XOVER: Changing of the Guard 4: The Road To Hammelcar [PG13] 17/19
ecolea (ecolea@WT.NET)
Tue, 25 Dec 2001 09:29:03 -0600
Notes and disclaimers in part 0/19
Chapter 18
O'Neill was resting on one of the small pallets in the tiny crew quarters of
the shuttle. He was tired. Trying to sleep, but unable. In the little galley
outside he could hear Sergeant Bear and the Immortals quietly chatting as
they put together their reports. In a few hours they'd be at the drop off
point where they'd return the borrowed ship back to its pilot then gate
themselves home.
All done, he thought wearily, except for the second-guessing. What could he
have done differently? Would it have made the outcome any different? More
importantly, how would what he'd had to do affect Pierson?
The last he could already imagine. He knew how he'd be feeling if their
positions were reversed. Pierson might not hate him for what he'd done, but
O'Neill didn't doubt that he was the last person with whom Methos would ever
again want to spend time. Whatever feeling the other man might have once had
toward him would now be colored by the fact that he had killed his sister.
No way around that. A fact that Jack had known from the moment he'd come to
the conclusion that Quinta's death was necessary.
And if all that was true, which Jack knew it was, then what about Pierson? A
transfer maybe, to another unit where his skills wouldn't be lost was a good
possibility. Perhaps even a permanent reassignment to the strike force.
Still, he doubted the ancient Immortal would go for that. A better choice
would probably be to let Methos quietly retire. An honorable discharge where
he could simply slip back into his old life without anyone being the wiser.
A good idea and probably for the best, he thought. General Hammond would
likely agree with his recommendation. Especially once he knew the facts. No
one had the right to ask of anyone what had been asked of Methos. Didn't
matter if he'd agreed Inanna and Quinta needed killing, it just wasn't fair.
So this is it, he thought sadly as he rolled over onto his side. Still, it
had been fun while it lasted. And maybe it would be again, came the wry
notion, in another life.
***
The gate room was quiet when they arrived with only General Hammond waiting
patiently at the foot of the ramp.
"Welcome back, Colonel O'Neill," he greeted Jack, then smiled broadly at
Methos. "Captain Pierson," he said, though his eyes gleamed with laughter.
"Go on, General," Methos sighed. "Get it out of your system."
"Your Supreme Presidential Highness," Hammond intoned, savoring every word.
"And don't you forget it!" Methos grinned. "I could have ruled the universe,
but I chose to be a lowly Captain of the Guard."
"And we are all extremely gratified to hear it, son," Hammond approved, then
glanced at his watch. "It's late. Why don't you both get some rest. I'll see
you for debriefing at 0700 hours."
O'Neill cleared his throat and Methos took that as his cue to leave. While
the colonel had been necessarily distant, treating him as a subordinate in
front of Bear and the other Immortals, Methos also hadn't a chance to speak
with him alone. Jack had spent most of his time either resting or catching
up with Teal'c, Daniel and Samantha. Not surprising, of course, nor
unexpected, he reasoned as he headed for his quarters. And it had been a
difficult time for both of them. No doubt O'Neill needed some space to
recoup and regain his equilibrium. The past few months could not have been
easy on him.
Being back at the SGC was the best thing for O'Neill, Methos thought as made
his way to the elevator, nodding at familiar faces who smiled in return.
Work. That was what Jack needed. The complete distraction of the mission
surrounded by the simple everyday pleasures of life. He'd find the balance
he needed once he felt secure in those things again.
The elevator opened and he stepped in, followed by a group of technicians,
who started humming "Hail to the Chief" as soon as the doors closed behind
them. Methos smiled thinly and nodded, enjoying the humor of it, though not
really in the mood to appreciate it fully. They couldn't know, of course,
and he didn't begrudge them their bit of fun, just as he'd tolerated it from
Hammond. In a few years they'd stop and the whole story would probably fall
victim to the realm of anecdote -- delightfully embroidered of course. A few
minutes later he stepped out, absently wondering if Jack's new theme song
would be "On the Good Ship Lollipop." If it wasn't, he'd send him a case of
the things just for the fun of it.
***
"Morning, Colonel," Carter called as Jack passed her on the way to their
debriefing.
"The conference room's that way, Major," he pointed toward the door.
"Yeah, I know," she grinned. "But the elevator's that way." Carter pointed
in the opposite direction. "And that's where I'm going."
O'Neill put on his best stern-and-concern face. "And might I inquire as to
why you are going the wrong way in such a hurry?"
"I've had my debriefing, sir. I've got ten days leave starting now."
"Ten days?!" he exclaimed.
Samantha nodded. "I'm going to visit my brother and his kids. You're more
than welcome to join us, sir."
"On a visit to your brother? And his kids?" O'Neill looked at her as if
she'd lost her mind. "What the hell would I do there?"
"I don't know," she shrugged. "Maybe... Celebrate."
"Right," O'Neill nodded, giving up. "Good choice, Carter. Go visit the
family. Have fun."
