection can come back, worse than ever. You still have a lot of issues to work through. I'm going to try to come back and see you in a week or so. And I have the feeling that Colonel Potter is going to see what he can do about sending you home..." I started to protest, but he waved it off. "You've been through more than anyone should have to, son. I'm sure he can arrange something. But I have a friend and colleague who practices close to your hometown. I'm going to give him your name, and give you his name, and I want you to promise me that you'll go see him when you return home."

"Folks in Iowa aren't much on going to head doctors, Sidney. No offense meant."

"None taken. But I hope you'll reconsider. He's good, Walter. And you're going to need someone. It's still early days for you. The repercussions of an incident like this can linger, sometimes for years."

He patted my hand. "You just have to remember, Radar. You don't have to go through this alone. There are people who care about you, and want to help."

Part Seventeen: Homecoming

I felt a little better after I talked to Sidney. Before it had happened, I hadn't even really been clear in my mind that guys could be raped. Sidney told me that was a concept that a lot of people had a hard time wrapping their mind around.

"The thing is, Walter, that with male-on-male assaults, it's even more of a power issue than it is with male-on-female. Some people call it homosexual rape, and that's wrong. A homosexual is a man who finds love and pleasure with another man. A rapist is someone who delights in forcing himself on a reluctant partner, and it often doesn't matter what gender or age that victim is. If that old saw about it being uncontroled lust were true, then ninety-nine per cent of rape victims would be attractive women past puberty, but still young. But victims are very young, very old, fat, thin, plain, beautiful, handicapped... The only thing they have in common is vulnerability. And that doesn't mean weakness, Walter. Some of the toughest people in the world are rape survivors. You're one of them."

I didn't feel tough. I felt like just giving up and crawling in a hole. But I couldn't. The doctors wouldn't let me. When I became withdrawn, they'd just keep after me, never leaving me alone to brood. When I became surly, they rode it out, deflecting my nasty comments and snappishness. After a couple of days, I became ashamed of myself, and began acting a little more normally. I don't know, I might have gotten back where I could function, but I didn't have the chance.

I knew something was bad wrong when so many of them showed up at once. Colonel Potter, Father Mulcahey, even Charles. Father sat down beside my bed. From the sad look on his face, I knew it was bad. "Radar... Son, I have bad news. You're going to have to be strong."

My first thought was of Ray, and I'm not ashamed of that. He seemed to me to be the one who had the most danger around him. But they didn't know about Ray, not who he was, anyway. The second thought made my guts clench. "Mom?" Father Mulcahey shook his head, and I knew. "Uncle Ed."

"He passed away, Radar. I'm sorry." I put my hands over my face. "It was very quick, he didn't suffer. Your mother said he went out to gather eggs. She went out not five minutes later to tell him about a hen she thought was brooding, and he was already gone." He smiled faintly. "She said he'd found the nest, though. Had one of the eggs in his hand."

"Yeah, Uncle Ed was the only one who could beat me on finding the eggs." I started crying.

People tell you men shouldn't cry. As Colonel Potter would say, "Horse hockey." Uncle Ed had raised me, along with my mom. He was the only father I could remember. He taught me to drive, and fish, and whalloped my tail the couple of times I was stupid enough to sass my Mom. I loved him.

They just let me cry for a minute. I could feel Father patting my arm gently. Through my fingers, I said. "Mom... Mom needs me. I have to..."

"You're going home, son." Colonel Potter said quietly. "I'm shoving the paperwork through, at gunpoint if I have to. We'll have you out of here by tomorrow, the next day at the latest."

"But Mom..."

"Radar, don't worry." Charles leaned over my cot. "You remember my sister, and what a grand time she had at the 'reunion' we organized back in the states? Well, she half fell in love with your Uncle Ed. She's on her way out to Iowa to be with your mother till you arrive, and help her with whatever needs to be done. She's a crackerjack little organizer. All those generations of charity good works have bred it into the Winchester women. Your mother will be well taken care of till you arrive."

And that was that. My army career was over. I was going home whole, at least in body.

I insisted on getting up, so I could show Max the ropes. He was going to take over as company clerk when I left. There were a few rough moments when I was afraid he wouldn't make it, didn't take the job seriously enough, but he buckled down. I knew he'd do a good job. I trusted him.

I said good-bye to all my friends in camp. Normally, there would have been a little celebration for someone returning to the States, but they let it slide, because of the circumstances. I spent some time in The Swamp with Hawkeye, Beej, and Charles. I even drank some of that rotgut they distilled, for a farewell toast. I promised to tell Winchester's sister hi for him, and to look in on BJ's family if I ever got to California. I promised Hawkeye that he and his dad were welcome on the farm anytime they got the urge to see the midwest.

I didn't cry, but I came close.

Igor, the cook, gave me a box of cookies to take on the trip, and thanked me for never throwing my food at him ('cause that had been known to happen). Margaret Houlihan actually hugged me. If I hadn't been so sad, it might almost have made me forget for a second that I wasn't interested in girls that way. And Colonel Potter...

Well, after Uncle Ed, my two commanding officers had been my dads. I lost Henry Blake, too. I was going to miss Sherman Potter.

I was getting ready to climb in the jeep that would take me to Seoul, and the airport, and the airplane that would take me home. He said quietly, "Radar, I just want you to know that in all the years I've served in this army, I have never served with a more responsible, honorable, and brave young man." Then he saluted me. "Son, I'm proud to have known you."

And, I guess, if a man like Colonel Potter can say that to me, I haven't done too bad after all.

The trip was uneventful. I didn't have much of an appetite still, so I shared out most of Igor's cookies. It made me pretty popular on the plane, but I didn't feel much like socializing. I guess you can understand that. We stopped off in Hawaii, then went on to California.

I had the biggest shock... well, one of the biggest shocks of my life in California. We had a four hour lay over, waiting for my connection. I was sitting in one of those hard chairs, feeling kind of numb, when one of the prettiest little curly headed girls I've ever seen ran over and hugged my leg, grinning at me. She was followed by a lady so pretty that she had to be her mama, and I recognized her as she was holding out her hand to me. "Missus Hunicutte?"

She smiled. "Peg, Radar. I'm happy to meet you, but sad that it's under such circumstances." Then she hugged me.

We went to the airport restaurant and ate dinner, and she wouldn't let me buy for all of us. She said BJ had wired over more than his usual allotment, and told her she was to try and cheer me up a little while I was there. She said that she told him that he didn't have to tell her to do that. They tease each other sometime. Kinda like me and Ray.

It did make me feel better. It's kind of hard to be totally sad when you've got an almost baby on your lap, playing with your glasses, and hugging your neck. I felt a lot better when I finally got on the plane for Iowa. Of course, that kind of seeped away during the flight...

Old Mr. Tupper picked me up at the airport. He'd been a good friend of Uncle Ed's, they'd gone to school together. On the way home, he assured me that the neighbors had been making sure that the chores were kept up on the farm. That's one thing about Iowa farm people. We may be a little boring to the rest of the world, but we take care of our own.

When we got to the farm, there was a tall, slender lady sitting on the porch, and she stood up as soon as we drove into the yard. I could tell by looking at her that she was Major Winchester's sister. For one thing, there wasn't a farm woman in the world who wore clothes that sophistocated. For another, she looked like a Winchester. Kind of like Charles, but softer and prettier.

She smiled at me as I got out of the truck, and opened the front door, calling in, "Dear? He's home."

Mom came out on the porch. She... I'd never seen her look like that, except the last time I saw her, when I left for boot camp: tired, and sad, and trying real hard not to cry. I walked over to her and put my arms around her.

I'm not a big man, but she seemed so tiny to me then. She'd never looked small before. I mean... She was Mom, and she was as big as she had to be. Big enough to take on the world for her family. Now she seemed smaller, more fragile.

She had her face against my shoulder, and she wasn't crying, but she was shaking. She said, "He's gone, Walter. What are we going to do?" I patted her back, and rocked her like she'd rocked me the times that the world had hurt me. "It's okay, Mom. It hurts, but we know where he is now. Hey, maybe God will let him pick the winners in the horse races, huh?"

She actually laughed a little. "Oh, Walter, my baby. I was so worried when I had to let you go, such a sweet little boy."

I kept rocking her. "It's okay. I'm back. And I'm a man now, Mom. I'm a man."

Part Eighteen: Support

So I was home, just like that. Sometimes the Army does the right thing. I can't help but wonder how much they got prodded this time by Colonel Potter, and maybe the doctors. They could be awful nudges when they wanted to--when it was something they cared about.

It was the evening of the day I returned, and I was sitting on the front porch with a cup of coffee. The coffee was really only so I'd have something to do with my hands, and an excuse to be out of the house. As comforting as the familiar surroundings were, for some reason they felt stiffling right now.

It was dusk, a real pretty time of day around here. Our house faced west, and I had a good view of the sun going down. The horizon was washed with red-gold, but higher up the sky was darkening, and you could already see a few stars peeping out. The moon would rise soon. I intended to sit and watch it climb a ways. I wasn't sure but that I wouldn't sit there till it made it's arc and dropped below the horizon, and the sun started to come up at my back. I felt like I could sit there forever. It wasn't so much that it was so peaceful. I just didn't have the motivation to move.

I was going to have to, I knew that. You can't just sit around on a farm, not for long. Leisure has to be earned with hard work. But right now any sort of activity seemed beyond me.

"W-walter?" I looked up to find Honoria Winchester watching me from the doorway. "Are you all r-right?" Honoria is a wonderful lady: beautiful and kind. Her voice is soft and cultured, and after you know her for awhile, you hardly notice the stutter.

"Yeah, I'm good."

She came and sat in a rocking chair beside me. She was still wearing the apron she'd put on to help Mom with the supper dishes. That had kind of surprised me. I knew she didn't do a lot of housework in the Winchester family, but she'd pitched right in around the house. Mom told me that she'd scarcely had to lift a finger since Honoria had arrived. She'd never felt so pampered in her life. "Are you s-s-s... Are you s-sure? You've been holding that c-cup for t-t-ten minutes without d-drinking a d-drop."

I took a sip, and made a face. "I like cold coffee."

"You hardly t-touched your meal. I think your mother was w-worried about you."

I hung my head. "I know. It tasted great. Nobody can cook like Mom."

Honoria smiled gently. "No one c-can ever cook like M-mom, whoever she may b-be. Are you not feeling w-well?"

"No." I set the cup on the rail. "I dunno. Maybe a little off. I miss Uncle Ed. I wish... I wish I could've been here. Maybe if he hadn't had to work so hard..."

"S-s-stop that r-right now. It was j-just his t-time, Walter. He wouldn't wuh-want you to think any di-differntly. I know you're sad, buh-but I c-cah... c-can't help feeling there's suh-something else tuh-troubling you."

I couldn't look at her. "No, really. Just strain." I reached over and patted her hand. "Thanks for worrying about me. But I'm a big boy now, I can work it out alone."

"Buh-but Walter, tha-that's the p-point. You duh-don't have to. There are suh-so many p-people who want to help."

I stood up, getting the mug again. "I better take this in and rinse it out. Coffee stains if you leave it in too long, ya know." She looked like she wanted to say something else, but she just sighed, and nodded. That's one thing that's bad... or maybe it's good, I dunno. But that's one thing about being raised with all those fancy social restrictions. It makes it harder for you to pry into someone else's business, even when you're just worried about them.

It had been hard enough talking to Sidney, I sure couldn't tell a nice lady like Honoria what had happened to me. And I couldn't tell my Mom. I knew she was worried, but I was gonna have to let her think that my moods were caused by the war, and missing Uncle Ed. She was never going to know what happened to me. Never.

I went to bed that night in the room I've had since I was old enough to sleep away from my Mom. You might have noticed I said, 'went to bed', not 'went to sleep'. I didn't sleep. I was afraid to.

Y'see, while I was in the MASH, after... what happened, the doctors gave me something to make me sleep each night. There'd even been some argument between Charles and Hawkeye about it. Charles said I needed to try to sleep on my own, and Hawkeye said that since I hadn't really slept since I'd come out from under aenesthesia, he was damn sure not going to let it go on any longer while there was a pill in Korea that could help me.

Charles gave in, but he wouldn't send any over with me, no matter what Hawkeye said. "He has to fight this through, Pierce. I know it's hard, but damn it, it's not going to help the boy if he ends up with a dependency. You know that."

I was tired, but I didn't want to sleep. I laid in bed and stared up at the ceiling for awhile. Then I got up, put on my robe, and went down to sit on the porch. I sat there all night, just kind of staring out into the dark, not really thinking about anything. I sat till the sky started to turn grey, the sun shooting gold beams around the house from where it was rising in the east behind me.

I had meant to go back upstairs. I'd forgotten what an early riser my Mom was. I must have been pretty preoccupied, though I couldn't tell you now what it was I was thinking of. In any case, I didn't know she had come out till she put her hand on my shoulder.

"Son? What are you doing up so early? You're not in the army now, you can sleep in."

I had flinched a little at her touch. "Yeah, I know, Ma. Habits, ya know?"

She was hesitant. "Dear, were you out here all night?"

"No! Geez, no Mom." I spoke too quickly. I never have been able to lie to my Mom. She sees through me like a pane of glass she just finished polishing.

"Son, what's wrong? Can't you tell me?"

I stood up, wincing as my muscles pulled. I had been sitting in one position an awful long time. "No, Ma. I can't. I love you, but I can't. Don't ask, okay? I'm gonna go take a shower."

"Didn't you have one before you went to bed last night?"

"Yeah, but I feel like I need one. I feel dirty."

In the shower, I let the hot water pound down on me. I knew I was being selfish. Our boiler is old and cranky, and it doesn't take much to use up the hot. That was all right with me. When I ran out of hot water, I could scrub myself just as easily in cold.

I don't know how long I was in there. Probably too long. Eventually there was a tap on the door, and Honoria called, "All ruh-right in there?"

"Yeah, just washin' my hair." I quickly stuck my head under the spray, then turned it off and got out. "I'll be out in a second, Honoria." We still have an outhouse, but I couldn't ask a refined lady like Honoria Winchester to use that when there was perfectly good indoor plumbing available.

I dried quickly and wrapped myself up in my robe, opening the door. "All yours."

"I di-didn't need t-t-to... I was wuh-worried. You were s-so long. I thought maybe you sluh-slipped and..." She touched my wet hair lightly.

I flinched back from her touch, and I saw the hurt in her eyes. "No, I'm okay." I said shortly. Then, walking away, I muttered, "My head may be screwed up, but it ain't from a knock." I went in my room. It was a little while before I heard her move off down the hall.

I knew that I couldn't go on like that. I had to make an effort to get back to a normal routine, for Ma's sake. And I did try. I did my usual chores that day. I moved a lot of hay in the barn, working furiously. I found that I was using the pitchfork a lot more vigorously than I usually did.

I didn't want to break for lunch, but I did. And this time I forced myself to eat two plates of the good food Mom and Honoria fixed for me, and I smiled while I did it. Then I went out to the barn and threw it back up in a corner, and started working again till I was nearly blind with exhaustion and sweat. Maybe I'd be able to sleep. In any case, the work gave me an excuse for another long shower before supper.

At supper I was so tired that I was picking at my food again. Mom and Honoria kept exchanging looks across the table, till I had to get up and leave before I said something nasty I knew I'd regret. Anyway, I wanted to take another shower.

It was midnight before I managed to force myself into bed. Mom had ironed the sheets for me, and they were cool, and crisp, and I still felt like my skin was going to crawl right off me. But I forced myself to close my eyes, and tried to sleep. I guess I managed...

Because all at once there was a hand over my mouth, and I was smelling sweat and fear and sex, and a ghost pain, really just the memory, I suppose, exploded in my bowels.

Suddenly someone was shaking me. The only thing that kept me from striking out was the thought, He'll kill me! He'll kill Ray!

"Walter! Walter, wake up!" I blinked at the sound of the frantic voice, the world coming into focus. It was my Mom. She was bending over my bed, holding my shoulders, her sweet face twisted and frightened.

"Ma... sorry. Bad dream." I could only speak in fragments. The terror was still too fresh.

"Baby!" She sat on the bed, pulling me into her arms and rocking me. I was rigid. What if she could somehow feel, somehow guess what had happened? Even her gentle stroking of my hair didn't soothe me this time. "Oh, Walter." She sounded mournful. "You were screaming so. What did they do to you? Please, tell me!"

I could see Honoria, her hair braided for sleep, standing in the doorway, watching us. At her grave, questioning look, I hid my face against Ma. "Don't know. Can't remember. Can't remember, can't remember, I swear. Please, Mom..."

Honoria left. She came back in a minute with a glass, and handed it to my mother. "Make him d-drink that, duh-dear. I fuh-found it in Ed's ruh-room. P-p-purely medicinal, I'm shuh-sure."

It was whiskey. I managed to force it down, to please the ladies, and, in a minute I wasn't shaking quite so bad. I'd never drank much in my life, but I decided that it might not be such a bad thing, if it had that effect. I guess those thought processes are what make most of the drunks in the world.

Mom wouldn't leave, no matter what I said. And I gotta admit, I didn't try too hard to run her off. She stayed sitting by my bed, just like she had when I'd gotten sick as a child. I'd start to doze, and start to whimper in my sleep, and she'd wake me up. We were both pretty tired, come morning.

I got up and took another shower.

When I came down stairs, Honoria was in the kitchen, on the phone. I wouldn't have known, but she was talking kind of loud. That told me it was probably long distance.

"...suh-suh-screaming, Ch-charles. Whuh-what happened?" She paused, and I felt like a pit was opening up at my feet. "All ruh-right, I cah-can respect that. But he nuh-needs help, badly. Isn't there anyone who muh-might be able tuh-to..."

I left the room. I was afraid I'd say something mean to Honoria, and I knew she was just trying to help. I went out to the barn, and started working again. I didn't bother with breakfast, or lunch. That's probably why I fainted. Luckily I was in the house, and not standing at the top of the stairs, or anything. I came to sitting against the refrigeratio, with Honoria pushing a glass of orange juice against my lips, muttering mostly to herself.

"The very idea! Starving yourself, Walter! Are you tuh-trying to punish your poor mother? She's already lost Ed, are you going to make her lose you, too?"

"Hey," I said mildly. "You're not stuttering hardly at all."

"I'm angry!" she snapped. "For suh-some ungodly reason it gets better when I'm angry."

"What did I do?"

"Walter!" She shoved at my shoulder in exasperation.

"You talked to Charles." She hesitated, then lifted her chin and nodded. "What did he tell you?"

"Only that you were hurt deeply, in the spirit as well as the buh-body. I asked him what we could do, and he didn't know."

But there was a look in her eyes that told me she might not be telling me everything. "What are you up to, Honoria?"

"Me, Walter?" She smiled angelically, but an angel that looked as devious as she did right then would probably have been booted out of heaven. Well, there wasn't anything I could do about it right then. To keep her happy (and to put a little more starch in my knees and backbone) I ate a sandwich. I managed to keep it down, this time.

She wouldn't let me go back to pitching hay, so I settled for tending the three cows. I checked and trimmed their hooves, took off a couple of inches of horn where they'd started to grow out, and gave them a good brushing down. That seemed to surprise them, but they liked it. And it helped me, some. I guess that was kind of a little like how the doctors must feel, taking care of someone who, at least for a little while, can't take care of themselves. It's a nice feeling. I wonder now why I didn't realize then that I was denying that privilege to my friends and family.

Part Nineteen: Surprise

I managed to eat supper. It was killing me. I love my Mom's cooking, and she was trying., fixing everything she knew I liked. I made it through two plates, and a chunk of her coconut cake. Then I went for a walk, because I knew that if I threw up in the upstairs bath, she'd hear me. Out behind the barn, I lost everything I'd taken in.

I didn't dare stay out too long, because I knew that Honoria, or Mom, or most likely both of them, would come looking for me. As it was, they were both sitting on the front porch when I returned. I couldn't look at those sad, concerned faces. I just trudged up the stairs and walked past them, into the house.

Behind me, I heard my Mom start crying, and Honoria murmuring to her quietly. "It's all right, dear. I've cuh-called for help."

I burst back out onto the porch, the screen door banging against the wall with the force of my shove. Both of the women gasped, shocked. "What did you do?" I had thought I was going to shout. I was surprised when it came out low, almost pleading.

Honoria was white faced, but she looked me in the eye. "It was for your own guh-good, Walter. You need help."

"Who did you call, Honoria? Some doctor? It won't do any good. I'm not going to talk to him, either."

"There has tuh-to be someone who can get through to you, Walter. I'm not guh-going to stop until I find them."

"Please, son." It broke my heart to hear the tears in my mother's voice. "I can see that you're hurting, and I don't know what to do to make you feel better."

"Has it occurred to either of you that sometimes... sometimes things can't be made better? Sometimes they just have to be endured? I'm trying to do that. Please, I don't need someone else poking at my wounds right now. Honoria, whoever it is, call them and tell them not to come."

"I cuh-can't d-do that, Walter. In any cuh-c-case, I'm pretty sure it would be too late."

"I won't talk to them."

"That's your duh-decision. But you must be the one to send them away. I wuh-won't, and I wuh-won't let your mother."

I went back into the house. As I stomped down the hall toward the stairs, I heard Honoria again. "He duh-doesn't mean it, dear. That isn't ruh-really Walter talking, it's whatever is eating at him."

I wanted to go out and hug Mom, apologize and tell her everything would be all right. But I've never been good at lying to her.

