15

Chapter Seven - Too Many Mentors

MASH 4077th, November 1st, 1952

Each time a little more deftly than the last, Radar parried the long pipe Hawkeye Pierce was wielding with his own. But Hawkeye was not pleased. But then, he was still out of sorts regarding a patient the previous night toe-tagged as dead, but discovered by an astute Father Mulcahy. When Sidney had returned with Radar, they both shuddered at the true ghost story.

"C'mon, Radar. My father has occasional rheumatism and could block better than you are. Put some 'oomf' into it."

"What makes ya think I'm not oomfing as it is?"

In a casual gesture, Connor Macleod's student knocked the pipe from Radar's hand.

"Well, that for starters. That's your head down there, along with that pipe."

Radar grabbed up his weapon.

"Captain, you're takin' this way too seriously. If I ain't got the skills, I won't fight the guy--or gal."

Pierce threw down his pipe in disgust.

"You Dope. That will make you the biggest target in the history of the Game. Radar, you are way too powerful to just give your head away like that."

"Hawkeye-stop talkin' about my head."

"I won't have to. Somebody else will, after they've taken it."

Radar pointed to Pierce's pipe.

"Pick it up."

"I really don't see the ---"

The would-be sword was brought right up to Hawkeye's nose.

"Pick it up--Defend Yourself."

"Radar--you and I have gotta have a talk about that temper."

"Sure thing, Hawkeye--after I knock your block off."

Radar started forgetting every movie he had ever seen with a sword and just concentrated on disarming his opponent. Something had taken over the fight for him. At first, Pierce grinned.

"Better, much better. I always said-- Heyyy!"

Had Walter been wielding a sword, Hawkeye might not have been able to duck in time. Now, something awoke in Pierce. In several ways, neither of them were human anymore.

"Is that how it is? Huh?!"

Now, the pipes started moving furiously, and sparks rolled off them as they clashed. Had the blasted, abandoned farmers fields not been so far away from everything, someone would have surely heard. Reluctant Immortal matched weaponry with Reluctant - albeit unknowing - Superhuman at a bloodthirsty pace. Radar was learning every day how to use his power to enhance his skills, meager though they were. Right then, though, the two friends could barely recognize one another. Pierce first smashed Radar's hand, sending the pipe flying. He then moved to run him through - but stopped short.

"What In The Hell Am I Doing?"

"Hawkeye-did we just lose our minds out here? Cause I was aimin to finish ya."

Pierce was shaken.

"Same here. Radar--I have to tell you something, and its got to remain our secret. This---is big."

"My lips are sealed, Captain. But could ya pull the pipe away? Please?"

Hawkeye hadn't even realized that he still held it.

"Deal. How's the hand?"

"Mostly healed already, but still a little sore. I'll just keep off it for a few hours, is all. So what's your secret?"

Pierce looked as serious as Radar had ever seen him.

"You remember when you walked in on Major Houlihan giving me the flu shot, God, it must have been two years ago?"

"Yeah. That was hilarious. I thought sure you two had somethin goin on."

"Yeah. Well, Margaret and me were the only ones to get those shots. Those shots had something in them."

"What something did they have?"

Pierce put his hand on Radar's shoulder.

"Remember what happened to Duke, Spearchucker, Ugly John, and those nurses they were with?"

"I-I usually try not to. And not just cause those spy-guys said not to, neither. There wasn't almost anything left of them. Their bodies--turned to liquid, right as me and Klinger watched. Oh, God, Hawkeye--No!"

"Look, kid. Margaret and I --- we're dying. When our time comes, we'll just drive off together. But promise me you'll do your damndest to stay alive---because, so long as you are, we live on, too. We can't find any evidence of when it might happen, but we are changing. I figure its like a lightbulb, getting brighter and stronger-- right before it burns out. I just thought you should know."

Radar gave up unashamed tears.

"It ain't hardly fair. I gotta lose you and The Major on top o'The Colonel, all in one year? I only just got to like Major Houlihan, too."

A Hawkeye who was as convinced of his self-prognosis as he was wrong about it all nodded.

"Yeah, I know. She's always been hard to hate, and now--hating her has become almost impossible."

This day would stay with Walter O'Reilly, even though Hawkeye was 180 degrees wrong about his and Margaret Houlihan's fate. This talk would be one of many reminders in his Immortal life that Eternity leaves most behind as it marches on.

PARIS, 1998

While Methos packed his things to move back to Seacouver with Joe and Macleod, Walter, awaiting the start of the day's training, signed for a package on behalf of 'Adam Pierson'.

"What is it, Walter, and who's it from?"

"Uh---its from a 'Monsieur Iscariot, Frere De Bordeaux', and- hey, its a small RedBud Tree. My second wife, VIcki, she ran a nursery, and...."

Methos came out, his eyes glassy.

"Get in the car, Walter. Tell Macleod I'll be down."

"You want some help? I could..."

"GET IN THE BLOODY CAR, BEFORE I THROW YOU OUT THE WINDOW. ARE WE QUITE CLEAR, LITTLE FRIEND?"

The change was chilling in one sense, but to a telepath like Walter, it was almost like no change at all. The young Immortal knew the true Methos. He knew better than to scan his slippery elder.

"I'm gone. Just watch your tone."

Methos would offer an apology later. But for now, he sat on his floor and fairly shook with rage.

"You--are dead. I saw your head come free. I checked your body. I destroyed both pieces. So it is not you. End of that. I can't afford to go crazy like Macleod did."

Packing away a picture, Methos saw Richie Ryan with him and Macleod at Joe's.

"Y'know, Punk? He killed you just as I was starting to build up a tolerance for you. Too bad. But Macleod killed you-- just like Macleod killed him. Unless microsurgery has made some stellar advances, I don't think I should be seeing either of you again."

Duncan walked in, concerned. He saw the small tree, and the note. He nodded, understanding.

"Its a prank, Methos. ' To Brother Iscariot from Bordeaux'? C'mon. Then, to send you a RedBud, of all things. Could it be from Cassandra?"

Methos disagreed.

"I abused Cassandra. Kept her as a slave. Even in that, I was a bastard. But I never betrayed her. Besides, she makes her presence known. Doesn't skulk. I know its a prank, Duncan. But who, in Bordeaux, would send me...."

Macleod touched the bright flowers on the branches.

"Who would send you...A Judas Tree?"