13

Sidney nodded at Radar's insight.

"That was me, all right. At one time, believe it or not, having the title 'The Wandering Jew' was of benefit to me. I acted as a liaison between the more traditional sects of Judaism and the Christian Jews of Judaea and Galilee. But, as happens, things fell apart. The chief sticking point was Rome. Most Jews felt that they could show token allegiance to Rome and its gods. It didn't sit well with us, mind you, but our teachers felt The Lord would understand a lie that ensured our culture's survival. The Christians and a few other sects felt that any show of allegiance was sacrilege. It wasn't that either side was completely wrong. The problem was---neither side was talking. We've all seen where that goes."

Hawkeye jumped in, still amazed at Sidney's true identity.

"Some of us more than others. Sid--I'm not a history major--I'm barely a minor, compared to you--but, aren't you oversimplifying those times just a bit?"

Sidney smiled and shrugged.

"Only vastly. Bottom line : Whoever was stubborn, and whoever was breaking faith, it finally happened. In AD 90, the last schism occurred. Those who had been calling themselves Christian Jews now looked to Greek philosophy, and moreover, blamed the Jews for Christ's death. Those Jews who sought to make Judaism stronger through inclusion now excluded a small but growing branch and found themselves excluded from their own ancestral lands. Only Rome and its revolving-door Emperors won out, in the end."

Sidney turned back to Radar.

"Radar, my life has been of such length and breadth, I probably got half of what I just said dead wrong. But that's okay. Did you get my basic message?"

Radar just nodded, still very much stunned.

"Yeah. I mean, Yes, Sir. Life is sure complicated."

"Kid, you don't know one percent of it. Enough about me. Let's talk about you."

"Er, what's there to talk about?"

Sidney knew very well how to punch through avoidance.

"You mean to say, you don't have questions about who and what you are?"

Radar got a more sheepish-than-usual look on his face.

"If its all the same to you, Major, I'd just as soon stay a who then become a what."

Potter sat down beside Radar.

"Son, I know this is difficult. But Sidney here is trying to help you. You've got a lot to adjust to."

A trace of anger showed on Radar's face.

"And just suppose I don't want to adjust to none of this? Huh? What If I want to give up this whole Immortal funny business?"

Sidney thought about what Walter said, and got up.

"Radar, if that's the case, I can make it so you're not an Immortal anymore."

The young man smiled.

"Sure! Great. How do we do it, sir?"

Sidney wasn't smiling.

"Easy. Just bend down your neck--and I'll cut off your head."

Radar did not think much of Sidney's head-trimming suggestion.

"No disrespect or nothin', Major--but that wasn't even partways funny."

Despite glares from Potter and Pierce, Freedman stood his ground.

"It wasn't meant to be. The world we Immortals dwell in is very, very harsh. We cannot be killed, unless someone takes our heads--and with it--our power."

"Why would someone want to go and do a thing like that for?"

Sidney tried hard not to be exasperated with the newly awakened Immortal.

"Because of the First Rule, Radar. In the end, There Can Be Only One. Its like 'king of the hill' only with long blades and psychotic opponents. The whole thing keeps going until there is just one of us. To that victor, goes The Prize--and no, I don't know what that might be."

Hawkeye shot off a line.

"Take the furniture, Radar. You can always use furniture."

Sidney glared now, but Hawkeye grinned, and that grin helped relax Radar a little.

"Radar, I aim to be your mentor. But I'm still also your psychiatrist. I'd prefer not to tell you everything in one day. This--moment in our lives is one of the most painful events imaginable. But before I go, do you have any questions?"

Radar looked more lost than ever.

"Yeah. But only a few I can think of. If you were from The Holy Land, then where was Colonel Blake from?"

Sidney nodded, and smilingly said one word.

"Camelot."

Radar gasped, and Hawkeye almost lurched forward, repeating that same word.

"Camelot?"

Sidney made it clear that this was no joke.

"Yes, I know it sounds a bit bizarre."

Father Mulcahy cut in.

"But with Immortals, well, that's how conditions are."

Potter thought he had heard it all. He now realized he had thought wrong.

"This whole thing sure gives a person pause."

"That it does, Sherman. But Henry was Sir Bedivere-First Knight And Enforcer Of The Laws."

Hawkeye looked at his lost friend Henry in an all-new light.

"Then Its True-Sidney's made that much clear--Henry was a Knight Of The Round Table--probably for a whole lot of years."

Radar asked his next question. His stomach felt like he had drank two beers.

"If my Mom had had any more kids, would they be Immortal, too?"

What followed the sudden roomful of anxious faces would stay with the young man forever. Sidney sat down. So did everyone else. Though telepathic, Radar did not use his ability then. Sidney spoke, for the last time that awful day.

"Radar---Edna O'Reilly is a wonderful woman. From what I'm told, she's given you everything she could. But Rad-- Walter--she didn't give birth to you. Like all Immortals---you are adopted. Our kind does not have biological parents. Edna is not your mother--except in your heart, which is really all that counts."

Radar put his head down, and began to sob. This last part had broken him inside.

"No! Yer lyin! She's my Mom! She's always been my Mom! I love her, an she loves me! I am not some head-choppin' freak o' nature!"

He woke up from the memories, screaming out loud at the top of his lungs.

"I AM STILL WALTER O'REILLY OF OTTUMWA, IOWA! YOU CAN'T TAKE THAT AWAY FROM ME!"

Walter realized it was 1998, and looked at a Duncan who was clearly alarmed by the screaming.

"Walter, are you all right?"

"Yeah, Duncan. Its just sometimes I have dreams about the day Sidney told me what it is I am. I--didn't take it too well."

Duncan understood only too well. Upon his awakening, his beloved father had disowned and banished him.

"Very few do, pal. Is anything else bothering you?"

"Just this. You're 400, and Connor is almost 500, right?"

"Yes, that's right."

"Amanda is 1200, and Methos, he's 5000."

"Again, that's correct. What's your point?"

Walter threw up his arms, annoyed.

"My point is, here I am, 66 years old---and I'm still the Kid!"

Duncan chuckled lightly at this thought.

"Get some more sleep, 'Kid'. That's an order."

"Heh. I'll betcha didn't give Richie orders."

Duncan's face grew sad, and he withdrew from the small guest room. The new protege' quickly realized his error.

"Oh, yeah, Walter--that was a really smart thing to say. Boy---I'm not gettin any smarter, either!"

And while sleep came, there were other days and other revelations that stung just as hard. Those stories, though, Walter kept to himself for now. And when he woke---the training of an Immortal began in earnest.