"And what will you be doing, sir?" she asked gently.
"Whatever it is I usually do?" he asked, not quite knowing why Carter would
pick this of all times to get nosy.
"Sorry," she grinned, obviously feeling foolish. "Of course you have plans.
Well, see you in ten days."
He gave her a little wave then shrugged, wincing in surprised when Daniel
nearly dropped him as he came rushing by, headed for the gate room.
"Sorry, Jack!" he called over his shoulder. "Gotta go!"
"Where to?!"
"With SG-11," he paused, a little breathless, at the door to the gate room
stairs. "Sam and Teal'c are taking some time off, so I volunteered for a dig
they just started on P7Z9811. Incredible stuff, Jack. I'll give you a report
when I get back."
"Please don't!" Jack called after the archaeologist as Daniel raced down the
stairs. "Teal'c's off too?" he asked as he stepped inside the conference
room to find General Hammond and Methos waiting on him.
The general nodded. "For a nice, long visit with his son."
"Good for him," O'Neill said as he took his seat.
Hammond cleared his throat. "Now, gentlemen, we have a couple of items to
discuss and then I'm off as well, so I'll make this brief."
O'Neill looked surprised, but shrugged. "Suits me."
"Captain Pierson," Hammond began. "Colonel O'Neill has suggested that due to
the nature of your last mission you might want to consider accepting an
offer of early retirement."
"What?!" Methos gasped.
"We do offer, in such cases, where the nature of the mission has cost more
than any one individual should be asked to bear, an early retirement option
with honorable discharge. If you so choose," the general explained.
Methos sat back, looking a little shocked. "Do you want me to leave?" he
asked O'Neill quietly.
"It's not about what I want," he told the Immortal. "It's about what's fair
to you. It can't have been easy to watch me kill Quinta. And I would never
ask you to stay on after that. Especially with..." Jack gestured toward
himself.
Methos nodded slowly as he finally understood. "Don't tear yourself up,
Jack. I knew what had to be done. And I'm glad it was you. It was an
honorable thing you did when you accepted that burden. I'm only sorry I
couldn't do it myself and save you from having to make that choice. And I'm
still not sure," he added more slowly, "why that was."
Hammond leaned forward. "I'll tell you why. Because no matter how old you
get when it comes to your big sister, believe me," he nodded knowingly, "you
are always the younger. Wanting approval. Needing that approval, no matter
how far you've grown apart. Just comes with the territory, son."
Methos looked at him oddly then shrugged. "Whatever. And I don't want to
retire. I want to get back to work."
Surprised, but obviously pleased, O'Neill agreed, smiling happily. "I second
that devotion!"
"Be that as it may, gentlemen, I'm granting you both ten days leave. Now,"
he went on, "is there anything earth shattering in your reports that can't
wait until I get back?"
Methos and Jack looked at each other, very much surprised, then shook their
heads. "No, nothing earth shattering," Jack admitted.
"Good," Hammond smiled as he stood to go. "I just need a quick word with
Captain Pierson and then I'm off. Oh, and Colonel," he called just as Jack
reached the door. "Merry Christmas."
O'Neill closed the door behind him, realizing the other shoe had finally
dropped. No wonder Carter had been in such a hurry to leave and had taken
the time to invite him along. In their rush to get back home, and with the
exception of that one dinner he and Pierson had shared, he'd completely
forgotten that the dreaded holiday season was upon them.
***
Christmas, Methos thought with a touch of surprise. No wonder everyone was
in such a hurry to get away this morning. He glanced back at the door
through which Jack had just departed as he followed the general into his
office. Much as the man needed his space this was probably not the best time
for him to be alone.
Hammond went over to his desk and picked up the phone. "Yes, sir. He's right
here." Methos raised an eyebrow as Hammond offered him the handset. "The
President would like a word with you."
"My circle of friends just keeps on growing," Methos gritted as he took the
phone. General Hammond grinned as Methos said the expected words. "Good
morning, Mr. President, sir."
"And you, Mr. President, sire."
Methos chuckled even as he knew he'd never hear the end of it. "And what can
I do for you this fine morning?"
"Tell me what you know about Israel and Palestine."
"Nice people. Pretty scenery. Lovely place to winter if you like it just a
touch cool in the evenings. I know a great little tavern just outside of--"
The President cleared his throat and Methos sighed. "You're interested in an
objective viewpoint on the historic disagreements which are causing problems
in the region," he surmised.
"I've got a peace conference coming up and I'd like to make a difference. In
order to do that, I need information."
"You have people for that."
"I have people for everything," the President commented dryly. "What I don't
have is a real understanding of the problem, which no one seems to be able
to give me."
Methos nodded. The feuding sides would tell their stories, each demonizing
the other and no doubt believing every word. Hard for an outsider to wade
through it all, even with expert advice. Modern advice. In a place where
hatred was counted in millennia and arguments lasted centuries, if not
longer.