I couldn't sleep, of course. At least that night I had something to puzzle over. Who had Honoria called? Charles, I knew. She'd admitted that much to me. Who else was there? Colonel Potter? Why? He didn't know what happened, not really. And there wasn't anything he could do, way over there in Korea. Anyone else involved in what had happened was still overseas. I spent the night sitting propped against my headboard, with the lamp on my desk on. I didn't want the dark, not even in the familiar comfort of my own room.

At breakfast, I forced myself to drink some milk, but I just looked at the rest of the food that Honoria had prepared, then went out to sit on the porch. I didn't have the energy to do much of anything else. At least they left me alone that morning.

It was getting on for noon when, out in the distance, I saw a car turn off the main road. There was just two places on this dirt road, and it went past the turn off for the Hooker farm. That meant it was coming here. I gripped the arms of the rocking chair and watched it draw closer.

That would be whoever Honoria had called. I decided it would be only polite to let them get out of the car and stretch their legs for a little, maybe have a cup of coffee before turning around and leaving again.

I was a little surprised to recognize old man Tupper's truck. He was sort of the unofficial taxi in the area, since we didn't have a regular service. He pulled up into the yard, and I stood up, coming down the porch steps. The sun was behind me, glaring on the windshield, and I couldn't see who was in the cab. The passenger door opened, and a tall, straight figure stepped out and stood there a moment, looking toward me before shutting the door.

I was suddenly dizzy, and my stomach dropped, just like when you go over the top of the highest rise on a roller coaster and start toward the bottom. All at once everything seemed to be rushing up at me, just that fast.

I had time to say,"Ray?" before I hit the ground.

I came to with my head in someone’s lap. I knew it wasn’t Mom. Number one, there were pants instead of an apron. Number two, Mom never had thighs that firm, not even when she was a teenager.

I didn’t want to open my eyes, because I figured this had to be a dream, and I wasn’t ready to wake up. But something cool and wet was patting me on the face, and I finally gave in. At first I couldn’t see the face of the person holding me too clearly. Sun still in my eyes, ya know. Then he bent down, hiding the sun behind his head, and taking up my whole field of vision. And it seemed so normal, so right. All I could see was Ray, and that was how it should be.

His eyes were worried, but he smiled at me. "You back with us, Sleeping Beauty?" He folded the wet cloth he’d been using to pat my face, and laid it across my forehead.

"More like one of the seven dwarves," I muttered sheepishly. "Hi, Ray."

"Hi, yourself. Yeah, from what Honoria told me over the phone, Grumpy might be an appropriate name."

Honoria knelt down beside us, and offered a glass of water to Ray. "Here." As Ray put an arm under my back and lifted me into a sitting position, putting the glass to my lips, she said, "Charles said you had mentioned Ruh-Ray, Walter. He said you wuh-were guh-good friends. I duh-didn’t know who else to tuh-try."

"You did right, Honoria, and I thank you." Ray wouldn’t take the glass away till I’d drunk half the water, then he handed it back to Honoria.

"You’re not gonna burp me, are ya?"

He smiled, but his eyes were still serious. "No, baby boy. But I might spank you if you keep acting foolish. Can you stand up if I help you?"

"Sure. I’m all right."

His arm tightened around me. "No, you’re not, Walter. But you’re going to be." Ray helped me up. I tried not to cling to him too obviously, because Honoria was right there, and my Mom was up on the porch, watching. But it was hard. All I wanted to do was climb into his arms and let him hold me.

We got to the porch, and Mom took my other arm. Between them, they got me up the steps. At the top, Ray maneuvered me into a chair, then offered his hand to Mom. "Mrs. O’Reilly. I’ve heard a lot about you. I almost feel as if I know you."

Mom ignored his hand, giving him a hug. "Thank God you came, Ray. I don’t know what to do with him. He’s hurting so much." She felt as if she knew Ray as well. I’d never told her how intimate our relationship was, but from my constant mention of him in my letters home, she knew he was special to me.

Ray patted her, then pushed he away a little. "I’m going to take him up to his bed. Why don’t you see if you can scrounge up some soup and strong tea for him? I think he’ll be able to keep those down."

That was the way to handle Mom. Give her something to do, caring for someone else, and she forgot about herself. She almost trotted to the kitchen. Ray called, "Honoria, he’s upstairs? You’d better help me. I don’t want to risk dropping him."

As we started up the stairs, one on each side of me, I protested, "I told you, I can walk."

"And we had a lovely demonstration outside of how steady you are on your feet. Shut up, baby boy, and let me take care of you." Up in my room, Ray said, "You better go now, Honoria. I’m not putting him to bed fully dressed, and from what I hear of your brother, he might challenge me to a duel for exposing you to an unclothed male form." She laughed, and went out.

When she was gone, Ray turned back to me. Before I could say anything, he pulled me into his arms for a full embrace, bent down, and kissed me. This time there was no passion in the kiss. It was gentle and questioning. When our lips parted, I put my head down on his chest and cried.

We moved at some point. I found myself sitting with him on the bed. We had our arms around each other, and I was soaking his shirt. I could hardly talk through the hitching, but I tried to apologize for my soppiness. He just rocked me and whispered, "No. This is good, Walter. Tears heal. You haven’t cried before, have you?" I shook my head, scrubbing my face against him. I hadn’t, not since Flagg had finished with me. The tears had just sort of dried up.

When I was cried out, reduced to sniffles and hiccups, he undressed me and put me in the bed. My Mom came in with a tray just as he was pulling the sheet up. She set it on my dresser, looking at me anxiously. "How is he?"

"Mom, I’m right here, and I’m not unconscious, okay? Geez, I’m not five years old anymore, either."

"Walter, be nice." Ray said sternly.

I winced. "Sorry, Ma."

She came over and kissed my forehead. "It’s all right, baby. You think a mother doesn’t know her child gets snappish when he’s not well? You just talk to Ray, and do whatever he says. For me?"

"I’ll try, Ma."

She kissed me again, and Ray walked her to the hall door. "I’m going to try to get him to sleep, Mrs. O’Reilly."

"I’d like to have a talk with you, when you do."

"I’d rather not leave him right now."

"I’ll bring up a chair, and we can sit in the hall with the door open."

"That would be fine." I saw him put his hand on her shoulder. "I’m going to take care of him for you."

Her shoulders slumped tiredly, and for the first time I realized that Mom wasn’t a young woman anymore. "Thank you."

She left, and Ray shut the door quietly. He came back over and got the tray. "Sit up, kiddo." I propped myself up with my pillow, and he unfolded the tray legs and set it across my lap. "Eat that. All of it."

I picked up the spoon, then set it down again, feeling queasy. "I don’t think I can."

"One of the reasons you’re feeling nauseous is that your belly is no longer used to having food in it. Eat some slowly, and give it a chance to readjust." When I hesitated he said quietly, "Walter, I will take that spoon away from you and feed you if you don’t."

I muttered something about bossy people trying to run a person’s life, and took a few sips of the soup. It was Mom’s cream of tomato, and all of a sudden I was hungry. It wasn’t a chore to finish it. I even broke manners and tilted the bowl to get the last spoonful.

"And the tea," Ray ordered. "Drink up. Millions and millions of Chinamen can’t be wrong."

For a moment, he went a little odd. When he said that, a puzzled look flitted over his face, like he was trying to remember something that was hovering in the dark corners of his mind. Then he shook his head, and it was gone. I was too pre-occupied with my own troubles to notice it much then, but it would come back to haunt me later.

Part Twenty: Acceptance

The blank look only lasted for a second. Then he blinked, and turned his attention back to me. Sitting down beside me, he said, "Now, you want to tell me what it is that has you so upset that you sick up your Mom's food?" I shook my head. "How about what has you getting the screaming horrors at night? I haven't slept next to you often, Walter, but when I did you were like a little log. You didn't move except to breath."

"I don't know. It was just a dream."

"You're not looking at me, Walter."

"Yes, I am."

"No, you're not. You're looking over my shoulder. I've never really seen you try to evade looking me in the eyes. Tell me what's wrong."

I took a deep breath and looked into his face. "Nothing. Promise. Just... just the war."

He studied me. "Why are you lying to me, Walter?" There was no accusation in his tone, only concern.

I crossed my arms and scowled. "Boy, that's insulting! Just see a fella after months and months, and you go and accuse him of lying."

"It's not working, Walter."

"What isn't working?"

"The indignant act. I'm not going to back down."

I wilted back against the pillow. "I just can't talk about it, Ray. Honest, I'm not trying to be difficult. It's just... hard."

"I'll give you a little while to think about it, baby. But you're going to have to tell me sometime."

"Why?"

He leaned forward, running his hand through my hair, and kissed me gently. "Because I love you, and I want to take care of you, and you have to let me. You have to."

I closed my eyes. "I know. But Ray, there's nothing you can do about this, believe me. Just let it rest. I'll get over it eventually, now that you're here."

"That's not good enough."

"It's going to have to be."

"Look at me." I opened my eyes and looked into his. He searched me, frowning. "You mean that, don't you? Why, Walter? What is it that you don't feel you can tell me?" I was silent. "I'm not going to believe it's some deep dark secret, like you robbed Father Mulcahey's poor box before you left, or you got a Korean girl knocked up, or you killed a man. I can't think of anything else you might think was serious enough..." He went silent. Looking down at his hands, he said in a low voice, "Walter, if it's because you... were with someone else... I can live with that."

"Well, I can't." My voice was sharp, and he looked up quickly. Something must have shown on my face, because he reached to take me in his arms. But this time I pulled away. I saw the hurt in his eyes, but what else could I do? If I'd been with someone else. Yes, I'd been with someone else, but not by choice. "I can't, Ray. Not now. Not yet."

"All right." he said quietly. He got up, and went to the door, taking the chair from my desk with him. He cut off the light, and I went stiff in the bed. "Walter, I'm going to be right outside your door, do you hear? If anything frightens you, a dream, anything, I'm right here. Okay?"

"Okay." I didn't sound too sure.

"Try to sleep. Your Mom wants to have a talk with me, then I'm going to be sleeping in here. That bed is big enough for two."

"Ray! My Mom..."

"Baby boy, nothing has to happen if you don't want it to. Can't you understand that it'll be enough for me just to hold on to you? Now, get some sleep." He shut the door. It was dark, except for the bit of light that seeped in around the door.

I laid there, staring up at the ceiling. Ray was going to have a talk with Ma. Oh, boy. There was no way I could go to sleep.

Ray's POV

She was just coming up the stairs, dragging a straight back chair. I hurried over and took it from her. "You should have let me do that," I scolded "What good is it having a man in the house if you don't let him do the heavy lifting." I sat the chair beside the one I had taken from Walter's room, holding it for her while she sat down.

She sighed heavily as I sat, also. "Thank you, dear. I'm just so tired these last few days, and it's all nothing but nerves. Between Honoria and the neighbors, the farm has been running like a top, and I haven't had to do as much as I usually do, but what with Ed, and then Walter..."

She trailed off. I just nodded. I was waiting to see what direction this talk was going to take.

At last she smiled at me. "I saw you arrive, from the upstairs window. I would have known who you were, even if I hadn't known you were coming."

I smiled. "I'm famous?"

"As far as Walter is concerned, you are. Oh, you should have read his letters back home. Lots about all his friends at the MASH, but it was just Ray this and Ray that. Pages. I was so glad he'd found someone to be close to over there. My boy needs closeness. He can be a tough little thing, but..." She bit her lip, looking away.

"I worried about him, even before he went off to boot camp. Ray, out here, people pair up early in life. Some of his friends were married even before they got out of highschool, most of them are married now. But Walter... Walter just never settled on anyone. And I knew he wanted to. I also knew he wouldn't be going out and meeting new people and dating while he was away from home. He's always been a little shy about that. That's why I was so glad when he wrote that he had a new friend."

I stayed very quiet. I was getting the impression that this simple Iowa farm woman was a lot more perceptive than most people would have given her credit for, even her son. My suspicions were confirmed when she looked at me and said quietly, "It's all right, you know."

"What's all right, Mrs. O'Reilly?"

She smiled, as if amused that I was being obtuse. "I suppose one of us has to come right out and say it, and it might as well be me. You and Walter, Ray. It's all right." I looked down. My hands were clenched on my thighs. I felt her touch my arm, and looked up at her quickly, looking into eyes that were so like my Walter's. "As long as you love him. You do love him, don't you, Ray?"

I nodded, feeling a sweep of relief that I didn't have to hide it from her. "Yes ma'am. More than I can say."

She sighed again. "Good. Because if you were just trifling with him, I would have had to kick your patootie for you."

I laughed. "Oh, and I bet you would, too!"

"Yes, bet on that. It's a sure thing. He's my baby. Any way, he's not the first person in this family to be a little unconventional in their love life." Her eyes teared up, but she didn't cry. "His Uncle Ed and I... I loved Walter's father, there's no question of that. When I lost him, and Walter just a baby, I was so alone. His brother, Ed, was such a rock for me, always there. And, eventually, it just... happened. No one saw anything wrong with Ed staying on the family spread and helping his brother's widow, raising his brother's child, but if we had actually been together publically... It might not have been easy. So..." She patted my hand. "I know a little bit about what you're going through. Just a little bit. And I'm not going to be part of the problem. I wanted you to know that."

I couldn't help it. I leaned over and kissed her cheek. She smelled of talcum powder, and the dish soap she'd used to wash up. I couldn't help comparing how my mother usually smelled: expensive perfume warring with the smells of her last cocktail and cigarette. "Mrs. O'Reilly, I think you're part of the solution. If we could just figure out how to reproduce you, this world would be a better place."

She said, "Pshaw!" She's the only person in the world I've met who actually says 'Pshaw.' Except maybe Walter. She gave my shoulder a little push. "Look Ray, if Walter had ever brought home a special girl, I would have told her to call me Ma or Mom. You do that, too."

All I had ever called my mother was 'Mother'. She would have probably had a fit if I'd ever called her 'Ma'. "I'd like that, Mom."

Now she looked back at the door to Walter's room. "Ray, our boy is hurting something awful, and I don't know what to do. It's killing me to see him like this." I nodded grimly. "He won't talk to me, and I can understand it. His daddy and his Uncle Ed were the same way: stubborn as mules when it came to their own hurt. I swear, the O'Reilly men will stand there with their arm half cut off and ask you politely for a band-aid, if it wouldn't be too much trouble." I chuckled at the image. Yeah, I could imagine that.

"He won't tell me, because he doesn't want to hurt me. But it may be different with you, Ray. He'll want to protect you, too, but you're a man. There are some things a man can't tell a woman, but he can tell another man. Please, do what you can."

"I will." We stood up, and we hugged. Her head hardly came up to my chest. "You go on to bed. Leave that chair here, I'll take it down in the morning."

She started down the hall, then paused. "Ray?"

"Yes?"

"I... uh... I don't know exactly how to say this."

She was blushing. What now? "Just spit it out."

"Well, if you and Walter... If you boys should need..." She cleared her throat. "In Ed's room, in the night stand."

I suddenly understood what she was trying to tell me, and I smiled. "It's all right. The need probably won't be there for a while, the state he's in. But if it happens, I brought my own."

She turned scarlet, but just said, "I'm glad to know you're a responsible man," and hurried off.

"Oh, Walter," I murmured. "I love my mother-in-law."

Radar's POV

The talk didn't last all that long. I was tempted to get up and put my ear against the door. Heck, it isn't like I haven't done it before at the MASH. But somehow I had the feeling that Ray would be a lot more observant than Henry Blake had been, and might catch me.

I shut my eyes real quick when the door opened again. I heard the door close, and footsteps come to the bed. Then there was the rustle of clothes. After a minute, the sheet lifted, and I felt Ray climb in beside me.

The mattress sank on his side, and he shifted, getting comfortable. I didn't intend to lay against him, honest. But he's heavier than I am, and the mattress was lower on his side, and I... kinda ended up plastered against him. He turned on his side, and I heard him whisper, "If you're asleep, I'm Eleanor Roosevelt."

"G'night, Eleanor."

"Smart ass."

His arm went over my waist, and I opened my eyes to look at him. That's one of the most beautiful sights in the world: Ray's face, close-up. "What did Mom have to say?"

He smiled. "You don't have to be anxious about her finding out about us, baby boy. She already knows."

"What? How?"

"Well, apparently you gushed in your letters, and Mom can add two and two and get four."

"I didn't hear any yelling."

"No yelling. She's fine with it." He thought for a minute. "Though I guess she's a little disappointed I can't give you children." He sighed, putting a hand dramatically to his forehead. "Alas, I am barren."

I shoved him. "Who's the smart ass?"

"Guess it's a good thing we can't have kids, or they'd get a double dose of smart ass, and be impossible for anyone but us to live with."

I turned to face him. "It's a shame. You'd have beautiful kids."

His expression clouded. "I don't think I'll ever risk it, Walter. Sometimes traits skip a generation. I don't want to risk my mother's tendencies getting passed on."

"Ray, what is it with her? Why do you hate her so much? Did she beat you?"

"No, Walter. Nothing physical. Alternating being ignored and being smothered was the most of it. I didn't need to be the only thing in her life, but I did need to be important, and I wasn't. She didn't have any real use for me, except as a social asset. A well-bred, single young man is at a premium in her social circle. And, of course, when I came back from the war, I could be used to promote her husband. I'm sick unto death of them both. I didn't go home to Boston, I went to New York instead, and she almost had a stroke."

"Gee, Ray, that's too bad. I mean, I'm happy you're making a new start and all, but you seemed awful fond of Boston."

He sighed. "I am. I just had to get away from her for awhile. I'll be back there soon. I just can't stay away. Besides," He gave me a squeeze. "I promised I'd show it to you, remember?"

I remembered. It had been while we were sitting side by side on the narrow bench in the tiny sauna at the Tokyo bath house. Just before I leaned over and started sucking Ray off. The memory gave me a tingle. Both a sexual one, and an emotional one. Ray had said he wanted me with him back home.

I nuzzled against his neck, hearing his breathing start to speed up. I whispered, "Ray? You wanna do something?"

He tipped my face up and kissed me softly. "I always want to do something with you, kid. But we're both tired right now. Maybe just..." I felt his hand settle on my belly, then slide down. At the same time he took my hand and pulled it over, settling it against the front of his boxers.

"Yeah, this is fine," I whispered as he pushed his hand under my waistband. I felt his fingers close around my cock, and closed my eyes. Ray was right, I was tired, more tired than I could remember being for a long time. But I wanted this, I needed it.

I had been worried that I might not be able to get it up, and would insult him, but that wasn't a problem. Ray knew me too well. His hand moved, gently and slowly, and I started to get hard. His voice was amused. "Walter, are you just going to hold it, or are you going to do something with it?"

"Oh. Sorry." I pushed my hand through the slit in front, finding him already half hard. "You have a head start on me."

"That's because you're so damn sexy, even when you're half dead with exhaustion."

My fingers found the dribble of pre-come oozing from the slit in his cock head, and I spread it around, and down. "Mm. Is it the typing that gave you such clever hands, Walter?"

"Milking cows."

He burst out laughing, but he was getting harder, even as his body shook. So was I. Ray's hand moved more quickly now. With his other, he reached down and took hold of my balls, rolling them in my scrotum. I started thrusting into his hand. "Does it feel good, baby?"

"Yes, Ray. So good. I just wish you'd fuck me."

He kissed me again. "You're too tired, baby boy. But I can give you more." He stopped jerking me off long enough to pull down my underwear. I didn't stop working him, though. "You know, you're an awful distraction. Don't stop."

He started jerking me again with his left hand. He stuck two fingers in his mouth for a second, sucking on them, then smeared them over my cock head, coating them with the pre-seminal fluid. "Bend you knee so I can reach through."

I bent my knee, putting my foot flat on the bed. Ray reached between my legs, and probed into the crease of my ass, searching. I used my free hand to pull one cheek aside to give him easier access. His finger wandered up and down a moment, then I felt it come to rest against my anus.

"Stick it in, Ray," I breathed. "Please." He pressed, and I felt his finger slide into me slowly. I had braced a little, expecting pain, especially after the way Flagg had torn me up. But there was only a slight ache, and that seemed to accentuate my pleasure. Ray started to move it in and out.

I couldn't take it anymore. I knew I was supposed to be taking it easy, but I just couldn't help it. I grabbed Ray's hand to hold it in place, and crawled over his body, starting to thrust myself against him.

He made a surprised sound, but he reached up and kissed me. "Yeah, go on, Walter. Take me."

I don't know how it is in other relationships between guys. I've heard since I met Ray that 'ya either pitch, or ya catch'. Well, that's not the way it is with us. Most of the time I bottom, but I get to feeling aggressive sometimes, and that's always fine with Ray. I kinda feel anyone who isn't open to switching around is limiting himself.

I rocked against Ray, humping our crotches together quickly and firmly. He was hard as a rock, and leaking a steady stream of warm fluid that painted my belly and thighs as I moved. When he pushed up to meet me, bearing down at the same time with his hand, sliding his finger over my prostate, I came, jerking and whimpering.

I was more tired than I though, 'cause I couldn't do anything else but lay there while he finished himself off, pushing up against me, plunging his finger in and out of my hole. He shuddered, and I felt him spurt against me. He gave my prostate one last, loving stroke, and pulled out.

Ray used his underwear to wipe us clean, dropping it on the floor. "Gotta remember to rinse that out in the morning." We settled back down in each others arm. "Are you going to be able to sleep?"

"I think so. As long as you're here."

"I'm not going anywhere."

I had almost drifted off, when I heard him chuckle. "What?"

"I was just thinking."

"Tell me. I can use all the laughs I can get."

"I was just thinking that after that performance, I wouldn't be surprised if someday, far in the future, we shock the hospital employees by having sex on our death beds."

