XOVER: Changing of the Guard 4: The Road To Hammelcar [PG13] 14/19
ecolea (ecolea@WT.NET)
Tue, 25 Dec 2001 09:27:50 -0600
Notes and disclaimers in part 0/19
Chapter 14
"A truly fascinating plan," Methos complimented Quinta as she finished her
nearly hour-long rambling diatribe on how they were going to conquer the
Goa'uld and make the universe a safe place for the unhappy multitudes. His
heart seemed to sink a little deeper into his stomach when she smiled in
triumph. "And how, may I ask, did you come up with this bit of brilliance?"
"Oh, it wasn't only me. You remember Nanny Hov'ah. Her husband, Devak, was
your first tutor. We used to spend hours discussing the future and what
would happen once Father's war against the Goa'uld was won. Some of my best
centuries were spent in their care."
Methos hurriedly turned his face toward the door as another servant entered
so that she didn't see him blanch. Memories assailed him. Unpleasant and
confusing until it all fell neatly into place. Tok'ra shouting, soldiers
coming, black painted ax blades turning to silver, then two familiar faces
suddenly gone and him left completely in Inanna's care until another tutor
had been found.
Then something else fell into place. Quinta always had a plan. Or so Methos
the child had thought. But the man knew better. Like Kronos, Quinta was
brilliant enough to devise a scheme and gather the necessary tools. But the
execution of the plan -- the logistics, tactics, the chess game of the
enemy's moves to their moves -- that was beyond them. And like Kronos,
Quinta's plans were those of others. Greater minds than hers had come up
with these ideas. Only she had been left unchecked to carry them out. No
wonder Tok'ra had all but banished Quinta to the rear guard. He wouldn't
have blamed her, not Tok'ra. But he would have very carefully isolated his
daughter.
"Is something wrong?" Quinta asked, real concern coloring her voice.
Methos turned back to her distractedly. "I'm fine, Ninta. Just tired. It's
been a long day and tomorrow will be even longer."
His sister suddenly laughed. "Ninta! How sweet of you," she pressed a hand
to his cheek. "Father used to call me that!" Then her face grew ugly with
unmasked fury. "Until that monster killed him! I'm glad you destroyed her,"
Quinta leaned forward and kissed him lightly. "She said you were both dead.
That the Goa'uld had surprised Father. I tried not to believe her, I swear
it!"
"It doesn't matter now," Methos choked, desperate to get away from her and
from the memories. "Inanna's gone and--"
"And we're together," she sighed, leaning closer. Too close, until Methos
couldn't breath and he gently pushed her away, careful not to arouse her
suspicions.
"I'm tired, Ninta. And you must be, too. It can't have been easy carrying
the burden alone."
"The burden of greatness is never easy, but we will bear it together now."
"Right," Methos nodded, hurriedly standing as she reached for him again.
"Now, get some rest. I'll see you in the morning."
"You are so like Father," she sighed happily.
Methos frowned, unsure of what she meant.
"And to think I begrudged you the little time you had together."
If she only knew, Methos thought sardonically.
"But I was so very young," she went on, completely ignorant of the pain she
was causing. "And I have never had a use for children. Strange creatures."
"We've all made mistakes," he told her gently and Quinta smiled at his small
words of forgiveness. She really could not help being the way she was. Not
really, he thought sadly. A predisposition towards dependence and
sociopathic tendencies Sean Burns might have said. But to Methos it did
matter. He hadn't really known her then and he'd likely never know her now.
"Tomorrow," she told him quietly as she followed him to the door. "Tomorrow
we will begin again. And there will be no more secrets between us."
Her words lay heavy in his belly as the door slid shut behind him. What did
she mean 'no more secrets'? Did she really believe he would marry her and
give up his advantageous knowledge of Tok'ra's combat tactics? He wouldn't
be the man she believed him to be if he did that! No, he thought, silently
shaking his head as he wandered back toward his quarters, a handful of
guards discreetly trailing behind. That couldn't be it. And yet... She had
sounded so absolutely certain.
'No more secrets between... Us.'
Something about the phrasing bothered him. Something he should remember, but
couldn't.
Sod it! he thought with a mental shrug of disgust. He'd be gone before she
had a chance to wheedle anything out of him. As if she could! The cavalry
was on its way and he didn't really have a problem with turning his back on
Quinta and her mad mob of Immortal followers. They weren't any concern of
his now, were they? On the other side of the universe from his little comfy
corner, where she and they could kill Goa'uld and fight amongst themselves
for the best pickings to their hearts' content.
