Everything Will Change

            By: Seanait Doyle

Disclaimer: I’m just borrowing these characters from Rysher, Gaumont, and George Widen, for Joe Dawson, Andrew Cord, Ian Bancroft, and the Watchers don’t belong to me. (Sob.) I promise though, that I’ll return them unharmed, except for a couple bumps and bruises. But anyway, I’m not making any money off of this story. All other characters belong to me.

Vietnam, 1968

“Keep moving, son, we’re almost there.”

“Yes, sir.” All of a sudden there was a loud explosion in front of the two men. Joe Dawson was lying on the ground next to his comrade and commanding officer.

“Sergeant Cord, sir. Sarg?” The man was dead. Joe tried to stand up and found his legs were completely useless. From the effort of moving, he fainted.

“Help us, must of….mine…” and he blacked out.

**************************

“Corporal Dawson, get up.”

“Huh…what…?” Joe became conscious with a gasp and he remembered that he must help Sergeant Major Cord. Thing was that Cord was kneeling next to him. “Sir? Yer dead, though.” He mumbled, still disoriented.

“So were you,” Cord muttered as a side thought.

“Sir?”

“Well, do I look dead, Lance Corporal?” Joe had learned to snap to attention when an officer used that tone of voice. He gave it his best shot.

“No, sir. Not really.” He faded off again. “Am I in Heaven, sir?”

“No, Corporal Joseph Dawson, we’re still on good ol’ Earth and not so good Viet Nam. Now git up, son. I know you can walk.”

“Can’t, mine we stepped on, disabled my legs.” Dawson struggled in vain to get up and Cord helped him. The experience was rather painful.

They hobbled across the landscape towards the camp and the hospital. While walking, they found that all the rest of their infantry was dead or dying. Joe’s tears poured over. “Why?” He asked angrily. “Why them and not us?”

“I know how you feel. It takes time, but in the end you’ll get over it.” Cord patted the younger on the back. “We’ve got to get you to a bed and food now. Keep going. Can you walk now on your own?”

Joe let go of the sergeant and he wobbled and almost fell, if Cord hadn’t caught him. He stood back up again with his arms out wide like a tightrope walker. Dawson took a couple steps, swaying like a drunkard, but he could walk.

“Yes, sir, I think I can. I might need a little help still, but other than that…” Joe was amazed, he had been sure that he couldn’t move his legs before he blacked out. What the hell is happening to me? The thought briefly flashed through his mind, but he returned to more important things, like making it home.

“Good to see you on your feet, Dawson. You were starting to get a bit heavy.” Joe snorted slightly. In any other circumstance, the joke might have been responded to more heartily, but nevertheless it lightened his mood. Joe’s legs were still paining him immensely, but it was ebbing… as if he had an increased immune system! They climbed up a little rocky outcrop, trying to avoid being shot to ribbons.

“Camp’s not all that far from here, Sarg. We could make it back in time for dinner,” Joe pointed out. Though it sounded like a joke, it wasn’t at all what he meant. Cord chuckled even so. Joe glared at him before he realized whom he was glaring at. When he did realize it, he dropped his head in shame. “I’m sorry, sir.”

“No need to be sorry, Corporal.” Dawson looked at him with confusion on his face. “We’re the only two people left and have only each other for company. So let’s drop the ranks. There’s no point in having them when no one’s here to enforce them,” Cord stated.

Joe was even more confused than before. It was the last thing he expected out of his commander’s mouth. “Okay, sir.”

Andrew Cord looked at him very carefully. “You think I’m a monster, don’t you, Dawson?”

“No, sir.” Joe left no time in answering.

“Liar.”

“Well, sir, you are… or were my commanding officer and I have to respect you. It’s what all the corporals… oops.”

“No oops, I know what young corporals think. I was one once, remember. No one can be a sergeant major by not climbing the ranks.” Joe relaxed, after what Cord had said, it made him seem more human and not a fighting machine like everyone said. Joe turned his gaze back towards camp and sighed.

Well, I haven’t been a corporal for…quite a long time, I might say, Cord thought.

“So, sir, are we going to stay here and camp out the night?”

“Uh, no. We can’t. Them yuppies will be onto us like hound dogs.” He glanced up into the evening sky. “We’ve got to move, night’ll be a coming soon.” They stood up and started heading back towards camp. Cord looked at Joe, who was walking in front of him. “Say, son, how are you’re legs?” Joe was startled by the question. He had completely forgotten about his legs and the mine. Dawson flexed one self-consciously. He was amazed to find that they didn’t hurt anymore, except for a twinge here and there.

“Fine, sir.”

“Good.” Joe wondered if the sergeant knew something that he didn’t. But of course he knew things that Joe didn’t, yet he wondered if he knew anything about himself. Joe Dawson had guessed 100% on target and didn’t even know it. Gunshots sounded from all around them, some friendly fire, others not so friendly. Same old sounds they’d been hearing for about a year, save for the rain. Reminded of rain and gunshots, Joe looked up at the sky and was mutely surprised at the fact that the sky was clear. It wasn’t raining. For once. Then a searing pain shot through his head. He grabbed his temples in pain. Shit, I’ve been shot in the head! he thought worriedly.

Joe noticed Cord spinning around as if looking for something. Maybe he’s looking for the bastard yuppie that shot me.