I yawned. "Or maybe one of us will shock the mortician." I fell asleep listening to his laughter.

Part Twenty-one: Revelation

I slept like the dead. That's a funny expression. These days they tell you when someone dies, don't tell the kids that they've gone to sleep. They say it can make 'em afraid to go to sleep, 'cause they think they might never wake up again. That'd be rough, 'cause you need sleep. I mean, beside just for the rest.

See, sleep is when the top part of your brain shuts down, and the bottom part can come out and get a little exercise. You know what I mean, all those things that you think about without really knowing that you're thinking about them build up, and they have to get out. If they don't, they can just about make you sick.

It's worse when you've got some really bad stuff in your bottom brain. It needs to get out, or it can sort of poison you, give your awake mind trouble. But it just hurts so much, and it's so scary to let it out. Sometimes, though, you don't have any choice.

That night, even while I was asleep, I managed to keep the lid clamped down on the monsters that were in my bottom brain. I was with Ray, I wanted to be happy. I wasn't lettin' 'em out. I didn't know that it was sort of like clamping the lid down on a pressure cooker and not venting the steam every now and then. You do that, you're headed for an explosion.

Sunlight was filtering through my blinds when I yawned and opened my eyes. I watched it flickering on the ceiling for a minute. I could feel Ray next to me, big and solid, and I wasn't in a hurry to move. I felt safe for pretty much the first time since Flagg had just appeared behind me in Henry's office.

I didn't want to wake Ray up, but I found out that wasn't a problem when he leaned over and kissed me on the forehead, whispering, "Morning, glory."

I stretched and rolled toward him, throwing an arm over his waist and resting my face on his bare chest. He was half sitting up, propped by his pillow. "How long you been awake?"

"Not long."

"Why didn't you get up? What've you been doing?"

"Just watching you sleep. You look about, oh, fourteen when you're asleep. Makes me feel positively wicked for the thoughts I have."

"Yeah?" I rubbed against his leg, and he laughed. I was hard.

"I would be flattered, but I think that's your bladder talking to you, son."

"I s'pose so. But after I pee..."

He kissed me again. "You'll go down to breakfast, and eat enough to make your mother happy. We'll see about later."

I sighed, rubbing against him one more time. "You don't want to?"

He caressed my throat, his eyes soft. "Baby, I always want to. But there are people stirring, and your Mom is going to be expecting us at the table in a little while. Be good."

"All right. If you kiss me."

He kissed me gently, touching his lips to mine with aching tenderness, then swatted me on the rump. "Go on."

I got into my robe and went to the bathroom. My hard-on did go away after I peed. Sometimes it's just nature's way of telling you it's time to take a leak. By the time I got back to the room, Ray was coming out, already dressed. "I kind of wanted to watch you get dressed," I complained.

He rubbed my head. "Couldn't risk it. It gets me too hot. Hurry up, slowpoke." He trotted down the stairs as I went into my room to dress. Mom, Ray, Honoria: everyone was in the kitchen when I came down. They all watched me as I poured myself a cup of coffee. It can be kind of disconcerting to be the focus of that much attention, even when it is loving.

I sat down and sipped, and finally said, "I'm not gonna faint or anything, you know."

They relaxed a little. Mom put a plate of food in front of me, and I dug in with the first real enthusiasm I'd shown since I came home. She almost glowed.

It was a lazy morning. We all just sat in the kitchen for a couple of hours after breakfast, talking. I didn't talk much, I just sat by Ray and let it wash over me. Every now and then he'd squeeze my knee under the table. If Mom and Honoria noticed, they didn't say anything.

I could tell that Mom and Ray liked each other, and I was so relieved. I was a little ashamed of myself for not telling her. I mean, I should have known that she'd be good about it, as much as she loves me. Finally Ray went to the bathroom, and Honoria went out to the hen yard to see if she could scrounge up some more eggs. She said she wanted to make something called a keesh, or something like that, for lunch.

I sat there across from Mom, not saying anything for a little while. Finally, not looking at her, I said, "Ray... Ray says that you know about him and me."

"Yes, dear."

"I'm sorry, Mom. I know you wanted grandkids, and all that."

"Walter, there are plenty of babies in this world for me to spoil. I'll be all right. I just want to know one thing: does he make you happy?"

I looked up at her quickly. "Oh, yes, Mom! So happy."

"That's what matters. All I've ever wanted was for you to have someone to love you like you deserve to be loved. And Ray is a fine man. You two will take good care of each other."

I ducked my head again. "I don't know what we're gonna do. I've got the farm out here, and Ray's got a job in New York, and he really loves Boston."

"True love's course is seldom smooth, but things have a way of working out, Walter. Nothing has to be decided right now. You two just take your time and get reacquainted with each other. You get well, and then you can think about what you need to do."

Honoria came into the kitchen, her skirts cradling about a dozen eggs. "My those hens have out duh-done themselves. Walter, the cows were making an awful ruckus."

I jumped up. "Holy moley! I didn't milk them last night or this morning! They're gonna bust!"

"No, no. I did it, dear." Mom assured me. "Heaven's, as many years as I've lived on this farm, you don't think I'd let the poor beasts suffer, do you? But I expect they're hungry. The hay was getting pretty low in their mangers last night."

"I better go pitch some to them right away. Poor old girls. I should be ashamed of myself, neglecting them."

Ray had strolled through the door, and he cocked an eyebrow. "What's this about your neglecting girls?" He asked archly.

"Get that look off your face. Daisy, Henrietta, and Beulah."

Ray winced. "Ouch. I hope those are cows you're talking about, because I'd hate to think of some poor girls burdened with those names."

"Smart alec. Yeah, I gotta go pitch down some hay right now."

"Terrific. I'll come along. I've never seen a hay loft before."

As we went out, I said, "You're kidding, right? Never been in a hay loft?"

"I'm a city boy, Walter. My mother's idea of a rural vacation was going to a resort in the Catskills and enrolling me in tennis lessons."

"You'll like it."

Honoria was right, the cows really were making a ruckus. I could hear them lowing and bellowing a long way before we got to the barn. As we went in, their volume increased. "Okay, all right, I know, I know! I'm sorry. Breakfast right away, ladies. Over here, Ray."

I went up the ladder, and he followed right behind. We went through the hole in the barn ceiling, and emerged into the hay loft. It was a big room that spanned the entire area of the barn below us. The big doors in the front, where the bales of hay were loaded in, were closed, but there were a couple of glassless windows along the side left unshuttered to allow the breeze to blow through. The room was sort of half dim, the sunlight making a glow that showed off dancing dust motes. The air was thick with the sweet scent of good, dry hay.

Bales were stored around the walls. The neighbors and Uncle Ed had been doing all right in my absence: there was plenty of hay for the cows. A couple of the bales were already loosened into a big, fragrant pile. I got the pitchfork off the wall and started shoveling it down through the open spot in the floor. If I aimed carefully, I could dump it right into the manger that ran through each of the stalls, so I worked carefully. Almost at once the pitiful mooing stopped, and I could hear the stamp of hooves, and the muted chomping as the girls had breakfast.

Ray walked around while I worked, just checking things out. We had a lot of old hand tools for harvesting hanging on the wall. They aren't used now, what with John Deere and all that. Still, Uncle Ed kept them all in perfect shape. He said you never could tell when something was going to break down, and we might as well be prepared, so the scythe and the half-moon sickles hanging on the wall were all gleaming and razor sharp.

I finished and went to hang the pitchfork up near Ray, and he indicated the tools. "If we ever have a siege here, there are plenty of weapons."

I shuddered. "Ick! Don't even kid about that, Ray. I saw a guy slice his leg open with one of those once. He was just fooling around, and it slipped. He nearly lost his leg. Uncle Ed said that's what you get for playing around with tools."

"He sounds like he was a smart man. Wish I could have met him."

"You would have liked each other." I smiled in fond memory. "You ever bet on the horses, Ray? Uncle Ed liked that."

"I've been known to lay a wager or two."

"I used to help him pick horses."

"What was your method? Did you analyze their records, or did you go by their name?"

He was teasing me. I thought that maybe it was time to tell him about my... uh... what I can do. "I just knew, sometimes. Not all the time, though. I... I know things, sometimes."

"Yeah? Like what?"

"Like I always knew when the choppers with wounded were coming before anyone else could hear them. And I knew what Colonel Blake and Colonel Potter was going to want before they said it. I'm really good at finding things."

He studied me, his smile not exactly fading, just going thoughtful. "You mean this, don't you?"

I nodded. "It doesn't work all the time. I think maybe if it's too close to me, it makes it harder. Look how long it took me to realize you were interested in me."

Ray laughed. "Yeah. I had to practically climb on your lap and stick my tongue down your throat, didn't I?"

"I can show you, a little. You saw that tortoiseshell cat down in the barn? It was going out as we came in."

"Yeah, I saw it. Pretty cat, but kind of skinny."

"That was Molly, and she's skinny cause she just had babies. They're up here somewhere. Stand right here, and tell me if you can tell where they are."

Ray turned around slowly, eyes carefully scanning every inch of the loft. He took his time. Finally he turned back to me, shaking his head. "Impossible. Too many nooks and crannies, too dark."

"Now watch." I turned in a slow circle, ending up facing one of the piles of hay off in a far corner. I could almost feel the new life hidden there: small and bright. I walked directly to it, Ray trailing me. When I got to the pile, I walked around it once. Then I stepped into it carefully, two steps, the hay coming up over my knees. "C'mere, but be careful." He waded in and stood next to me. I started to reach down into the hay, hesitated, and moved over another foot, then carefully lifted an armload of hay away.

There was a little nest hollowed out in the hay, the soft strands packed down. Nestled in it were three tiny balls of fur. "Well, I'll be damned." Ray's voice was soft.

I reached down and stroked each kitten with my fingertip, running it along the beadwork of their spines, feeling how silky their fur was. "Their only about three days old. Two boys and a girl."

"Walter, how can you tell? You haven't even looked under their tails, and at that age it's not easy even for a vet to tell."

"I just know."

Ray was looking at me intently. "I'll be damned if I don't believe you. You're amazing, Walter."

I shrugged. "It's not so much. Like I said, it isn't all the time." My face darkened. "Sometimes it slips on real important stuff."

"Like your Uncle Ed?"

I'd been thinking about Flagg. Why hadn't my special senses warned me about him? Well, they HAD. I'd known from the moment I saw him that he was bad news, and I'd had a feeling that something bad was going to happen, but if it had just been a little more specific...

I couldn't tell Ray this, so I nodded. "Yeah, about Uncle Ed." I carefully covered the kittens up again. "Molly's a good cat, but she might get kinda nervous if she found us messing with her kittens." We waded back out of the hay, and started for the ladder.

We didn't make it there. We were passing another pile of hay, and Ray suddenly grabbed me around the waist and threw me into it bodily, then dived in after me. It was piled up loose, and I sank in it till I was almost covered. I fought my way back up, laughing. "What the heck are you doing?"

"I always wanted a roll in the hay." He pounced.

We rolled, and laughed, and wrestled. Ray had a little bit of an advantage, with his longer arms and legs, but I'm fast. He retaliated by finding a ticklish spot on my ribs, and I shrieked with laughter. He playfully clapped a hand over my mouth.

...and I lost it.

I'm not sure exactly what happened, but for a split second I wasn't in the loft anymore. I was on my cot in the radio room, and Flagg had his hand over my mouth and his knife against my face, and any moment know he was gonna start cutting my clothes away, and then...

I was screaming and thrashing, shoving at Ray in a panic. "No! I don't want to! Leave me alone!"

"Walter!" The voice was astonished, and somehow familiar. I didn't see the speaker, though. I didn't see much of anything. All I knew was that I was in danger, and I had to do something. "Calm down! What's wrong, babe?"

I managed to throw the weight that was pressing me down off. This time I wasn't going to just lay there and take it. This time I was going to kill either him or myself rather than let it happen again. I sensed something nearby I could use to defend myself. I'd never held a weapon before, aside from hunting quail with Uncle Ed, and doing target practice in the army, but I went for the deadliest thing withing reach. I snatched one of the half-moon sickles off it's hook and turned, slamming my back against the wall and raising it, ready to defend myself.

The room got very still and quiet. "Walter." He hadn't called me Walter. It was always O'Reilly or Corporal or Soldier. The voice came again. "Baby, put that down before you hurt yourself." It was very calm and controlled.

I shook my head, but that cleared it somewhat. I blinked, and looked around. Not night, not the radio room. I looked at the man standing before me. Not Flagg. Ray was watching me with apprehension, but it was almost overwhelmed by concern. Again he said quietly, "Walter, put it down. It's just me, you don't need that. I won't touch you if you don't want me to."

I looked down, and saw my hands fisted around the handle of the sickle, knuckles bleached white with strain. The dim sunlight glinted along the curve of the blade. It was beautiful, in a lethal sort of way. I looked back at Ray, and started to tremble. I could have killed him.

I carefully loosened my grip, and tossed the blade to the side, as far as I could without worrying about the throw going wild. Then I slowly slid down the wall till I was sitting against it. "I'm sorry."

He stepped toward me cautiously, then squatted in front of me. "Walter, sweetheart, you have to know that if you ever need me to stop, all you have to do is say so. I'd never touch you if you didn't want me to."

"It's not that, Ray. It's not you. I... He..." I held out my arms. "I need you to touch me."

Ray sat beside me, quickly pulling me into his arms, and I burrowed against his chest. I didn't cry, I just pressed there, shaking, letting him hold me.

Ray stroked my back soothingly. After a bit, he said, "You said 'he', Walter." I pretended like I didn't hear him, but I should have known that Ray wasn't going to let me get away with that. "You said 'he'. Someone did something to you, didn't they? What happened, baby? What did 'he' do to you?"

"Doesn't matter. It's over."

"I just had proof that it's damn sure not over. Tell me, Walter. Something is eating you alive. I love you, and I have a right to know, so I can help you fight it."

I couldn't tell him all of it, but I had to tell him something. "Korea, at the 4077th. It was after you went home. Somebody broke into my room one night." I fell silent, hoping it would be enough.

It wasn't. "Just a break in wouldn't scare you this much, kid. I know what a tough little rooster you can be. Wait a minute..." He put his hand under my chin, pushing my face up so he could look at me. His finger touched the faint pink line on my cheek, and his eyes darkened. "He cut you, didn't he? The son-of-a-bitch cut you!"

"It's okay. It probably won't even leave a scar." I was relieved. Let him believe it was the injury that had me in this state.

But Ray is a perceptive man. He continued to look into my eyes, and said softly. "What else did he do to you, Walter?" I could tell all the blood was draining out of my face, because I could feel it getting cold. I jerked my head away from Ray's grip, then buried my face against him again. Ray gripped me tight, starting to rock me, and he moaned, "Walter! What did he do?"

That's when I started to cry. "I didn't want to, Ray, I swear. I should've fought harder, but it hurt so bad." I could feel Ray trembling, his entire big body shaking, and I clung even tighter, babbling to explain, lest he think I was in any way comparing our love making to what had happened. "Not like with you. Only with you, I only ever want to do it with you. But he had a knife. I couldn't stop him. I wanted to, but I couldn't..."

Ray clutched me so tightly it was hard to breathe. He threw his head back, tears streaming down his face, and howled. In that moment, he wasn't the well-bred Boston Brahmin, he wasn't the sophisticated New Yorker, he wasn't even the crisp, efficient soldier. He was every savage who'd ever seen the one he loved hurt, humiliated, and violated, and he was screaming for blood.

Part Twenty-two: Background

I don't know how long we sat there. No one came looking for us, though I had been kinda worried after the noise that Ray had made. I thought that Honoria or Mom might have thought one of us had gotten hurt and come out to investigate. Well, one of us had gotten hurt. Both of us, actually, in different ways. But there wasn't anything either of the women could have done about it. I think they kinda knew that, and were wise enough to leave us alone together.

I hugged Ray, my face against his chest, saying, "It's gonna be all right, Ray. I'm better now, I'm getting better all the time. Please, don't cry."

He kept squeezing me. He pressed his face against the top of my head, and I felt his tears seeping down. His voice was choked. "Oh, God, baby. I wasn't there, I wasn't there."

"You didn't know. Nobody could have seen something like that coming, Ray." Oh, man. Now I'm lying to him. I sorta saw it coming, but I just couldn't get out of the way.

"Damn." Ray wiped away the tears with a clenched fist. "I'm the one who should be comforting you, Walter, and here I am: bawling like a baby."

"It's okay. It's kind of a shock, I know."

He sighed, "Oh, sweetheart." After a moment's silence, he said, "The doctors looked you over in Korea?"

"I... yeah. It... was kinda bad. But they took care of it. The stitches are probably gone now, they used some sort of disolving... Ray!" His grip had tightened again.

"I'm sorry, bably." He relaxed his grip a little. "You mean that they had to stitch you up?"

"Uh... yeah. He... It wasn't anything like what we do, Ray. He was pretty rough."

Ray swallowed hard. "Jesus. And I had sex with you last night. Walter, how could you stand it?"

I was shocked to hear what sounded like self-loathing in his voice. "No, Ray, you don't understand. Like I told you, it wasn't anything like with us. It... it wasn't love. It wasn't even really sex. It was just hurting." I touched his face. "And you'd never hurt me, not on purpose. I know that."

He took my hand and kissed it, then folded it against his chest. "Walter," his voice was gentle. "I want you to think very carefully. Are you sure that you don't know who it was?"

I stared at him. "Why?"

He stroked my hair, his voice soft and reasonable. "I have to kill him, baby. He can't be allowed to go on breathing after this."

"Ray, you're scarin' me."

"Am I? I don't mean to. But you see what I mean, don't you? I can't let him get away with it."

"No, Ray. This isn't anything you can solve like that. Even if I knew who it was, even if you could find him, do you think I'd want you to do that to yourself?"

"To myself? Walter, it's that scum who..."

"To yourself, Ray. You're not a secretive sort of person. People would find out, then what? You'd go to prison. Or maybe you'd go to the electric chair. I think they'd call it premeditated."

"I don't care, Walter."

"Well, I do!" I shook him fiercely. "I just got you, Ray. Do you think I want to lose you like that? I already lost you once, and I never thought I'd get you back, and that hurt enough."

"You're not going to lose me. Maybe... I won't kill him. But I need to know."

I stared at him. "Ray, I don't think you're deliberately lying to me. I think you honestly believe that you'd be able to restrain yourself. But I'm not so sure. Anyway," I looked away again. "It was dark. I didn't see who it was. That's the end of it."

"Maybe."

"I mean it, Ray."

"Maybe."

I sighed, and rested my head on his chest again. "I'm gonna have to ask Honoria if all people from Boston are this darn stubborn. You're not gonna tell Mom about this." It was a statement, not a request.

"No, I'm not. I'll just tell her that I'll be helping you."

"You do, Ray. You already have."

"Not enough, Walter. But I will. I'm going to do everything I can to help you get past this. But why didn't you tell me before?"

"I didn't want you to think..." I trailed off."

"No, Walter." He said quietly. "Tell me you didn't think this would make a difference in how I felt about you."

"Not really. But... I just didn't want you thinking about it when we were together. It would be like he was coming between us. I don't want that."

He stood up, pulling me to my feet. "We'd better go in before they send a search party after us."

"Okay."

We climbed down out of the loft. I was extra careful, because I was still feeling a little shaky. I don't know how much of it was emotional, and how much was left over from the time I wasn't taking care of myself. Ray put his arm around me as we walked back to the house, and for once I didn't worry about who might be watching, or what they might think. The only ones who would see were Mom and Honoria. I knew Mom would understand, and I thought Honoria would.

When we got into the house I said, "I think I'm gonna take a nap. I'm feeling a little tired."

"You do that, Baby Boy." Ray tousled my hair and pushed me toward the stairs.

I started up, then hesitated. "You wanna come with me?" I said shyly.

"In a couple of minutes. Go lay down."

I went up stairs and laid down. I knew what he was going to do. As much as I wanted him to leave it alone, he couldn't. He was going to call someone and try to find out more about what had happened to me. I didn't worry too much. I knew how hard it could be to get through to a MASH unit, even for Army Communications. And if he did get through, who would tell him? I'd never admitted it to any of them, and all they had was suspicions.

It was awhile when he came upstairs, and I knew right away that he hadn't found out anything. The frustration and anger was still simmering in the back of his eyes. He sat beside me on the bed, rubbing my belly, and I said quietly, "Who'd you talk to, Ray?"

He shook his head, smiling. "Can't fool you, can I?"

"Nope. No real point in trying."

"I suppose not. It was Honoria's brother, Charles."

"And what did he tell you?"

Raymond sighed. "Nothing at first. He kept saying that it was doctor-patient privilege, and I should talk to you. When I told him I knew about the rape he said that they didn't know who it was." He cocked his head, looking at me intently. "His actual phrasing was that you wouldn't tell them who it was."

I turned on my side, away from him. "You were right the first time."

"I don't think so, Walter." He laid his hand on my hip, and I closed my eyes. It was hard to deny him anything when he was touching me. He spoke slowly. "Maybe you don't know for sure, but I think you at least have an idea. Won't you tell me?"

I glanced back at him. "No. Ray, that's not something you can just accuse somebody of. It's too big, it's too dangerous."

He turned me back over, pulling me to him. "Kid, I'm not going to do anything. Not... not just fly off the handle anyway."

I hugged him, but I whispered. "I don't believe you."

He sighed, stroking my back. "All right. I see I'm going to have to go about this the hard way." He gripped my hair, gently pulling my head back and kissed me. "God, you're such a stubborn little cuss."

"Well, at least you know what you're gettin' into now."

