This episode fills in some blanks in Joe Dawson’s past; how he lost his legs and why he was recruited into the Watchers. Ian Bancroft, killed by Rita Luce in “They Also Serve,” appears as a young man. He was Joe’s first Watcher mentor. Ironically, Joe was once known under the sobriquet of “Boy Scout.” H-m-m-m.
Dawson and MacLeod again confront the question...Can a Watcher and an Immortal be friends? Mac likes, respects, and trusts Joe...but his Immortality sometimes makes closeness impossible.
Loyalties and gratitude to a former war buddy bind Joe. Cord saved his life. Mac is bound by ties to his new friend, Charlie DeSalvo...and to Joe. And Joe to Mac (who also once saved HIS life.) Double divided loyalties. Whooosh!
What happens if my friend is the enemy of your friend?
New characters:
ANDREW CORD — Immortal Marine sergeant, saved Joe’s life in Vietnam, met up with Charlie and his love Mara, in the Balkans.
BUTLER — a fellow Marine who fell prey to his baser instincts.
Younger versions of JOE DAWSON, IAN BANCROFT
The Airport
Joe and MacLeod—
Are back in the States.
They’re shooting the breeze—
As they pass through the gates.
On a rooftop nearby—
A sniper prepares.
He sees Joe and Mac—
Centered in his crosshairs.
He watches with interest,
As suddenly...Mac—
Feels an Immortal,
A young handsome black.
His name’s Andrew Cord,
To Mac, he’s a stranger.
Neither is thinking—
Of imminent danger.
The sniper’s rewarded—
For his stoic endurance
He shoots Andrew Cord—
Several times...for insurance.
His mission accomplished,
He bolts from his place,
But Mac sees him run—
And quickly gives chase.
Mac yells, “Get him OUT!”
Joe attends to the task,
Mac’s pinned down the sniper,
Ripping off his ski mask.
“CHARLIE??? (DeSalvo)
Good friend, ex-marine,
There’s a rage in his eyes,
That Macleod’s never seen.
Mac digs for some answers,
This is not Charlie’s style—
But Charlie won’t talk,
Mac waits for a while.
“I’ll take the heat,
He deserved it, that’s why.
If you call the cops—
I’m here, I’ll comply.”
Mac assures his good friend,
“There’ll be no cops, I hope—
But if you’re in some trouble...”
“MacLeod, I can cope.”
“This one you can’t handle.”
(Why, Mac cannot say).
“I already have.”
Charlie turns, walks away.
Joe’s Truck
The loud music’s blasting,
Joe sits, contemplating.
Though his passenger’s dead,
Joe’s patiently waiting.
“TURN THAT CRAP OFF!”
At last...back from death.
“Right away, Sergeant!”
“Who are YOU?” (Out of breath).
Cord’s still in pain,
His breath comes in pants,
Joe begins singing
The Marine marching chants
“Viet Nam, you remember?
Our platoon? You commanding?
“Boy Scout, is that YOU?”
Cord bellows, “OUTSTANDING!”
Flashback, Viet Nam, 1968
“Boy Scout, follow me!”
Joe is quick to obey.
Their objective’s a village—
Made rubble, that day.
The dead strewn about,
From the living, tears stream.
But Joe’s ears resound—
With one woman’s scream.
Inside a small hut,
Butler stands, grinning smugly.
He pulls up his pants,
What occurred here is ugly.
The woman’s been raped,
“No more hurt!” is her cry.
Cord hints to Joe Dawson—
Her silence they’ll buy.
Neither chocolate, nor money—
Nor Rolex placates her.
Her shrieks growing louder,
Cord must liquidate her.
He sends Dawson out,
Now he’ll set her straight,
“ME TELL!” She persists,
One shot seals her fate.
Joe goes ballistic,
“What the hell did you do?”
“I saved Butler’s ass,
He’s one of our crew.
He’s scum...but he’s ours,
All we have is each other.
If you want to survive,
Every man is your brother.”
While Butler cracks jokes,
Despite the bloodshed,
“INCOMING!” is called.
In a moment, he’s dead!
Snipers surround them,
The bullets are flying,
Joe looks around—
All his buddies are dying.
Cord takes a volley—
Full in the chest!
Joe calls his name,
But he’s dead, like the rest.
Joe hightails for cover,
His response is galvanic,
Then his foot touches metal!
He stares down in panic!
In that horrible moment—
Before the explosion—
For Joe...nothing moves,
Time itself remained frozen.
All of his hopes,
Every dream, aspiration,
Are destroyed by that mine,
In one detonation.
The force of the blast—
Sends him hurtling through air.
He falls in the river,
Remains floating there.
But Cord is there too,
He holds up Joe’s head.
