Changing of the Guard 3: Be All That You Can Be 13/22 [PG13] xover
Ecolea (ecolea@WT.NET)
Tue, 25 Sep 2001 19:56:26 GMT
Chapter 15
"A Celtic warrior-woman/shrink," Jack said quietly.
O'Neill was waiting for him when Methos stepped off the gate ramp
into the SGC.
"Boggles the mind, doesn't it?" Methos grinned.
The colonel shook his head disgustedly as he led the way to the
conference room. "You know I hate surprises, Pierson."
"Oh, come on, Jack," Methos chided. "You loved it!"
"Yeah, I did," O'Neill agreed. "And you're just gonna love this.
She and Cassandra are here."
"Figured they would be," Methos nodded as he and O'Neill took
their seats at the empty conference table. "Ramirez looked pretty
smug when he reported for duty."
"Well, now I have a surprise for you," Jack smiled thinly.
"You're out of Basic and back on the team. You'll be joining us
on this mission."
Methos' eyes went wide. "Me and Cassandra? On the same team? Are
you out of your mind?!"
O'Neill rubbed his eyes tiredly. "Look, Pierson, I've already run
this past Hammond and he agrees. You're a valuable member of my
team and you are going to be judged on your current actions, not
on some shit you pulled three thousand years ago. As far as we're
concerned the slate's wiped clean."
Methos suddenly felt as though a great weight had been lifted
from his shoulders. "And the others? What did Danny have to say?"
"He doesn't know specifics. Nobody does. As far as they're
concerned you two knew each other a long time ago and parted
company under less than pleasant circumstances. They'll
understand if your relationship seems strained."
"And Cassandra has agreed to this?" Methos asked wonderingly.
"She has," O'Neill nodded. "But only on the conditions I've laid
out. You two don't speak directly to each other. You have
something to say to her, you tell me and I'll do the talking.
Same thing goes for Cassandra. I won't tolerate even verbal
sparring. So if you have a problem being around her, Pierson,
tell me now."
Methos held up his hands in surrender. "I've got no problem with
it," he responded. "What about Cierdwyn?"
O'Neill shrugged. "She's agreed to join the others in training
after we leave. Wants to make sure her patient can handle the
initial meeting."
Methos nodded appreciatively. Cierdwyn was a good woman. She
would never risk a patient's well being. "And Cassandra really is
okay with this?"
O'Neill smiled warmly. "You did good, Pierson. Cierdwyn and I had
a long talk after they flew in."
The door opened and any further conversation ended as the rest of
SG-1 accompanied by a rather apprehensive looking Cassandra
walked in. They took their seats as Methos studiously avoided
looking in Cassandra's direction. Even dressed in BDUs the woman
was stunning. He savagely cut off that line of thought,
gratefully looking toward the connecting door to the general's
office as he and Jacob entered.
"Good afternoon, people," Hammond began. "If you'd all please
take your seats."
Daniel slid into his chair, placing two glasses of water on the
table. One for himself and one for Cassandra who sat next to him.
"Thank you," the general nodded. "Selmak?"
Jacob's eyes glowed briefly as his symbiote took control of the
meeting. "I have spoken with the Council. They have agreed that
the members of SG-1 and their guest should accompany me to the
Tok'ra base. Once there, Cassandra will be allowed to interrogate
the Goa'uld prisoner. Any information extracted will be shared
and a joint effort to recover the weapons stolen by Lord Zipak'na
will be made. Are we in agreement?"
"We are," Hammond nodded.
"Excellent," Selmak smiled. "There is, unfortunately, one small
obstacle remaining."
"And that would be?" Jack leaned forward.
Selmak looked to Methos. "Freya is the Tok'ra expert in Goa'uld
interrogation. She has expressed concern over Methos' presence on
the team."
"I don't know anybody name Freya," Methos looked insulted. "Why
me?"
Daniel cleared his throat. "Freya is Anise's host, Adam. It was
her jaw you broke when her symbiote... You know... Stabbed you to
death when you first got here.
"Ah yes, Anise..." Methos nodded, recalling that he'd threatened
to kill the woman after she'd deliberately exposed his
Immortality. "Tell you what," he offered. "As long as no sharp
objects go from her hands into my anatomy I'll be on my best
behavior. But no visits from Anise," he added firmly.