Ray lay down beside me, pulling me on top of him, and I was happy to use him as a mattress. "Walter, I have to go back to New York tomorrow. Holborn Gaines, my new boss, is an understanding man, but the job is brand-new. I shouldn't take any more time off."

I felt a sinking in the pit of my stomach, but I said, "I understand."

Ray spread his legs, dropping me down between his thighs, and I made a woofing sound as our groins met. I could feel that he was already getting hard. "No, you don't understand." He began to undulate his hips, rubbing against me. "I want you to come with me."

I started to pull up off him, but he hooked his legs over mine, trapping me. "New York? But Ray, what about my Mom? The farm?"

He didn't stop moving, and pulled me back down. "Not forever, baby. Not this time. It's just that I don't want to leave you now. I talked with your Mom, and she agrees that you'd be better off with me for a little while. She's doing okay with the farm." He grinned. "She says Mr. Tupper is sweet on her, and he's bullying his son-in-laws to help out."

I was getting aroused now, but I couldn't help laughing. That was so like Mom. I started to move, too, pushing down to meet his upward thrusts. "What about your family?"

He groaned. "Walter, don't spoil the mood by bringing them up. They'll be in Boston, we'll be in New York, except for the few duty trips I can't avoid." He grabbed my ass, squeezing. "Say yes," he demanded. I just made a noise. He slipped a hand down the back of my pants, sliding a finger into the crack of my ass and repeated, "Say yes!"

"R-a-y!" I whined. "That isn't fair! How'm I s'posed to say no when you do that?"

"That's the whole point, Walter." He pushed deeper, tickling my anus, then reaching farther to press the sensitive spot just behind my balls, which were feeling very, very tight. "Say yes."

"Ray, you're gonna make me get my pants dirty."

"I'll do a load of laundry. Say yes."

I shuddered as I felt my orgasm hit, my seed spilling out and beginning to soak through my underwear, then my pants. "Yes, dammit." I collapsed. "You are so sneaky."

He held me tightly, thrusting up against me several more times, then settling back with a grunt as he had his own climax. "Only in a good cause, darlin'," he assured me.

So less than a week after I'd come home I was leaving again, but not as far this time. And this time I was going with someone, going to a place where I knew I'd have someone to care for me and love me. With that in mind, the idea of New York didn't scare me as bad as it might have.

That afternoon Ray made reservations for us to New York. I was kinda looking forward to it. It wouldn't be the first time I'd ever flown, but it would be the first time it wasn't on Army transport, which is kinda no frills, if you know what I mean. Oh, and unless you count the time I went up with that crop duster. I didn't really have a chance to enjoy that, because he kept doing loops to try to scare me. It didn't work, but I did upchuck, and man... that can cause a mess when you're in an open plane. I don't think he'll do that again, though, because he got a faceful.

Raymond called his new boss, Mr. Gaines, to let him know that he'd be back, and I listened to the conversation. "Yes, sir, tomorrow evening. I'm looking forward to it. What?" He frowned. "But I thought it was all arrainged. Yes, I understand. No, of course not, but it is very inconsiderate of them. They must have known that this would be causing someone a great deal of trouble. I'm not entirely sure what to do now." Uh oh. Sounded like there was some sort of trouble on the other end.

"That's a generous offer, sir. I'd be happy to take you up on it except that I won't be alone. No, I'm bringing someone with me. Yes, the friend I came out here to see. He's going to be staying with me for awhile, till he gets over this rough spot. Maybe longer. I appreciate the offer. How long do you think it will be? I understand. Yes, I've heard that housing is tight. What?"

Raymond's expression tightened, and I could see that something was upsetting him. I went over and kind of leaned against him. He glanced down at me, and put an arm around my shoulders, but his expression didn't lighten. He sighed. "Yes, I supposed I could do that. Oh, there won't be any trouble." His voice was bitter. "No , they'll welcome me with open arms. I have to warn you, the material I give you is likely to be less than objective. I'll call you when I get there and give you the number so we can keep in touch. Thank you again. Yes, sir. Just please, find one as quickly as possible. I came back to the states hoping to get away from combat zones."

He hung up, and I looked at him questioningly. "What's wrong, Ray?"

He sighed heavily. "The fates are conspiring against me, Walter."

"That's a fancy way of saying bad luck. What is it?"

"Bennet was supposed to be getting an apartment for me in New York. He was going to have it ready when I came back. Well, the people who had agreed to give up their apartment changed their mind, and I have nowhere in the city to stay now."

I winced in sympathy. "That's rough."

His voice was grim. "It gets rougher. I tied up most of my discharge pay in bonds, trying to get a little investment going, so my funds are more limited than I'd like. I can't afford to rent hotel rooms till Bennet finds something else. It could be weeks. There's a real squeeze on decent, affordable housing right now. He offered to let me stay with him, but..."

"But you can't because of me."

He gave me a squeeze. "It's not like that, Walter. I would have refused, even if I had been going back alone. You see, Bennet has a daughter, a very nice girl named Jocelyn. I knew her before I went into the army, and I'm afraid..." He trailed off.

I rested my chin on his shoulder, studying his face. "She has a crush on you?"

He cleared his throat. "It's a little more serious than that, Walter."

"You slept with her?" That didn't bother me. I'd seen Ray with Doris, I knew that he had been with women before. I also knew that he wasn't interested in anyone but me now.

He sighed. "More serious than that. We... were engaged."

I stiffened. I couldn't help it, it was a shock. My Ray, engaged? "Why didn't you marry her?"

"Let's go sit down and talk about this, babe." He led me into the livingroom and we sat down on the couch. He looked a little hurt when I moved to put some space between us.

"I'm not mad at you, or anything. But I think I should be clear headed when I hear about this. I don't think too good when you're real close, Ray."

His tension seemed to ease a little. I guess he saw that I wasn't going to get all upset by this. "I guess I should have told you about her, Walter, but I honestly haven't thought about her for a couple of years. When I met you it was... Well, it was almost biblical."

"What's that s'posed to mean?"

"You know, and the old is wiped away, and behold, all things are made new?" I smiled at that, and he smiled in answer.

"But why didn't you marry her?"

The smile faded, and his expression became grim again. "In the Iselin camp there are only three types of people: allies, enemies, and those who can be used. Bennet is an outspoken critic of Iselin, and will not automatically condemn anyone or anything that has a less than right-wing aura, so he certainly wasn't an ally, and my mother couldn't figure out a way to use him, so guess which class he fell into? I dated Jocie for some time before Mother came to this conclusion. She'd been tolerant before, but once she knew Bennet would be of no use I began hearing about the 'Communist tart' I was dating."

He stared across the room at nothing in particular. "You don't know what she's like, Walter. I hope you thank God on a regular basis for your own mother. I tried not to listen to her, but she just kept on, and on, and on... Guilt is a vicious thing, Walter. She was tearing my soul apart, a shred at a time, and Jocie could see that. I tried to be strong, I tried to last her out. But things just got more and more strained. I couldn't sleep, I couldn't eat." He looked down at me, and again there was the fleeting ghost of a smile. "That's one reason I was so concerned about you, kiddo. I went through a spell myself that was a little like that. Finally it was just too much. Jocie and I talked. I was willing to go on, but she saw that it wouldn't have been much of a marriage. Some marriages could withstand that sort of pressure, but they'd have to be very strong to start with. And I just didn't love her enough."

He closed his eyes. "I did love her, Walter, I won't deny it. But it was nothing like what I feel for you. All I felt when I left Jocelyn was a little vague regret. If I ever lost you..."

I moved over to sit beside him, taking his hands. "You're not gonna lose me, Ray. I'm really hard to lose. I stick like glue."

He opened his eyes, looking at me tenderly. Folding my hand in his, he pressed it to his chest, over his heart. "That's why I couldn't stay with him, Walter. He'd hope, and there's nothing there. Nothing but a little affection, at least on my part. And I haven't seen Jocelyn since then, so I don't know how she'd feel, and I can't risk hurting her again. She's a nice girl, and she deserves to find someone who can love her like she should be loved. I'm not that man. I never was. Does it bother you, that I was with her once?"

I answered honestly. "No. I don't wanna sound big headed or anything, but I know you love me." He chuckled. "So what do we do now?"

He sighed, rolling his eyes. "Bennet has asked me to take on an assignment I find supremely distasteful, but it will take care of our housing problems till he can find us a place in New York."

"What it it?"

"He's asked me to write an insider's piece on the new running mate for the man who may very well be the next president of the United States. I can get closer than anyone else, because I can go right into his home as well as into his political camp." Another sigh, almost a groan. "He asked me to go to Boston and cover my stepfather, Senator John Yerkses Iselin, and God help me, I said yes."

Part Twenty-three: Meeting

I'd never flown at all till I got on the plane for Korea when I was eighteen. Now here it was not quite two years later, and I was feeling like a seasoned traveler. Of course we were flying a little better than army transport, which was kinda like steerage on boats. It was strange, but nice. Pretty ladies in uniforms kept asking if we wanted a drink, wanted a snack, wanted a magazine, wanted a pillow or a blanket. I think it was mostly because of Ray. They were flirting, big time. I wasn't jealous, though. Every time one of them would give up and go take care of another passenger, Ray would squeeze my knee. Two of them tried to give him their phone numbers on the way out.

It was early evening when we arrived in Boston. Ray got us a cab while I claimed our luggage. He got a porter to help us carry the bags out, and I asked, "Aren't ya gonna call your Mom, Ray?"

"No. If we're lucky they'll be out. It's Friday, they probably have some function to attend."

"But they might not be ready for company."

He laughed shortly. "You don't know politicians, Walter. It isn't just that they need to be prepared to offer hospitality at the drop of a hat, but they wouldn't dare send us away, because someone might find out. No, they'll have room for us, God help us."

I would've liked to have looked at some of the scenery, but it was dusk, and what I could see didn't look a whole lot different from what I could see anywhere. Ray assured me that was just because we were out by the airport. "It's Boston proper I want you to see, Walter. I won't be able to go around with you much at first: I have to get right onto this job. You can go sightseeing yourself, if you want to, but..."

"No, I can wait."

"Are you sure, kid? You might get awful bored, just sitting around the house."

"I'll be fine."

"Okay." He sighed. "My mother shouldn't be too much of a problem. I expect she'll have a full day, promoting the jerk."

Ray's house was nice. I guess it wasn't much bigger than our old farmhouse, but it was brick on the outside, with tall, white framed windows. He said it dated back to around the Revolutionary War. It had been his dad's house, but his mom had inherited it when his dad died, and sometimes she didn't mention that fact when she talked about it.

While the cabbie unloaded our luggage, we went up to the front door. Ray sorted his key ring, finding a housekey. "I didn't expect to use this again. Not while she was alive, anyway. I guess it's a good thing I didn't throw it away."

He let us into a tall hallway and showed me the closet for our coats while the luggage was brought in. He was just tipping the driver when a plump, gray haired woman in a black dress came from the other end of the hall. She was frowning. "Here, now! This is a private home, you can't just..." When Ray turned around she faltered, her expression going slack with surprise. Then she burst into a very genuine smile and came toward him with her hand outstretched. "Master Ray!"

His smile to her was real, too. "Hello, Jessie. When are you going to stop with the title?"

The didn't exactly shake hands: they more like clasped hands. "I suppose you're right. I really should call you Mister instead of Master, now that you're grown."

"You do, and I'll call you Missus." She laughed. "Jessie, I want you to meet my very good friend, Walter O'Reilly."

She shook hands with me, and I said, "Hullo, ma'am." She frowned, and I said quickly, "Uh... Miss?"

She smiled, and I saw that she was just teasing me. "Just Jessie, dear. Well, you're too young to be a college friend, so you must have been in the service with Raymond?"

"At boot camp."

She looked at the suitcases sitting behind us, and the expression in her eyes was a funny combination of hope and worry. "It looks like you're planning to stay awhile, Ray?" It was a question instead of an observation.

He sighed. "I don't really have much choice. I've been assigned to cover Iselin as my first job, and I need to do a thorough job of it. Walter and I will be staying here for the next few weeks."

"It will be nice to have a couple of young gentlemen to do for."

"Jessie!" The voice that floated down the stairs belonged to a woman, and it didn't have any of the warmth and affection Ray had put into that name.

Jessie rolled her eyes, and went to the foot of the stairs. "Yes, ma'am?" I looked at Ray, he'd gone tense, and I think he was a little pale.

"Jessie, I thought I heard the front door open, and I heard a man's voice. Who was it?" The voice continued, with a hard note of suspicion in it. "You're not having visitors, are you? You know what I told you about that while John is campaigning, especially any men friends."

Jessie looked over at Ray, who shrugged resignedly. "It's Mister Raymond, ma'am."

"What?" There was the rapid tap of heels, then the sound of someone coming down the stairs. I recognized the lady that appeared. Ray's mother was actually prettier than her pictures, and I guess maybe they're right when they say that the camera adds years and pounds. I knew she had to be as old as my Mom, or older, but there was a world of difference.

Mom's kind of... Well, she calls herself dumpy, but I think she's bein' hard on herself. She's more like comfortable. There's a lot of gray in her brown hair, (seems like most of it showed up after I went into the army) and she has lines around her eyes, and even across her forehead when she looks surprised. Ray's mom was... I guess she'd say svelt, though I was thinking more along the lines of skinny, and there wasn't any gray at all in her carefully arranged blonde hair. I decided, after I knew her awhile, that it was probably because of the once a week trips to an expensive beauty parlor. The skin around her eyes and under her skin also looked... stretched. Like it was pulled to tight. When I mentioned it to Ray later, he said, "Nip and tuck."

"Ray, sweetie!" She rushed toward him, and he stiffened up even more as she planted a kiss on his cheek. She wasn't smiling, though her tone of voice was welcoming. "I knew you'd come to your senses. You're just in time. If you hurry and change, you can accompany John and I to his fund raiser. I do hope you brought your uniform--it will look so dashing with the medal. But if you didn't, I still have your college tux upstairs, and I'm sure it will fit..." She trailed off, catching sight of me. "And who's this?"

"This is my friend, Walter O'Reilly. He's staying with me."

"Oh?" She studied me, and I felt like I was being put on a grocer's scales, and she wasn't too pleased with how I was weighing out. "You weren't part of Raymond's squad."

"No, he wasn't." Ray didn't offer any other information, just said, "And I'm not going to a fund raiser for John. Not tonight, anyway. I may have to later on, but not tonight."

"Oh, really, Ray, don't be a bore. I'm sure your friend Wallace won't mind..."

"His name is Walter, and I'm not running off and leaving him alone his first night here, especially not to be paraded for John's money men. The only reason I'm here is because Bennet asked me to write a series of articles about John's candidacy, from an insider's viewpoint. I suppose I should have told him that I'm not really an insider: I'm window dressing."

Her mouth had pressed down into a thin line, and it would have been invisible if she hadn't been wearing lipstick. She looked at me and said, "You mustn't listen to my son... Walter. Most boys are a little jealous of their stepfathers, and I'm afraid that Raymond has taken it to ridiculous proportions."

"And you don't need to propagandize him." He picked up my two big suitcases. "Walter, can you get my overnight bag?"

"Sure, Ray."

"Come on upstairs to my room." He paused as he passed his mother. "Unless you've turned it into, say, a storage area of campaign leaflets?"

"You wound me, Raymond. We'll have to have a talk about your attitude later, but I haven't time now. Jessie," she turned to the housekeeper. "You may put Walter up in the green bedroom."

Raymond snorted. "That glorified broomcloset? I don't think so." He addressed Jennie. "He'll be sleeping in the front corner bedroom, Jessie."

She nodded. "I'll make the bed with nice, fresh sheets."

As we went up the stairs, Mrs. Iselin was stalking into a room off the hall. Ray said, "She's going to fix herself a cocktail, because she's angry. But she'll only have one, and she'll just pretend to sip her drinks at the fund raiser. Mother isn't about to risk the papers saying that Senator Iselin's wife is a lush."

Ray went to the second door on the upper hallway and let us into a bedroom. It was nice, about twice as big as mine at home. I laid Ray's case on the bed and looked around. The thing I noticed was that there were no pictures. You know, no photographs. I keep a picture of my Mom on the table next to my bed. It went with me to boot camp, to Korea, and it was in my suitcase now, waiting to be set up.

Ray still had my suitcases in his hands, and he was watching me, amused. "What do you think?"

"It's nice. Is... um, is my room close by?"

"Go open that door over there."

I went to one of the three doors in the room. I knew that one of the doors was to the hall, and I figured one had to be to a closet, but I had no idea of what the third door might lead to. When I opened it, my mouth dropped open.

"Ray! It's a bathroom! You have your very own bathroom?"

"There are three: Mine, the master bathroom, and the one downstairs. But it's not entirely my own." He indicated a door on the opposite side of the room. I went over and opened the door. It was another bedroom, and Jessie was in the process of putting sheets on the bed. She smiled at me, and I smiled back, a little startled, and shut the door again. Then I looked at Ray questioningly, and he nodded. "Your room." He grinned. "If I remember correctly from Doris's, you don't mind sharing a bathroom." He set my cases down and held out his arms. "Come here."

I went to him, and he took me in his arms. We didn't kiss, he just held me. After a minute he said, "I couldn't do this without you, Walter. When I'm here, my... my teeth are just on edge all the time, but with you, it's all right."

There was a tap at the bathroom door, and as I stepped away, Ray said, "Yes, Jessie?"

The door cracked, and she peeked through. "I've put extra towels in, Ray. I expect you'll both want something to eat?"

Ray looked at me, and I nodded. He squeezed my arm. "I'm glad you're getting your appetite back. That would be wonderful, Jessie. Nothing elaborate: sandwiches will be fine. I know you were expecting an evening off, with them being out."

"As if I have anything better to do." She addressed me. "Young man, would you prefer ham or chicken salad?"

"I pretty much eat whatever's put in front of me and enjoy it, after having to live on army chow." I blushed. "Not that your cooking would be anything like... I mean..."

She laughed. "It's all right. I like your friend, Ray."

When she left, Ray carried my cases into my room, opened them, and we started putting my things away. It was kind of weird. In the army I'd had a trunk, but I don't think my clothes had ever hung in another closet except my one at home. When we were done he sat on the edge of the bed and held out his hand. I went and sat with him.

He put his arm around my shoulders and said, "She knows about me, Walter, so I suppose she's guessed about us."

"Oh. But I thought your Mom..."

"She doesn't know." Ray's voice was acid. "She hasn't paid much attention to me since my dad died. Jessie pretty much raised me. She noticed that I didn't seem all that interested in pursuing girls, then one summer she walked in on me and my roommate from college." He smiled. "The look on her face. But she just backed out, never mentioned it, and made us cookies that afternoon. I'm lucky I've had her." He sighed. "I know that I'm a little screwed up in some ways..."

"Ray!"

"No, Walter. I know I am. I'm not psychotic, or anything, but I could do with a little therapy. I'm just grateful I had her, or I would have been a lot worse."

He patted me, then got up and went to the door. "This is something for you to remember, Walter." He locked the door. "As long as you're in this house, if you want privacy, lock your door." He locked the bathroom door. "Both of them. My mother does not feel particularly bound by the rules of privacy, at least not where I'm concerned." His face was stiff. "I learned that after she walked in on me a couple of times when I was in the shower."

The way he said that gave me a kind of funny feeling, and I thought that maybe he was right: maybe talking to someone like Sydney about his mother would be good for him.

Then he smiled again and came toward me. "I think this is the first time I've seen you in a suit, Walter."

"Well, Mom said I had to look nice when I traveled, and since I would be meeting your family."

"You're cute, dressed up." He pulled my tie off and hung it over the footboard, then opened my jacket and pushed his hands up under it, stroking along my ribs. "But you're cuter when you're undressed."

"I thought we were going to get supper."

"We can do that after." He removed my jacket, and it joined the tie. "Unless you'd really rather have a ham sandwich than me?"

"Let me think." I wrapped my arms around his waist. "No."

"I'm glad to hear it." Ray took off his own jacket and tie, then sat beside me again. "Though we shouldn't take too long. I know Jessie is looking forward to sitting with us when we eat, and I'd really like a chance to play catch up with her."

"Well," There was a box of tissues on the bedside table, and I pulled it over. "One good thing about being guys is that it can be quick and pretty neat, and still be good."

He laughed. "I never thought of it in such a practical light." He opened my pants and pulled out my prick, beginning to stroke me gently. When I reached for his fly, though, he pushed my hands away. "No, not this time, Walter. I need a little more time to get comfortable here."

"Well, gee, Ray, I can wait." It wasn't exactly easy to say that, because he had his fist curved firmly around me and was slowly pisoning it up and down. It felt awful good.

"I don't want you to wait, sweetheart." Ray kissed me, and then got on his knees in front of me. "I need to make you feel good, right now, and you won't need those tissues."

He held my cock between his palms and bent. Putting out his tonguee, he traced a tiny circle just around the slit on my cockhead. He did it again and again, as it quickly hardened. The head was already slick and shiny when the first bead of pre-ejaculate fluid eased out to mingle with his saliva. The he fitted his mouth over the glans and sucked strongly. While he did, he fisted the rest of the shaft.

I usually don't try to give Ray directions when we make love. Heck, he does real good on his own, but I couldn't help settling my hands in his hair and pushing up, just a little. He obliged by beginning to sink down on my cock, taking more of it into his mouth. It felt so good that I pushed up some more.

I was afraid I'd gone too far when he pulled off, and I was ready to apologize, but he said, "Walter, I want you to fuck my mouth."

"I... Ray, you're already..."