Joe looks at his savior,
“Sweet Jesus, you’re dead.”
“Does this look like heaven?
You don’t expect much,
That mine messed you up,
You’re in shock, out of touch.”
Through water and reeds—
Cord pulls Joe along,
Swimming and hiding—
To evade the Viet Cong.
Present Day, Joe’s Truck
Cord’s very uneasy,
Twice, Joe’s seen him die.
Joe’s older, Cord isn’t—
Doesn’t Joe wonder why?
“Don’t worry, says Dawson...
“I know what you are,
Do you know the shooter?”
“No idea, so far.”
“Things from my past—
Sometimes follow me.
It must be the same—
For your friend, you agree?”
“He’s Duncan MacLeod,
The best friend I own.”
Joe’s message to Cord,
“You leave Mac alone.”
The Loft
“Cord saved my butt,
Carried me on his back,
Sixteen long miles!”
“I see,” responds Mac.
“He’s just passing through,
It’s a brief interim...”
“If he doesn’t want me, Joe—
I’m not seeking him.”
Joe pauses, and asks—
“Mac, by the way...
Where is that sniper?”
Mac: “He got away.”
“It’s good that he did,
Poor bastard can’t know—
Who’s he’s taking on.”
Mac knows this is so.
The Dojo
Interrupting Mac’s workout,
Charlie seems mystified,
“I called all around,
MacLeod—NO ONE DIED!”
“Maybe you winged him?”
“That just could not be,
I shot through his heart,
Very accurately.”
Charlie’s no assassin,
It isn’t his style,
“Why?” MacLeod asks.
Charlie swallows his bile.
“For Mara,” he says.
“What happened to her?”
Charlie narrates the story—
Of a foul massacre.
Flashback, the Balkans, 1995
Bullets are flying—
And in the crossfire—
Civilians are dying,
The raid’s gone haywire.
Mara hears on the phone—
“Forty men have been slayed!”
Charlie thinks it’s his fault,
“I ordered the raid.”
Mara steams, “No, not you—
“It’s the rifles I blame,
They were no good!
Ammunition—the same!”
“Russian-made rifles—
Have great reputations.”
Charlie says, “It was Cord!
He sold cheap imitations!”
“Why?” Mara asks,
“All our fighters, betrayed!”
“For money, of course...
But I’ll see he gets paid!”
Charlie picks up his gun,
Mara says, “I’ll go too.”
Charlie softly says, “No—
This is for me to do.”
While Charlie’s gone—
Cord arrives for his loot.
“Hey, bright-eyes, too bad—
Your men could not shoot.”
“They know how to shoot,
Your damn rifles won’t fire!
You’re a son-of-a bitch!”
Her voice rises higher.
Meanwhile, DeSalvo—
Finds to his dismay—
Cord’s not in his room,
But he’ll not get away.
Together with Mara,
They’ll see Cord is paid—
For the men that he killed—
In the cause he betrayed.
Back at Headquarters
“Mara, I’ll leave...
Just give me the money.”
When she points her Beretta—
Cord’s amused; it’s so funny.
“That’s one of MY guns,
You’ll see, it won’t fire.”
Poor Mara. This time—
Andrew Cord is no liar.
When the gunshot rings out,
Charlie flies through the door.
His brave loving Mara—
Lies dead on the floor.
Cord fires at Charlie,
Charlie’s brain tells him, “Scram!”
He gets clean away,
Cord remains, swearing...”Damn!”
The Loft, Present Day
“Forget Cord,” says Mac
“MacLeod, you know squat!
I took him down,
Did I kill him or not?”
“You didn’t kill him.”
Charlie snorts in disgust.
He leaves, disappointed—
With a sense of distrust.
Joe’s Bar
Mac’s looking for Cord.
He sees Dawson balk.
“Set up a meeting,
I just want to talk.
I know that he saved—
Your life...we’ll just chat.”
But Joe’s apprehensive,
“He did more than that.”
Flashback, Viet Nam, 1968
In the field hospital,
Joe wakes up in pain.
He remembers being carried—
By Cord, through the rain.
The resident shrink—
Says...”Couldn’t have been Cord,
They brought in his tags,
He was stiff as a board.”
“I know it was him...
Can’t I be sedated?
My legs hurt like hell”
“Son, they’ve been amputated.
“Phantom limb syndrome,
Feels like they’re still on.”
Joe lifts his blanket...
From knees down, they’re gone!
Joe retreats in his shell,
Contemplates suicide.
Then a stranger comes by,
With a tale to confide.
His name’s Ian Bancroft—
And he sports a tattoo—
Inside his wrist—
A design colored blue.
“You’re right...it was Cord,
And he really WAS killed.
There are those that can’t die.”
