Prompt: Times Change (One of the prompt's possibilities was an alternate universe)
Words: 478

I decided to set the alternate universe for this story back during WWII. Cole is originally shot by Courtney, but in this alternate universe, Kelso intervened. The decision I have Cole make in this changes parts of the game, though not all.


Rain hammered hard on the jungle canopy.

Lieutenant Phelps's fingers, stained by nicotine and gun oil, twitched.

The cave containing the makeshift hospital was sealed like a tomb.

He hadn't heard whatever Sheldon had said over the flames, but the running footsteps had drawn his attention. He'd felt the color drain from his face upon seeing Kelso forcefully lowering the pistol Sheldon had drawn, a look of frustrated anger in the latter's eyes.

Disciplining Sheldon at the very moment would only make matters worse, considering that their company had blood on its hands.

The flame of Kelso's cigarette glowed as he advanced toward Phelps. "If you're gonna smoke, do it. Don't stand on ceremony."

"I hardly find the occasion appropriate," Phelps responded.

"Pull yourself together. If you're stressed, fix it."

Phelps mechanically slipped one from his pack.

"How's the cowboy doing?" Kelso asked after a few moments of silence.

Cole glanced up from where he was attempting to light his cigarette. "Sheldon's seeing to him, but it's not looking good. I've tried bringing some sense back to him, but it's not working."

Kelso's lips quirked into a smirk. "That's a first for you, actually taking responsibility."

Cole's lighter fell to the ground. "Jack, enough. I've already elected to take full blame for what has happened. My company was just following my orders."

Kelso bent down to grab the lighter, and hold it out to him. When Cole reached out, Jack's fingers closed over it. "Would actually admit what happened this time, or sweep it under the rug like Sugar Loaf?"

Phelps held out his hand, palm vertically up. "Keep it." Kelso lowered his hand. "You think I have no shame?"

"You're still wearing the Silver Star."

Cole made no move to argue the point, and instead resolved to smoke.

After a few moments in thought, Phelps withdrew his cigarette. "Why'd you save me, Jack?"

"We wear the same uniform. I wouldn't leave a man to die," Kelso flicked the lighter open and closed, "especially when he has something to answer for."

"It won't nearly be enough to make up for the lives I destroyed."

"Not to mention," he pointed behind him, where the men's tents were set up, "the amount of guilt you dropped on your own men, those who are still alive, that is."

Phelps winced.

Kelso lowered his hand. "You sure you wanna do this, Cole? You have a family and a reputation to keep. You really want to throw that away?"

"Of course I don't," Cole replied, "but I can't hide this forever. Not that you were going to give me a choice, anyway."

Jack's expression darkened. "You're a grown man, Cole. I wasn't going to force your hand on this, but I'll give you some advice. Cry in the rain all you want, because no one will give a fuck about you tomorrow."