The NeverEnding Battle Book 5:Boys From Golgotha

by Gojirob

A woman accuses Potter of past war crimes. To make matters worse, the man who led Potter down that dark path returns as well, with mushroom clouds on his mind. Based on the Highlander episodes Comes A Horseman/Revelation 6:8.

The Boys From Golgotha

By Rob Morris

Chapter One - A Potter Forges

Margaret Houlihan shook her head.

"Kitty! Sure I have feelings for Pierce. After almost three years, I couldn't not feel anything for the man. But his notions on how to treat women are straight from ancient history. It's as though, somewhere along the line, some lovely played with him that way, and being Pierce, he took away the wrong lesson."

Captain Kitty Jarrod, leader of the camp's corpsmen, took in Margaret's words.

"It's true. He comes on like a tornado. But Margaret, he never seems to want for nursely company. Plus, he does have an odd code of honor, regarding married or engaged women like myself. Plus, Major-you do tend to go on about him."

"Now you sound like Macleod. He was a medic, who came through here. All man. But he accused Pierce and me of dancing around our true feelings. Can you believe that?"

Kitty gave off a sarcastic grin.

"Oh, perish forbid! Connor NEVER knows what he's talking about."

"Connor? I was talking about Duncan Macleod. He did write to a cousin named Connor, though. Do you know them well?"

"Me? I Don't Think So."

The mystery of Captain Kitty Jarrod's past would continue as it had since she arrived and pounded on the now-removed Sergeant Zale, who refused to take orders from a woman. But for now, her suspected paramour, Charles Winchester, approached the ladies.

"Major! Princess! Have either of you seen Pierce? I've a question for him about his dubious sheduling abilities for Post-Op."

Kitty responded.

"Hawkeye said, Charles, that an old, dear friend was to be among the UN visitors. He wished to show her around."

Winchester snorted.

"Show her around? It's hardly like Pierce to use euphemisms that don't involve vulgar catch-phrases."

But around the corner, legitimately showing a fetching woman in her early 50's around, was Hawkeye. He looked like a little boy walking with a favorite aunt-an unrelated aunt.

"Hey, guys and dolls! I'd like you all to meet Cassandra Weiskopf. She stayed with us in Maine in the 30's. Cass, this is Kitty Jarrod, Charles Winchester, and Major Margaret Houlihan."

Winchester immediately knew that Pierce had once been with this woman, and that she had also once been a complete stunner. That said, she was no slouch now.

"Everyone, it is such a pleasure to meet Benjamin's friends. To know that my liebling is well is good for my heart."

Kitty sensed that this woman was a mixture of rage and pain, just as Hawkeye Pierce himself was. But while his edge lead toward healing, hers was almost pure rage, barely concealed.

"Hey, um, Margaret?"

"Yes, Pierce?"

"Charles wants to aggle-hay over the dule-sche. Could you finish up with Cass for me? It'd be a real favor."

Margaret was actually feeling jealous about the longing looks Pierce gave this woman, and so consented. Charles and Hawkeye walked off.

"So, Major. Are you and Benjamin lovers?"

"WHAAATT! Me and that libido with two legs? I thought it was the British who had a weird sense of humor, not the Germans. Cass, don't you resent the way he almost leers at you? It's like he's undressing you with his mind."

"I should resent the attentions of a handsome young man? Besides, Ben needs not his imagination to see me nude. Merely his memory."

"Oh...uh..yeah."

"You see, Margaret, when I stayed in Crabapple Cove, I was still recovering from events of the First Great War. My therapist met Daniel Pierce, Ben's father, and asked that I go someplace quiet. They have this lovely secluded lake outside their home. One day, I realized Ben was watching me in hiding."

Margaret smiled.

"I'll bet you chewed out that little Peeping Tom like nobody's business."

"Not at all. His attentions made me feel pretty. I invited him to watch by the water's edge. He had such a grateful look on his face. Two summers later-I invited him to stop watching. He was so very nervous."

Margaret stopped and stared.

"He would have been fifteen, Cass. That's a bit of an age difference, don't you think?"

Cass's face grew indignant.

"Don't ever presume to judge me. Ever."

"Whoa! Hold up. I'm sure Hawkeye enjoyed it. But a 15-year old has no judgment to speak of. I mean, a man that age with a girl that age would be grounds for lynching."

Cass shrugged.

"Ben was a man in spirit before I ever knew him. Perhaps he's a man whose company you need more of."

As she stalked off, Margaret decided to keep her eye on this woman. She had something of the vicious Colonel Flagg about her. Also, like Frank Burns, she seemed to be an open wound.

In Post-Op, Charles brushed off the schedule.

"Let that wait, Pierce! How-was she?"

"None of your business, Charles."

Winchester was thrown. For Hawkeye Pierce not to brag about a sexual conquest was unheard of.

"Ah, I see. She wasn't one of your...conquests. You were one of hers. Tell me, when was the last time you saw her?"

"I told you. In Maine, in the late 30's."

"I...see. Take no offense, Pierce, but there is a line of decorum. This woman may have a lock on you that you've failed to recognize. Still, at 15, 16-I would have died smiling."

Pierce threw back the schedule, an angry look on his face.

"You almost died, just now."

As he stalked off, Winchester, well under his breath, said something.

"My mistake. She has no hold on him What-So-Ever."

In the mess tent that night, Hawkeye rang a glass.

"Hey, people. This dear lady sitting beside me is Cassandra Weiskopf, from the UN. She'd like to have the floor, such as it is."

Cass got up and raised a glass.

"To all of you healers, and the good work you do. And to your Colonel, Sherman T. Potter, a great hero of The First World War."

Potter got up, and nodded.

"Thanx, Ma'am. But this old Missouri mule did nothing special during WW One. Just another lonely, miserable soul with a rifle and some dirty songs in tow."

Her trap was closing, so Cass continued.

"The Colonel is far too modest. Everyone, please ask the Colonel about how he and I first met. Ask him about The Boys From Golgotha!"

Potter was stern, now.

"Lady, I've never seen you before in my life! As to the rest of your bilge water, The Boys From Golgotha are only a myth, put out by the Kraut propaganda machine."

"They are no myth to me, Sherman. You said you loved me, but then deprived me of food whenever I wouldn't be with you. Golgotha was no myth to TEN THOUSAND innocent German civilians. Your Colonel is a monster, people. I just thought you should know."

Angry as hell, Hawkeye grabbed Cass by the arm and pulled her outside.

"You're hurting me!"

"Did you come here just to humiliate Potter in front of his command?"

"Ben, you will calm down, and think about what we have meant to one another."

Pierce shook his head.

"Time was, that soft voice of yours had me unbuckling, unzipping, and unbuttoning before I realized I was doing it. But we're done, Cassandra. Forget you knew me."

