Towards the end of the work day, Dahlia bumps Radar lightly with her elbow to get his attention as she's making her way out. "Wanna grab something to eat before we head home for the day? There's something personal I wanted to talk to you about. Nothing bad, just don't need the whole office hearing."
"Oh!" Jolted from his thoughts, Radar blinks up at her owlishly -- but he's smiling, too. To the shock of probably everybody in Town Hall, he even starts putting away the paperwork he was scribbling on. "Sure, ma'am, I'd like that."
(Just like John is still Mr. Rambo most of the time, Dahlia's still on the receiving end of plenty of ma'ams and Miss Leeds, despite everything.)
"Oh, yeah, they got real good sandwiches there." He beams. "You know they'll even make you a triple-decker one if you ask nice?"
Radar found that out about a week ago, and his life may never be the same. God help the guys on KP whenever he makes it back to Korea.
Shoving the last of the paper into its designated spot -- he'll remember where it is, even if nobody else will -- he grabs his things and follows Dahlia out the door.
"...Okay," he says. Some of his usual cheer has dimmed into uncertainty, but all he does is frown, slightly, as he toys with the napkin in front of him. It's a little too noisy to get a good read on her, which means he's gotta ask outright: "What is it?"
It doesn't take psychic abilities to recognize that he's nervous. Dahlia takes a moment's pause to consider exactly how she wants to phrase this, in such a way that it's quick and concise so as not to torture him, but still considerate to his feelings.
After a beat, though, she settles on something.
"So I'm sure you've noticed to some extent that I have a few ongoing romantic relationships," she begins bluntly. "I wanted to explain them. Because of the friendships I've made on the island, I've learned that it's possible and even sometimes beneficial to a person's life, to have multiple romantic partners, as long as everyone is in complete agreement that they're alright with it. A few of my partners also have other partners in addition to me, and it's all above-board and agreed to, because each time a new partnership starts, we have a conversation like... well, this one."
The last bit is pointed, as if she hopes Radar can see where she's going with this.
Radar keeps frowning, puzzled. Sure, he noticed, but he kind of figured it was like -- well, like Hawkeye sleeping around with all the nurses, honestly. Not great, but none of his business. And he's got no idea how something like that could be beneficial and not just end up with everybody jealous and yelling at each other.
...Though pretty much every nurse who went on a date with Hawkeye knew what he was like before long, right? So... so maybe this really isn't that different. Everybody knowing and being okay with it. It's just kind of a funny way of going about things, like everybody's got something a little funny about them.
Halfway through Dahlia's explanation, one of the cafe staff deposits their drinks on their table. Radar switches to fiddling with the straw of his lemonade.
Which, unfortunately, means that when she gets to the last bit --
It's not the other shoe dropping. It's an anvil right on top of Radar's head. His eyes bug out, he makes a funny strangled noise in the back of his throat, and he fumbles the straw so hard that he knocks his whole glass over the table.
Dahlia jumps back a bit as liquid hits the table, a reflex from wearing nice dresses her whole life. "Oh--- goodness, I'm so sorry---" She stands, grabbing the fabric napkin the cafe gave her and starting to help mop up the spill. "I-- guess I startled you pretty badly."
Radar rights his glass and frantically tries to mop up the lemonade, too. His hands feel weird and trembly even though they're not actually shaking. Is he breathing? Oh, jeez, he better breathe before he faints and makes this whole thing even worse. He might faint anyway even if he does start breathing again.
They get the spill wiped up pretty fast. Radar shoves the empty glass and sodden napkins to one side of the table as he stares up at Dahlia.
"You -- " His mouth's gone dry. (Guess that's what he gets for freaking out and dumping his drink everywhere.) "You wanna go steady with me?"
There's no way. Any second now she's gonna laugh and explain, gently, that that's not what she meant at all.
Instead, she smiles, and shrugs helplessly. "If you'd be open to it? I know my situation is a lot, and it's not for everyone, but, ah." Dahlia purses her lips and swallows. "I mean, I'm... pretty fond of you, so."
There's that strangled squeak again, like Dahlia just stepped on a mouse. There are literally no thoughts in this boy's head besides A PRETTY GIRL WANTS TO DATE YOU AND IT'S NOT A JOKE in giant blinking neon text. You could hold an otoscope up to one ear and see straight out the other side.
For about fifteen seconds, anyway. Then a few other neurons sputter back to life. Radar finally manages to breathe, head woozy and face hot, and swallows.
"And... you wanna date other people, too."
Yeah, that sounds like he's coming back down to earth, and the impact isn't treating him too well.
"I already am," she tells him solemnly. "Laios and Daisy are already my partners."
Here comes the tricky part. Dahlia takes a deep breath.
"I had a feeling that part might give you some pause, and I'm prepared to talk it out with you in the hopes I can help you feel better about it. But if it's a hard line, we can call it a wash and stay friends."
"No, I mean I get it why you wouldn't wanna just date me," says Radar, settling into a quiet, glum resignation. He drops his gaze to the table. "I know I'm not... you know. I don't look like most of the other guys around here. I'm short and I don't got too many muscles and, and I can't see six inches in front of my nose if you took my glasses off, plus my hair's..."
He gestures, a little helplessly, toward the hat that hides the bald patches on his head.
"Wh--- No! That's absolutely not what this is about, Radar, it has nothing to do with--- with any of that. Hey." She tips her head down, craning her neck to try and get back in his line of sight. "I love the way you look. And I certainly don't care if your eyesight is bad, that... that would be ridiculous. Goodness."