“Get down, Dawson and hide yourself!” In a few moments of chaos, a man popped out of the shadows with a long thing in his hand, Cord acquired a nice sword from somewhere, and Joe’s pain had left him after seeing the other man. “Sergeant Major Andrew Cord of the U.S.A. Marines.” Cord introduced himself to the unknown, as was custom that Joe didn’t know yet.

“I am General Yiu Gon of the Vietnamese forces. There Can Be Only One, Andrew Cord!” Joe watched in horror as the two launched into a swordfight. He was bewildered at the sight of the two men apparently fighting to the death. Suddenly, Cord ran General Gon through with his sword. The other sank to his knees and Andrew pulled out the sword and held it at his side.

Not wanting to make a scene by creating a Quickening, he said, “Walk away, Yiu Gon. Walk away from this fight and never let me see you again.” The sergeant hoped that the crazed general hadn’t sensed Dawson yet. Miraculously, the Vietnamese rose and walked off towards Joe’s hiding spot.

But Sarg ran him through! He should be dead! Well, so should the sergeant…but that’s another story…

“Hear me, Andrew Cord; I won’t come again, but this…” He sliced through the bushes with his sword and hit Joe in the legs. “This one will be seeing me again.” He turned and walked off as Dawson cried in pain.

“How badly did he get you?” Cord rushed over to Joe. Dawson crawled out of the bushes with his hands and arms.

“Worse…than the…shit! Mine…ow!” Joe fainted again, for real.

“This one looks bad, even for an Immortal. Definitely have to get you to the hospice. Up we go, boy scout.” He grunted as lifted Joe up onto his shoulders. After carrying Joe for about 16 miles through the forest, he dropped his ‘luggage’ off in front of the hospital tent and walked off. He was dead to the Marines. Just before ‘dying,’ he saw a soldier of his reporting the dead and wounded and he had died just before the kid had radioed him dead. Later, upon waking, the young soldier lay dead a couple yards from where he had been. Yet he had no idea if the nurse soldier had radioed Joe in as dead.

Well, if the kid did then the doctors can guess he was…had been wrong. I’ll catch up with Corporal Dawson later. He performed the ritual speech for one who had died bravely serving his country. Only the speech was for himself, as Andrew Cord. The sergeant major wasn’t about to give up his status. He figured he go to other infantry and change his name or… I could change my name and stay in this infantry, in another part. Then when Joe gets better, I’ll get in touch with him and teach him the rules of the Game. With that he walked back to his tent.

Minutes later, Joe was spotted outside the tent by a doctor-in-training going for a smoke. He was so surprised that he dropped his cigarette and started to drag Joe in. He knew the man probably shouldn’t be moved, but he needed medical attention more than anything else. “Sir?!” he called inside the barrack to the head doctor. “General? I’ve a patient here who needs help now!” The head doctor rushed over and helped the ‘nurse’ to put Joe on the table.

“Son? What’s the kid’s name?”

The younger looked at Joe’s dog tags. “Lance Corporal Joseph Dawson, sir.”

“Corporal Dawson huh?” The doctor opened an eyelid and shown a light in his eyes. “Still responsive, pupil contracted.” The apprentice took it down on a medical file. Then the doctor took a look at Joe’s legs and winced. “Lots of blood, doesn’t look as bad as the amount of blood loss, but still bad.” He paused. “My God! It looks like a yuppie took a sword or something to him. Or maybe it was shrapnel from a dirty bomb or from a mine.” The doctor stripped the bloody pants off of the corporal. Joe winced unconsciously from the blood that stuck to him and his pants. “Private?”

“Yes, sir?” replied the protégé.

“Stitch him up then wrap his leg. He might be out for awhile, but don’t take the chance, use the anaesthetic.”

“Yessir.”

******************************

  30 minutes later…

            “Huh? What happened? Where am I?” Joe poked his head up from his bed. The protégé came over to him.

Wow, he recovered from the anaesthetic extremely fast!

“How are your legs, Lance Corporal Dawson?” Joe snapped to attention. At the question he remembered what happened. He sat up.

“Where’s Sergeant Major Andrew Cord? I have to thank him.”

The private looked down. “He’s dead.” Joe seemed to have missed the comment. Yet, he thought of something and looked Joe in the eye. “What do you mean? Just what do you have to thank him for?”

“Saving my life, of course.”

“When was the last time you saw him?”

Joe thought real hard. “I don’t know the time, but…” He looked out the nearby window in pain. It was dark out. “What time is it?”

“Approximately 2100 hours.”

“Ok, when I saw him before I blacked out, it was dusk. So at about 1900 hours, give or take a half an hour.” He looked at the other man’s face. It was full of sorrow and some understanding. “See I told you he wasn’t dead.”

“Sir, Sergeant Cord was radioed in as dead at exactly 1736 hours. So was another man, can’t seem to recall…” The younger doctor’s face became shocked with remembrance. He slowly looked back into Joe’s face. “The other man was lying next to Cord, both dead from a land mine.” Dawson became chilled at the coincidence and straightened. He instantly knew that other was he, but it couldn’t be. Yes, he was beside Cord when he awoke and yes he had stepped into a land mine, but he was not dead. Or was he? “The other man was you, Joseph Dawson. Of course, the soldier could have rushed because you’re here and certainly not dead.” He paused. “The soldier was shot dead moments later, he was obviously wrong and was hurried along.”