On cue, she began to sob, and put her arms around his waist.

"Ask him about Kronoupolis!"

"I have to live here, Cass. Good night."

Despite his anger and her age, it took every ounce of Hawkeye's willpower not to enter her tent and make wild love to this woman. He saw Margaret. She was fuming, and got in his face.

"Well, Pierce, I hope our Colonel's dignity was worth you getting a little nookie."

"Major, you're a tough lady. But you're not the only one who can throw a punch. In other words, BACK THE HELL OFF!"

In the distance, Klinger asked Father Mulcahy a question.

"Hey, Father! What does Golgotha mean, anyway?"

"Well, Max, it was the hill upon which Jesus was crucified. It's also known as Calvary, though a great many confuse the Calvary where Christ suffered with the word cavalry, which of course, refers to mounted soldiers."

It hit Pierce, then. Cavalry. Like A Horseman. Like Potter. He headed for Potter's office, though whether to apologize or accuse, he couldn't say. In the Clerk's office, he stopped, and pondered what to say. Inside, he heard Potter speak.

"What in the Sam Hill are you doing in my chair?"

The man turned around.

"Sherm!Your chair is my chair! And vice-versa. The Brothers Of Golgotha always shared-well, almost everything. That piece of Sauerbraten, Cassandra, you always kept for yourself."

Sherman's jaw dropped, and his mouth grew dry. He had prayed that this man was dead. He said one word, a word that stung both him and Pierce, who was still listening in outside.

"Kronopoulis."

Chapter 2 - All Fall Down

Inside Klinger's office, Hawkeye turned and saw a horrified Margaret. She, too, had been listening in. The look on Pierce's face showed no pleasure at being right-or more precisely, at Cassandra Weiskopf's being right. They continued to listen to Colonel Potter-and another.

"I'd ask how it is you're still alive, Kronny. But you always found a way through. What can I do you for?"

The man Sherman Potter knew as Stavros Kronopoulis just sat and regarded his old friend.

"Sherm, I got a problem. I have something big in the hopper, and I need my best planner. That's you. Now, here's my problem."

He pulled a pistol, and aimed it directly at Sherman's head. Potter did not flinch.

"You need that pop-gun cleaned, Kronny?"

"No, Sherm. I don't. What I want to know IS WHY YOU didn't execute Cassandra before we withdrew. That was a direct order from your Commander. That's mutiny in wartime, pal. Punishable by summary execution. Any reason I shouldn't?"

Potter looked at him, and grabbed the gun. He wiped it off, and handed it back to Kronopoulis.

"Sure. I know where this new Army has stashed Marner and Okhtohvsky. You say you got a notion in your ocean? We'll need a nut and a lug. But to find those two-you need me. And Kronny-you always have."

"Then it's a deal. Ok, you wanna know what I got?"

"I'm all ears. Even moreso than when I was a kid."

Kronoupolis nodded.

"Sherm, it's as easy as One-Two-World War Three. Time we cleaned house. Whatever world follows'll be better than this stalemate we got now. No Reds, and fewer of just about everybody else. Bring things back to the way I-the way we remember em'."

"I'm still with ya."

"Good. Now I have division commanders loyal to me. They'll be crossing the border, and provoking a chase. The weak sisters'll have no choice but to let us go in full force. Waddya think?"

Outside, Hawkeye and Margaret waited for a ray of hope. They seemed to get one.

"That plan won't work, Kronny. Waste of good men's lives, is what it is."

Finally, the Sherman Potter they knew was back. Or was he?

"Hey, you got a better idea?"

The hope vanished.

"That's why I plan these things, Kronny! We pull an Ike on them. Drop in phony planes and tanks, like right before D-Day. The Commies are so antsy, they'll move forward, our men are waiting, and we have a better excuse."

Kronopoulis kissed his own fingers.

"True genius at work. The Boys From Golgotha ride again!"

Outside in the compound, Hawkeye and Margaret gathered their thoughts.

"Pierce, Cass was right! My God, what sort of man is The Colonel?"

Pierce shook his head.

"Cass may be right, but she's still nuts. And there's something else not right here. Sherman Potter may have killed, but he's no killer. I'll talk with him later. That Kronopoulis is bad news times ten."

Inside, the reunion continued.

"Oh, uh, Sherm? I need a loyalty test."

Potter stared grimly.

"Such as?"

"Simple, really. You just have to kill Hawkeye Pierce."

Never batting an eye, Potter assented.

"Oh, is that all?"

Chapter 3 - The Man In Question

Hawkeye and the others called him Lo John. It wasn't his name, but it seemed to suit the younger brother of Ho John, now at medical school in the US. He was as strong and sturdy as one thought a wartime farmboy might be. But that morning, still reeling from the world-altering plans Potter and Kronoupolis were making, Pierce saw the young man shaking. Sadly, he knew that shake. It was from something that should have been beautiful, but was somehow wrong.

"Lo John?"

He was crying. He didn't even cry when his mother died.

"God, Hawkeye! She's so very beautiful. No Korean girl will look at me, for all the GI's around. But Miss Cassandra...she just kept demanding more. I...I thought it was gonna fall off. I think she even slugged me once."

To say that Pierce was enraged was an understatement. The kid was barely fourteen. A grim trend emerged in his mind. He sat down next to Lo John, his face all sympathy for a young man who wondered why a dream come true made him feel so angry.

"Cass-always came on strong. One day, she invited me to skinny-dip with her. She then had me in a bear-hug that affected my breathing. She said what to do, and I did it. I-enjoyed being with her. But it was like something was wrong. That could be because, well, something was wrong."

Lo John shook his head.

"I'd have done it anyway! In a minute! She's like an older Carol Lombard. But it's like she had to take what she wanted."

"Yeah, that's our Cass."

After guiding Lo John out of camp, Hawkeye gathered the senior staff-except, of course, for Potter, who was still making plans in his office. Kronoupolis' presence seemed to invigorate him.

"Sherm, this plan is the finest kind. How do you do it?"

Potter shrugged.

"Same as always. I just see the tanks and soldiers moving in my head. Kronny-why Pierce? I'll do what I have to, but I might like to know why you want me to kill the man."

Kronopoulis frowned.

"I could just tell you that it's my order. But that's never been your way, has it? Always the maverick, always questioning orders. I never could make regular army out of you. As to Pierce, he's a pinko pain. Remember that Korean village got bombed?"

Potter continued to draw on the map.

"Sure. Thought that was all to do with Immunita. Gene experimentation, and all that."

"Yeah, well I worked Immunita in those days. Got my hands on one of their little viruses. Don't worry-I have it stashed in Paris. Point is, it was my boys did the bombings. The ruckus Pierce raised cost me the sweetest job I've had in sixty-in forty years of military service."