Now Dawson is chilled.
He’s Immortal; we’re Watchers,
We watch and record,
You could join us and learn—
That would be your reward.
Joe’s Bar
“I would not be a Watcher,
I wouldn’t know YOU.
If it wasn’t for Cord—
I would have been through.”
Joe always has been—
Of his past, noncommittal.
He knows MacLeod well,
But of Joe...Mac knows little.
The moment has past—
For memory-lane parley.
“Joe...about Cord—
The shooter was Charlie.”
Joe looks surprised.
“Charlie’s overseas.”
“Not anymore.
Set the meeting up...please.”
Andrew Cord’s Training Headquarters
(The ubiquitous abandoned warehouse)
This is where men—
Play at make-believe war.
With face shields, paint guns,
Cord is there, keeping score.
Plastic sheets hanging down,
Junk, hurdles, and litter.
Joe gapes, “This is FUN?”
Cord’s feral eyes glitter.
“It’s poetry, Joe.”
Cord loves the war game.
But Joe needs an answer—
It’s the reason he came.
“Yes, I’ll meet MacLeod.
A friend of yours, Joe—
Is my friend as well.
I’ll give it a go.”
Joe’s Bar, Later
Mac drums his fingers,
Joe strums a tune,
“Don’t worry,” soothes Joe.
“He’ll be here soon.”
But to their chagrin,
In walks DeSalvo.
“Sorry, Charlie” says Mac
But you gotta go now.”
“What’s going on?”
Charlie feels disrespected.
“Too late,” Mac announces.
Cord’s Buzz, he’s detected.
Charlie sees Cord slide in,
Pulls a knife to attack,
But he’s pushed to the bar,
And his knife’s grabbed by Mac.
Mac pulls him outside—
Shoves his friend to a wall.
Charlie’s fuming at Mac,
Doesn’t get it at all.
“Charlie, they’re friends,
They have a long history.”
“And...YOU? You’re with Cord?”
His voice hot and blistery.
“You’re my FRIEND,” says MacLeod,
“I want you to LIVE!”
“He killed Mara!” screams Charlie,
“That, I can’t forgive.”
“He’ll kill you as well...
Please, give me a chance,
To straighten this out.”
“Straighten WHAT?” Charlie rants.
“I cannot walk, MacLeod,
There is only one way,
That this can be settled.”
“Charlie, please...not today.”
Mac hands him the knife,
“Please, Charlie...for me.”
“Okay, not today”—
Unenthusiastically.
Cord’s Training Headquarters
“DAMMIT!” swears Cord
He screams in Joe’s face.
“I’ll meet with MacLeod,
But not at your place.”
“Andy, you gave your word.”
“Joe, you know how we are,
We all kill each other.”
“It must not get that far.”
“I saved your life!
Joe, I own your ass!”
He grips Dawson’s neck.
Joe cannot let this pass.
He cannot believe—
It has all come to this.
“I owe you MY life,”
Dawson counters, “Not HIS.”
The Loft
Mac’s fixing a clock,
It’s a delicate task.
Joe paces the floor.
He’s a question to ask.
“Everything’s wrong...”
“So Cord DOES want me?
If he does, I am here.”
“Mac, does this have to be?”
“Can you just... go away?
Only for a few days?”
“Joe, I won’t hide,
That’s not how it plays.”
“You BOTH are my friends.
Don’t do this to me!”
“I’M not the one—
Doing this, can’t you see?”
Their little talk ends,
“Stay here.” (Mac to Joe.)
MacLeod’s felt the Buzz,
Downstairs, he must go.
Joe knows in his heart,
He should not interfere,
But he’ll suffer with guilt—
If one dies, that is clear.
The Dojo
“We don’t have to fight,
Dawson owes you a favor.”
“The Boy Scout. He does.”
Cord defies, does not waver.
“But Charlie...his actions—
Have troubled me so...”
“To you, he’s no threat,
You can let Charlie go.”
Duncan’s been circling,
Now Cord has his say,
“Charlie’s like us,
We do not walk away.
“En garde!” Is his challenge.
Both combatants wield—
Their weapons with relish,
Soon Cord’s forced to yield.
Mac’s sword’s at Cord’s throat,
On the floor, he’s been thrown,
“Joe has just saved your life,
Leave Charlie, alone.”
“For the Boy Scout,” grins Cord,
His death’s been deferred,
Mac watches him go,
Will he keep his word?
Joe’s Bar
Joe tries to tell Charlie,
So he’ll understand,
How he feels about Cord,
How it was in that land—
When Cord brought him out
Joe thought he would never—
Make it alive,
“He’s my brother. Forever.”
(Charlie, how can you—
Not at once, realize?