Mortals would die, sure, but they died every minute of every day and he'd
lived with that fact for more years than he could remember. Eventually,
though, they would take Quinta down. After all, the Ishri had been used to
Inanna, who'd ruled in absentia and never bothered anyone as long as Inanna
got what Inanna wanted. Quinta was definitely a hands-on kind of girl.
Things on the home front might be chaotic now, but they'd settle down. And
then they'd start to notice all the little things Quinta interfered with
that Inanna never had. Like government and economic policy and sending their
children off to make war against those nasty symbiots who'd never annoyed
them before.
Methos laughed aloud, ignoring his guards. If Quinta's reign lasted a
decade, much less a thousand years, he'd be bloody well surprised.
***
The shuttle doors opened and O'Neill watched as his people quickly debarked.
"Colonel!"
"Jack!"
"O'Neill!"
The man being greeted laughed as Carter, Daniel and Teal'c came forward.
"Hey kids! What's shakin'?"
"Where's Adam?" Daniel immediately wanted to know.
"Nice to see you too," O'Neill muttered. "Pierson's fine. Had a little
personal business he had to take care of."
"He's with the she-demon?!"
Jack turned at the sound of Amanda's voice. "That's enough of that, Airman."
She frowned, gritting out a, "Yes, sir," before joining the others filing
down the ramp.
"Well?" Daniel asked quietly.
The colonel sighed. "Right now, Pierson's being dressed for his wedding. A
somewhat reluctant bridegroom, but we work with what we have."
Bear and the strike team lined up, all dressed in the same formal whites
O'Neill had chosen when he'd thought he was going to die.
"Thanks for coming to the party," O'Neill greeted them, nodding his thanks
to Alexander, who handed him two heavy suit bags and a large, equally heavy
carry case.
"Wouldn't miss it," the Immortal grinned happily. "So, what's the plan?" he
asked quietly as O'Neill shooed away an Ishri who wanted to carry his bags
and led the strike force over to a sheltered niche in the hangar bay.
"Plan?" O'Neill feigned shock. "I was supposed to have a plan?"
Alexander grimaced. "That bad, huh?"
The colonel shrugged. "Not as bad as it sounds," he answered honestly.
"Pierson swears he can do some fancy footwork to get the old girl to let us
leave after the wedding. Important Presidential stuff needs doing. Gotta
have that personal touch back home."
A few of the others rolled their eyes, but no one asked how or why things
had gotten so out of hand.
"But you don't think it'll be that easy," MacLeod stated simply.
O'Neill shook his head. "I'm hoping he's right, but let's keep our options
open."
"A wise decision," Ramirez agreed as the others nodded.
"Glad you like it," O'Neill responded. "At the moment, there's a reception
going on. Anyone who's anybody in the Ishri hierarchy. You guys are
expected. Teal'c?" The big man gave the colonel his complete attention. "I
want you to stay with the ship. I need you to make sure we can leave at a
moment's notice."
"My thoughts exactly, O'Neill," the Jaffa nodded.
"What about the rest of us?" Carter asked.
"Mix. Mingle. Play it by ear," O'Neill shrugged.
"And us?" MacLeod asked.
"Follow my lead and arch with the rest of the team when the time comes. You
do know how to do that, right?"
MacLeod grimaced as Sergeant Bear grinned. "Had 'em all practicing on the
way in," he advised Jack. "You wouldn't believe how many of them have never
attended a military wedding."
O'Neill grimaced wryly, but seemed to relax. "Okay. It's show time people.
Make me proud."
"And where will you be, Colonel?" Carter asked as he turned to leave.
"Where else?" O'Neill asked sarcastically. "Trying to keep the groom from
climbing out an airlock!"
***
"It's definitely... You," O'Neill finally announced as he took in the
strange sight of Methos dressed in Quinta's choice of wedding garb.
"Oh, shut up!" Methos retorted, wishing he could sit down in the heavy
pleated skirt and have a decent sprawl topped by a really good sulk. But one
didn't just sprawl in Sumerian formal wear. One didn't even stride.
One...paced -- with dignity -- lots and lots of manly dignity. Because if
one didn't, the more private bits of manly nature tended to peek out at the
most inopportune of times.
"Like the hat," O'Neill added another grating comment.
