Changing of the Guard 3: Be All That You Can Be 9/22 [PG13] xover
Ecolea (ecolea@WT.NET)
Mon, 24 Sep 2001 23:07:48 GMT
"You want to what?!" O'Neill asked looking thoroughly stunned.
Methos sighed. He hadn't even needed to bother Hammond this
morning about sending for O'Neill. He'd found the colonel ready
and waiting for him in his office when he'd reported for work at
the SGC.
"Look, it's not that difficult a concept to grasp," Methos
explained. "I'm an officer. Recruits despise officers. Why?
Because it's our job to be annoying."
"I know that," O'Neill responded as if speaking to a child. "What
I don't get is why you want to be the one being despised. That's
not like you, Pierson."
"Because it won't work any other way," Methos frowned slumping
back in his chair. "Honestly, Jack. Every last one of them has
dealt with the military in some form or another over the last
three thousand years. And every last one of them knows that
officers are supposed to ride new recruits. It keeps them on
their toes, teaches them to be prepared for anything at any hour.
But they're already prepared. They're Immortal. They have to be.
But what they aren't prepared for is me."
"You?"
"Yes, me," Methos reiterated. "They all have mixed feelings about
me. Even Alex to some degree. They know how annoying I can be and
most of them find it amusing. But only because they are capable
of giving as good as they get or walking away. And right now,
they can't do that. They're a captive audience."
"But why does it have to be you? I can send half a dozen junior
officers through to do the same thing."
"Sure you could," Methos agreed. "But they won't get results and
I will." O'Neill shook his head and Methos doggedly went on. "You
aren't looking at it from their perspective, Jack. Mortals
ordering them about are something they're used to even in
civilian life. But another Immortal -- especially me..." he
shrugged. "That goes against the grain. Look, Sergeant Bear could
order MacLeod to clean the latrine and he'd do it without so much
as a murmur of complaint. Can you imagine him taking that same
order from me?"
O'Neill grinned at the thought. "I never looked at it that way.
God, it'd make him crazy."
"It will make them all crazy," Methos answered grinning back.
"Imagine Robert's face when I order him to sew all the buttons
back on his jacket because just one is loose. Or Ramirez when I
send him back to run the confidence course for absolutely no
reason. And Amanda doing countless pushups because she can't be
bothered to memorize the regs."
O'Neill nodded slowly, finally raising one hand in benediction.
"It is a good plan, my minion. Your request is granted. Go forth
and be irritating."
Methos smiled and inclined his head. "About the other thing?" he
asked as he stood to leave.
O'Neill rubbed his neck. "It's a good idea, but I need to run it
by Hammond first. See what he thinks."
"I know, but I do think it's necessary. We hit them from all
sides and don't let them stop to think. Getting Sergeant Bear was
a brilliant idea. He's damn good from what I've seen. But if what
Teal'c says is true... "
"Yeah, I know. I promise, I'll see what I can do, Pierson."
And that was all he could ask for, Methos thought, steeling
himself for the inevitable as he headed for his quarters to
retrieve his gear. It wouldn't be easy and he doubted he'd have a
friend left among them by the time he was finished. But as he'd
told O'Neill, it had to be done. He only wished he wasn't the one
having to do it.
Chapter 11
"You have a smudge on your boot," Methos stated softly as he
stepped close to Ptahsennes. The old Egyptian's eyes held anger,
but he ignored it. Morning inspection was supposed to be a
difficult time and he meted out the punishments accordingly. "You
will clean that boot until it shines, Airman. And tonight, you
can clean everyone's boots -- including mine."
"Sir, yes, sir!" Ptahsennes responded struggling to keep the ire
from his words. That would cost him more lost sleep and he knew
it.
Methos went down the line nit picking everyone. Martouf's bed had
one tiny fold out of place which meant he'd be remaking it along
with every bed in the barracks -- even the extra ones. A bird had
taken a dump on the window sill outside Robert's bunk so this
morning they all had to scrub their sills again and police the
area before they were allowed to eat. Ramirez' collar was
slightly dirty so he'd be cleaning -- and ironing -- every
uniform in here. And so it went until nearly every man in the
barracks seemed to be quietly seething. His job done, Methos
turned to look down his nose at them.
"You are a disgrace!" he hissed, putting a healthy amount of
venom in his voice. "Drill Sergeant," he nodded politely, turning
on his heel as he strolled back outside.
Alone on the stairs Methos slowly let out a breath. Behind him,
he could hear Sergeant Bear shouting out more orders. With a sigh
he relaxed his shoulders and moved on. He hadn't realized just
how difficult this would be. But at least they were no longer
laughing at him. He'd expected that of course. After all, he was
their friend, why should they take him seriously? "Yeah, right,"
had been MacLeod's response when, good to his word, he'd ordered
the Highlander to clean out the latrine. Two days in the field
with half rations, no tents, and no rain gear courtesy of
Sergeant Bear had finally convinced them to pay attention -- and
they still hadn't earned back the privilege of going to the
canteen.
Methos rubbed his eyes, vainly trying to relieve the constant
headache he'd had since arriving. In the span of a single week
he'd managed to alienate almost every Immortal in the camp. Only
Alexander seemed to have figured out what he was doing, though it
hadn't saved him from a week of KP. Thankfully, the Macedonian
had had a word with Bear, who'd had a word with Methos to say
that Alex promised not to tell anybody. Not surprising really,
given Alexander's personal history. What did surprise Methos was
how easily MacLeod had assumed he took some delight in this. Of
all the Immortals here he should have "gotten it" sooner. Of
course, Methos' irritating little punishment duties were cutting
into their normal sleep time, though technically they were only
entitled to four hours a day. That might have something to do
with it. Already exhausted by their regular training schedule
which went on regardless, they were now struggling with extreme
fatigue. A state which no doubt muddled their already debilitated
thinking.