“Then he was wrong about Cord being dead. He carried me here. He was shot when our unit was ambushed, but not fatally wounded. A few moments later, while coming back here, we stepped on a mine. That was the time you reported us dead. After he carried me a little farther, we stopped.” Joe omitted the part about the sword fight and explained that “a yuppie found us and he had a machete with him,” he gestured at his legs. “This was the result and Cord shot him.” Joe explained how he had fainted and supposed Cord had dropped him here. “That’s exactly what happened. I’m telling you, Sergeant Andrew Cord is *not* dead!”

“Then where is he, corporal?” The private clearly thought that Joe was hallucinating and made no attempt to conceal it.

“I don’t know! That’s what I’m asking you!”

“And I’m telling you, he’s dead. Good night, sir.” With that, the apprentice left the barrack.

He can’t be dead. He carried me here. I’m not crazy. Besides, what did he mean that I was dead anyway? Dead is dead, but I know what I saw. Cord got shot through the heart. He surprised himself with his thoughts. Up until now, he believed that his eyes had deceived him and that Andrew Cord was just a very lucky guy. Yet, he couldn’t be dead. Dead is dead and that’s all there is to it! Dawson must have said the last thought aloud, for someone said, “No, that’s not all there is to it.”

Joe whipped his head around to look at the door. There was a man standing there. “What did you say?” Joe inquired suspiciously.

“You heard what I said, you just don’t know if you can believe it,” the man answered and walked into the light. He was in an army uniform, but had no visible rank.

“Who are you?”

“I am Private Ian Bancroft of the Marines. That’s not why I’m here. I also belong to a group called the Watchers.”

Joe looked at him like he was joking. “The Watchers, right.” He fell back onto the bed. “Who do you Watch? And why haven’t I heard of that organization before?”

“You haven’t heard of everything, Joseph Dawson. Especially Immortals.”

“Immortals? Give me a break. No one can live forever.” Joe scoffed, yet he thought, It would be great to be an Immortal, but there’s no such thing. Or is there?

“What do you think Andrew Cord is?”

“He’s still alive?” Joe’s head shot up.

“In your terms no, because he died twice tonight to save your life.”

“What do you mean?”

“Cord is Immortal and he won’t die, unless that is you take his head. Preferably with a sword.” Joe gasped and remembered the sword fight between Cord and Gon.

“So you’re saying that he died during the ambush and during the land mine?”

“Yep.”

“Wow, that guy must really like me… So if he’s alive, then why isn’t he here?”

“Because he knows that they think he’s dead. If mortals knew of Immortals the result would be disastrous.”

“Why?”

“Think of the witch hunts. If people knew of Immortals, then they would try everything in their power to see if they could become Immortal to by means of medical devices,” Bancroft explained patiently. This was a role he’d played many times. Joe shuttered to think of the results.

“God almighty.”

“Yep.”

“So why are you telling me this?” Joe asked after a moment.

“Use your head, Dawson.”

“You’re telling me that you want me to be a Watcher?” I guess that’s better than living thinking you’ve gone completely insane. “Why me?”

“Because you need answers to what you’ve witnessed. A man, your Sergeant Major Cord, was shot and killed in front of you. Then, he was blown up and died again and revived to save your life more than once.”

Joe looked suspiciously at the Watcher. “And just how do you know this?”

“We have Watchers on every Immortal. Or just about every. Cord’s Watcher was the kid that got shot after reporting Cord dead.” Ian dropped his head in sorrow. “Jason Mosby. This was his first year as a field agent instead a historian. He was so excited about it too.” Joe was startled that Bancroft started crying. He wiped his eyes, a little embarrassed. “I’m sorry. He was like a son to me.”

Joe patted his arm gently. “I accept your offer.” He gripped Ian’s hand warmly and drew him into a hug.

“Thanks,” Ian thanked Joe.

“No prob. What’s that thing on your arm, say?”

“Oh this?” He pulled up his sleeve to reveal a tattoo with two blue concentric circles with a ram’s head in the middle of the inner circle. At Joe’s nod he explained. “After going through the Watcher Academy, you receive this. It’s the tattoo of a true Watcher, one that has taken his oath. ‘To observe and record, but never interfere.’” Ian felt a thrill at saying the age-old motto and oath of the Watchers. “I’m not saying it’s easy, but it’ll be all worth it. Think of it as an insight into another world. It’s incredible, learning about the rules of the Game, buzzes, the Gathering, and Quickenings.” He glanced at the horror struck face of Joe. “Not our Game, of course. We don’t live in a Game, which I’m aware of. You’ll understand all in good time.”

Words were running through Dawson’s brain. Quickenings? A deadly Game? The Gathering? Rules? Somebody better explain this fast!

“In the mean time, while this is healing,” Ian patted Joe’s thickly bound leg. “I’ll see if I can get the Tribune to accept a new Watcher. Oh, don’t worry; they always accept someone in your situation.” Ian spun around to look at the door and heard someone coming. “Oops, I’d better go. I’m actually not supposed to be here. Bye.” Bancroft turned to walk out the door and got a devilish idea.

“Bye,” responded Joe.

Ian poked his head back inside the doorframe. “Oh and remember this. In the end, There Can Be Only One.” Joe cocked his head in confusion, but the Watcher was already gone.

“Corporal? Are you okay? I heard voices coming from in here,” a voice said.

“Yes, I’m…” He stopped abruptly because of another bout of searing pain, like the one earlier. More importantly though, he knew that voice and it wasn’t the private. Yet, he couldn’t seem to recall whom…

“Sir…?” Joe whispered incredulously. “Is that you Sgt. Cord?”