The Immortal shot him an angry glare. "It's a head dress, not a hat," Methos
gritted. "And it's meant to symbolize... Well, I don't remember what it
symbolizes, but it was something really macho."
"It's a king thing. I knew that."
"Of course you did," Methos nodded -- carefully. "Just like you knew the
Babylonians ripped off Sumerian culture."
"Hey, I've met Babylonians," O'Neill said defensively. "And they all ran
around in the same kind of skimpy little outfits."
"This isn't skimpy!" Methos denied. "It's... It's light. Airy. Made for
desert climes."
"I wouldn't climb around any desert in that get up if my life depended on
it! As for it being airy," he leaned sideways and Methos nervously
readjusted the cloth that hung loosely at his bare hips. "Well, I'll give
you that. But light? Those decals look like solid gold."
"They are gold," Methos retorted in frustration. "And they're meant to hold
everything in place."
"Good luck!"
"That's it!" Methos shouted, wrapping his arms around his mostly bare chest.
"You know, five thousand years ago, when your ancestors were still wearing
rancid animal furs and rooting around in peat bogs, this was considered the
height of fashion. Men killed each other to get the chance to dress like
this!"
"Chicks used to dig this look, huh?"
"Big time," Methos sullenly agreed.
"Actually, it's not that bad," Jack said in a calming tone.
"You really think so?" Methos asked hopefully.
"Heck, it's a once in a lifetime opportunity. And I know General Hammond
will never, and I mean never, let anyone see the tape from the SGC's video
feed."
Methos bit his lip, stifling a miserable groan. Did he have to be reminded
of that now?! Quinta had insisted that her worlds and his be allowed to view
the "sacred" festivities.
Dignity. Courage, he told himself as the door opened and Naxsos announced
that all was in place for the proceedings. Just imagine you're back in
Sumer. It's a hot summer day and hordes of people will be shouting your name
and throwing lotus blossoms in your path.
Instead, he realized as reality smacked him in the face when they reached
the Great Hall and he saw all the familiar faces, Sumer seemed a very long
way away as he slowly moved past the line of dignitaries where his bride
awaited.
"Nice outfit, Mr. Prez," MacLeod snickered as he passed.
"Now this is what I meant by a come as you were party!" Gina de Valicourt
teased warmly.
"And he certainly was!" Amanda grinned.
He met Daniel's eyes and saw sympathy and understanding there. The rest of
his friends wore their military masks, and if they were laughing at least it
was silently and without comment. Normally, Methos suddenly realized as he
approached the throne and bowed to Quinta, he wouldn't have cared what
anyone thought of his attire. And certainly not at a time like this! But
Jack's comments...
Inwardly, Methos started laughing as Quinta made a great show of rising and
rearranging herself so that he could be seated. Jack's comments, he sighed
silently as he moved to stand beside her, had been designed to distract him.
A distraction he hadn't really needed, because he wasn't really worried.
Long before the wedding supper was over and the newly married couple could
be installed in the bridal suite O'Neill had assured him, he'd be whisked
away on the pretext of pressing Presidential matters. So, sorry. Be right
back, darling. Have to take a rain check on that bit of nooky until things
calm down. He had, after all, been gone from his seat of power for quite
some time. She'd certainly have to understand that.
As Methos took his place on the throne beside Quinta, O'Neill and the others
formed a row at the base of the dais, every second man or woman facing
outward to watch the audience as SG-1 and the Immortals kept an eye on the
official proceedings. Not surprisingly, no one interfered. Their choice of
clothes alone had shocked the nobility, he imagined. White, Methos supposed,
just wasn't done at Ishri weddings. And their demeanor -- the whole military
bearing and 'don't fuck with me' blank expressions -- probably left the
Ishri guards wondering where they could take lessons in bad ass.
And now came the tedious ceremonies. To which Methos paid scant, but polite
attention as the priests of the Ishri droned on, invoking whatever deities
they worshipped, burning incense that smelled like fossil fuels and
generally making a lot of noise about the sanctity of Inanna's offspring. If
they only knew, he thought, amused. Unless Immortals in this neck of the
galaxy had figured out how to make babies, he was no more Inanna's natural
child than he'd been Tok'ra's. Then again, many cultures didn't need proof
positive of a blood relationship to consider one a member of the family.
Maybe the Ishri just didn't care about things like that.
The interminable chants were followed by a series of ancient hymns. All sung
with cloying sweetness by the redoubtable Misty Eyes, of whom Quinta
apparently approved. Methos heaved a silent sigh of relief as a pair of
acolytes finally came forward with the marriage tokens. A simple exchange of
bracelets, he'd been advised, as the priests dressed him and explained the
order of service.