All par for the course, Methos thought as he saluted Major Carter
who was just leaving the women's billet. She smiled at him, both
dressed in their Class A uniforms and looking as brightly
polished as the others looked drab and forlorn.
"That was truly inspired, Pierson," Samantha grinned as she
joined him on the way to breakfast.
"What was?"
"Making Darieux and de Valicourt do your laundry."
"They could have objected," he responded cautiously.
"They did," she laughed. "After they'd read the regs."
"Which I gave them," he smiled, finally relaxing.
"Which you gave them," she nodded approvingly. "While barring
them from reading anything else while they were doing their
washing. That's what makes it brilliant," she sighed. "They'd
finished your stuff and were starting on their own when they
figured out it was an illegal order and complained to me."
Methos had to laugh. "And what did you tell them?"
"That the purpose of having regulations is to be able to defend
with evidence against such orders. Or to know which orders are
legitimate and why they are given."
"I take it they were livid?" he casually asked, wondering if he
had any clothes left.
"Amanda was," Carter nodded. "But Gina got it. Didn't make her
happy but she understood the lesson. Oh, and you can stop
worrying," she added with a grin. "Your stuff is safe. I dropped
it by your quarters this morning."
"Thanks," he sighed. "Even with extra uniforms it's bad enough
having to put up with the snickers at the SGC every time I go
through the gate and run to the one hour cleaners."
She rolled her eyes. "God, that brings back memories. If I hadn't
grown up in a military household I'd have thought my officers had
some kind of magic formula to stay clean when I was in Basic. And
thanks for running my stuff in yesterday."
"Anytime. After you, Major," Methos said as they reached the mess
hall entrance and he held the door.
It was shortly after 0500 when they entered and sat down to
breakfast. By 0700 they were lingering over coffee as they waited
for Sergeant Bear and his disgruntled recruits to appear. At five
past the hour the team marched in to find the trays of sausage,
eggs, bacon, pancakes and other foodstuffs already gone back to
the kitchen. There were rolls and juice or coffee and tea, but
nothing substantial, not even a sweet pastry to be seen. Of
course it was deliberate, forcing them to miss breakfast --
again. But Sergeant Bear knew what he was doing. Privation of the
mind and body for mortals and Immortals alike was the only way to
clear the slate, so to speak. Level the ground in order to build
a new foundation of teamwork. And it seemed to be working.
"Only five minutes late today," Carter nodded as Bear joined
them.
"Yes, ma'am. They're pulling together more and with less
grumbling. They've got a long way to go, but it's a pleasure to
see."
Methos nodded at that. "I hear you'll be getting some help
later."
"Yes, sir," the sergeant said with relish. "And I'm looking
forward to meeting him. And thank you, Captain Pierson, for all
your help. I know what this means to you."
Samantha glanced down at her coffee and reports as Methos looked
uncomfortable. Not because of the man's gratitude, but by the
acknowledgement of what his actions had cost. He didn't have many
friends and no matter what happened, even if they came to
understand Methos' current behavior, he had irrevocably changed
their perception of who he was and what he was capable of doing
to them.
"No problem," Methos forced a smile. "I'll see you both later,"
he said, getting to his feet, feeling the anger at his back as he
left the mess hall.
"Hey, Adam!" Daniel called as Methos wandered toward his quarters
to change into more suitable clothing for the day ahead.
"What are you doing here?" he asked, surprised to see the
archaeologist.
"I came with Jack."
"They've arrived?" Jackson nodded. "So what are you doing here?"
Methos repeated as they started walking.
Daniel shrugged. "Hammond figured your one two punch was a really
good idea, so he decided to apply it to every aspect of their
training. I'm supposed to give them a solid grounding in the
history of the Goa'uld hierarchy and it's current alliances."
"Can't Teal'c do that?"
"He's going to be assisting in their weapons training."
"Ah," Methos nodded, pleased to hear it. He'd only run across a
few Jaffa in his time with SG-1 and he hadn't as yet met a
Goa'uld, but that according to O'Neill was only a matter of time.
And it would be good for all the Immortals to have as much
experience in Goa'uld tactics and training as possible since they
were more than likely to be the enemy they faced most frequently.
"So," Daniel asked a little too casually. "How goes the, uh...
You know, the..."
"Nit picking?" Methos smiled sardonically and Daniel nodded.
"About what I thought," he sighed. "They hate me, but that's to
be expected. Most of them thought of me as the laid back
ambivalent scholarly type."
"Which you are," Daniel insisted.
"I suppose," Methos shrugged. "They've never seen me take charge
of anything really. Now they think the power's gone to my head
and I've become some sort of hide bound rule obsessed
disciplinarian."
"But that was the plan."
"Yeah," Methos sighed. "That was the plan."
Daniel laid a hand on his arm squeezing gently. "They'll get over
it once they understand. I know they will."
"Maybe. In a few hundred years," Methos agreed.
Jackson nodded slowly. "Well look, if you need anything just ask.
Sam and I..." he trailed off leaving the words unspoken. "Just
remember, you're not alone in this. Okay?"
"Thanks," Methos smiled. "I can handle it. But," he added,
cocking his head as he looked the younger man over. "There is one
thing you can do for me."
"Name it."
Methos grinned widely, ushering him into the officers quarters.
"It's simple really. Trust me on this, Danny. It's right up your
alley..."