“Hush!” The man stepped into the moonlight from a nearby window, for Bancroft had shut off the lights. “Not Andrew Cord anymore.”

“But, sir…!” Dawson didn’t care what Cord was called by he was just amazed to see him alive, even after what he’d heard from Ian Bancroft.

“Yeah, I know they said I was dead, huh? Well, they lied.”

“No they didn’t. You’re an Immortal.”

Cord was completely thrown by the statement, but he didn’t know if the corporal really knew about him or Joe had convinced himself that Cord had died several times. But by the way Joe had said the word ‘Immortal,’ he said the word like it had a capital letter. Also he said ‘an Immortal’ which means he knows that I’m an Immortal being and not just the incorrect term which mortals use for people back from the dead. Cord took his chances. “So…you know that Andrew Cord isn’t dead and that he just changed his name?” Joe nodded his head. “Oh, what about the Game?”

“He mentioned it, but didn’t elaborate upon.” Joe whispered nervously.

“He?” Was Joe starting to believe he saw God or something? Cord wondered…

“Ian Bancroft. He’s a Watcher.” Cord nodded.

“I’ve heard of them.”

“Really? I haven’t.”

“Well, no one’s supposed to except for themselves, especially not Immortals. Not many Immortals feel good thoughts about mortals tracking our every move.”

“I think they’re fine,” Joe mentioned thoughtlessly. Andrew Cord mutely looked at Joe and said nothing. It wasn’t what Joe was expecting and was thrown off guard. A couple thoughts flew though Joe’s mind and he only received a glimpse before it passed. Buzz…Watchers are fine? Immortal or no. Healing!

“Ahem.” Cord cleared his throat before continuing. “You need to learn how to use a sword, son.”

“Why? I’m not Immortal. Sir.” Joe wasn’t so sure of his statement though.

“Because.” Andrew came up with a quick answer. “If while you’re Watching and an Immortal comes after you with a sword because he or she saw you then…” He let Joe figure the rest out.

“Good point, except I don’t know if I can stand properly let alone sword fight.” Cord had forgotten. Though he was almost certain that Joe’s wound had almost healed, he wasn’t going to break that to Dawson. Yet.

“Well, you need to rest. I’ll see you in the morn’.” He turned to leave. “Oh, by the way, my name’s Sergeant Major James Fellowes. Jim Fellowes, if you like.”

“You managed to save your Sgt.Maj. status? Impressive, I applaud you, sir.” Joe actually clapped his hands silently. Cord, no James Fellowes chuckled before reminding Dawson of his status.

“Remember who you’re talking to, sonny.” He winked and left. Joe sighed and relaxed back onto his cot.

**************************   

            If the doctors were surprised how fast Joe had healed up, they said nothing. In fact, had Joe been a doctor, he would have thought himself crazed. There were no stitches in his legs, no scar, and no pain. Only dried blood.

Before he knew it, he was out and about sword fighting with Sgt. Fellowes/Cord, on their very little spare time. They would choose nighttime. The Immortal knew that if either of them got shot, they’d survive. Joe wasn’t as relaxed at first, but when no one, except Cord, threatened his life, he became accustomed to their routine. Cord would explain the Game, its rules, he explained the Gathering and Quickenings. Also what would happen if Joe were to take a head. Cord merely said, “There will be an Immortal around and the dead Immortal’s Quickening would go to him. If you ran away to see what would happen, then the Quickening would come as a wisp of nothing. It’s an Immortal’s worst nightmare, to be lost, to be remembered by no one.” Joe had simply nodded and accepted the fact without actually thinking about it.

One night, it was a break from fighting at night; Joe was putting together facts about the last half a month. He’d overheard the doctors saying that his kind of leg injury never healed as fast as his did. Joe was amazed; he knew it had been speedy, but not unusually quick. He looked at his legs and murmured to himself, “Is this a kind of magic?” God, the world is confusing! Half a month ago, I never saw my sergeant get shot, die, revive just to get blown up and die again. Never heard of Immortals and Watchers, the Game, Quickenings, or a Gathering. Ugh! He wondered aloud though, “What happened to Ian and the Tribunal?” He snuggled down as well as he could, considering he was sleeping on the ground again, in his tent. That night he had dreams of heads being cut off and an Immortal man receiving a Quickening. The man was he!

   June 25, 1968

He awoke with a start the next day to the sounds of gun shots and men close by shouting that… there was an attack! Joe jumped out of his tent and grabbed his gun, vest, and helmet next to him. Dawson found his camp in chaos under attack from a large group of Vietnamese military boys. “Damnit,” Joe growled softly and went to help. He ran to hide behind one of the makeshift barricades made for such an attack. He landed right beside Cord. “Sir? Orders?” he said turning nervously between Cord and the fight and alternately firing. Cord remained silent, grimly firing. “Sir?” Now all the other privates and corporals were looking to Cord for instruction. He finally turned to them after peppering a kid with bullets.

“Okay, listen up. Choose your shots, like a sniper would. Any of you snipers or have sniper rifles?” About seven of them raised their guns slightly; marking them as snipers. “You seven spread yourselves along the barricade and start firing again. When you run out of bullets or anything else, tap one of the others that will be next to you.” They nodded in understanding and took off. “They rest of you spread yourselves somewhat evenly between the snipers. And if one of you gets tapped, choose your shots as they did. You’ll be leaning against the wall, back to the fight. So if some of the enemy gets behind us and you see them, don’t hesitate to fire until they’re down.” Cord sighed heavily. A lower sergeant took up the speech.