"I'm sucking you, yes, but I want you to fuck my mouth like it was my ass. Just shove it in and keep on till you come."

"But Ray, I don't want to, like, make you gag, or anything." The idea of doing that was making me even harder, but I was concerned about him.

"Don't worry about that. I just want you down my throat, baby boy. Can you do that for me?"

"If you're sure," I said doubtfully.

"I'm sure." He bent again, and this time he swallowed half my length. I still wasn't sure, but he reached around to grab at my ass, and tugged. I took a stronger grip on his head and pushed up firmly. I sank all the way in, sliding deep into his throat. He moaned, but it wasn't a bad sound, you know? He sounded happy, so I pulled back some and did it again. His hands squeezed on my buttocks. It seemed that this was what he really wanted.

I started to fuck into his his mouth with steady, strong strokes. It felt so good that I was soon speeding up. Ray was making little whimpering and slurping noises that made me feel crazy. He was pushing down to meet each upward stroke, like he was trying to find even more of me to swallow.

This was a part of our relationship I know a lot of people wouldn't understand. They think that, with guy couples, one of them is always... Well, sort of the girl, always turning over for the other one. It isn't like that with Ray and me. He fucks me more often than not, but sometimes I'm the one who's... well, being active. Ray seems to like it just as much one way as the other, and so do I.

While his head bobbed up and down on my shaft, Ray reached down into my pants and found my balls. He began massaging them, lightly at first. When I started to pump harder, his touched firmed, till the rubbing was almost hard enough to be painful, but it just made me feel even wilder. At last I had a double handful of his hair, and I was slamming into his mouth as hard as I could from that possition. If it had been kind of reversed, say with Ray laying down and me over him, I never would have dared. I would have been afraid of actually choking him.

But Ray wasn't going to let up. He was determined to make me come. He helf me tightly and pushed down till his nose was pressed against my lower belly, my entire cock buried inside him, and sucked furiously. Then he made a low, grunting sound. The vibrations I felt along my encased cock did it. I gasped his name as I climaxed, shooting directly down his gullet. He swallowed, and the massaging of his throat muscles stripped even more seed from me.

When I was done,he just held me there for a minute, and I could feel his warm, moist breath ruffling my pubic hair. It was like he didn't want to let me go. Finally he released me, letting my softening cock ooze slowly and reluctantly from his oral embrace. Then he thoughtfull licked it all over, removing any traces of come. When he was through, he used the tissues after all to pat me dry before he tucked me back in my shorts, then zipped me up.

He stood up, his face flushed, his mouth a little red and swollen, and I touched his hip. "You all right?"

He leaned over and kissed me deeply, sliding his tongue into my mouth so I could taste myself. "I wonder," he whispered, "if you can understand how important you are to me? I think that you're what got me through the capture in Korea, and that damn de-briefing afterwards. I think I'd have just given up somewhere along the line if I didn't know you were out there waiting for me, worrying."

I hugged him. "Then if that helped, you have to remember it, Ray. Anytime you think about giving up, just remember me. Remember how much I need you." I pinched him. "And remember that I'll hunt you down and kick your butt if you don't come back to me."

He laughed, pulling me to my feet, and then he unlocked the door and we went down to the kitchen to see what Jessie had made for us.

Part Twenty-four: From the Past

I s'pose the bed in my room was pretty nice, but I didn't find out how good it slept that night--I slept in Ray's room. I made myself crawl out early the next morning so I could go mess up the sheets in my room. Ray kept trying to pull me back into bed with him, and I ended up slapping his hands and scolding him. "Ray! I gotta go fix my bed. Do you really wanna have to deal with that sort of scandal this early in your visit?"

He grumbled, "I don't know why you didn't do it last night before you went to sleep."

I gave him a stern look. "Your memory must be getting bad. You mean you don't remember tackling me when I tried to go into my room, then falling asleep on top of me?"

He smiled. "Oh. That."

"Yes, that. And shouldn't you get up, too? This is kinda your first day on the job, and you don't want your stepdad to run off without you."

He stretched and sat up. "Ain't gonna happen, Walter. Mr. Iselin does not set toe outside his bed before nine o'clock unless possibly the house is on fire."

He got up and got dressed while I went into 'my' room and rumpled up the sheets and dented the pillow. I went back to the room to get my clothes and had to dodge Ray long enough to get my clothes on. I swear, you'd have thought he had oysters the night before instead of sandwiches.

Once we were both dressed, we went downstairs. Jessie was in the kitchen. The air was filled with the scent of bacon, brewing coffee, and fresh bread. I felt more at home immediately. She smiled at us. "Well, Ray, do you want to eat in the diningroom or the kitchen, as if I didn't know?" In answer Ray dropped into a chair at the kitchen table, and I sat next to him. "I know Ray likes his eggs sunnyside up, so he can dip his toast. How about you, Walter?"

"Any way is fine, except soft boiled. I never can eat them without getting a mouthful of shell."

In a few minutes Ray and I were digging into well filled plates. Jessie sat with us, sipping a cup of coffee, and Ray said, "Do you happen to know what their schedule is for today?"

"Um," she rolled her eyes up thoughtfully. "There's a brunch with the Mothers' Society for Literacy, a... meeting with a representative for the sanitation union, lunch with the mayor, a tour of a newspaper, dinner with the Coldstreams, the opera, and they'll be bringing some people back for a late supper."

Ray shook his head. "They'd be better off using you as an aide, Jessie."

"Wouldn't do it. I'd have to deal with those phoney-balonies too closely."

"I always knew you were a sensible woman. I, myself, am well and truly stuck. I don't suppose I can get away with doing less than a week here."

Jessie looked at me. "Will you be going along, Walter?"

Ray's voice was cold. "I doubt that Mother and John would have him. In any case, I don't want him exposed to them any more than necessary. It will be all right for him to stay here with you, won't it?"

"Of course! I'll enjoy having someone about who isn't dedicated to making my life miserable. I have very little cleaning to do. Would you like to go marketting with me, Walter?"

"Sure, sounds great."

A bell rang, and Jessie made a face. "His Lordship and Her Ladiship are ready for their coffee." She poured two cups of coffee and set them on a tray, along with a crisply folded newspaper.

As she carried the tray out, I said, "That paper looks like it was put through a pants press."

Ray was wiping up egg yolk with a piece of toast. "Close. Jessie irons it."

I laughed. "That's a good one, Ray."

"I mean it, Walter. John Yerkses, the Jerk, once read in a Victorian novel where a valet ironed the morning paper every day before giving it to the master of the house. Of course it was lost on him that this was done because they had to set the ink so that it wouldn't rub off on the reader's hands, and that it was totally unecessary, since we'd developed better printing techniques in the last sixty years or so." Ray snorted. "Man of the people, my ass."

"Careful. I happen to like your ass."

He smiled at me. "I may survive this with my sanity intact after all."

After breakfast Ray went upstairs to change into a suit. He'd dressed casually when he got up, but he'd have to wear a suit on his rounds with the Iselins. I finished my coffee, gathered up the dishes, and started to wash up. Jessie came bustling in and stopped short, then came to the sink slowly. "Walter, you don't have to do that."

"I know, but it's not like I have a lot of things to rush off to. Besides, my Mom taught me how to clean up after myself. I mean, on a farm, you just chip in, you know?"

She shook her head. "I can't remember the last time someone lifted a hand around here to help me." She took up a dish cloth and started to wipe the dishes. "Yes, I can remember. It was the last time they had a party, and they hired extra help."

"I bet Ray used to help you."

She smiled. "You're right. He started out just scraping the bowls when I made cakes, but then he wanted to help. I even let him wash Her Ladyship's china--he was that careful."

"That's Ray, all right. He's awful careful about things. Um..." I searched my vocabulary. "Meticulous."

"That's a very good description."

I pulled the plug and started cleaning the sink. "That's why it's kinda hard for me to understand why..." I trailed off.

"What?"

I wiped the faucets. "Well..." The rag moved slower, and I felt like I was starting to blush. "We're not very much alike." I shrugged.

She folded the towel, laying it on the counter. "Are you saying that you don't understand why Ray is attracted to you?" I shrugged again. She laughed, "I understand, Walter." She pinched my cheek. "You're a cutie, and you're sweet." Her smile softened. "And you're good for him. I'm glad you found each other."

I heard someone coming down the front stairs, and I went out to the hall, hoping it was Ray. It wasn't, though--it was his stepfather. John Iselin was a little thickset, and his face was ruddy, just starting to get jowly. In other words, he looked nothing like Ray.

He paused, looking at me. His eyes weren't quite as sharp as his wife's had been, but he still gave me a quick, thorough once over. Then he smiled, and I thought that he must've mentally measured that smile before doling it out. He held out his hand. "You must be Walter O'Reilly, Ray's friend."

I shook hands. "Yes, sir."

"I'm John Yerkses Iselin, Ray's father."

*Stepfather,* I thought. *I think Ray would call you on that.* "Yes, sir. Pleased to meet you."

"I'm sorry I won't be able to help entertain you, young man. I'm campaigning, you know, and I'm afraid that things are a bit crowded right now."

"That's okay." I noticed that Mrs. Iselin was coming down the stairs behind him. "Good morning, ma'am."

Again the look, "Good morning. You're from the midwest, aren't you, Walter?"

"Yes, ma'am. Iowa."

"You have a strong following out there, John. Good, simple, patriotic folk. I expect you're a member of the Grange, Walter?"

I had about decided that I didn't like Ray's mother. Oh, she didn't say anything outright insulting. In fact, if you didn't look too deep, what she said would have been considered flattering by most folks, but I could hear the condescention in her tone. When she said 'simple, patriotic folk', she meant 'yokels'. "My Uncle Ed was. I expect I will be, now that I'm going to be running the farm."

"A true 'son of the soil'." Something about the way she said it made me want to check my fingernails. "Well, as John said, we won't be about all that much during the next few days, nor will Raymond. I'm sure you'll be comfortable spending some time with Jessie. You should be able to find a lot of common ground."

"Because she's a servant?" We all looked around to see Raymond coming down the stairs, dressed in an immaculate suit. His expression was dark.

As he joined us, his mother said, "Nonsense, Raymond, you twist what I say. I simply meant that I believe Jessie is from somewhere out in the heartland originally, so she and Walter should have a lot in common."

"She's been working for you for over twenty years, and you still don't know that her family is Pennsylvania Dutch." He put his hand on my arm. "You'll have a good time with Jessie, though, Walter. She's a lot like your mother."

"I knew there was some reason I liked her."

John was looking out the window beside the front door. "It's a lovely day. Why don't we walk down to the corner to wait for the car."

"No, John," Mrs. Iselin said firmly. "You know how Sam is about your security. He'd have a fit if you went out into the streets alone."

John grumbled, "I hate having him on my tail all the time. I feel like that little man in the Lil' Abner comics who walks around with the raincloud floating voer his head."

"We're very lucky to have him, and you know it. With his background, he could have gone to work anywhere. The biggest corporations in America would have hired him as a security advisor. He even had the chance to work for your running mate, but he came to us because he believes in what we are doing."

"I know, I know. It's just that he seems to suck the oxygen right out of the room sometimes." I felt a faint tingle of unease. That description was uncomfortably familiar.

Mrs. Iselin was examining Raymond with a critical eye. "Raymond, dear, are you completely sure about that tie? It's a bit sober, isn't it? You could use a dash of color."

"Mother..."

"Oh, nothing flashy, darling, but John has a lovely maroon one with a discreet navy blue pattern that would be just the thing. Come along upstairs and I'll get it for you." Raymond's expression had begun to tighten as she started up the stairs. She paused halfway up. "Raymond, for heaven's sake, it's just a tie." Looking grim, Ray started up after her.

When they were upstair I said to Iselin, "So, you have secret service?"

Iselin shrugged. "It comes with the territory. I didn't have to bother during my previous runs, but the vice presidential position is at a different level from the state campaigns."

"Is it very complicated? The security, I mean."

"I don't think so, not really. They escort me when I'm away from home, do checks of places I'm going to be, looking for anything suspicious, work the crowd when I'm out meeting the public. I only have two men, and the head of security. He's a tough bastard. Gives me the crawls." He suddenly realized that he was saying something that might reflect badly on his image, and said hastily, "Just right for the job. Just what this country needs."

"Mrs. Iselin said something about his background. What would that be? Is he an ex-policeman? Maybe a private detective?"

He looked a little smug, a little superior. "Nothing quite so common as that."

"FBI?"

Iselin actually looked around, like he thought that maybe someone was hiding behind the umbrella stand, listening. He shuffled a little closer and whispered, "Even better. He..."

"John, are you telling tales out of school?" Mr. Iselin almost jumped back as his wife came down the stairs, frowning at him.

"Walter was just curious about the security aspects of my campaign, dear."

"John, I'm sure he's a lovely boy and would never dream of doing anything that might endanger you, but you know very well that the fewer people who know anything about our security methods, the more secure you will be." She looked at me. "Sorry, Walter. No insult intended."

She didn't really sound very apologetic, but I said, "None taken, ma'am."

Ray was coming down the stair, his expression strained. I wondered what his mother had said to him while they were upstairs. He was wearing a different tie, the maroon and blue one she'd mentioned, I guess, and it looked good on him. But he looked so uncomfortable in it that it didn't really do anything for him, not if you really knew him.

She noticed where I was looking, and smiled. "You see? Wasn't I right?" She stroked the tie, and her hand lingered on his chest. "I know what's best for my boy."

"Very nice, but I kinda liked the black one." Her mouth tightened, but Ray smiled at me.

"I'll be back six or seven, Walter, and we can go out to eat."

"Ray!" his mother protested. "We have reservations to dine with the Coldstreams at The Silver Cup, then the opera. I moved heaven and earth last night to get a ticket for you."

Ray's voice was cold. "That isn't part of the bargain, Mother. I'm here to observe the campaign process, not squire you around to social events."

"You know very well that social obligations are a huge part of the process. The Coldstreams are important supporters, and there's a lot of networking that goes on during intermission at the opera. There are people, important people, who are expecting to see you with us, and if you don't..."

"There's someone important here who's expecting to see me, too, and I'd damn sure rather be here than..."

"Ray, it's all right." I could see that Mrs. Iselin was ready to have a full blown scene, since there weren't any other outsiders to witness it, and I just didn't want Ray to have to go through that. "She already set this up. We'll have plenty of time together later on, and you'll be here after the show for supper, right?"

I could see that Mrs. Iselin wanted to say something. I said, "Don't worry, Mrs. Iselin. I have a nice suit, and I can keep my mouth shut when I need to."

I could tell that she wasn't thrilled with the idea of me mingling with her guests, but she took a look at Ray and decided that the concessions she'd gain would be worth the annoyance. "That sounds like a fine plan, Walter. You see, Raymond? Even your little friend can see the good sense in your doing your filial duty." I think Ray was about to say something about that, but there was a knock on the door. "That will be the car." She started for the door. "Come along, you two."

She waited for her husband to open the door for her, then sailed out, head up. You know, she didn't have even one little wrinkle or any loose skin on her neck at all? Mom had been joking about her 'wattles' for years. It just didn't seem natural, somehow.

Mr. Iselin and Raymond started out. Past them I could see a large, dark car waiting at the curb, the door open. A man in a dark suit was holding the door to the backseat open. As Mr. and Mrs. Iselin started to slide in, Ray hesitated and turned back. "I forgot my keys."

I heard Mrs. Iselin's voice, annoyed. "Raymond, why would you need...?" She was cut off as the door shut.

Ray walked over to me, took me in his arms, and gave me a thorough kiss. "I'm sorry, baby. This isn't what I wanted when I brough you back with me."

"It's okay, Ray. Sometimes things just get in the way. We'll find time together."

"We better. How can I help you if I can't be with you?"

"Hurry up and kiss me again, then get out there and get whatever you have to do overwith."

He kissed me again and went out. I followed him to the door and waved as he got into the car. The man in the suit went around to get in the driver's seat. There was someone else, another security man, I guess, sitting in the front. He was sitting with his back turned toward me, arm over the seat back, talking to the Iselins.

All I saw was the back of his head, and his broad back. That's all. Anonymous. He turned his head a little more, and I saw a slice of his profile. Still pretty anonymous. The interior of the car was dark, even in the early morning light. I couldn't possibly know who it was.

But I did.

Part Twenty-five: Foreboding

I don't know how long I stood in the hallway, staring out the front window. I was trying to tell myself that what I thought was happening couldn't possibly be happening, but I wasn't having much luck.

I jumped when a hand touched my shoulder. "Gracious, son, you're skittish today," said Jessie. "Are you ready to go? I have a good bit of things to get for the to-do tonight." She sighed. "A simple little after the show supper, she calls it. I've had relatives get married less fanciness."

"Mom said her and Dad's wedding supper was a pot luck at the church, and they liked it just fine. They almost had a row with the Lady's Temperence Society when he wanted to have a champagne toast, though. They finally allowed it, since the reception was in the meeting hall instead of the church basement, and he provided grape juice for the teetotalers." I paused. "I just know this 'cause she told me, 'cause I wasn't..." I started to falter, and could feel myself blushing, but there wasn't really any way out of the stupid remark now, so I finished it. "there at the time."

Jessie smiled, but it wasn't a 'laughing at the idiot' smile. "You think your church is strict? I was raised Quaker. I have relatives who still scold me because I serve alcohol to my employers. Let's go. It's going to be nice to have a big, strong man to carry my packages for me."

I don't know how she knew that I was going to insist on carrying the groceries. I mentioned it to Ray later, and he made some smart remark about being able to be read like a large print book set behind a magnifying glass. That was only true about some things, though. I hated to think that he might ever learn any different.

As we stepped out of the house Jessie said, "Do you mind a little walking, Walter?"

"Heck no. I had to walk 'most everywhere back in Iowa We only had the one old truck, and Uncle Ed needed it usually."

"Good. They leave me a station wagon, but I'll tell you the truth, I hate to drive. Boston is a nightmare of one-way streets, and the tourists? They just step off into the road any old time when they're interested in some landmark. I've nearly run some down, and I'm a careful woman. We'll take the bus--there's a stop just a few blocks away."

As we walked she said, "I'm not going to one of those new fangled supermarkets for my produce or fish. There's no telling how long they've been there. I don't trust a place that locks the leftovers up overnight. Now, we could go to Faneuil Hall, but I prefer Haymarket. There are just tons of pushcarts, and I can get my produce, fish, and meat right in one place..." She kept on talking, but I couldn't tell you what it was about. I was sorta preoccupied.

*She called him Sam. I can still hear how he sounded that first time I met him. 'The name is Colonel Samuel Flagg.' I can't imagine anyone calling him Sam. No, wait a minute. Yeah, Ray's mom just might, if he worked for her and she didn't think he could swing her some votes."

"We'll get the fruit and vegetables first, Walter, then the bread and meat, and last of all the seafood. You don't want to keep meat or seafood unchilled for long."

"No, ma'am. Mom almost skinned me one time when I put some meat out in the sink to thaw instead of in the refrigerator. She asked if I wanted to give all of us the three day bellyache. I s'ose the same goes for seafood, eventhough we don't get much of that in Iowa, except maybe what fish we can catch. Does that count?"

She looked like she was tryin' not to smile. "Yes, dear, I believe it does. Now, the silly woman insists on some sort of patriotic thing, so I'll be doing a red, white, and blue dessert, and I'll need raspberries and blueberries. Oh, that lookes like a good stall!" I watched her as she picked over the berries, haggling with the vendor. They both seemed to enjoy it.

*Not a policeman or a private detective, Mr. Iselin said. Not FBI--better than FBI. Heck, who could be better than the FBI? If it was me, I'd have to say Superman. But... But I've kinda gotten an idea about Mr. Iselin's way of thinking, and the only thing I think he would consider better than the FBI would be the CIA.* I closed my eyes. *Oh, crud. Flagg was CIA. He was so CIA, and this would be just the sort of job he'd want--workin' for someone who saw Commies behind every bush.*

"Walter?"

"Huh?" I blinked.

Jessie was lookin' at me with a little concern. "Are you all right? You were just off in your own little world."

"I'm fine. I guess maybe I didn't get too much sleep last night."

Now her eyes twinkled. "Raymond keep you up?" I blushed, and she shook her head. "I shouldn't tease you, I know, but it does me good to see him so happy. He hasn't had a lot of happiness in his life."

"I'm tryin' to change that."

Her expression was soft. "I know you are, dear." Her tone became brisk. "Now, I need some onions, some chives, and some green peppers. I'll be making a shriimp sautee. What do you think, Walter? Should I add some pimento or red pepper for color?"

I made a face. "You can leave them both out for all of me. I always unstuff my olive before I eat it." That made her laugh.

We kept making our way through the stalls. She'd given me two string bags to carry the groceries in, and they were starting to get heavy. After every purchase she had to rearrange the contents so the delicate stuff was on top, and wouldn't get smushed. I guess I should have been trying to pay more attention, so I could write Mom all about it, but...

'When I go back to the states, Ray Shaw is my ticket to a cushy job. One where I can really make a difference, shake things up.' That was what he had said while I was laying there, blood running down my cheek from where he'd cut me--while he sliced away my clothes. I'd tried to put that all out of my mind. I knew now that you never really put anything out of your mind. You pushed it into a corner and whipped it till it was small enought to be overlooked most of the time, but it never really went away.

And I guess security chief for Iselin would be the sort of job that Flagg would go for. Something in politics, where the guy had a good chance of getting into high office. But hadn't Mrs. Iselin said that Flagg could've gone to work for Iselin's running mate--the presidential candidate? Why wouldn't he have gone for that? He's an ambitious man, and I'd have thought that he would have jumped at the chance to run the president's secret service.