"All right," he quickly agreed, suddenly realizing he had the ear of the one
man who could make what he needed to happen actually happen. "I can try. But
I need a favor first. And we'll have to talk after Christmas."
There was a long moment of silence and Methos wondered if he'd overstepped
his bounds. He'd just told the most powerful man on the planet he didn't
have time for him and that his assistance came with a price. He held his
breath as he waited for a response.
"Is it legal?" the President finally asked.
Methos relaxed as he realized that times had indeed changed. "Quite," he
responded. "But it requires the kind of expertise only someone in your
position can command."
Another long pause and finally, "This isn't a yes," the President said.
"Just... Tell me what you want."
A few minutes later Methos was smiling as he handed the phone back to
Hammond.
"Yes, sir," the general nodded as Methos waited to be dismissed. "I agree,
sir. A most unique request. I'll see that he does, sir. And a Merry
Christmas to you, Mr. President." Hammond hung up the phone and shook his
head. "Is that any way to talk to your Commander-in-Chief?" the general
demanded.
"Apparently, it is," Methos grinned.
He'd gotten what he wanted, and nothing anyone could say would make him stop
enjoying the pleasure of the moment.
"If I didn't know how old you were, Pierson, I'd turn you over my knee for
pulling a stunt like that!" Hammond fumed. "And in spite of that," he wagged
a finger, "I am sorely tempted."
Hammond made a sudden move forward and Methos, startled, but still laughing,
backed away.
Hammond threw up his hands in disgust. "Get out!" the general ordered. "And
after all that," he shouted as Methos turned to leave, "you'd better have a
merry Christmas!"
As the door closed behind him, Methos could hear the general chortling.
Well, at least someone was having fun, he thought, making his way through
the nearly empty corridors and up to the changing rooms, where he imagined
O'Neill might have gone. Jack certainly wasn't. Not if Methos had judged his
reaction correctly. The man had been stunned by the knowledge that his least
favorite holiday was at hand. And not just at hand, but upon him so swiftly
he hadn't had a chance to build up the wall of unconcern that probably
served him well this time of year.
It was a wall Methos knew well. He'd built it himself on many occasions.
Every culture had its family celebrations. Honoring the dead, celebrating
the living, gathering for weddings and what not. And much as he loved
celebrating holidays, try as he might, he'd never quite found a way not to
feel alone at those times. Not lonely exactly, but lonesome, for something
he couldn't quite grasp. Oh, yes. He knew exactly how Jack was feeling now.
Methos quietly entered the locker room. O'Neill was sitting on a bench,
still dressed in military issue while staring at something in his hands. He
made a tiny noise and Jack started, allowing Methos to get a clear glimpse
of the picture he'd been staring at. A small boy dressed in a little league
uniform wearing a sunbeam for a smile.
"Hey," O'Neill said, hurriedly putting away the picture. "So, what did
Hammond want?"
"Not Hammond," Methos told him. "The President."
"Do tell, Mr. President?" O'Neill forced a grin.
Methos shook his head and smiled. There were worse nicknames to be sure.
"Yeah," he shrugged. "It must have suddenly occurred to him that I could be
a useful resource. I promised I'd give him the skinny on the origins of the
Arab-Israeli conflict, but after Christmas."
"Cool," Jack nodded. "So, uh, you got plans?"
"Nope," Methos shook his head. "Thought I'd just wing it. Maybe catch a
flight to Paris and crash at MacLeod's. You?"
"No plans," he sighed. "I usually go ice-fishing. Don't think I can get a
reservation this late though," O'Neill shrugged.
"Well, if you're not doing anything," Methos offered. "Why not come with
me?"
"To MacLeod's?" O'Neill grimaced. "I don't think bog boy likes me. I keep
threatening to blow his head off."
Methos laughed. "That's definitely not a way to endear yourself to one of
us."
"So, I guess I'll see you in a couple of weeks," O'Neill stood up.
"There's always the house in London," Methos suggested. "And after the
holiday, I know a guy who's got a lodge in Scotland. He'd probably let us
use it. Great winter fishing on the loch."
O'Neill studied him carefully. "You sure?"
Methos nodded, then made it even easier for Jack. "I really don't want to be
alone right now," he added softly.
O'Neill finally smiled. "Then you won't be alone. London it is. Then
Scotland. Right this way, Mr. President," Jack ushered him toward the exit.
"O'Neill Airlines gets you where you want to go -- and in record time."
"But there's no food or beverage cart," Methos cheerfully complained as he
followed him out. "No in-flight movie or soft pillows and comfy blankets,
all brought by lovely, helpful women. Who may or may not be interested in a
tawdry one night stand -- but where's the harm in trying? I tell you, it's
barbaric!"
"It's also free and leaving now," O'Neill smiled thinly as they got on the
elevator.
"Two excellent points," Methos eagerly agreed. "Couldn't have made a better
case for it myself. O'Neill's it is."
"Figured you see it my way, minion."
Minion?
Methos hid a smile. Definitely a good idea, he thought. Jack was feeling
better already.