“Luck to the Marines!”

“Hurrah!” everyone cried out.

“May the best man win!” he continued.

“Let’s go!” the rest answered, including Cord and Dawson. They started dispersing to their stations along the wall. Joe started to go with them when Andrew called him back.

“Sir?”

“Lance Corporal Dawson, you’re with me.” On their hands and knees, they crawled down to the end of the barricade. They looked out and saw the other barricades, some being used by the enemy. The sergeant and the corporal cringed and threw themselves back into the safety of the wall as a bullet whistled by and hit the side of the barricade. Apparently someone had been aiming at their heads. Well, whoever it was is dead now. One of the snipers had seen the man who shot at Andrew and Joe and shot him.

No man shoots at Sergeant Major Fellowes and Lance Corporal Dawson when I’m around. It was the gunnery sergeant who had helped rile the men up earlier. Joe gave the sergeant a thumbs-up in appreciation. Cord backed to Joe.

“I want you to run around behind the yuppies and make yourself a hero.”

“What if I die, sir?”

“You’re not going to, Joseph. Literally.”

“That means I’m…”

“You’re Immortal, but don’t get peppered by bullets either. One or two will do, any more; get out of there. Got me?” Joe nodded. He was nervous, but with this newfound discovery, he became a little more at ease. Joe scuffled off to infiltrate the enemy’s ‘lines.’ Cord returned to the side of the gunnery sergeant and nodded his thanks. Cord brought up his gun and became one of the now eight snipers. He could feel a bit of blood lust on him because a little chant ran though his head. Knock ‘im off one by one, this shall be lots o’ fun! He shook his head as a shout arose from one of barricades the now small force was using. Cord cried out with his loud voice. All could hear his voice.

“Cease fire!” Suddenly the grounds became quiet, except for the cocking of guns ready to fire at a moment’s notice. There was one voice on the other side speaking out strongly in Vietnamese.

“Stop! Drop the guns! I’ll shoot…” Someone stood up and all the soldiers put their eyes into their scopes. Then the gunnery sergeant recognized the standing person.

“Lance Corporal Dawson!” he cried triumphantly. Immediately, the soldiers lowered their guns. More people stood up, this time Vietnamese, with their hands on their heads. Cord started to chant and others picked up on it.

“Dawson! Dawson! Dawson!” Many people went to help Joe with the prisoners and escort them to the P.O.W. holding area. Cord came to Joe.

“Good job, boy scout.”

“Not without you, sir.” Many of the soldiers started crowding around Joe.

He said, “It wasn’t my plan, it was Co…Sergeant Fellowes.” The cheer arose.

“Fellowes! Fellowes! Fellowes!”

“Job well done, Dawson.” Joe spun around.

“Took you long enough, Ian.”

********************************

            “Got any good news?”

“Yeah. The Tribunal accepted you. In a year you will to go the Watcher Academy and start studying.” Ian positively glowed. Another student comes and goes. “I think you’ll love it! It’s something a guy like you would like. You know, sneaking around, hiding a secret.” Ian took a deep breath. “There are rules, though.”

“Like what?”

“The major rule and its part of your oath, is absolutely no contact with Immortals, any.” Joe winced inwardly. He decided to make a second identity.

“You know there’s a new Immortal around.” Dawson whispered to Bancroft. He was stunned and pulled away.

“How do you know?”

“From me.” Cord said walking up behind them. “I thought you Watchers knew everything.” He glanced at Ian’s half exposed wrist.

“You’re damn lucky I’m your Watcher for now. Since I’m here I gave your normal Watcher a rest. That means the Tribune won’t find out about this, hopefully.”

“You wouldn’t put it in my Chronicles, would you?”

“How would you know that? I know you know a lot, but not many know about the Chronicles.” Bancroft was amazed at the knowledge the Immortal possessed.

Cord shrugged. “Watcher wife.”

“Ah.” Joe stood there, in awe, listening to the two men bicker about things he had not the slightest clue about.

“By the way, for the record, my name’s James Fellowes now.”

“Sergeant Major?” Cord nodded. “You’re good if you managed to keep that.”

“Thank you.”

Ian turned his attention back to Joe again. “So what’s this Immortal’s name?”

Joe glanced at Cord. “Uh. Peter…”

“Scott,” Cord helped Joe with a name. He winked at Dawson.

“Yeah, Peter Scott. See Sergeant found him dead and told me his name was Peter, but he knew the man’s last name. He revived not knowing anything or what had happened. Scott felt a buzz? from Fellowes and freaked. He took off into the jungle before we had a chance to explain anything. We shouted after him that he was pretty dumb to run into the enemy territory. So we took off after him. About a half-hour passed before we found him, dead. We brought him back to camp he stayed through dinner and midnight watch, but the next morning he was gone. Now we have no clue if he’s dead or alive or taken POW or anything. Peter’s about my age. I’m telling you he’ll be hard to find and it would be dangerous of you to send out field agents to find him.” Joe said without a flaw.

“Hmm. When was this?” Bancroft asked.

“What? Two days ago? Yeah.”

“Thanks. We’ll try and find him.” With that Ian proceeded to give Joe instructions for the academy, give his thanks again, and left.

Cord looked at Joe in awe. “Where did that come from?! I bow to you. I think I’m in the presence of the greatest bullshit master of all time. That was incredible!”