Sherman almost seemed disinterested.

"What about that garbage they injected into him and Houlihan?"

"That's why she and Pierce have to die, now. In five years, they'll be like supermen. In twenty years, Sherm-they'll be like gods. Wrong kind of people to get the Prize, if you know what I mean."

Potter shook his head.

"You never mentioned Margaret dying, too."

"Everybody-heh-MOST everybody dies, Sherm. But I'm not an oath-breaker. In exchange for those two troublemakers-I'll kill Cassandra for you. Deal?"

The Colonel looked up.

"Huh? Oh, sure. Hey, is there some inside joke about her name? You always seemed to get your yuks over it."

For just a moment, Kronopoulis' Brooklyn-Queens by-way-of-Chicago accent seemed to turn almost European.

"Leave us just say, I once knew another Cassandra, and her death would have solved a lot of troubles."

The shift, imperceptible to anyone who didn't know Kronopoulis, faded quickly.

"Speakin o' old concerns, Sherm, waddya know about a Doctor name of Adams at the 8063rd?"

Sherman's eyes darted about.

"Odd bird. Cynical as the day is long. Used to give Henry Blake a lot of grief, when they would meet up. MIA, as of last June. Flagg, out of intelligence, wanted him for questioning."

"Ahhh, there's nobody Flagg doesn't want for questioning. But he and his little band of Hunters know better than to cross me. Bart Steele does, too. Heh. I get that pre-pubescent punk so nervous, he has to grab a ciggie to calm himself. He's got potential, though. Well, I'll find Doc Adams eventually. If I'm right about him, then he's kind of a long-lost brother."

Casually, Colonel Potter tossed Kronopoulis a set of keys to a jeep.

"Whooa, Potter! You givin' me the bum's rush?"

"You, Stavros, have an appointment at Kim Po airport. After all, without Cy Marner and Casper Okthosvsky, The Boys From Golgotha are hardly a complete set."

Suddenly, something sparked within the heart of the dark soldier's dark soldier. His smile was that of a little boy.

"Y'know, Sherm? I was once part of something really, really special. Then, it all just up and went away on me. I've been with other units, but they were strictly lowlife since that first one. But you and the Boys are second only to them in my book, and that's somethin' special. Brother mine, we're turnin' back the clock."

Potter grinned.

"Bomb em' back to The Stone Age, huh, Kronny?"

"Ehhh, not quite the -Stone- Age, but somewhere in that general Die-Rection. Catch ya on the flip side, Sherman!"

Once he was sure the jeep was off and away, Colonel Potter put on the boxing gloves that were a gift from Father Mulcahy. Securing them, he then screamed loudly, and punched through the glass doors of his liquor cabinet.

On the door of the VIP tent, Cassandra Weiskopf heard a banging. As she went outside, she saw Hawkeye hammering a sign. It read 'Quarantined For New Incurable Strain Of VD.'

"Benjamin! How can you do this to me? You know that sign is a fraud."

But Pierce was letting neither his attraction to the older woman nor his rage rule him. Backing him up were Margaret Houlihan, BJ Hunnicutt, Charles Winchester, Father Mulcahy, and Kitty Jarrod. Max Klinger was acting as a lookout on the Colonel's activities.

"Two things, Cass. One, the kiddie concession ends here. Nicht Wahr. If you were a guy, you'd be dead already. I care about what happens to you, but your next date better be at least twenty-one, or I'll need to see some ID."

Her face became gentle, as Hawkeye knew it would. BJ almost seemed entranced, but a gentle nudge from Kitty Jarrod brought him back.

"Please! Don't take my boys away from me. They need love. Love only I can give."

Pierce was too disgusted to speak. Houlihan was not.

"Tell you what, short-eyes. 'Your' boys need love, we'll have a car shipped in from the States, and they can use the back seat. Now, get in your tent-and tell us about The Boys From Golgotha."

"Oh! You will all pay for this indignity."

Kitty Jarrod stopped Cass as she walked in with the others.

"What do you want, girl?"

"Watch."

From her back pocket, Kitty withdrew a small hand fan. But when she unfolded it, it was all made of metal. She picked up a good-sized rock, and threw it and the fan into the air. It spun, chopping the rock to pieces. Like a boomerang, the unharmed fan returned to Captain Jarrod.

"Message to you, 'Girl'. No more children, and none of my friends pay. Otherwise-Prepare Yourself."

As a slightly less haughty Cass went in, Charles saw Kitty put her fan away.

"Princess! Whatever am I to do with you? Last I checked, The Great Tournament is not sheduled till 1995."

Kitty smiled.

"You liked it well enough when I did a fan dance, Charles. Besides, in her own way that woman is as slippery as my stepfather's pet sorcerer. I shouldn't be at all surprised if she could change shape, too."

"Princess! That's a well-Tsung song, don't you think?"

She patted his cheek playfully.

"Charles, leave the jokes to Pierce."

"Uh-well-alright."

Inside, Cassandra Weiskopf began her suspect but necessary account of the dark corners of Sherman Potter's past. Again, she was so immersed in recounting the sins of another, she forgot what had just occurred. Her face again became a gentle, inviting trap.

"You must understand, my people were winning the First World War. This made the Allies quite desperate to best our professional army..."

Chapter 4 - Tell Them The Cavalry Is Here!

BAVARIA, Late 1917

"Cassandra Weiskopf! For crimes abominable and numerous, the people of this town sentence you to be hung by the neck until such time as you are dead. May God In Heaven have mercy upon your soul."

But as she ascended the steps to the gallows, the mayor and all the others took note of a set of thundering hooves. There were only sixteen of these hooves and shoes, but the noise they made sounded like a hundred times that.

They rode in, and, gun in hand, took out every male who looked like he could handle a gun or knife. This took all of five minutes. One dismounted. His young features were stern. His uniform was a greenish blue. He pushed aside the mayor, and spoke to the people in their own tongue, though it was obviously not his own.

"I am Captain Sherman T. Potter! But you kraut-sniffers can call me Death! Time Germany learned what total war is really about. You got any complaints about what happens here today, go and yell at a gent name of Kaiser Wilhelm. And when you speak to the boys in Berlin-Tell Them The Cavalry Has Arrived!"

Indignant, the Mayor soaked his hands in the blood of a fallen guard. He simultaneously spat on and spattered blood on Potter's uniform.

"Oh, look, Mister Death! Blood, thrown on to your nice American uniform."

Potter looked at the stains, his face all stone. That face was well loved by a girl named Mildred, back in Missouri. She wouldn't know him, at that moment. She wouldn't want to. Potter slowly withdrew his saber, and held in front of his face. Then, in a casual movement, he put it right through the chest of the stunned official.