Their ages, so different—
Open your eyes!
Dawson and Cord
Both Marines in the Corps,
How could they have served—
In the very same war?)
“Leave him alone.”
“That, I can’t do.”
“Charlie, I’m asking—
Cord will kill you.”
“Everyone says so.
Thanks for the drink.”
Charlie walks out,
Leaving Dawson to think.
Outside Joe’s Bar
Cord’s lurking outside,
As a tiger stalks prey.
“Chaaarlie,” he teases—
“Have you come out to play?”
Cord leaps to a scaffold,
Knife slashing the air.
He climbs to the roof,
Charlie follows him there.
Cord toys with DeSalvo,
Contemptuous, disdaining,
“Ooh! That was nifty!
You are so entertaining!”
Charlie gives it his all,
But he’s not shatterproof,
Cord’s knife rips his gut,
Then he’s hurled from the roof.
As Charlie’s torn body—
Smashes into the alley—
Cord starts, “That must hurt!”
But he doesn’t dally.
Charlie was easy,
Hardly worked up a sweat.
Now, MACLEOD is a challenge,
The best he’s had yet.
Mac’s come to see Joe—
But an Immie is near,
So, he exits the bar—
And confronts his worst fear.
DeSalvo lies moaning,
He has lost precious blood.
Rage and guilt inundate—
MacLeod, like a flood.
“Hang on,” he begs Charlie,
As he cradles his head.
Charlie knows it’s too late,
“But Cord should be DEAD!”
“You can’t kill him, Charlie—
And you never could.
“It’s time,” nods MacLeod,
“That you understood.”
“Cord is Immortal,
I am that way, too.
I promised one day—
I’d explain it to you.”
MacLeod’s strong arms circle—
His friend tenderly.
“Don’t suppose,” mutters Charlie—
“You could spare some for me?”
Mac’s face drawn with sorrow,
Voice heavy as lead,
“I can kill Cord,
I’ll make sure he’s dead.”
Those words are the last—
That his friend ever hears,
Mac holds Charlie close,
As he cries bitter tears.
Inside Joe’s Bar
“WHERE IS HE, JOE?
Joe (numb) shakes his head.
“I let him go—
Now Charlie is DEAD!”
Mac’s so enraged,
After seeing Charlie die—
His fist smacks the table—
Making Joe’s beer glass fly.
Cord’s Training Headquarters
Mac hears Cord’s snide voice,
“You’re in MY camp now.”
Cord plays hide and seek,
Mac will not kowtow.
Cord slashes Mac’s cheek,
Mac feels where it’s wet,
“That’s not so bad,”
Cord: “I’m not done yet.”
Cord slithers around,
Like a snake, he will pounce.
While he struts his stuff—
Mac squares their accounts,
Soon Mac’s katana—
At Cord’s throat is set.
“Outstanding!” squawks Cord,
Mac: “I’m not done yet.”
The Quickening is wimpy,
Cord wasn’t worth much,
As a taker of heads,
He seemed out of touch.
Mortals—he killed,
They sufficed for his need,
They were fragile like rabbits,
An inferior breed.
The Dojo
Mac’s picture, with Charlie
Is all he has left.
They shared stuff as friends,
Now he’s gone, Mac’s bereft.
Mac looks up to see—
Joe’s face lined with grief,
Joe’s come to unburden,
Seeking relief.
“I’m responsible, Mac,”
His voice tentative.
Mac says, “Charlie’s dead,
“Cause I let Cord live.
I let you between us,
The fault, Joe, is mine.
We got too close,
Crossing over that line.”
“We’re friends!” “No, we’re different!”
Both men want to cry.
“I am...Immortal.”
Mac is saying goodbye.
His back turned to Joe,
Neither seeing the face—
Of the other, both tortured,
Both yearn to embrace.
Joe lowers his head,
Walks sadly away.
He loves the Highlander,
But removed he will stay.
MacLeod kept two friends—
One too far, one too close.
Both now only memories.
He’s alone, and morose.
Peace, Emit
© 2002
Under the Kilt from Highlander: The Official Site:
David Abramowitz, Creative Consultant
"This was one of my favorite episodes. Phil Akin was wonderful in this episode."
Don Paonessa, Creative Consultant, Post Production
"Charles Wilkinson, the director, shot this Vietnam stuff and it was extraordinary. It's an incredible battle sequence and he shot it in one day. I thought under the circumstances that it was extraordinary to get that kind of footage. It cut together well and was convincing. Also, as second unit, I have the distinction of shooting Joe Dawson's foot stepping on the land mine that blows off his legs."
Ken Gord, Producer
"I think the director, Charles Wilkinson, did a great job. Phil Akin's character, Charlie, gets killed in this one."
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