In actuality, the binding ceremony was the whole of the Ishri marriage rite.
The rest had been all the nonsense that went along with being personages of
importance. If they'd simply appeared one day wearing the things, the deed
would have been accepted as done, except for maybe a nice party thrown
afterwards in their honor.
Without much thought Methos took the offered bracelet from its box. It was
old, thin and extremely heavy, covered with intertwining glyphs and probably
made of naquada. It fit easily around Quinta's wrist, as did its twin on
his. Then Methos glanced down, only mildly curious, and nearly gaped in
shock.
"Yes," Quinta whispered at his stare. "That was Father's."
"And that would be?" he twitched his chin at her wrist.
"Hers," Quinta shrugged slightly. "But so it must be. This is the only
original set made by the Ancients still in existence. At least as far as I
know," she qualified.
"I see," he murmured as the High Priest came to stand behind them and lifted
Methos' left wrist to Quinta's right. Inanna must have taken Tok'ra's from
the wreckage of his carapace, he thought sadly. Although, why she would
bother with such a sentimental gesture eluded him.
"Bound and yet unbound in completion," the priest intoned in a language
older than Ishri. A language Methos barely remembered. Yet, the play of
those words made the skin on the back of his neck prickle in warning. Not
Inanna's native tongue which he'd grown up speaking, but Tok'ra's. "One and
the same until done."
Completion...?
As the words were repeated in Ishri the High Priest smacked the bracelets
together.
Consummation!
Methos felt more than heard the word with a profound sense of horror and
tried to pull away even as the bracelets' locking mechanism activated and he
felt a small jolt of Quinta's Quickening energies, enhanced by the naquada,
traveling up and through his arm. He tried to blank his thoughts as he felt
something of who she truly was filter into his conscious mind, but at her
curious glance he knew he'd hidden nothing.
He hurriedly evaluated what he'd felt from her. Not much. Just a mild sense
of gnawing hunger for...something more. More than what? he wondered
curiously. More than this? Hers was a desire that was not sexual, but a
craving for... Perhaps something suspected, but as yet unknown?
"So alone," Quinta murmured softly as she lowered their arms. "And yet, so
filled with... Living?"
He confused her, Methos thought with relief as he sat back, pretending to
watch the priests give their final blessing. And that was probably a very
good thing.
Her fingers entwined with his, but Methos didn't dare pull away. Nervously,
he caught Daniel's eye and knew the younger man had completely understood
the priest's meaning as he hurriedly glanced away. He looked to Jack, who
stood grim and white faced, lips pressed tight together, but the colonel
wouldn't meet his eyes either.
As the priests filed out and the couple rose, O'Neill barked an order. The
Ishri quickly stepped back, parting as Terrans moved in formation to the
center of the room. Another order was given, and swords drawn in unison from
matching scabbards flashed above heads, snapping up into a gleaming arch.
The Ishri shrieked, scurrying away from the exposed steel and Quinta
flinched, but the guards waited on her orders.
"Easy," Methos told her quietly. "It's meant as an honor. Their strength
joined to protect, not harm."
Quinta slowly nodded, then gave a tiny shake of her head to the Captain of
her Guard. "A charming custom, my love, and a wonderful measure of your
strength," she complimented as he led her down. "How well you have trained
both mortal and Immortal to serve you alike."
O'Neill's expressionless face didn't change, but Methos knew he'd heard the
words by the glint of anger in the other man's eyes. It wasn't funny
anymore. Not to either of them. Methos wrapped his free arm around Quinta's
shoulder and pulled her close as they entered the arch. He didn't think they
were in any danger, but the opportunity was there and his instincts couldn't
ignore it. No matter what he thought of his sister and her mad ideas, he
didn't want her dead -- hadn't even considered that option.
Not once, despite his earlier suspicions, had Quinta offered him death.
Killing Inanna had been an awful necessity. One he'd finally accepted as
having to be done. But Quinta? No. Methos simply couldn't justify it.
And the other thing? Methos asked himself as he passed the stone cold faces
of his friends. Could he actually bed Quinta?
He'd done a thousand things in the dark of which he wasn't proud. Even more
in the broad light of day of which he really ought to be ashamed.
He'd manage it...somehow. And then he'd leave. Just walk away and allow the
awful memory to fade.