"Oh, my, Mister Mayor! Blood withdrawn from your fine German HEART!"

The mayor's screeching widow came at Potter with a broken bottle. He had his gun out before she could realize she was dead. He then looked at the crowd. Whoever was shouting the loudest died first, until the crowd was silent.

"Sergeant Marner! Lieutenant Okthoskvy! FRONT AND CENTER!"

Cyrus Marner was a bear of a man who didn't necessarily like killing, but liked having friends, and so did whatever he was told enthusiastically.

"Yes, Captain Potter?"

"Cy, Go and smash things. If it looks nice, make sure it damn well doesn't afterwards."

"Gotcha, Sherm!"

There had been a nice museum in that town. Small, but with some rare, fine pieces. But while Cyrus Marner did not know from art, he knew what he liked to smash.

Casper Okthoskvy had once been meeker than Potter's future friend, Radar O'Reilly. But one day, his gas-mask failed. Both sides were testing experimental nerve gasses that day. Casper was now hopelessly insane.

"Casp, do your voodoo on their livestock and crops. Leave them some potion or buggie to remember us by. Drinking water, all that. You know the drill by now."

"I know the drill, Potter. AND where to stick it-intimately. By the way, whaddya think of the schoolhaus?"

In the town, Potter saw the school, shuttered and boarded up-and burning. From inside, he could hear small voices screaming. He frowned.

"I make a plan, SOLDIER, you stick to it. This isn't the Brit stage, and we don't do improvisation. Now, food and water supply-wreck it!"

Crazy or no, Casper was afraid of Potter.

"Yes, Sir!"

Potter then spied Cassandra Weiskopf, too stunned to move. He grabbed her up.

"You are my prisoner. Now, I won't make you do anything you don't want to. But-you will notice that life goes a lot easier when you do what I say. Verstehen?"

Cassandra looked at him, her eyes reflecting pure contempt.

"You are a beast."

Potter laughed.

"Maybe tonight, dear."

Major Stavros 'Kronny' Kronopoulis then rode up.

"You are gonna share, Sherm? Huh?"

"Not this one, Major. You, Cy, and Casp keep breaking my toys. How far are we into this?"

Kronopoulis checked his watch.

"Twenty Minutes. We pull out in five, leave whatever's left for the German patrols to find. Good work, by the way. Oh, you gotta love this life! You, the grim reaper, me spreading the fun, Cy bringin the war home, and Casp leaving em' hungry. This is living. So, madchen, what's your name?"

"C-Ca-Cassandra".

Kronopoulis belted her hard across the face. Then, one of the inexplicable shifts that made his voice sound positively Continental took place.

"So sorry, my dear. But I never liked that name. No, I never liked it one bit."

Potter massaged her face, and regarded Kronopoulis as he helped her up.

"Thought I asked you not to break this one."

"Sorry, Sherm. Heh. Let's talk."

With the oddly compliant Cassandra Weiskopf in the background, Kronopoulis put his hand on Sherman's shoulder.

"Look, you up for this? Last night had you screaming out. Kraut patrol thought it was wolves."

"Nah. Kronny, it's just nightmares. Nightmares about a crazy Scotsman I met. Medical SOB name of Duncan Macleod. Cut off a guy's head, right in front of me. Me, I'll feel safe when I can find him and kill him."

One day, Sherman's misplaced hatred of the medic who failed to save his badly wounded friend Ferdie would fade. But the spoken threat somehow gave Kronopoulis a smile ten miles wide.

"Sherm! We are so much alike, it really scares me. I mean it. All Right, BOYS! Pull out, and take what you need. Bavaria's a big place, and Prussia's even bigger!"

Later, when the German patrols arrived, they asked who had done such a thing. One survivor mistranslated the word, 'Cavalry', along with much of Potter's speech.

"They said they were The Boys From Golgotha."

The Austrian-born corporal taking the statement was horrified that Germans had suffered so in their own lands. But the carnage itself was a magnificent inspiration to the young Adolf Hitler.

M*A*S*H* 4077TH, 1952

"My little town...founded by Charlemagne, no less. Wiped away to nothing in less than thirty minutes! This was repeated tens of times over the course of three hellish months, and they simply grew better at their art. And I was not merely their prisoner-I was their slave-in every sense of that horrible word."

To Hawkeye Pierce, who had seen brief, dark flashes of Colonel Potter's temper, Cass's tale was uncanny in how real it seemed. The man she was describing, however improbable it may have seemed, was his friend and mentor. But he couldn't be. Then again, he was a soldier, back then. Soldiers do kill, thought Pierce. BJ spoke next.

"WHOA, lady! If Potter hurt all these innocent people, then why is he still around? I don't care what anybody says, the army would not protect deliberate child-killers."

Wrongly sensing a convert, Cass shrugged.

"Marner and Okthoskvy were arrested, and given menial jobs. Kronopoulis vanished into the netherworld of black ops. Sherman Potter has done very well for himself, seated high upon the skulls of innocents."

Then, the response.

"HORSE-HOCKEY!"

With a flash of the anger Cass had described, Colonel Potter entered the tent.

"Folks, you've heard the DogPatch version. Want to hear some truth?"

With no enthusiasm either way, Pierce gestured towards a footlocker.

"Take a seat, Colonel."

He did that, and as he did, Potter took in the faces of those around him. They were now guardedly neutral, with a bare edge against him.

His friends. His family. His children. All casually turned away from him. People don't change, Kronopoulis had said. Potter had told him he was wrong. Now, he wasn't so sure of that.

"It's a lot like she just said-except she left out the reason we sank to that level. We did have one, ya know."

The sudden shudder that Cass gave off told everyone that there was much more to this story than they could have guessed.

At Kim Po Air Base, the barroom was littered with unconscious GI's. Two older men had knocked down the entire bunch. When a new entrant came in, Casper Okthoskvy made for him like the madman he was. The newcomer batted him back. Cyrus Marner held Casper down, as the man was now growling.

"Hey, Casp? It's okay. It's all okay again! Kronny's back, and he's got Sherm Potter with him."

Kronopoulis beamed.

"My-Boys!"

Chapter 5 - You Must Tell Me, Sergeant, For I've Never Killed Before

Potter's tone, while brusque, was far less vague than Cassandra's. Margaret was beside herself with heartache. The dear old man she had almost worshipped as the perfect balance between military discipline and the real world had once been a barbarian. Cassandra, with whom she would normally be swapping Pierce stories, seemed little more than a child molester. The world was rapidly losing whatever balance it had left.

"Colonel, how much of what Cassandra said is true?"

Potter bit his lip.

"Every word."

The Colonel allowed the murmurs to continue, as Max Klinger entered the tent. Max turned and spoke to Hawkeye.