“I guess. But hey, he believed it.” Joe looked at Cord in such a way that Cord started laughing.

****************************

In the mess hall for lunch, Joe said to Cord, “Peter Scott? What kind of a name is that?”

Cord shrugged. “I like it.”

“I never said I didn’t.”

“Then why complain?”

“I wasn’t! It was a joke,” Joe protested.

“We have to make records for Scott. That’s the first place Bancroft’ll start looking.”

“’Kay. How ‘bout this. He’s my brother, but due to some weird genetic thing, he looks just like me, but he’s not my twin. He changed his name in… 1964 because he felt that he had dishonored the family name.” Cord nodded his head thoughtfully and Joe continued. “He and I enlisted in the Marines in the same year, unbeknownst to both of us of course.”

“Of course,” Cord echoed.

“The second time he ran was because he saw me and was ashamed of himself. Of course now he’ll have to change his name again because he’s dead, but he doesn’t know that.”

“That’ll do.” Cord said.

“Ya think?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. Now how are we going to make that profile, sir?”

            “Leave that to me, flyer.” Cord made a quick exit towards the office like area of the camp, where the records were.

“Flyer? Wow, how’d he find that out?” Joe looked towards the exit again. “He must be really good, then.” Just what do those records say, anyway?

Hours later found Joe and some others playing football together. After hearing his old nickname used, he had had the urge to play football. Now he and ten others were having a hell of a time. It was so different from the normal war setting that they intrigued others to take the little things for granted. Soon, a crowd had gathered to watch the game, sergeants vs. the corporals and private. “Blue 42!” echoed through the night as Cord walked towards the crowd. He had wanted to see what the group was for, but at the shout, he knew that Joe had gotten a football game together. He immediately noticed that the sergeants’ team was short-handed and losing. At the break, Cord went to join the team. His fellows rejoiced at another player. Now the teams were even. As they went out to line up, Cord found himself face-to-face with Joe.

“Sir?” Joe asked, clearly surprised.

“Now we’ll see who’s gonna win.” And the ball was snapped.

**********************

            “Sir? You are one helleva football player, you know that?”

Cord chuckled. “I have done things that you don’t know about. And things you’d never dreamed of. I mean, I am over 100 years old.” He turned to look at Joe and found his jaw, literally, on the ground. “Ha! That’s not old, son. I know Immies that are easily twice my age. Darius, for instance, is over 2000 years old. And Methos, you’ll learn about him at the academy. He’s over 5000 years old and he holds the titles of ‘The World’s Oldest Man’ and ‘The World’s Oldest Immortal.’ I think he’s the only Immortal to reach 5000, too.”

“Damn…” Joe dragged out the word for emphasis. He looked at Cord in a new light. Out of curiosity he asked, “How many languages do you know?”

“Two. Spanish and English.”

“Oh.”

“I knðw, ‘in all that time, wouldn’t you know more languages?’ No, not necessarily. If you lived your whole life in America, then you’d know only the languages that came along. Now, I know 20 different dialectics of Spanish, if you count that as a language.” They walked along Cord talking about his life, the horrible and delightful aspects of it, and Immortal stuff with Joe eagerly taking it all in. 

“You know, sir?” 

“What, corporal?”

“I have a full year before I go to the academy.”

“Well, for mortals, you’d be in physical therapy learning how to walk, possibly with prosthetics or…”

“I’d be dead, sir.” Cord nodded.

“So think of your time as Immortal therapy or Watcher therapy, which ever you prefer.”

“How about both, since one has to do with the other.” Joe remarked rather thoughtfully. Watcherpy?! Hehe! Oh, before it slips my mind… “What does ‘There Can Be Only One’ mean?” Cord looked at him strangely.

“Where’d you hear that?” He panicked for a second. “Did someone challenge you?”

“No, the first night Ian was there, before he left he said, ‘Oh and remember. In the end, There Can Be Only One!’”

“Oh, yes. I do recall him saying that. I overheard the whole conversation between you two, by the way.”

“Oh…I hope you don’t mind about what I said about you. Sir,” he added in case he wasn’t being polite.

Cord fluttered his hand. “Don’t use that ‘sir’ stuff on me, except when we’re in public. We’re equals now. Immortal to Immortal. Got it?”

“Yes…” Joe had to swallow the ‘sir’ to keep himself from saying it.

“Good. Now, remember what I told you about the Game? About how we get attracted to a certain spot to battle it out?” Dawson nodded. “Well, in the end, of the Gathering, there can be only one person left. The winner gets a Prize. No one knows exactly what it is, though. But if an evil Immortal wins the Prize then mankind will… basically be screwed. Get it? In the end, There Can Be Only One. It’s like the Watchers’ motto ‘to observe and record, but never interfere.’ It’s what we live by, the hope that one of us will win the Prize. It’s also the very first rule of three.”

“OH! I get it now. What are the three rules?”

“One is fighting on holy ground is absolutely restricted. None of us will disobey that law. Another is all fights must be one-on-one. Some Immortals don’t have enough honor to obey that rule. There might be another that’s not considered part of the main three, but I can’t think of any other right now.”  

“I’ve got to remember that then? It’s not that hard. The fighting one-on-one is a given when you’re fighting with swords. Holy ground, bad place to fight. Very bad.” Joe memorized the rules. Andrew looked at his watch.

“Duty calls, Joseph. Come on, we’ve got to go on duty. And don’t tell a Watcher exactly what I’ve told. Only tell them what they already know okay.”