We stopped into a bakery, and Jessie bought several loaves of bread, white and wheat. She also bought a box of ladyfingers. Then she said, "Choose something for yourself, Walter." I started to protest, but she said, "Just humor me. I can see your nostrils twitching." I guess I had been more sniffing than breating. It smelled awful good in there. I got a coffee eclair, and she wouldn't let me pay for it. "Butcher's next."

*But if it is Flagg, and he got the job because he knew about Ray and me, his Mom and Dad acted pretty cool about me showing up. Somehow I don't think Mrs. Iselin would be all that civil, cause if she broke Ray up with a girl just because she had a problem with her father, I hardly think she'd be very tolerant of a boyfriend. Maybe he got the job just on his own qualifications without saying anything about us. That's possible, I guess.*

"Do you like lamb, Radar?"

"Oh, sure, I love lambs! I even kinda liberated one at the MASH unit. Y'see these Greek fellas were grateful to the doctors, and wanted to give them a Greek feast for spring, and they had this poor little lamb they were going to barbecue. But I managed to get him sent home to the farm, and..." I trailed off. "Oh. You mean do I like lamb." She nodded. I shrugged. "Sure. As long as I didn't know it personally."

Jessie smiled. "Maybe I'll feed you pork chops instead of lamb chops for dinner. How does that sound?"

"That would be great. I had a pet pig once."

She shook her head. "How did you keep from ending up a vegetarian?"

I looked at her in surprise. "Jessie, I grew up on a farm. The only things that were safe from getting eaten were the dogs and the cats, and if things had ever gotten lean enough... Well, the cats would have been safe, because they kept the mice down."

We headed for the fish monger's stall, and I thought, *In this case I guess it's good that Mrs. Iselin is a snob. She isn't the kind who's going to want the hired help around, even the high class hired help. I'll just have to make sure I'm upstairs when they get picked up or dropped off. Just a couple of weeks. I should be able to stay out of the way for a couple of weeks.*

"Walter?"

"Huh?" I looked around. We were back at the bus stop with a bus pulling up, the bags full, Jussie carrying an arm load.

"Walter, I almost feel like I've been on this trip alone."

"Gee, I'm sorry. I've just had a few things on my mind."

"Yes, I noticed." We got on board and settled down as the bus started to move. Her voice was quiet. "I know it's not trouble between you and Ray."

"Oh, no," I said quickly. "It's... I, uh..."

She laid a hand on my arm. "Walter, you don't have to tell me anything. If you want to, that's fine, but you don't owe me an explanation. You're making Raymond happy, and that's all that matters."

When we got back to the house, it was kind of nice--real peaceful. Jessie and I spent most of the afternoon in the kitchen. She made a trifle to use the berries, and I helped by washing and picking over the berries. She didn't even scold me when I couldn't resist and ate a couple of them. Mom did something like a trifle, but she didn't soak the ladyfingers in sherry, like Jessie did. I'd have to remember to tell her that when I got home. It sure did look pretty when she got through with it, the bright red and blue berries layered with the cake, custard, and whipped cream. I was glad that I was going to go to the supper, because it looked so good I wasn't sure they would have been able to save me any.

I was really glad when Ray came back that afternoon. I didn't go downstairs when they arrived, but I watched from the upstairs window. Only Ray, his mother, and his stepdad got out, and I felt a wash of relief. Mrs. Iselin stopped by the passenger side door, though, and whoever *I wasn't going to put a name to the guy till I had to* it was in there rolled down the window, and they talked for a minute before she came in.

Mr. and Mrs. Iselin went to their own room to get ready, so I didn't have to deal with them much. I was going to go into Ray's room, but I didn't get the chance, because he came into mine and tackled me, throwing me on the bed.

"Ray!" I squirmed under him. "You gotta take a shower and get dressed, don't you?"

Ray groaned, rubbing against me. "I don't want to, Walter. I want to stay here with you. Let them go to their damn dinner party and opera."

"You promised, Ray. And frankly, I don't want to have to listen to your Mom."

Ray sighed. "Oh, all right." He kissed me. "I won't inflict that on you." He crawled off me and sat beside me, but he also put his hand on my crotch and gave me a firm rub.

"Ray, are you trying to torture me?"

"Yes. I want you to be just as frustrated as I am, so we can just devour each other when those prize contributors leave tonight."

"Heck, Ray, since when do you have to make an extra effort for that?"

He laughed. "Right. That's never been a problem for us, has it, baby boy?" He gave me a kiss and went into the bathroom. A couple of minutes later he called, "Walter? Is your door locked?"

"No. Just a second." I got up and locked my door. "Okay."

"Come in here for a minute."

I went to the door, but paused right outside it. "Wait a minute. Why?"

"I need some help."

"With what?"

"I have a big problem that only you can handle."

"You're naked, aren't you?"

"Come in and find out."

The temptation was there, lemme tell ya. Instead I reached out and pulled the door the rest of the way shut. I heard him sigh, then he called, "All right for you, Walter, but you might not be able to get out of bed tomorrow."

"I'll look forward to it."

Since we didn't distract each other, Ray got showered and dressed quickly. He came into back into my room once he was dressed, and he took my breath away. "Ray! A tuxedo?"

He sighed. "I feel like a nit, but she insists that this be a formal thing."

"No, Ray. You look just... just..."

"Just?"

"I'm starting to get sorry that I didn't jump you when I had the chance."

He pulled me into a kiss. "You'll get your chance."

There was a knock on the door in Raymond's room. "Raymond? Raymond, hurry up." It was his mother. "Darling, come on. We're supposed to go to the Coldstream's for drinks before dinner. There will be a few people there I want you to meet."

"What the...? Since when?"

"Raymond, it's only sensible to assume that since we're having them back for supper that they'll have us for cocktails first. Really, I don't know why you're making such a fuss over a few few minutes with some perfectly pleasant people who have known your father for ages and support him..."

I could see Ray's face tensing up, and he suddenly snapped, "Not my father--your husband."

I reached up quickly and took his face in my hands, remembering how I had brought him out of his red rage all those months ago, back in the arcade. "Ray," I whispered. "Please, Ray. Don't let her do it to you."

He closed his eyes, putting his hand over mine, and sighed. Then he nodded, and opened his eyes. He whispered back, "I'm supposed to be soothing you, remember?"

"It's a two way street, always."

He kissed me again and went back through the bathroom, and opened his door. I heard him in the hall, his voice cold. "You will not make any more engagements for me without asking first--is that clear?"

She sounded offened. "Well, of course, Ray, if that's what you want. You know very well that I never do anything that I don't think is in your best interest. You know that my first and strongest instinct has always been maternal, and..." She faded out as they went downstairs. I was pretty sure that Ray's jaw was going to be sore from clenching it by the time he got home.

Jessie fixed me a nice supper, and seemed tickled when I asked her to eat with me. She told me some more about when Ray was a kid. Seems that he didn't stay home all that much. He was always off at school, or at camp, or off taking lessons. I guess it wasn't all that surprising that him and his mom weren't close.

I helped her clean up after dinner, so that she'd be ready to fix supper when the people came back. "This is something I can't understand, Jessie--supper. Of course, we don't stay up all that long after dark back on the farm, cause we have to be up pretty early."

Jessie snorted. "It's a lot of foolishness, if you ask me. If God intended for people to be stuffing their faces at near midnight he would have made the sun stay up longer. Luckily it's just supposed to be something light."

She showed me how to shell and clean shrimp, and I helped with that. Then she showed me how to get shrimp smell off my hands by rubbing lemon on them. Women sure do know a lot of interesting things. She started cooking the shrimp dish, and pretty soon the kitchen smelled even better than it usually did. The only thing that can compare to the smell of something good baking is maybe onions frying.

Around ten o'clock the phone rang, and Jessie answered it. "Iselin residence. Yes, ma'am? Oh, yes, everything is going well. Walter is being a big help, and... What?" She was quiet, and I could see her expression get stiff. "How many? No, ma'am, of course it won't be any trouble. No, none at all. Yes."

She hung up, her hand staying on the receiver for a moment. Then she lifted it and slammed it back down several times. "Drat, drat, drat!" She looked at me. "It's intermission, and she thought she'd take the time to let me know that there will be three more for supper--they met someone at the opera and invited them back."

She dropped into a chair, rubbing her face. "What on earth am I going to do? The dessert won't be a problem, but..."

"Now, hold on, Jessie. It seems to me that your pantry is pretty well stocked. I think we can work something out."

"Walter, do you have an idea?"

I got up and went to the pantry. "Not yet. I have to see what we have to work with. I've watched my Mom feed people who showed up unexpectedly. She always said 'Pour a little more water in the soup and add a few potatoes, and we really don't need that sausage for breakfast tomorrow, so we'll just use it tonight.'"

I studied the shelves. "You were going to do that shrimp thing over toast and some green peas, right?" She nodded. "Okay, first off, you make some rice. They'll eat the shrimp over that--it's more filling, and it looks nice." I started taking down cans. "You have two cans of crab meat that can go in with the shrimp to fill it out... Oo, and there's some sliced mushrooms, too! That'll be good. I noticed some carrots in the refrigerator. We'll shred them up, and you mix it with mayonaisse, and this box of raisins, and this can of pineapple, and you have a neat salad."

Jessie took the cans from me, shaking her head and smiling. "You know, Walter, this may be a new experience for those stuffed shirts, but I think they're going to like it."

"They're stupid if they don't. And I'll make some of my Mom's cheddar-garlic biscuits, and that should do it."

I helped Jessie some more till she shooed me out of the kitchen, telling me I'd better go get ready, 'cause there was only about a half hour till the supper party came back. I hadn't eaten all that long ago, but I was starting to get hungry anyway, just from being around the food.

I even shaved again, though I really didn't need to. (Darn it, here I am a grown man, and I still only have to shave every other day). I dressed real careful. Usually I was just worried about shaming my Mom, now I wanted to make a good impression for Ray's sake. I decided to wait downstairs. If Ray came up to my room to get me, I was afraid we'd never get back out again.

I stood just inside the livingroom door, looking out into the hall. I figured it wouldn't be all that polite to be sitting down when they came in, but I didn't want them to trip over me, either. Senator Iselin opened the door, then stood back, and Mrs. Iselin and another lady came in, laughing and talking. Mrs. Iselin's dress... Well, Uncle Ed used to have an expression: mutton dressed to look like lamb.

They walked halfway down the hall, and the lady stopped, seeing me. She smiled. "Oh, Eleanore, did you get yourself a new houseboy?" I sorta lost hope for the evening right there.

"No,Giselle." Mrs. Iselin led the lady to me. "This is Walter O'Reilly, one of Raymond's service chums. Walter, this is Mrs. Durwood Montpellier."

*Not Giselle to you, Radar.* I shook hands, giving a little boy. "How do you do, ma'am? Pleased to meet you."

"Well, isn't he just charming?" She sounded like she was talking about her host's lap dog.

I didn't have much time to get miffed, though, because other people were crowding in--stopping to shake hands and be introduced, then passing on into the living room. I was introduced to Mr. Durwood Montpellier and Mr. and Mrs. Coldstream--that was all the people who had been in the original party, except Ray and Senator Iselin.

Ray came down the hall, talking to a girl who was a little younger than him, and an older man, and some other man was bringing up the rear. When Ray looked at me, his eyes were a little anxious, like he wanted to tell me something. "Walter, you'll never guess who I ran into at the opera. This is Benton Gaines, my employer. He had to come down for business. And this is his daughter, Jocelyn."

So that explained Ray's unease. This was the girl he had once been engaged to. She was very pretty, with hair almost as sleek and dark as Ray's, and the smile and handshake she gave me was much more genuine than those of the other guests. "H'lo, Miss. Pleased to meet you. Sir."

"Ray says you were in a MASH unit overseas, Walter," said Mr. Gaines. "It sounds fascinating."

"It was pretty intense, sir."

He smiled. "A tactful way of putting things. You have to tell me all about it later on. I might want to have someone do a feature article on it."

The last guest was bringing up the rear. Ray said, "And this is the last minute addition to the party. With the unexpected additions, Mother felt it prudent to have security along. Walter, this is John's head of security."

As he spoke, the Gaines passed into the livingroom, leaving the last visitor, a tall, broad man, standing right before me. I'd never seen him in anything but olive drab, but there was no mistaking him. No mistaking those yellow eyes, and the way that he just seemed to leech warmth out of the air around him.

Ray kept talking, not noticing how still I'd gone. "Samuel, this is Walter O'Reilly. Walter, this is Samuel Flagg."

Flagg smiled. "We've met."

Part Twenty-six: Party

There are times when you think that the world is going to come to an end, has to come to an end, but I've found that it usually doesn't, and you have to find a way to go on. Usually you have to go on because of other people. When Uncle Ed died, Mom went on because of me. When Flagg attacked me in Korea, I went on because of Ray. That's exactly what happened this time.

Ray was standing right there. Thank heavens he wasn't looking at me in those first few seconds. He was glancing after Jocelyn and Mr. Gaines, and he didn't see my first reaction. I did good, I think. I didn't whimper, and I didn't faint. I didn't even start to shake. But I winced. Flagg noticed, and his smile widened. That did it. Somehow that familiar, cold little smile, the one that never reached his eyes, stiffened my spine.

Ray looked back at us. "Yes? Where was this?" His voice held polite interest, nothing more.

"Oh, I knew your boy at the MASH unit." He emphasized 'knew', then the bastard held out his hand.

Forgive me, Mom. I put my hands in my pockets. Ray blinked, and I said, "It hasn't been all that long, Colonel."

"That's right. It seems like only yesterday."

Mrs. Iselin bustled over. "Raymond, what are you doing out here? Mingle, boy, mingle! Walter, why don't you go chat with Jocelyn Gaines? Such a sweet young girl."

I looked at her in surprise. Hadn't she told Ray before that the sweet girl was a Communist tart? Well, I was too grateful to worry about that now. It gave me an excuse to get away from Flagg. "I'd be pleased, ma'am." I turned my back on Flagg without another word and went into the living room.

Jocelyn and her father were just accepting cocktails from Senator Iselin. The Senator gave me a bright, false smile. "Olive or onion?"

"No, thank you. I'll wait for supper."

Mr. Gaines smiled, and Jocelyn almost giggled. I noticed then that Ray's stepdad was holding an extra drink. "He means in your cocktail, Mr. O'Reilly," she said.

"No, thank you, I don't care for any."

Iselin gave me a condescending look, but Mr. Gaines nodded his approval. "Glad to hear it, son. Too many of our men seem to be coming back from Korea with a problem with alcohol."

I thought about Hawkeye, and Trapper, and the still in the Swamp, and said slowly, "Some of 'em it's the only way they can deal with what they have to do every day over there, sir. I guess it's kind of hard for them to let go of it once they come back. Or maybe it's kind of hard for it to let go of THEM. It'd be nice if maybe the veteran's services might offer some sort of help for that. I hear they have a program that's having a lot of success--something about steps."

"That's a very enlightened point of view, Mr. O'Reilly."

"You can call me Walter, sir, or Radar. Most of the folks in the MASH called me Radar."

"Really?" Jocelyn seemed interested. "Why was that?"

Ray had joined us. I glanced at him, then said, "I guess it was because I was the radio operator."

An arm reached past me, brushing my sleeve, and I froze. We were all clustered close around the drink trolley, but usually people still keep a certain amount of space between themselves. I felt breath fan past my ear as Flagg said, "If he doesn't want that, I'll take it, John." Mr. Iselin handed over the drink, and the hand was withdrawn, but Flagg didn't move back. I could feel him now, standing behind me. It was the way sometimes, in pitch blackness, you can sense the wall you're about to run into.

Mr. Gaines was talking. "You're ex-CIA, aren't you, Flagg? And now a security expert? I would've thought you'd pass on alcohol."

"A man has to allow himself some indulgences, Mr. Gaines." The way were were standing, my body blocked Flagg from the others, so they didn't see what I felt--he put his hand on the small of my back.

"Excuse me." I sidestepped and turned quickly, headed for the hall.

"Walter?" Ray caught at my arm.

I pulled loose. "I have to be excused, Ray."

"What's...?"

"I have to be excused." It was a good thing that there was a restroom a couple of doors down the hall, because I never would have made it upstairs. As it was I barely had time to lock the door and bend over before I vomitted.

I sank to my knees and rested my forehead against the counter, smelling the sour stink. Oh, God. Touched me, bastard put his hand on me, touched me, oh God, oh Jesus.

There was a knock at the door. "Walter? Are you all right?" I didn't say anything, unsure of my voice. There was another, more insistent tap. "Walter?"

"Give me a minute." I was surprised to find that my voice was steady. My hands were shaking, but my voice was steady. How much sense does that make.

"Are you all right?"

"Ray, please! When a guy runs into a bathroom, he needs a little time to himself, okay?"

"Oh. Sorry."

I managed to pull myself up, then flushed the toilet, washed my face, and rinsed my mouth out. When I opened the door, Ray was frowning anxiously. The first thing he did was feel my forehead. "I told you I'm all right, Mom."

"i thought I heard you being sick in there."

I looked down and straightened my cuffs, because I didn't want to be looking at him when I told him a lie, even one as tiny as this one. "I was a little sick. I think maybe that eclair I ate this afternoon might have maybe had a spoiled filling, but it tasted so good I ate it anyway."

The anxiety faded, and he smiled faintly. "I would've thought a farm boy would know the hazards of spoiled dairy products. Feeling better now?"

"Some. I may have to leave the party early, though, if it comes back."

He frowned again. "If it comes back, I'm taking you to the hospital. But if you got it out of your system, it shouldn't."

I stepped back out into the hall with Ray, and my gut clenched again. Flagg was standing at the living room entrance, calmly sipping his drink. When he saw me he called, "Well, you had us worried there, O'Reilly. We'd hate to lose your company so early in the evening. I'm looking forward to refreshing some memories." He stirred his drink with his fingertip. "Maybe reliving them." He took a sip, looking at me over the rim of the glass, and went back inside.

"I think I'll go see if Jessie needs anymore help."

As I started down the hall toward the kitchen, Ray again caught my arm. He whispered, "Walter, this isn't like you. What's wrong?"

"Please. I'm just... I'm not real comfortable with those people."

He nodded gravely. "I think I know what's wrong."

I looked at him warily. It was possible, I suppose, but somehow I didn't think so. I remembered the grief and rage he'd expressed in the hayloft, and the quiet intensity with which he'd tried to worm the name of my attacker out of me. I thought that if he really knew what the problem was, he'd be on top of Flagg right now, with his thumbs digging into the man's windpipe. "You do?"

"Yes. Walter, I swear to you that I had no idea I was going to run into Jocelyn tonight. And I wasn't the one who invited them back here--it was my mother. I think she's trying to court James, hoping that he'll see to it that I write an article that's favorable to Iselin."

He thinks I'm upset because his old girlfriend showed up. He thinks I'm jealous. I didn't know whether to be grateful, or to want to smack him. How could he imagine that I didn't trust him? He'd told me over and over, in so many ways, that I was the one he loved. Still, this was good. Things would be safer if he put my behavior down to jealousy. So I had to try to make sure he KEPT thinking it was nothing but my worrying about his old flame. "She's awful pretty."

He moved closer to me, squeezing my arm. "She's nothing to me, do you understand? Nothing but an old friend. God, that sounds cliched, but it's true."

"I believe you. But... but I'd just rather spend as little time around her as I can right now, okay? I don't want to be rude to my hosts, but..."

He shook his head. "Be rude, Walter. please be rude, if it makes you more comfortable. It isn't as if they're overflowing with concern for your feelings. You don't even have to come back, if you're not up to it. I could make your excuses."

"No. Jessie should have supper ready in a little while. I'm half responsible for it, so I want to see how it goes over." He's not going to back me into a hole. I won't let him have that kind of control over me--he'd enjoy it too much.

Jessie wasn't in the kitchen when I went back, and I just sort of stood there, not really knowing what to do. She came back in after a couple of seconds, and stopped short at the sight of me. "Walter, what are you doing back here? You should be out there with the muckity-mucks."

"Some of 'em are a little too mucky for my tastes, Jessie."

She wrinkled her nose. "Yes, I'd never come near the Iselins or most of their 'friends' if I didn't need a paycheck. Well, since you're here, you can make yourself useful. I have a chafing dish ready in the diningroom, so just bring along that pot of seafood melange, and I'll bring the rice."

I got a couple of pot holders and carried the shrimp and crab mixture into the dining room, pouring it carefully into the shiny pan that was sitting in the frame. Jessie lit a candle and pushed it under the pan, nodding. "There. If they don't lollygag too much longer, that should keep it hot."

"Jessie, what's melange mean?"

She shrugged. "I think it's French for 'mess'. If I just throw something together I and bake it, it's a casserole. If I cook it on top of the stove, it's a melange."

We went back into the kitchen, and she took the biscuits out of the oven and started piling them in a napkin lined basket. I heard a little bell tinkle in the dining room, and remembered that I'd seen a crystal hand bell sitting on the sideboard. Jessie rolled her eyes. "Her Ladyship is calling for her supper."

I stared at the door. "She's only a couple of yards away. Why doesn't she stick her head in and tell you?"

"Good God, Walter, converse with the help when it wasn't absolutely necessary? You'll never make an aristocrat, dear. Go on it and join the party." I started for the door that led to the dining room, but she stopped me and pointed me toward the hall. "Go around. We don't want Mrs. Iselin dying of mortification by having her social contacts realized that one of her guests has actually been in the kitchen."

"That is so silly," I grumbled.