"Captain, your call to New York is ready. Can't keep the line for long, though."

Potter was surprised to see Hawkeye get up.

"Let me get this straight. You'll sit for the prosecution, but not for the defense? Blast it, Pierce, let me explain myself!"

Hawkeye gathered his courage for the next statement.

"Sherman, I believe in you. Barring something on the level of one of the Nazi camps, I'm not going to stop believing in you. I'll hear what you have to say, later. Because I know it will just back up what I've always known about the greatest man I've known after my father."

Cass was all angry silence. Potter didn't smile, but one could tell the affirmation helped. But Pierce did not go unchallenged in his faith.

"Pierce! Wha-hat do you call over two thou-send civilians? The witch trials of my dear Massachusetts pale in comparison. 2000 places him near the level of those camps..."

Cass got up and shouted.

"THERE WERE NO CAMPS! THAAT IS ALL WELL KNOWN TO BE ISRAELI PROPAGANDA! YOU AMERICANS WISH TO FORGET WHAT YOU DID TO THE INDIANS, SO INSTEAD YOU HELP THE JUDEN..."

When both Margaret Houlihan and Kitty Jarrod stood up, hands balled into fists, the propaganda lady fell silent. Hawkeye looked at Winchester.

"Charles, I call what he did war. I don't like it, in fact I hate it. But I have to be who I am, and who I am believes in this man."

Potter walked outside with him and stopped Pierce.

"Thank You, Son. But Why?"

"Colonel, I don't know. Part of it is that, now that I think about it, I've heard these charges against you before. Remember Adams at the 8063rd?"

"Yeah. Kronny...is looking for him."

"He got loaded one night, and started saying how he was Immortal, over 5000 years old. More, he said that you rode with a 'brother' of his. I talked to Sidney-he confirmed it. Colonel-Kronopoulis is a bad number. Get away from him. Stay away from him."

Potter shook his head.

"Hawkeye-I took an oath. Gave my word. I have to see this through."

"To what-World War Three? That is what he's planning."

"To come what may, Pierce. I took an oath."

"In my life, I've trusted two older people who were not my parents. You know what Cass did to me. With that statement, you've just done the same thing. Only she's insane, Colonel. What's your excuse?"

Potter went in to resume his story, and Hawkeye took his call.

"Hawkeye Pierce here."

"Russell Nash-Nash Antiques-oh, hi, Hawkeye! Heh! The cousin wrote me about meeting up with you. You still in Korea?"

"Uh, yeah-Russ. Mr. Nash."

"It's okay, Hawkeye. Any man who held The Kurgan back at gunpoint has certainly earned the right to call me Connor Macleod."

"Thanks, Connor. Listen, what can you tell me about dealing with a guy named Kronopoulis?"

Hawkeye heard glass shatter on the other end of the line.

"Stay put, Pierce. I'll contact my kinsman and we'll-"

"No, you stay put! Connor, Kurgan's been sighted in Tokyo. You ready to face him?"

"Give me a few decades. Hawkeye, I've heard rumors about this Kronopoulis. Rumors that make Kurgan seem like my adopted daughter. Steer clear. I forgave part of your medical school loan in exchange for you sticking to medicine. You're not one of us. You were a quick learner, but... "

"Oops. Line's gone dead. Talk later, Connor."

Pierce hated doing that to his former employer, but his path was rather clear. He went to his footlocker, and pulled out something he kept very well hidden. It was his last year's birthday present from Connor.

"Well, they always tell me I'm a good cutter."

While not possessing the power or majesty of the original, the little boy in Pierce grinned at the sight of the duplicate of Connor's katana sword, a legacy from Juan Ramirez. He placed it in his hand to gather his resolve. He then pulled it away and looked at his hand.

"Y'know, this thing is sharp! Owwww!"

His hand shook, and not merely from the cut.

Chapter 6 - In A World With The Darkest Powers

Hawkeye returned, with something wrapped in a blanket. Potter had just begun his side of the story of The Boys From Golgotha.

FRANCE, 1917

If anyone had ever told young Sherman Potter he would be taking orders directly from 'Blackjack' Pershing, he would have pshawed and guffawed them. Yet there he was.

"Lieutenant Potter, do you know why I had you brought here?"

"I'm afraid so, Sir. The panel all judged me looney when I told them about Macleod. I just thought that my foolishness in telling what I saw was earning me a general-size boot."

"Potter, do you stand by what you said? That a British medic cut the head off of a German Officer, and Lightning was the result?"

"Not in public, sir. But here and now, yes. I saw what I saw. Eeriest dam-darned thing. I beg your pardon, sir."

Pershing let a smile form, at the edge of his face.

"I have heard the word 'Damn' before, Sherman. Usually from that foul-mouthed Captain of yours-Truman, is it?"

"Captain Harry's a tough number, sir. Begging the General's pardon, sir. But if I'm not being packed in ice for the bughouse, then why am I here?"

"Do you question your superiors often, Potter?"

Sherman was, of course, greatly frightened at the thought of offending his Supreme Commander.

"No-no-nnn-nno, No SIR!"

"Why not? Despite your best efforts and a sterling record, they still won't believe your account. I'd question yahoos like that. But it shows good training, Potter. A public willingness to keep secrets and a private willingness to follow orders without asking questions. In wartime, that is a MUST! Have you ever doubted that we were at war, Lieutenant?"

Pershing seemed to like honesty, so Potter was as brutally honest as he was with his own men, after escaping from the German POW camp.

"At times, sir, this whole war seems almost cozy. I know how that sounds. I've lost pals, killed fellas my own age, and the trenches only seem to smell worse each day. But there are times this whole thing seems like a fancy-dress version of the Hatfield-McCoy feud. Just my opinion, sir."

Pershing nodded.

"Once, I might have agreed with you. A feud, with some days more bloody than others. Hell, all the royalty is interrelated. Sometimes more than twice over. But this is no feud anymore, Potter. If it ever was. This is now war."

"What's changed, sir?"

General Pershing pointed to a map. There were several red pins, indicating sites that enemy guns and planes had hit recently.

"You know about our policy of getting the lightly wounded back to the front, asap, after their wounds are treated?"

"Mmm-hmm. Heard we now keep the badly wounded completely away, so's those who can go back don't have to see a buddy with an arm missing."

"Correct. Up till now, it's all been about morale. But Sherman-the Germans are now targeting the hospitals with the able-bodied in them. Don't know how they're finding out which is which, but they are. Usually, one tries to create more wounded than dead. Demoralizes the enemy."

"But now, Sir?"