“Got it.”

“You swear it? Otherwise you’ll give yourself away as an Immortal.”

“I, Lance Corporal Joseph Dawson, swear it on my li…head.” Joe changed the last bit because he remembered that he could die many times, but his head was his life source.

“Good, because I, Sergeant Major James Fellowes, swear that you *will* get though the Watcher Academy,” Cord said formally.

“Thank you, sir.”

“Welcome, kid.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

            After their watch was done, they went to have some kind of dinner in the mess hall. There they found the gunnery sergeant from early. He waved to the two Immortals to join him. Since he sitting alone, they went and joined after getting dinner.

“Hullo, Sarg. Thank you for saving our lives. I guess you already our names. No?”

He chuckled. “Of course I know your names. I mean come on, who doesn’t?” He cringed at the look on Cord’s face. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, personally, Lance Corporal Dawson and Sergeant Major Fellowes, sir.” He bowed his head a bit in Cord’s direction showing that he would be respectful now. “I’m Gunnery Sergeant Peter Mythos. Again, a pleasure to meet the both of you.”

“You’re Greek, aren’t you, sir?” Joe asked kindly.

“Yup and proud of it.”

“You also on the midnight watch tonight, Mythos?”

“Yessir.” Mythos had answer ‘sir’ to Cord because Cord was a higher-ranking sergeant than he. Joe answered ‘sir,’ formally, to both because he was the lowest ranking person there as a lance corporal. Lance Corporal is the first rank above Private First Class. After lance corporal comes corporal, sergeant then staff, gunnery, and master sergeants before sergeant major. The only rank higher is Sergeant Major of the Marine Corps.

Cord smiled and lit up his whole face making him seem less forbidding. “Good. Would you like to watch with us?”

“Yessir. That would be an honor.” Even though the slight emphasis on watch was lost on Peter, Joe noticed it. He smiled knowingly at Cord.

“When were you born, Mythos, sir?” Joe inquired.

“Um. December 21, 1952, I think.”

“”What do you mean ‘I think’?” Cord asked. He could definitely like this guy considering he was buzzing slightly. I wonder if Dawson can tell?

“Well… I mean I was a foundling.” Joe and Andrew poked their heads up, a little startled. It led to the finality of their thoughts. “In the Highlands of Scotland.”

“What?!” Cord yelped.

“I was *born* there, not raised there. We moved to Boston, Massachusetts when I was two. People note that I have a strange accent. It’s a Boston accent with a hint of a Scottish one. Anyway, when I was five we moved to Chicago. My father was in the army. Funny thing was that I had always dreamed of being the president, but when my parents told me I was Scottish, I really didn’t care about being important anymore.” Mythos took a breather and started another tirade. “After that, when I was ten, we moved back to Massachusetts and lived in Sterling, a very nice small town, like towns in Scotland. When I completed middle school and high school at Wachusett, I went to West Point in Virginia.”

“Then why are you enlisted and not a general or something?” Cord wondered.

“Witness protection program, sir,” he muttered.

“Then why are you telling us your life’s story, sir?” Dawson asked curiously.

Peter brightened up. “Because I like to talk.” The man did like to talk. In fact, Cord and Dawson thought he loved to. Actually, Peter was telling them his story because he had found someone he could actually trust, Corporal Dawson. The Immortals found out that Peter changed his name because he brought charges against his family, in everyone’s best interest. They had threatened to kill him afterwards Jess is evil if he didn’t leave. He felt he had shamed his family name. Sounds familiar, guy looks familiar too. Probably from seeing him at watch before and never noticing, Joe thought to himself. He was talking about two things. The first was the profile of Peter Scott and the other was something that had happened in a Massachusetts/Chicago family some time ago. He figured that there were many families that could have relatives in both states, including his own.

“What’s your family name?” he asked, intrigued.

“Dawson.” He paused. “I’m your brother, Joe.”

******************************** 

“David?!”

“It’s me, brother,” he answered wearily.

“David Seth Dawson! Damn is it good to see you again!” Caught up in brotherly love, they gave each other a hearty hug. For the first time, in a long time, Joe and David cried.

David/Peter wiped his eyes and laughed. “I’m glad to see you remember my middle name.” Joe knew now why he made Peter Scott’s profile the way it was. Stored in the back of his brain was his long lost brother, so long lost that Joe had forgotten him. Joe, even though he was four years older than David, had been 14 years old. His brother had always been interested in rights and wrongs. When he found out ‘the secret’ (so secret we can’t tell what it is) he told his guidance counselor at school. She was so shocked that she literally ran to the police. Eventually, his family had found who told and disowned him. Joe remembered that he had been shell-shocked that day. David had been his best friend and he had gone. Awhile after, Joe had managed to convince himself that he’d never had a younger brother because of the pain. Yet, here they were, having dinner after the midnight watch.

“I’m sorry, Joe. I never meant to get kicked out.” David broke the silence.

“S’okay, Dave.” David shook his head and laughed.

“That’s ‘Dave, sir’ to you, old man.”

“Just because you have a higher rank doesn’t mean you’re still not my little brother. Which means I can still do this,” Joe whacked David upside the head playfully. A new lieutenant walking by happened to see Joe smacking a ‘superior’ upside the head. What a lack of respect these days! That’s incredible! Should I tell someone? He thought sneakily and slinked off.

“Maybe we should be getting to bed?” They brothers looked guiltily at him. Cord waved his hands. “Oh no! I’m not trying to break up the reunion, but look at the time.” They looked at their watches.