She kissed my cheek. "Bless you for thinking that. Scoot."

I didn't scoot. I don't think I've scooted since I was about twelve, but I went ahead and made my way down the hall toward the other entrance to the dining room. When I entered Jessie was just going back out after depositing the biscuits, and Mrs. Iselin, as usual, was in mid-ramble. "...an absolute

treasure, don't know what we'd do without her, but of course you have to be careful that the domestics don't overstep their bounds. I know it sounds terribly elitist of me, but in this case I'm afraid it's true." I wondered what the voting public, most of 'em either without 'domestics', or else domestics themselves, would have thought of this.

She spotted me. "There you are, Walter." Usually I like people calling me by my first name--it seems friendlier. I got the feeling that Mrs. Iselin called me by my first name the way you'd call an animal by a single name--they just weren't important enough for a title or surname. "I asked after you. Didn't I ask after him, Ray?"

"You mentioned that if he retired early the seating would be simpler," said Ray tartly.

"Well, that doesn't mean I wasn't concerned, Raymond. No, I was quite worried about your friend, and of course there's absolutely no chance of doing seating according to etiquette, since there are an uneven number of men and women, though I think it would be nice if we all tried to sit boy-girl-boy-girl as much as possible. But let's all dig in, no need to stand on ceremony. Giselle, Jocelyn, help yourself."

They both picked up warm plates from the end of the sideboard. Giselle stared at the first dish. "My goodness. I've never seen anything that... orange."

"Oh, carrot salad!" Jocelyn sounded pleased. "Try some, Mrs. Coldstream, it's delicious, and it's good for you--vitamin A in the carrots, vitamin C in the pineapple, and iron in the raisins."

"What about the dressing?" she said dubiously.

"That's to make it taste good."

I was starting to like Jocelyn, even if she WAS Ray's old girlfriend. She seemed a lot more down-to-earth than most of the other people I'd met so far in Boston.

I got behind Ray at the buffet. I should have gotten in front of him, because Flagg got behind me again. He didn't stand as close, and he didn't touch me, because there were too many people around, and they were all turning around to speak to each other. And the bastard TALKED to me.

"How's your appetite, O'Reilly?."

Ray glanced back, so I couldn't just ignore him. "It's okay."

"Really? I would have thought that you'd be ravenous after nothing but army chow for so long." He eyed Ray. "I would have thought that you wouldn't be able to get enough of home cooking."

I sure didn't want to eat now, but I knew that Ray would notice if I didn't, so I took a little of everything. I was hoping I could just sort of stir it around on my plate. I silently asked my Mom to forgive me for letting good food go to waste, but I wasn't going to be able to eat more than a few bites without choking.

I managed to avoid having Flagg sit next to me. He was getting such a kick out of watching me squirm that I knew he would have tried. I sat right at the end on my side, though. Mrs. Iselin was at the foot of the table, and Ray sat on my other side while Flagg was still filling his plate, so he had to settle for sitting across from me.

You're supposed to talk to the people sitting next to you at these fancy parties, but Mrs. Iselin talked past me and Ray to Mrs. and Mr. Coldstream. That didn't bother me much, because I could pretend I wasn't trying to make conversation with Flagg because it would be rude to cut across my hostess's conversation.

He passed a few words with Jocelyn, who was sitting on his other side, but he spent most of the supper looking at me. Every time I accidentally looked at him he was staring right back, making a show of licking his lips. I began to think that these people must be blind not to notice the way he was acting. I figured out later that I was kind of right. They didn't expect that type of behavior from a man, directed at another man, so they just didn't recognize it. I think Ray would have, but Flagg was good at presenting a bland face when anyone else was looking. I already knew that from the MASH. No one knew what he was capable of till after he attacked me.

I got through the supper without drawing attention to myself. Then they were going to retire to the living room for a little more conversation, I think. By then it was past one am. I didn't know how those people could do it, but it gave me a reason to leave. I just made the excuse that I wasn't used to such late hours, after all my time on the farm, and went up to my room. My good-bye to the Gaineses was a little cooler than I would have liked it to be, but I couldn't very well be warm to them, then snub Flagg. It wouldn't have drawn attention.

Up in my room I quickly stripped off everything but my pants and underwear, but I automatically locked the door after myself, as Ray had suggested. Then I flopped down on the bed and tried to get my heart and breathing to slow back down to normal. I'd done it. I'd faced Flagg down, and I hadn't crumbled, exploded, or run.

I heard a step in the hallway, and my doorknob turned. I propped myself up on my elbow and called softly, "They all gone, Ray?" I was anxious to get Ray into my room and into my bed. I knew that with his arms wrapped around me I'd feel safe again. There was no answer. "Ray?"

"Soldier." My blood froze. "Why don't you come open the door, and we'll have a private talk?

"Go away."

"O'Reilly, O'Reilly. You ought to know that a little lock like this one won't keep me out of somewhere if I really want in. Didn't you learn that back in Korea? You could make things so much simpler if you'd just open the door. Nothing is going to happen--now. Goodness no, not with all those nice, stupid people downstairs. Be a good boy and open the door." I didn't move, I didn't speak. I heard a sigh, but his voice wasn't disappointed. He almost sounded pleased. "Stubborn as ever. You know, I'll bet that this room has a bath that connects to the next room..."

My eyes flashed to the open bathroom door, and through it, the door that opened into Ray's room. I sprang off the bed and slammed the door shut, thanking God that it could only be unlocked by the person on the side where it had been locked. I heard Flagg laugh. He knew exactly what I was doing.

I heard more footsteps, then Ray's voice. "Flagg? What are you doing?"

Flagg's voice sounded like it was approaching, and I realized what he had done--he had heard Ray coming and hurried down the hall, then pretended to be coming toward the stairs. "Just thought I'd go that extra mile on my job and run a quick sweep. Everything seems to be in order. Lovely evening. My thanks. It's good to have you along for the ride on this campaign, Lieutenant. I didn't expect to see anyone I knew from overseas when I came back to the states, and here I've met two in one place. Isn't life funny?"

"Hilarious. And I'm not a Lieutenant any more, Flagg. I'm out of the military."

"None of use are ever really out, Shaw. We carry our military experiences with us forever. They never leave us."

"I hope to God that isn't true. Good night."

"Good night."

I pressed my ear to the door, and heard steps on the stairs. A moment later I heard Ray enter his room. I went and opened the bathroom door to find him reaching for the knob. He looked a little startled, but pleased. "Well, Walter, how did you like your first upper society to-do?"

"I hated it like poison." Then I stepped up to Ray, wrapped my arms around him, kissed him, and let him begin to flood me with warmth to combat the cold that had settled over me since the first moment I had once again looked into those blank yellow eyes.

Part Twenty-seven: Nightmares

Ray pulled back from the kiss, a little breathless. "It looks like my strategy worked." I started trying to open Ray's shirt. "Well, you are an eager beaver tonight."

"How the heck do you undo these shirt studs?"

Ray laughed. "Step back for a minute, junior, and work on your own duds. I'll get these off." I stepped back and started jerking off my clothes. I was done about the time he got his jacket and shirt all the way off, so I knelt down and started unlacing his shoes. "Walter!" Ray started jerking at his belt. "Damn, kid! You're in a bigger hurry now than I was back in Tokyo."

I didn't reply, I just pulled his zipper down as soon as he got his waistband unbuttoned, then slid his pants and boxers down to his knees. Ray's cock was already half-hard, lifting out of his pubic bush, and I dived right in. "Jesus!" Ray sort of collapsed back against the door as I took him half-way down my throat and started sucking hard.

I couldn't stop. I had to be as close to Ray as I could get, as quickly as possible. I loved him so much, and I had to show him, and I had to get the feel of Flagg out of my mind.

Usually I'd been sort of slow, and almost thoughtful when I did this with Ray, but tonight I was... Um... Ya know, sometimes those Build Your Vocabulary things in Reader's Digest come in handy. Voracious, that's a good word. I just sort of devoured him. Pretty soon Ray was panting, then he started shoving out to meet me. There had been a time when this would've been almost too much for me, and I would have been pulling back to keep from choking, but not now. I grabbed Ray's ass and plunged down on him, all the way, and just held him, working my throat muscles like I was swallowing. Ray cried out, grabbing my hair, and thrust once more. When he came, he gushed so far down my throat that I didn't taste him at first, not till he pulled out a little. Then the last few dribbles coated my tongue, and I almost cried with something like relief.

Now I was feeling weak, and I leaned against him, holding him, my face against his thigh. I felt him stroking my hair. His voice was thick and breathless. "Walter... My God, kid." He bent down, slipping his hands under my arms, and lifted me to my feet, pulling me into his embrace. "Shit, that's the time I've ever felt like I was being ravished."

"Well, I'm sorry, but..."

"Are you kidding me? It was fantastic." He kissed me. "C'mon, help an old man over to the bed. We'll sleep in here tonight, because I don't think I can make it back to my room."

He kicked his way out of his pants and underwear, and we sidled over to the bed and fell down on it. As soon as he was prone he groaned, "And of course I forgot the lights." I started to get up, and he pushed me back down. "Nope, you just lay there, baby boy. If anyone ever deserved a little rest and pampering, it's you."

I watched him as he shut off the light by the door, and in the bathroom. There was just enough light coming through the window for me to make him out as he came back to the bed. As he lay down beside me I plastered myself against his side. Ray hugged me. "What's gotten into you tonight, Walter?"

"Well, if you play your cards right, after you've had a little rest, it could be you."

I was trying to get him to laugh, but all he did was smile. "I'm serious, Walter. You'd been getting better, but now you're nervous again--all tensed up." I shrugged. "Baby, I told you that Jocelyn doesn't mean anything to me. You don't have to be jealous, you aren't going to lose me."

I squeezed my eyes shut, pressing my face against his chest, thinking, That's not how I'm worried I'll lose you, Ray.

After a moment he said quietly, "That isn't all of it. It's Flagg, isn't it?"

I froze. I mean, I fell in the pond in the middle of an Iowa winter once and my lips were blue when they pulled me out, but this was colder than that. I could feel my blood freezing in my veins. I thought desperately that I had to say something, to deny it, if I didn't want to see Ray either dead on sitting on death row.

He continued talking. "I should have known, I guess. Of course you're upset. Seeing someone you knew in Korea couldn't help but bring it back to you." I started shaking with relief. He didn't know. Well, he didn't know that Flagg was the one. He just thought that seeing someone who'd been around the MASH when it happened had brought back bad memories. He held me tighter, stroking my back. "It's all right, Walter. You're safe now."

After a moment he said softly, "Walter? I know that you don't deliberately lie to me, but I can't help but feel you know more about who hurt you than you let on. I really wish you'd tell me."

"No, Ray."

He didn't try to press me--he knew why I wouldn't tell him. No, he didn't ask again, and he was still, but somehow I knew that he lay awake a long time, staring up at the ceiling. I know he slept, though, because he had a nightmare later.

Sometime during the night he started twitching. I woke up quickly, and held on to him tightly, debating whether or not I should wake him up. He was muttering under his breath. "Stop it, stop it... God, hydrangeas of all things. Chunjin? Why... Mrs. Whitt... no, not... not... Never killed anyone. In combat? Yes, ma'am, I guess so." There was a pause. I thought about waking him up, but I always heard it wasn't good to wake someone up suddenly out of a bad dream, and this was a BAD dream. Ray was twitching and sweating.

"The least? Well, I guess Captain Marco, ma'am." A pause. "Not him? Well, I guess Ed Malvole, ma'am." Another pause. "Yes, ma'am." His hands moved. I used to play a lot of charades when I was a kid, and I got pretty good at it. Ray looked like he was stretching something between his hands. His arms lifted a little. I was leaning over him, watching him worriedly, and I realized that his hands were moving up on either side of my throat.

Suddenly I was afraid, and I'd NEVER thought I'd be afraid of Ray. I said sharply, "Ray! Wake up!"

Ray jerked, gasping so sharply that it was almost a shriek. His eyes snapped open, darting around frantically, and I knew that he didn't remember where he was. He was still muttering under his breath. "No! Ed, sorry, Ed, didn't want..."

"It's okay."

He blinked and focused on me. "Walter?" His hands fell down from my neck as he put his arms around me, pulling me back down. "I was having that dream again."

"You have a reoccurring dream?"

"Yeah." He laughed softly, but it was a pained, confused sound. "God, it's the weirdest thing. I can't help but wonder what a psychiatrist would make of it."

"What's it about? And don't try to tell me I don't want to know, or I'd be bored."

"How about I just don't want to talk about it?"

"That's better, but it still won't work."

He was quiet for a minute. "How about if I tell you my dream and you tell me all of what happened to you?" I pulled back to stare at him. "No, I really didn't think that would work." He sighed, pulling my head back down to lie on his shoulder. "Well, it's very jumbled, like dreams are. Half the time I'm one place, and the other half I seem to be somewhere else entirely. It starts out so boring. My squad is being held up by rain, and we're waiting it out in a hotel meeting room." He chuckled. "They're having a garden club meeting, and the place is full of middle aged and elderly ladies in flowered dresses and hats, and the lecturer is talking about hydrangeas."

I turned my head so I could look up at him. As he kept talking, his expression became more tense and puzzled. "But sometimes we weren't in the meeting room. No, it was A meeting room but different, and the people... Walter, I don't know why I'd be thinking of bald heads and moustaches when I'm thinking about a garden club. The speaker gave me a trowel..." slow blink. "At least I THINK it was a trowel. It was long and sharp, anyway, and someone else said 'No, make him do it with his hands', so she gave me a scarf. I could understand a trowel, but why a scarf? And then she asked me who in the squad I disliked the least."

"Captain Marco."

He stroked my hair. "That's right--Marco. He was a good leader--no bullshit, but a little easier on some of the squad goof-offs than I would have been. But the speaker said that we'd need Marco, who else? And I said Ed Malvole, because Ed was a pretty good guy--a little loud and crude, but he'd do anything for his friends. And the speaker gave me the scarf and told me to..." His eyes widened. "She told me to kill Ed. Just like that--kill him. And I put the scarf around his neck and started to twist it, and Ed just sat there." His expression tightened in pain and horror. "Then I heard you, and I woke up. God, I've been having that dream ever since we escaped and made it back to our lines. During the daytime I can almost forget it."

"Have you told anyone about this?"

"Only when I was being debriefed, when it first started." He grunted. "Flagg was up my butt practically every moment I was there. I started to wonder if the man was human--he never seemed to sleep, get tired, or show emotion."

"You told him?" I was terrified of the idea of someone like Flagg having a glimpse of anything that made my lover vulnerable. Did this have something to do with what Flagg had referred to about Ray being his ticket to a cushy job?

"Didn't have much choice, baby. There was no way he was letting me out of there till he had an explanation of why I woke up yelling, and I was just too tired and jumbled to make up a plausible lie." He sighed. "I'll tell you the truth, I was afraid he'd recommend a section eight discharge. I didn't want to end my service like that."

No, he wouldn't have wanted that. Ray didn't like war, he told me time and again what a sickening waste of life it was, but he was proud to serve his country. An honorably gained wound would have been one thing, but he would have seen a 'diminished capacity' discharge as an insult.

"How did he end up working for your stepdad?"

"I'm not certain. From what I gathered, he came back just after I did. Mother says he dropped by right after I broke off with them, just to check up on me, he said. Somehow I can't envision him worrying about my well being." He laughed shortly. "Flagg strikes me as having about as much tender mercy in his nature as a cross between a jackal and a cobra. Anyway, they had drinks and it came out that he was ex-CIA, and currently at liberty. Having a former spook for his security team would give Johnny an extra bit of cache, so they hired him." His tone was grudging. "I have to admit, he does his job well."

Without thinking I said, "He had almost everyone at the MASH convinced he was a clown."

"Really? That's something I never saw in him."

No. He doesn't feel like he needs to act a fool when he's in complete control of the situation, like he was at the debriefing. Oh, damn, Ray. He's letting you see more of his real self than anyone else. That scares me. "You know, Ray, you ought to talk to someone about those nightmares. I talked to a really nice head doctor back at the MASH, and it helped." He raised his head to look at me. "It did. I was pretty bad... right after. I got better." I sighed. "Then I got worse. I think I might write to Sidney and get his advice on someone in Boston. You could see them, too."

"I don't know, Walter." He sounded uncomfortable. "I've never talked about my feelings much."

I squeezed him. "You do with me, some."

He kissed my forehead. "That's different." He sighed. "I know it's archaic, but in the circle I grew up in, one simply did NOT go to a psychiatrist. It would be considered a great social stigma." He laughed shortly. "God, my mother would have a fit! I'm tempted to do it just for that reason."

"Think about it, okay? Maybe this could be an 'I will if you will' sorta thing."

His hand slipped between us, sliding over my bare belly. "I can think of other, more fun things we could play that with."

I sighed as his fingers ruffled my pubic hair. "Why do I get the feeling that you're trying to distract me?"

"Probably because I am. Is it working?" His hand slid lower and he gripped me, beginning to stroke.

"Yeah." I pushed into his hand. "It's working, for now. But I don't forget things easily, Ray." I closed my eyes, laying against him as he squeezed and petted me. That's part of the problem--some things I can't forget.

I threw a leg over Ray's thigh and started humping against him, rubbing against the solid muscle. I kissed him and said, "Whatta ya want me to do, Ray?"

He put his hands on my ass, pulling me tighter against him. "Just love me, Walter. That's all I need."

So I did. I thrust against him, kissing him, till I came. Ray used a corner of the sheet to wipe my sperm off his belly. When I reached down to caress his half-hard cock he took hold of my hand and kissed it, then pulled my arm across his waist and held it there till I relaxed. When he let go I didn't try to shift. He whispered, "It's not that I don't want you, baby. I think that dream just has me a little frazzled. Let's just hold each other and sleep, okay?"

"Sounds good to me." We settled down, but I didn't really sleep again. I dozed a little, but every time Ray shifted or even breathed a little deeper than usual I woke up and watched him, waiting to be sure that it wasn't another dream.

Part Twenty-eight: Coincidence

I didn't get to see Ray much the next couple of days. The good thing was that I didn't have to get close to Flagg during that time, either. I always made sure I was upstairs whenever he arrived to escort Mr. and Mrs. Iselin, and no one commented on it. Ray dismissed my reluctance to again meet with Flagg as a reaction to the unpleasant memories of Korea he stirred up. He was right, of course, but he still had no idea of the kind of memories.

Ray accompanied them to a press conference with the Secretary of State. The secretary sat at a table in front of a bunch of reporters and TV newsmen, and pretty much didn't answer any questions when he was questioned. Raymond had told me that was an art you had to learn, or they wouldn't let you be a politician.

I watched it on TV, because I kinda hoped that I might catch a glimpse of Ray. Sometimes they show the crowd. There was a small, slender man in a major's uniform sitting next to the Secretary, and every now and then the Secretary would lean over and whisper with him before answering. Finally the major said, "If there are no more questions for the secretary, I think that'll about wrap things up."

Then I heard the unmistakable voice of Senator Iselin hollering,"Mr. Secretary! I have a question, sir!"

Jessie had paused in her dusting (she wouldn't let me help) to watch and listen. Now she snorted. "Trust him to wait till the last minute to make a big show of himself."

"It's working." And it was. The camera swung around to focus on Mr. and Mrs. Iselin standing near the back of the room. I started to smile, because Ray was right beside them, watching his stepfather with a disgusted look on his face. But the smile faded when I saw Flagg standing just behind him, and I felt cold. As little as I liked Flagg coming anywhere near me, I liked it even less when he came near Ray.

I heard the voice of the Secretary saying, "Who are you, sir?" He sounded kinda miffed.

The Senator sorta threw out his chest and said, "I am United States Senator John Yerkses Iselin and I have a question so serious that the fate of our nation may very well depend on your answer."

"Who?" The Secretary now sounded miffed AND puzzled.

"No evasions, Mr. Secretary! No evasions, if you please, sir!" Iselin barked, just like the Secretary was trying to flim flam him.

Now the camera turned back to the front table to catch the Secretary's reaction. "Evasions? What the hell are you talking about?" I think I gasped. I know he was mad, but he said 'hell' on national television! Now the Secretary looked at the major. "What sort of foolishness is this?"

The major covered the microphone so that we couldn't hear what he said, but he must've told the Secretary to humor Iselin, because he turned back, but he sure wasn't happy about it.

Now Iselin was waving some papers. "I am United States Senator John Yerkses Iselin..."

I glanced at Jessie. "He already said that, didn't he?"

"As far as he's concerned, his own name can't be spoken too many times," she sighed.

The Senator went on. "...and I have here a list of the names of two hundred and seven persons known by the Secretary of Defense as being members of the Communist Party...!" There was an excited buzz, and the Secretary started to say something, but Iselin just kinda rolled right over him. "...who are still nevertheless..." Now the Secretary was trying to shout Iselin down, but he just kept raising his voice, and the buzz got louder. "...working and shaping the policy of the Defense Department!"

Boy, flashbulbs were goin' off and people were scribbling notes. He wanted a reaction, and he sure got one. The Secretary kept asking who the hell he was, and Iselin kept shouting that he demanded and answer. Finally the Secretary said, "How the hell did you get in here in the first place? He turned to the major and said, "Throw that lunatic out!" The major looked like he wanted to be any place but right there.

Iselin said he regretted having to say this in front of everyone, but the Secretary no longer had his confidence. Yeah, I BET he regretted it. Mrs. Iselin, standing next to him, looked like one of the barn cats did when it managed to steal one of the pork chops Mom had left out to thaw. In other words, she was so pleased with herself and the world that she looked like she might bust.