"We've hit them hard. Their troops are beginning to desert en masse. So they are cutting down our solid numbers. Taking out the soldier with a twisted ankle, or appendicitis. We can't stop them from hitting our boys. So we have to up the ante. But not with a big bet. No, we have to have four aces up our sleeve. So far, I have a leader of men, a heavy lifter, and a wild man. But I need someone who's good at troop movement. Your CO says that's you. What do you say, 'Captain' Potter?"

"I'll do what I'm told, sir. But four men cannot break the German lines. Ain't gonna happen."

"The young man is right. But what you will do is bypass those lines. 'Operation: Cavalry' will have you taking the next step in this new, total war. They hit our recuperating-we hit their innocents-inside Germany itself. Well inside."

"Isn't that a Wartime No-No, General?"

A new, powerful voice entered the debate.

"Wartime no-no's are childish rules thought up by the side that wishes to rip off your arm, beat you up with it, then force you to thank them for their efforts and attention. Are we the side with one arm, Potter?"

Pershing gestured.

"Captain, meet Major Stavros Kronopoulis. He's going to head up 'Operation : Cavalry'. Are you with him? Will you do what your country needs of you, in this dark hour, when we have to climb into the sewer just to stay alive?"

"Of course. Sirs, Yes, Sirs! But what do I do?"

Kronopoulis patted him on the shoulders.

"Each little town and village will have its own flavor. It'll be up to you to figure out how to break them, brutally and quickly. We may be only four, but we'll be like brothers. Eventually, you'll know who to send where, and at what time. The Krauts time is up-if you're in."

Potter saw something impossibly dangerous in this man, and he found it wildly intriguing.

"When do we start and how much Kraut Hiney do I get to personally Kick?"

M*A*S*H* 4077th, 1953

(Writer's note to archivists; The main story is set in 1953; Sorry for the errors.)

Potter looked almost nostalgic.

"For three months, we rode. We had freedom, and adventure. Always rode one heartbeat ahead of the German patrols. It was life lived as few men ever dream of it. We were legends before we knew it. Even made some later newsreels."

Winchester was disgusted.

"You, sir, are, A Doctor! Dedicated to the proposition that life should be preserved. How could you do such a thing?"

"Now, I'm a Doctor. Back then, Kronny called me 'Death's substitute'. And I was, too."

Potter saw the sullen, shaken faces of his 'family'. That he could deal with. But Cassandra Weiskopf's triumphant smirk was another story.

"Grin it up, Cass ole' girl! Have you told our studio audience why your town was gettin' set to hang you?"

"I was a thief. I stole bread in order to live."

The Colonel slammed down his fist.

"Bull! You were the local schoolmarm, and you killed two children! Not the way we did, either. No, from what the mayor's son told us, you did it nice and slow. The boy was one of her juvenile conquests. But he and the girl are thirteen, and just up and decide to have at it. You found them, and you couldn't live with someone touching one of 'your' boys. I kept you around, cause I felt someone like me didn't deserve any better."

"You were so young then, Sherman. A boy yourself. Please, all of you. Imagine that you find someone in bed with your wife or husband."

Then, Klinger walked in. He was sweaty, and flustered.

"Guys? Sorry ta interrupt, but the rubber wagon we ordered for Miss Filth here is here here."

Cass grew afraid.

"Benjamin, please, I am not insane. I am a victim, just like the Juden in the camps."

Not ten minutes before, Cass had denied the concentration camps ever existed. Her grip on reality was loosening fast. Despite his own troubles about their past, Hawkeye held her.

"Cassandra, you need help. I do care about you. And, God help me, you are still beautiful. But you are also sick. Very sick. Lo John was your last."

As Klinger and an MP guided her out, Cass began to scream.

"My boys! DO NOT TAKE AWAY MY BOYS!"

Outside, a beefy hand clamped over her mouth.

"Don't you worry none, Cass. The Boys are Here. Just like old times."

Upon hearing this, all rushed outside. Kronopoulis, Marner, and Okthoskvy were the truck's occupants. All held guns in hand. Margaret was the first to speak.

"Colonel, your past with them is in the past. Please show these-gentlemen-out. This is a place of life."

But Potter just shook his head.

"Maybe, if even one of you had served as much as a single day in combat, you'd understand."

Hawkeye and Max Klinger, who yet believed in Potter, just stared, dumbstruck. BJ and Winchester exchanged looks of indignant disbelief. Kitty Jarrod closed her eyes, as if to search for some deeper meaning in this absurdity. Father Mulcahy crossed himself once, and then again upon looking at Kronopoulis. Margaret's eyes teared, as the strong woman had passed her breaking point. For all this, the next event was the same. Colonel Sherman T. Potter crossed over and sat with Kronopoulis. The Boys were back in town. Sherman took Hawkeye's hand, plaintively.

"Pierce, I took an oath."

With guns still drawn, and Cassandra Weiskopf in tow, The Boys From Golgotha set forward to remake the world. Pierce stared at the piece of paper in his hand, with four numbers 3-9-6-6 written on it. Charles saw it.

"Pierce, didn't those mysterious gents from the 1701st destroy the 3966th-aka Immunita?"

BJ nodded.

"Actually, Jim-and that Picard character-did say it was only to stop it here."

Hawkeye shook his head.

"Sounds like they're back in business. Father?"

Mulcahy responded.

"Yes, Hawkeye?"

"Without violating your Watchers' oath, just who exactly is Kronopoulis?"

The Priest put his head down.

"Hawkeye, if he is..who I can't say he is, then, with the proper materials in hand-"

"Yes?"

"He Is The End Of Time."

At the site of the destroyed biological warfare facility once called the 3966th, Kronopoulis stopped the truck. He pointed Potter towards a tarp.

"Sherm, pull er' away!"

Potter did just that, and his heart nearly stopped, when the tarp was all gone.

"Where in the name of Sweet Fanny Adams did even you get your hands on a blessed-Nuclear Missile!"

Kronny clapped his hands together.

"I got people, Sherm! I got people! Now go give the big plan the once-over. After all, our Mushroom-maker is only the icing. It's the fake tanks that are the cake!"

Shaking his head in wonderment, Sherman Potter went inside the main building, and shut the door. He hurriedly found a garbage pail, which he promptly threw up in.

"Bastard's got a launcher."

Outside, Kronopoulis looked at the other two.

"Take the jeep, and go back to the 4077th. Pierce, Houlihan first. Then anybody else that strikes your fancy. Sherm's clerk used to keep rabbits. Cy, you like rabbits, right?"

"Oh, Kronny, y'know I do. Rabbits don't call you stupid."

Casper Okthoskvy merely grinned a Joker-grin, his limited power of speech having left him some time ago. He did giggle, though.

Back at the 4077th, Hawkeye inspected a pistol, which he then loaded. BJ stood aghast.

"I thought you and guns were like alien beings to one another."