“Sergeant Fellowes is right…” He didn’t have a chance a chance to finish because Cord cut him off.

“Drop the ranks, kid. Any friend, or brother, is a friend of mine. No need for ranks here in private.”

“Okay then. Goodnight, James, Joseph. I’ll see you in morning?” They nodded. “Good. ‘Night.” He walked off.

Joe sighed and turned to Cord. “You know how good it feels to find a long lost brother.”

“Specifically an Immortal one? No.”

“What did you say?”

“You heard me, you just don’t know if you can believe it.” Cord smirked.

“Hey! Quoting Ian ain’t cool.”

“Isn’t it?”

“Whatever. You said Immortal?”

“Yep, didn’t you feel it? A microbuzz?”

“That’s what it’s called?”

“No, but it means he’s a pre-Immie.” From his lessons, Joe knew that a pre-Immortal was someone who hadn’t died his or her first death.

“So if we kill him in four years, he could be Peter Scott.

Cool!”

            “Yep.”                                                                             

            “’Night then. See you in the morn’.”

            “’Night, Dawson.” With that they went their separate ways to bed.

*************************  

       June 26, 1968

It was a dark and stormy night, wait, a dark and stormy morning. Well, it was. Joe got out of his tent and looked to the sky. Lovely. Rain’s a coming. I wonder how long this’ll last. A month, two months, three? He snorted at the prospect. Joe wasn’t a big fan of rain. It was wet, and muddy, not to mention cold. The reveille sounded for the start of the day. One of Joe’s favorite little jingle sounded in his head. It’s a beautiful morning. Ohhh. On his way to the mess hall, for the second time the day, he stumbled in a little ditch. Dawson looked carefully at it. It seemed to have been made by a bullet during the fight the day before. “Oh well,” he muttered on went on his way. Joe wasn’t exactly a morning person, but he needed to see Cord, and more importantly, his brother, at breakfast.

“Joe!” A voice called across the mess hall. He turned to feel two presences, one strong - Cord and an undertone – David and to see them both sitting at a table. Luckily, the mess was so loud that only he heard the call from David. Joe walked towards them and Cord looked up to face Joe.

“Hey,” he greeted gruffly.

“Morning, Sergeant!” Joe tried being awake and cheerful, but failed and groaned. “I can’t do this sometimes.” Cord snorted loudly.

“I can sympathize,” Cord agreed.

“Soo, David. How’d you sleep?” Joe inquired after Cord and he were done whining about mornings.

“Huh? Oh, sorry. What?” Joe and Andrew laughed. They couldn’t help it; David’s display was just too funny.

“I guess not very well, then.” Cord stated, still chuckling.

David nodded his head. “Yessir, I got almost no sleep at all last night.”

Cord had suddenly a very devilish idea. “And why not, gunnery sergeant? All personnel are to be in tip-top fighting shape everyday.”

David woke up, surprised at the sudden change of the sergeant’s demeanor. He straightened. Joe barely managed to cover a smile with his hand. He’d been with the sergeant long enough to know that Cord was just fooling around with David, but David didn’t know that. “Sir, I…I just couldn’t sleep last… last night, sergeant Fellowes.” Cord patted David on the back and he instantly relaxed.

“It’s okay; I was just fooling with you. Sorry.” Cord blushed a bit.

“David, you should learn not to take him very seriously.” Joe said bravely, looking Cord straight in the eyes.

“Ha ha ha, so very funny, Corporal Joe.” Joe bowed his head in mock disgrace.

“I’m *so* sorry, Sergeant Fellowes.” Cord just rolled his eyes.

“Right…”

“You know, I’m probably one of the only people that could get away with that, sir,” Joe added in case Cord had actually taken some offense to his comments.

“Too true, Joseph. Too true.”   

“Thank you, sir?”

“Yea, yea, you’re welcome.” David ‘ahemed.’ “Oh! We forgot about you. Sorry, David.”

David waved his hand in the air. “It’s okay. Sometimes it’s good to be forgotten. Why don’t you two go get some breakfast?” Joe cast a nervous look at Cord. Unfortunately David saw it. “Sergeant? What’s wrong?” he asked worriedly looking from Joe to Cord and back.

“Oh, nothing’s wrong at all. Just a little spasm I get time to time.” David nodded, but didn’t seem entirely convinced. “No really, bro. I’m okay.”

“Whatever you say then.” Joe shrugged.

“How ‘bout we get something to eat, sarg?”

“Sounds fine by me.” When they returned Joe had Army styled eggs and bacon. Cord had Army styled pancakes. Neither were the best in the world.

Cord looked unhappily at his pancakes. “I can’t wait until I can have a hamburger at Mickey D’s again. At its some real food to eat safely.”

Joe grunted in agreement and turned to David, intent on questioning him. “So, how were you’re loverly days without me?” he asked, just a bit sarcastically.

“As you said, they were oh so loverly. My family trying to hunt me down, me being a different person. Y’ know loverlyness.”

“Loverlyness? Are you sure that’s a word?” Cord inquired.

“I’m absolutely sure it’s not, sir.” David said with a touch of pride, not something that showed through very often.

“Oh, well loverly isn’t exactly a word either.” Joe pointed out.

“No, its not.” David nodded his head thoughtfully before saying, “And it’s either, not either.”

“That’s what I said. Either.” Joe responded. Cord sighed, this could take awhile.