The Secretary was now calling for the sergeant at arms to throw that idiot out. Iselin told him that he'd had his chance to investigate, and now it was in the hands of the senate. He posed for the cameras for a couple of seconds, then made a grand exit, with Mrs. Iselin and Flagg following him. Then the major who had been sitting at the front table came on screen, hurrying after them. When he and Ray saw each other he paused, then went on out. Ray followed. I suddenly realized that that had been recognition. Ray and that man knew each other from somewhere.

When he finally came home, I didn't ask him about it. I figured he'd tell me if it was anything important, and he did. The Iselin's were off at some fancy restaurant again, and Ray refused to go, so we were having a comfortable dinner in the kitchen. Ray poked at his mashed potatoes and said, "I saw a ghost today, Walter." When I looked at him he shrugged. "Well, someone I never expected to see, anyway. It was my Marco, my major."

"He was one of the guys you were with when your were lost, right?"

"Right. I didn't get a chance to talk to him--Flagg was hustling us out. But now that I know he's here in town, I'd like to see him again. I want to know if anyone else from our squad is having nightmares like me."

Jessie came in, carrying a few envelopes. "Ray, I forgot to give these to you earlier. They forwarded your mail."

He took them. "Thanks, Jessie." He started sorting through them. "Bill, bill, junk, bill, circular... Hey." He sounded surprised. "A personal letter. I don't get letters. Well, not since we haven't been corresponding. It's from Melvin." His voice rose in surprise. "This is a coincidence, Walter. Melvin was in my squad, too. Strange to be contacted by two of the men on the same day."

He slit the envelope open and started to read the letter. I kept eating, since it wasn't any of my business. But as he read I could see that it was upsetting Ray. Finally he silently handed it to me. Since he wanted to share it, I took it and began reading.

"Dear Sarge, I had to say this or write this to someone because I think I'm going nuts. And since you were my best friend in the army, here goes. Sarge, I'm in trouble. I'm afraid to go to sleep because I have terrible dreams. I dream about all the guys on the patrol where you won the medal. And the dream has a lot of Chinese people in it and a lot of big brass from the Russian Army. Well, it's pretty rough. You have to take my word for that..."

I didn't read anymore, because the phone rang, and Ray got up to answer it. He listened, then said, "This is he." So the phone call was for him. Then something really, really strange happened. He got a funny, far away look on his face and hung up without saying anything else. Then he went to the counter and pulled a deck of cards out of one of the drawers, came back to the table and pushed aside his plate, and started to deal a hand of solitaire.

"Ray?" He ignored me, slowly turning up the cards. Then he stopped and stared at the cards. "Ray, is something wrong?" He just kept staring at the cards, so I looked at them, too. The last card he had turned up was the queen of diamonds.

The phone rang again. Ray got up, still blank faced, and went to answer it. He said 'yes, sir' three times, like he was answering someone. Then he hung up the phone, came back to the table, and started gathering up the unfinished card game.

I was getting scared. "Ray?" He kept picking up cards. I reached over and grabbed his arm and shook it. "RAY!"

He blinked and looked at me, and for a moment I was sure that he wasn't SEEING me. Then his eyes cleared. "Walter, what's the matter?"

"You tell me."

He looked down at his hands, and seemed surprised to find that he was holding a deck of cards. "Well, what on earth...?" His face got pale. "Walter, I must've had a blackout. I can't remember getting these cards."

"Do you remember the phone calls?"

"Calls?" He frowned. "I remember Melvin's letter, and... Yes, there was a phone call. I think it was just a wrong number."

"There were TWO phone calls."

"Two?" He looked distressed. "I don't recall a second one at all! Walter, this worries me. The nightmares were bad enough, but blackouts..."

"You ought to see a doctor, Ray."

"Yes. Yes, I'm scheduled for an appointment to get a check up this Saturday around eleven. Funny, I'd forgotten about it till just now. I'll be sure to tell them about this."

I wanted to go with Ray that Saturday, but he said I'd just be stuck in the waiting room, so I should stay home. I agreed. I spent so much time in the MASH that I'm not real comfortable in a medical environment.

I was reading a book in my room, and I heard the phone ring, then it was picked up. The Iselins, of course, were out, and Jessie answered the phone. A few minutes later there was a knock on my door. When I opened it, Jessie was standing in the hall, white faced. She took both my hands and said, "Walter, there's been an accident."

I turned cold immediately. "Ray?" I whispered.

She sqeezed my hands and said quickly, "He's all right! Well, not exactly all right, but he's not in any danger. He was struck by a car, and they took him to the Timothy Swardon sanitarium."

I frowned. "Not a hospital?"

"This was closer, and they have medical facilities."

I grabbed my jacket. "Where is it?"

"It's at 84 East 61st street. Give him my love."

"I will. Would you call me a cab? I'm not going to wait on the bus."

I fidgited all through the taxi ride. When I got to the hospital the lady at the reception desk said she wasn't sure if Raymond Shaw was allowed visitors. I said she'd better check, because even if they said no I intended to go through every room in the building till I found him. She made a phone call, then gave me his room number.

When I got to Ray's room there were a couple of doctors in there, dressed in white coats. One of them looked Chinese, but I didn't pay too much attention because all I could think of right then was Ray.

He didn't look so bad for a guy who had been knocked down by a car. I mean, sure he had a bandage around his head, and his left leg was in a cast, but he wasn't all bruised and scraped up.

The doctors watched me as I went to the bed. I wanted to hug Ray so bad, but I couldn't with them there. Instead I took his hand. "Ray, you were gonna see the doctor anyway. You didn't have to run into the street to get an appointment."

The Chinese doctor said, "Excuse me, please?"

"He had an appointment to get a check up today. Weird, isn't it?"

"Very. How did you know about this appointment?"

I gave him a puzzled look. "He told me."

The other doctor repeated what I'd said. "He told you." He looked at the Chinese doctor and said, "He TOLD him."

"Of course Mr. Shaw would confide in a friend." The Chinese man smiled at me. "May we know your name, sir?"

"I'm Walter O'Reilley. I knew Ray in the army."

Something about that seemed to enlighten the Chinese doctor. "Ah, I see. O'Reilly. Well, Mr. O'Reilly, you have nothing to fear for your friend. He was extremely lucky, but he will have to remain here for a week or two, to be sure there are no complications."

I nodded. "When are visiting hours? I'm gonna spend a lot of time here."

"Of course you will wish to keep your friend company, but you must remember that he has had a shock to his system. He will require rest and physical therapy, so there will be times when he will be unavailable. It would be better if you called before coming over, in case the time is wrong for a visit." I nodded reluctantly. I sure wasn't going to do anything that might hinder Ray's recovery. "Raymond." Ray looked up, and for the first time I realized how silent he had been. He hadn't even greeted me. Maybe they had given him painkillers. "Raymond, your good friend Walter has come to visit you. Isn't that nice? Talk to him, Raymond." He nodded to the other doctor, and they both left the room.

"Walter?" Ray sounded like he had just realized who I was. I squeezed his hand. The door was shut, so I leaned down and gave him a quick kiss. Now his eyes cleared, and he kissed me back. "Geez, kid, look what I got myself into now. You'd think I would have learned by now to look both ways before crossing the street."

"So you'll know better next time. Do you need anything?"

"I'm a little dry. Get me some water, hm?"

"Sure, Ray." There was a pitcher and a glass on the stand next to his bed,, and I poured a glass of water, handing it to him.

He said, "Thanks, Walter." He drank it down, then handed the glass back to me. "You spoil me."

"That's why I'm here." I turned to set the glass back on the stand, but stopped. Something had caught my eye. There, laying on the stand, was a card. Not a deck of cards, just a single one. It was the queen of diamonds

Part Twenty-nine
Care

I stayed with Raymond several hours, just sitting with him and talking quietly. A nurse came in that evening, and gave me a kind of amused frown. "Goodness, are you still here?"

"Still here, ma'am."

"Well, I'm afraid you're going to have to go. We'll be bringing his dinner in a few minutes, then he has a sponge bath, and bed. He'll need plenty of rest if he's going to recuperate."

"Okay. I'll go in a few minutes." As she started out I said, "Ma'am?" She paused. "Do you know where the rest of the cards are?"

She looked perplexed. "Cards?"

I picked up the queen of diamonds. "There's just one here. Did the last patient take the deck home and miss this one?"

"I suppose he must have. I can get Mr. Shaw a fresh deck if he likes, but there'll be no time to play tonight." She held out her hand. "Here. I'll get rid of that for you."

I turned the card in my fingers, tucking it in my palm. "No, that's okay. I'll take care of it."

She hesitated, then pointed. "There's a wastebasket right beside you."

"I noticed." She waited for another few seconds. I didn't move to throw the card away, and she finally left. I think she was irritated. "Ray..." He was staring at the card. "Ray?"

"Yes?" His voice was dreamy. He'd been so alert a moment ago, and now his eyes were vague. I was starting to get worried.

"I have to go now, but I'll be back tomorrow."

"Yes. That would be good."

I stood, and touched his shoulder. "Are you sure you're all right?"

He blinked a little, and seemed to come back from wherever he'd been. "I'm fine, baby boy. The thing that hurts the worst is my dignity. C'mere." He wound a hand in my shirt and pulled me down, kissing me.

I hugged him, kissed him back, and went out into the hall. I went down to the nurse's desk. A nurse, a different one from the one who'd come in the room, looked up from a chart. "Yes?"

"I need to speak to Mr. Shaw's doctor, the Chinese gentleman."

She frowned. "We have no Chinese doctors on staff, sir."

"I talked to him in Ray's room. Him and another doctor with dark hair."

She consulted some papers. "Mr. Shaw's doctor is Doctor Bradley, but he has gray hair."

"Look, ma'am, all I know is that there was a Chinese doctor and another one in Ray's room, and I want to talk to one of them, because I'm worried about him. He's kind of spacing out now and then, and I'm afraid that he might have a head injury they didn't catch."

The first nurse had come up to the desk as the other one said, "Sir, I'm sure your friend was thoroughly checked over, and once again, we have no oriental staff at this..."

"Oh, he means Dr. Yen Lo," interrupted the nurse who'd come to roust me. "Dr. Yen Lo isn't on staff--he's only visiting, and he asked to see Mr. Shaw, to see how our hospitals handle emergencies."

I stared at her. That seemed like a pretty thin excuse to me. I figured that if any foreign doctor wanted to check on American emergency procedures they'd be down in the emergency room, not examining a patient who had already been stabilized and admitted. "I don't care if he owns the hospital or is someone's visiting relative. Tell whoever is in charge of Ray that they need to check to see if he has a concussion, because he's acting funny. It might even be something that started before the accident and was aggravated. He's sort of gone off in his own little world before."

The nurse's smile was a little cool, and I thought that right then she didn't really look like someone who'd dedicated herself to caring for others. "I'll be sure to tell the doctor on duty immediately, and we'll keep a close watch on him. Now, I'll have to ask you to leave. Visiting hours are over."

I was tempted to tell her that I was going to wait right there till I was sure that Ray had been checked over again, but a big guy in a security guard uniform came up behind her, and he was watching me real close. I decided that I wouldn't be able to see Ray at all if I ended up in jail for disturbing the peace, so I went ahead and left.

Back at the Islen house, I knocked on the door. I didn't have a key, of course. Ray had offered to get me one, but I'd turned it down. It wasn't his house, and I didn't feel at home in it, so I didn't want a key. I waited for Jessie to answer the door--I sure didn't figure either of the Islen's would stoop to answer their own front door.

An oriental man opened the door. He wore the sort of white jacket I'd seen waiters wearing when they served in the officer's mess at some of the bigger army camps. "Yes, please?"

"Uh..." I checked the address again. No, I was at the right place.

He frowned at me. "The Islens are not home now." He started to close the door.

"Wait! I stay here. I'm their son's friend."

"They are not home. Mister Shaw is in hospital. You come back tomorrow, please." He started to shut the door.

"But..."

The door was almost closed. Another hand caught the door, fingers curling around the edge, stopping it. The door was pulled open again. My stomach dropped right down to my shoes.

Samuel Flagg stood beside the man, smiling at me. "Chunjin, this is Walter O'Reilly. You remember, I told you about him. Of course he can come in."

I took a step backwards, not daring to look away from him. I wondered if I'd be able to run fast enough to get away from Flagg if he decided to chase me.

"Samuel, who is it?" I heard the voice of Ray's mother, somewhere farther back in the hall. So much for the Islens being out.

Flagg raised his voice, but he didn't take his eyes off me. "It's your house guest, O'Reilly, ma'am." His normally colorless voice held a hint of dark amusement. "He's trying to decide whether or not to come in."

"Well, gracious, Walter." There was the tap of high heels, and Mrs. Iselin appeared beside Flagg. "For goodness sake, come inside. We don't want to just leave the door standing open like that." Without waiting for my response, just assuming that I'd obey, like everyone else in her life, she turned and went back into the house.

Every instinct I had was telling me to run as fast and as far as I could, but...

"Where would you go, O'Reilly?" Flagg's voice was soft.

He was right. The only place I could go was back to the hospital, and I couldn't risk having him follow me back there--back to Ray. "You stand back."

He studied me, then stepped back, bowing ironically. "Give way, Chunjin. Corporal O'Reilly is a bit skittish of being touched." His smile was nasty. "By most people, anyway."

What could I do? I figured with the Iselins there he wouldn't dare do anything. I stepped inside, edging carefully so that I didn't touch him, and the oriental guy, Chunjin, shut the door. I was thinking that I should run up to my room and lock myself in. I guess Flagg knew the way my mind worked pretty good, because he moved, all casual like, and put himself between me and the stairs.

I was almost ready to go for the front door again when Jessie came out of the kitchen and hurried toward me, her expression anxious. "Walter, how is he?"

I was relieved, feeling a little safer with her there. I patted her shoulder. "She's okay, Jessie. He got a bump on his head, and his leg was hurt some, but he's okay. Shouldn't be there more'n a week or two." I frowned. "That bump on the head kinda worries me, though. He acts kind of vague sometimes."

"It's so touching to see your concern, O'Reilly," said Flagg blandly.

Chunjin walked past us, heading for the kitchen, and Jessie frowned after him. She whispered, "They brought him in after you left. They say he's a houseboy, and he's here to take some of the work off my hands." She snorted. "They sure did get concerned for my well-being awful suddenly."

"But who is he?"

"I listened to them talking. I guess he has good references. He was Raymond's interpreter in Korea. Ray saved him, along with the others." I stared after the man. So, he'd been with Ray during his three days of captivity. I wondered if I'd be able to find out from him anything about what had happened.

Mrs. Iselin appeared in the living room archway, a cigarette in one hand and a cocktail in the other. "Walter, dear, don't stand about in the hallway talking to the help--it's common. Come in. I want to hear about your visit to Raymond."

I didn't particularly feel like visiting with her and the senator, but I figured that the more people I had around me, the better, so I went into the living room. He followed me, damn it.

Mrs. Iselin was sitting on the couch, and she patted the cushion next to her. "Come sit by me."

I didn't really want to sit next to her, I mean, I try to be polite, s'pecially to ladies, and extra s'pecially to ladies who are old enough to be my mother, but I just didn't LIKE her. But Senator Iselin occupied the only chair that wasn't halfway across the room, so I sat next to her.

"Samuel, I'll have another of these please," she said, handing her glass to Flagg. As he went to the bar she said, "Usually I only allow myself once, but we're at home tonight, so I don't have to worry about the sharp little eyes of John's constituents. So, Walter, how is Raymond?"

"He's not too bad--kinda banged up. There shouldn't be anything permanent, like a limp or a scar."

"Wonderful! That would have been a dreadful shame. Ray is such a handsome young man." I stared at her. I think she realized that I was thinking that she was acting kind of casual about her only child having such a close brush with death. She spread her hand over her breast, and her expression got... Well, it was too much, you know? She went from mildly interested to tragic. "I was so frightened when I heard what had happened. Oh, my poor little boy!"

"You do know where they took him, right?"

"Yes, of course--the Timothy Swardon sanitarium."

"Oh. I thought maybe you hadn't been told--since I didn't meet you up there."

She stared at me. I stared back. She knew what I was saying. I was remarking on the fact that she had known where her son was, laid up after a serious accident, and she hadn't yet bothered to visit him.

She was trying to decide what to say to me. I got the feeling that this wasn't something that happened to her often--being at a loss for words. Flagg came back and handed her the drink. She turned it in her hands, still watching me, then said, "I'll be going to see Ray tomorrow. God, I wanted to fly to him as soon as I knew what had happened, but they didn't notify us until after the dinner. Then John had committed himself to speaking to a PTA group, and Ray wouldn't have wanted them to be disappointed, and besides, visiting hours were almost over."

"Yeah. It's tough like that." She frowned, but I wasn't impressed. I was just thinking of how Mom would have acted if I'd ever been hit by a car and laid up in the hospital. She would have knocked grown men down to get to me as fast as she could, and nothing would have kept her away--not visiting hours, dragon-lady head nurses, or President Eisenhower himself. Though I guess she'd apologize and explain to Ike why she couldn't accommodate him.

Flagg sat down on my other side. I stopped breathing for a second. I think maybe my heart stopped, too.

I froze. He laid his arm casually along the back of the sofa, behind me. I stayed so still that you might've thought there was a snake lying on the couch behind me, as careful as I was not to lean the least little bit back, within striking distance.

"So, shall I put the hospital on your itinerary for tomorrow?" he asked.

"Yes. And make it early, Samuel so we don't tire Raymond too badly." She drained her drink, setting aside the glass. "Well, I suppose we ought to go on to bed."

John Iselin looked like a chubby kid who'd been given some bad news. "But Eleanor, I was planning on watching a program on television tonight."

She stood up. "You know very well that you get shadows under your eyes when you stay up late, John, and the cameras are merciless." She started out of the room, not bothering to look back. She was confident he would follow her--and he did.

I listened to the sound of their footsteps on the stairs. I didn't look at Flagg. I stared straight ahead, but I could sort of see him as a bulk at the edge of my vision. I could feel him, too. You know how you can sometimes when you're in the dark; you just know that you're about to step into a hole or trip over something. You just know that there's something nasty waiting to happen, nearby.

As soon as their footsteps faded, and I was pretty sure they were in their room, I moved. I TRIED to move. I was coiled like a spring, ready to jump. Before I could, though, Flagg's hand came down on my shoulder, hard.

I didn't scream. I almost did. I wanted to, but I didn't. Instead, I said, "Get your fucking hand off me." I was kind of proud of the fact that my voice didn't shake.

"Language, language. I'll let go if you promise not to run."

I finally looked at him, forcing myself to meet his eyes. "Let--go."

"Listen to me. I'm not going to do anything to you, and we need to talk. I know you don't want to spend another second with me, but maybe you should consider what all this means to your boyfriend."

Oh, God. I didn't slump, but I forced a little of the tension from my body, and nodded, my head jerking sharply. Flagg released me, his hand hovering over me till he was certain that I wasn't going to bolt. "Good boy. I always knew you were sensible, O'Reilly."

"Say what you're going to say."

"Tsk, tsk. Such a hostile attitude to someone you've been so intimate with." I jerked around, glaring at him, my hands balled into fists so tight that my knuckles creaked. But I didn't do any more. If I attacked him, and the Iselin's found out, I wouldn't be able to explain it to them. He didn't laugh. If he had, I might not have been able to stop myself, but he didn't. He did smile, though. "No need to be so touchy."

He leaned back and folded his hands over his belly. "I'm going to assume that you haven't told Ray about our little encounter back at the MASH. I think that if you had, either he or I would be dead right now." I didn't answer. I didn't have to--he knew he was right. "Have you told anyone else?"

"No. Not your name, anyway. But there are a couple of people who've probably figured it out for themselves. The doctors weren't as dumb as you seemed to think they were."

"Mm." He looked thoughtful. "That's not good, but it's not disastrous. No matter what they suspect, they can't prove anything. Especially if you won't speak up, and you won't, will you, boy?"

I looked away from him, gritting my teeth. "Stay away from Ray."

"I won't be around him any more than I have to while dancing attendance on the Iselins. You don't have to worry about me hurting a hair on his handsome head, O'Reilly. He's a very important man, is Raymond Shaw. Many people are counting on him, and we have to have him healthy."

I stood up. "Are you through now? I want to go wash my hands. I feel like I've touched something dirty."

I would have expected those pale yellow eyes to be chilly, but they were suddenly hot, like liquid gilt. Before I could step away he'd grabbed my pants leg. "You saw the rough side of me, O'Reilly. It didn't have to be like that, but it was your choice. You have a choice now. I'm going to be a big man, soon. I could give you as much as Shaw, even more."

His hand was sliding around toward my inner thigh. I slapped his hand down, jerking away so hard that I stumbled. I was shaking, and I almost fell, but I caught myself. I didn't want to go down in front of him. Any show of vulnerability was dangerous with Flagg. I knew what I was about to say was clichéd and probably sounded stupid, but it was what I felt. "I'd rather die," I whispered.

He stood up slowly, his hands flexing at his side. His voice was soft. "Do you think that would stop me?"

The most horrible thing was... he sounded perfectly believable.

I ran. I ran faster than I had when the choppers came over the hills at the MASH, faster than I had when our old bull had surprised me walking across the pasture. I made it to my room without Flagg pursuing, and I locked myself in before I collapsed on the bed, shaking uncontrollably. But my shoulder had slammed into Chunjin, the new houseboy, as he was coming into the room, knocking him against a wall. I had heard him cursing in some foreign language as I pounded up the hall. I didn't recognize it. Later on, I would wonder why he didn't speak Korean.

END PART 30