Hawkeye finished by securing the safety. A grim look had overtaken him.

"I said I hated guns. I never said I didn't know how to use them. In fact, it's because of how well I know them that I refuse to use them."

"O-kay, then. Why break that personal law - not to mention, your Hippocratic Oath - now?"

Pierce holstered his gun, and secured his sword. He met Margaret at the door, also bearing a sidearm.

"Beej, all I can say is-what Father Mulcahy said about Kronopoulis. Only-it's not time that's coming to an end."

Bold words aside, Hawkeye offered prayers to a God he wasn't sure existed that he remembered everything Connor had taught him. He was fairly sure he didn't. Margaret shared his worry.

"Pierce, do we realistically stand a chance of stopping all this?"

"Realistically, Margaret? I Don't Think So."

Chapter 7 - Why Do The Birds Go On Singing?

Max Klinger spoke into the phone.

"Ok, Mr. Nash. Yes, sir. Dr. Hunnicutt is right here."

He handed the phone to BJ.

"Not too long, BJ. There's a call coming in that's big-time important."

"Gotcha, Max. Hello? Is this Russell Nash? Yeah, well...where do you get off showing a medical student how to use a gun? Really? He wasn't just there to rob your shop? Your HEAD? Are you an...Oh, you're the cousin Duncan was writing..."

BJ held his hand over the phone.

"He says someone named Kurt Gahn was looking for him, and only Hawkeye's having a pistol aimed right at his head drove him off. The guy taunted him, took swipes...but Hawk held his ground. Boy, with all we're finding out about each other, I wonder if Peg is keeping any secrets."

In fact, Peg Hunnicutt had just such a secret. But BJ was nine years away from finding that out.

Winchester gestured.

"Hunnicutt-the phone, if you would."

Charles spoke to 'Russell Nash' now.

"Hello, Connor. Yes, it's good to hear from you, as well. Forgive my friend. He's found out that Pierce and Potter have a dark side. Ye-hes, but he means well. As you well know from the Revolutionary War, the Winchesters have a great many paranormal operatives, ma-hainly to keep the Emperor from pulling any tricks before the Tournament. Now, this-Kronopoulis-has he found his way into any legends I should know of? I-see. Thanks muchly, Connor. While we're on, let me option that Renoir you cabled me about. Yes, good luck as well."

BJ was staring at Charles as he hung up.

"What-did he say?"

"Oh-the Renoir will be delivered for the customary fee. It's a lovely find, to be sure."

"NOT the Renoir! About Kronopoulis?"

"Oh, him. Yes. Well, the Padre had indeed called it right. 'Kronny' and his fellows of times past were the inspiration for four certain figures in the Gospel according to St. John, in particular, the parts concerning Revelations. It would seem, Beeej...that we should prepare for nuclear fires to light the sky. Pity. I would have thought better of Colonel Potter."

At that, Klinger slammed his book down.

"For your information, you're both wrong about the Colonel. He only threw in with Kronopoulis to keep him busy. HQ in Seoul called before all this kicked up. They arrested a group of tank commanders, who were bragging about going into China. Kronny's boys. Those fake tanks never got ordered. The Colonel is risking his life to save the world from that maniac, and all you two can do is sit in judgment over him. Only Captain Pierce and Major Houlihan believed in him, and I'm going to tell them right now that they were right to."

BJ was feeling low. Then, he felt lower.

"Oh, my God! Hawkeye and Margaret went after them."

Max lowered his head.

"Then they're all dead, now. The Colonel said-he was probably never coming back."

There was a noise from outside Klinger's office.

"Whoa! Did they already launch the bombs?"

The man facing Kitty Jarrod was in his sixties, but was fully possessed of the strength of the completely insane. He was Casper Okthovsky, and he was the one The Boys From Golgotha sent in to the town squares, to 'work' the crowds. The crowds were always a bit thinner, when he was done. He moved and laughed like a wildman.

By contrast, Kitty Jarrod was every inch the fighting officer, trained by the best. A study in calm, she ignored both the crazy man and the four or five dead nurses and corpsmen he left in his brutal wake. As BJ and Charles watched her pummel the lunatic, big, beefy hands grasped their throats and began to squeeze. Charles noted Rizzo, gasping for air in the background, and hoped the crude man was not going to die.

"Everybody says I'm dumb. But they always die, and I keep on. Guess who's dumb?"

Klinger came out, phone-bag in hand.

"Call for Cyrus Marner!"

"Who's it from?"

"Your pal,Colonel Potter."

"Hey, we ain't just pals. We're the Boys From Golgotha! Brothers!"

Max took the bag, and socked Marner in the gut with it. His mouth went wide, and he dropped BJ and Charles. Klinger, angry over the death these people had brought to his camp, remembered something he had once threatened to do to Frank Burns. He kicked the still-gasping Marner, and stuffed something in his opened mouth.

"Hey, Cy? The Colonel sent me a message."

Max pulled the pin on the grenade and pushed Marner well away.

"You ain't BROTHERS!"

The grenade did its work, and Cyrus Marner was now truly brainless. Max waved BJ off.

"Don't look at me like that, Captain. I never took a Doctor's oath."

BJ looked at him still, though.

"Max, are you all right?"

"Not really. Maybe cause I never really killed anyone before. That-was disgusting."

Charles spoke up.

"Klinger-may it always be so for you-and for us all."

But killing was still on the mind of Casper Okthovsky. He made a last, desperate lunge for Kitty Jarrod, who leaped well over him, appearing almost to fly like Superman. As she landed behind him, she amazed all and whipped what looked like a hand fan. But this proved not to be made of paper, as it sliced off her opponent's head, which fell after a moment. She did not smile at her victory. But this man had to pay for hurting her friends. Charles clapped, in appreciation of her skills, if not their result.

"Princess. A Flawless Victory."

Kitty looked around the compound, at the dead and wounded who had served with her. Good people all. The warrior in her could never shake off so grisly a sight, no matter how hardened she felt.

"Yes, Charles. But, I fear, all too many fatalities."

At Kronopoulis' base of operations, Potter girded himself for what had to happen next.

"Hey, Kronny?"

"Yeah, Sherm?"

"Been meaning to ask you about Cassandra."

"Don't worry. She's good and tied up."

"Yeah, well, I'm more concerned about how she just happens to show up and start spouting right before you were waiting in my office. Quite the coincidence, wouldn't you say?"

Kronopoulis grinned. It was the endgame.

"Here's a coincidence, Potter. Right after we had completed our missions inside Germany, and the Krauts stopped targeting our hospitals, Pershing has men ready to arrest us. How did he know where we would be returning? Hmmm?"

Potter was nodding.