Reaching out, she takes his hand gently, and sighs. How to explain this...?
"It's a little complicated. I... suppose I'm just kind of a strange person. I've lived, ah, sort of a bad life? I know it probably doesn't seem that way, considering, but it's been... difficult. But I used to have a lot of people that I loved in different ways, for different reasons, who could each be something unique for me. Now... those people are gone. And I suppose this is just my heart's way of trying to build a new family. One full of people that I love equally, who each represent unique parts of my life. One I'd like you to be part of."
...Nobody's ever said they love the way he looks. Even Linda Sue acted like they were sweethearts despite how he looked, not because of it.
A tiny shiver goes through his heart. Radar meets her eyes; when Dahlia takes his hand, he doesn't flinch away, even if the shivery feeling gets way worse for a second.
"I always thought if you're serious about someone, you're supposed to be their one and only." He doesn't say it with any kind of judgement. Mostly, he sounds like he's still trying to puzzle through what Dahlia's saying, searching for a way to understand. "...If we're dating I don't gotta date anybody else too, do I?"
"It depends on who you are, and what you need or want out of a relationship or life in general." Dahlia shrugs. "I know what I want my world to look like. I want a home full of people who mean the world to me. I want a network of people I can go to for support and comfort. I want to connect on deep levels with those people, and I want none of them to feel like they have to hold me up on their own, or that they're solely responsible for helping me through the--- mountain of baggage I come with." She laughs hollowly at that.
"There's nothing wrong at all with wanting only one partner. And you wouldn't have to do anything you didn't want to do. You could, if you decided you wanted to. If you met someone else. But that's your choice. It's okay for us not to need the exact same things, as long as we're on the same page."
Maybe it's not like Hawkeye so much after all. More like... well, there's stuff Radar talks about with Hawk that he'd never ever talk about with Colonel Potter or Father Mulcahy. And things he'd talk about with the Father he'd never say to his other friends or his CO. Enlisted guys like Klinger will know what Radar means when the officers don't; if he's got a question for a nurse, he's not gonna go to a doctor instead.
Maybe that's all this is. Except that you're dating everyone instead of just friends with them.
He gnaws his lip as he thinks it through. It still feels -- oh, he doesn't know. It really is a lot. He feels weird and squirmy picturing himself in this kind of situation, but... but it doesn't feel all bad. Does it?
Tentative, he says, "Can I think about it more? I, I mean, even with all the other stuff you're my boss on top of that too, and I dunno if that's, um. If you're worried about that at all. But -- " In a burst of courage, he squeezes her hand and makes himself really hold her gaze. "I really like you a lot, too, you know? You're one of my favorite people here."
"I feel the same way!" The joy in her voice is palpable as she says this.
If he says no, then that's probably for the best, really. He'd be better with someone gentle like him. He just got out of a war, after all. But maybe, just maybe, when the truth all comes out, he'd remember a monster who wanted to help him because he was gentle. And if not, then Dahlia can at least live in the solace of this moment. Of telling him what she feels and what she wants.
"Take all the time you need. And if there's anything else I can tell you that'd put your mind at ease--- I'll do my best to answer any questions. But there's no pressure, and no hard feelings. Alright?"
Radar laughs, a little giddy, and keeps riding the wave of his bravery: he wraps her hand in both of his, beaming. "All right, yeah," he agrees. "Yeah, if I think of anything I wanna ask while I'm thinking about it, I'll tell you, okay?"
Wow. She feels the same way. A tiny part of him still wonders about a whole lot more than just the dating part: is this real, is she making fun, why him when there's a thousand other guys she could be interested in? But. It sure does feel real.
At the Black Stag Casino, Edgar finds himself ... not quite worried, but uneasy. He couldn't help noticing that Radar wasn't assigned to the room with him and Rambo; it took longer than he expected to find out where he was instead, or to even catch a glimpse of him. And the fact that he barely at all saw him outside the VIP suites ...
Well. They're back at the ranch now, and Radar doesn't seem like he's been through anything particularly bad. But that doesn't stop Edgar from trying to keep an eye on him, even if he isn't exactly worried.
Radar, for his part, is in decent spirits -- better than he was for most of October, anyway. No more hiding in the hayloft or deliberately taking on the worst farm chores just to be alone. Plus, ever since he clued in that Helga was pregnant (a little while before Mr. Rambo did, but it wasn't something that needed telling or fussing about until she was further along), he's been having fun spoiling her rotten by sneaking her extra sugar cubes and giving her the kind of nice, long grooming sessions that'd put the casino's spa to shame.
He's carefully detangling Helga's mane as Edgar approaches the barn, and calls when his friend's barely got half a foot inside the door: "Hey Edgar."
Bandit -- the Purrloin skulking around the barn that Radar adopted last month -- immediately abandons her attempts to wind around Radar's legs in favor of trying to trip Edgar instead.
"Pretty good," he says, amiable as ever. Helga snorts as he hits a bad tangle, and he lowers his voice, soothing: "Yeah, I know, you got a rough patch there, we're gonna go slow and get it smoothed out, okay?"
He rubs the bridge of the horse's nose as he glances Edgar's way. "How about you? -- Bandit, no."
"Prrr?" says Bandit, all innocence, from where she's trying to stick a paw in one of Edgar's pockets.
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