"I'll see that raise and call you. Only you won't like what I call you. It was you who told the Germans where those hospitals were. A Brit Double-Agent spilled the beans. Our whole mission was based on a damned lie!"

Kronopoulis was unimpressed.

"I did what I had to, to keep that war interesting. But you still broke your oath, soldier! We were The Boys From Golgotha. Remember our motto, Sherm? 'Get The Job Done'. We did, and the enemy quaked as we rode."

Sherman Potter was a man fully prepared to die.

"My oath to you was phony. Pershing sent me along with you three to keep you from doing too much damage. My only regret was that I couldn't always steer us clear of those towns and villages. I was never a traitor. I was a spy-for my country."

"Semantics. Anything else before judgment is rendered?"

He gritted his teeth, then spoke.

"You-are not the mystery man of the night. You-are not the dark side of man. You-are not a bold warrior who dares and strives. I don't care how old you are, or how much older you get-you are nothing more than a thug with delusions of grandeur. You kill people-people that a lot of times, did nothing to you at all. So to hell with you, and to hell with all this crap you spew about brotherhood. I had brothers during WW One-but you and your pet killers weren't them. I die with a clear conscience. I'll answer before God for my sins and my sins alone. Pray I don't get sent to Hell, Kronny. Cause I'll be waiting for you. Mark me on that."

Kronopoulis cocked the barrel of his gun.

"Consider yourself marked."

Then, Kronopoulis felt steel at his back.

"I'll kill him, Pierce. And I don't die so easily, you know."

"Well, gee, Kronny, you would be right about that-if I didn't know what you were. Head-Cheese, anyone?"

He dropped the gun.

"Pierce, Pierce. No code of honor, huh?"

Hawkeye saw Margaret go in to free Cassandra, and smiled.

"Ok, just this once. Go for your sword."

Despite Potter's pleadings, Hawkeye let Kronopoulis go for his scabbard.

"What the hell is this?"

Pierce was holding Kronopoulis' sword and had left the duplicate of Connor's sword in its place. Kronny laughed.

"It's not the sword makes the man, Pierce. But you wouldn't know anything about real men, would you? Hey, Sherm, don't play with the missile! It could go off."

Potter stood by the missile, and punched a hole in it. It was a construct. A phony.

"I know people too, Kronny. The fake tanks never got ordered. So HQ swiped your Freud-type toy and left this in its place. In other words, maniac, you've been royally had!"

His face was red with rage. Wildly, Kronopoulis swung at Pierce. He ducked. Kronny's European accent was back now, for good.

"Fight, damn you Pierce! What moron taught you how to wield a sword, anyway?"

Another gamble on Hawkeye's part.

"A gent by the name of...Macleod."

If they all thought Kronopoulis couldn't get any angrier, they were wrong. He swung in an even harder arc, now.

"MACLEODDDDD!"

Hawkeye really only knew one basic movement-how to safely block another sword. Using his purloined saber, he did that now. The sword that Kronopoulis wielded-the duplicate of Connor Macleod's katana-smashed into a thousand pieces. Pierce sliced his guts, and ran him through. Stavros Kronopoulis fell. Potter stared dumbfounded.

"Hawkeye-what-how-that sword of yours-"

Pierce could barely stand. His heart felt like it was about to leave his chest.

"Connor likes me. But not well enough to give me an expensive sword. Do you know how much it would cost to even make a reasonable working facsimile of that monster? That duplicate was ceremonial. For all its luster and sharpness, it may as well have been an antique vase."

Potter then looked below, and saw Kronopoulis was gone. Pierce almost didn't mind, not knowing whether he could have finished the job, and not really caring to find out. Then, a shot came from where Margaret and Cassandra were. Worriedly, the two men ran, hoping that Kronopoulis was not about. He wasn't. Margaret kneeled before the still form of Cassandra Weiskopf, who had taken her own life.

"I untied her, then she punched me and grabbed my sidearm. She was dead before I knew it. I'm sorry, Pierce."

As he mourned the sick woman who was his first love, Hawkeye held and was held by the woman who would one day agree to become his beloved wife. But certain memories would stay with them both. Potter reached over and closed Cassandra's eyes.

"Cass-you and The Boys are done. Rest easy, Madchen. I hope the kids can forgive you. I hope you-can forgive me."

The day had been a wild one. Wild, and savage. But at the 4077th M*A*S*H*, forgiveness found a way to rule the day.

ONE MONTH LATER...

"No, Pierce isn't here, Connor. I sent him and Houlihan, and Hunnicutt and the Padre to fetch some healing herbs from this local Buddhist monastery. I don't think we'll ever forget that day. Poor Cass. She was such a pitiful girl, despite all she'd done. No, I have to feel for her. Y'see, Pierce and my Mildred and all the others will forgive me, eventually. But I feel like I have to keep that poor sick girl in mind. If I don't, then, she just drifts off-and becomes one of a thousand regrets, Macleod. Just one of a thousand regrets."

Potter hung up the phone, at that, and suddenly the faces of those he had been forced to kill for the sake of his country haunted him as they had so often before. Hawkeye Pierce had been right. In his heart, Sherman T. Potter was not a killer.

But for now, that thought lent him no comfort.

FORTY-TWO YEARS LATER...

"You are certain Silas is in this remote place?"

Methos nodded.

"Quite certain. So did you seek revenge upon Potter?"

Kronos shrugged.

"He was mortal. Hardly worth it."

Methos continued.

"Of course, the thought that Pierce and Houlihan's super-abilities kicked in not long thereafter had to help dissuade you."

"You wrong me, Brother. Actually, Sherman Potter continued to impress me. He and his band of misfits were in Tokyo when the first Godzilla emerged. Crazy old man drove a jeep straight at him. My legacy, Methos. My Boy From Golgotha rode straight for the Modern Dragon. He tried to deny it, but that was my influence, enabled him to do that. I'm merely glad we're together again, 'Doctor Adams'. Now things will truly be as they were."

Methos smiled.

"Of course, Brother. I would never betray you."

Two weeks later, as his head came free of his body, the Immortal known as Calvin Ixion, Melvin Koren, Stavros Kronopoulis, and Kronos Of The Four Horsemen Of The Apocalypse would not curse the name of his slayer, Duncan Macleod. The only names in his mind were Methos and Potter, two brothers who showed him the back of their hands, and to whom loyalty meant nothing, in his view of the world.

For the record, Sherman Potter was not waiting for the leader of The Boys From Golgotha.

THE END

Cassandra Weiskopf is only very loosely based on the Cassandra of 'Highlander : The Series'. Since she is a figure of contention among HL fans, let me state clearly that I do not think she has the problems the character in this story does. In my stories, including this one, Cassandra the Immortal is the wronged party, and would never harm children. She and Cassandra Weiskopf are separate characters."