Selmak nodded in acquiescence. "Anise will be somewhat
disappointed. She had hoped you would relent and give her the
opportunity to make amends. But it is a generous compromise
nonetheless, most wise son of Tok'ra."
"Oh, please," Methos muttered disgustedly. "And don't say you
have a parade all lined up for me. I don't do the returning hero
shtick."
"As you wish," Selmak sighed in frustration. "I shall inform the
Council that you would like to remain anonymous for this visit."
O'Neill and the rest of SG-1 laughed as Methos covered his eyes,
groaning miserably. Even General Hammond was hard put not to
smile. While at the end of the table Cassandra was staring. From
one countenance to another and then at Methos, his face now
uncovered and as amused as the others. As the meeting broke up a
short while later she sidled up to Daniel, allowing him to escort
her down to collect their gear.
"Methos," Cassandra said quietly. "Is he always so... So..."
"Reticent about receiving accolades?" Daniel asked.
She'd been thinking relaxed and open, but... "I suppose," she
nodded.
"Just the obsequious hero worship stuff," Daniel told her
honestly. "Adam really hates it when they do that."
How very odd, Cassandra thought as Daniel showed her where to
find her pack. She'd have thought Methos would be glad to have a
powerful group of aliens in his thrall. Especially ones that
seemed willing to do almost anything to please him for the sake
of his father's memory.
"Okay, campers!" O'Neill called as he joined them in the gate
room. "Let's get this show on the road!"
Another strange one, she thought as she caught sight of Cierdwyn
in the company of several junior officers, dressed and waiting to
go through the gate. She waved to her and Cierdwyn smiled back.
Then the gate was open and it was time to go.
Daniel offered her his arm and she took it -- along with another
leap of faith.
***
"Nice rock," O'Neill complimented sarcastically, grimacing at the
hard baked dirt of the plain. "Could use a little scrub brush
though. Maybe a lake."
"I don't know," Methos said, looking around as Jacob quickly led
everyone away from the Stargate. "Sorta reminds me of Mesopotamia
after the collapse of the great city-states." He paused and
whipped his head around, staring up at the darkening sky. "Twelve
moons is a bit much though."
"Too bright for skulking," O'Neill nodded as the Tok'ra stopped
abruptly, waiting for everyone to gather into a tight group.
"Actually, I was thinking more about the poetry involved. Is one
moon's face better than another for comparing a woman's features
to, and would she get really angry if she didn't like that
particular moon?"
O'Neill stared at him sideways. "Sometimes I wonder about you,
Pierson."
"Really? What?"
"Just get over here and join the circle of love!"
He snagged Methos by the collar and yanked him close.
"Why, Jack, I didn't know you--" The transport rings shot up from
the ground and an instant later they were standing in a brightly
lit cave. "...cared."
A strong arm suddenly wrapped around Methos' neck, pulling his
head down. "Be a good minion," O'Neill murmured quietly. "And
stop performing for the crowd. The focus of this mission isn't
your personal life."
Methos flushed as he realized he'd been doing just that. Did some
part of him really believe he could eventually get Cassandra to
like him? He nodded a silent apology and Jack released him. The
most he could conceivably hope for would be tolerance on her
part. And yet, he hadn't really been any more sarcastic than he
usually was when they were in the field. He had in fact been
less. Playful cute, Alexa had once called it. No wonder O'Neill
had called him on it.
Methos straightened, tugging at his jacket and sneaked a glance
at Cassandra. This time she wasn't looking at him, but at the
stone walls of the underground base and occasionally glancing
upward to where the transport rings had disappeared. She must be
terrified, Methos thought, watching her fingers plucking at a
pocket. A nervous gesture he recalled from her early days in his
tent. She'd plucked almost continuously at the ragged edges of
the slashes in her robe. Rents made when first Kronos, then he
had killed her repeatedly. Eventually they'd frayed so badly he'd
searched his stores for some good cloth and had another slave
make her a new dress. Once the visible signs of her previous
deaths had been removed she'd calmed a bit, though every now and
again, usually when she felt stressed, it would reappear.
He looked away trying not to feel sorry for her as they followed
Jacob down a corridor. Cassandra was a big girl. She could look
after herself. Had looked after herself, Methos thought, for more
than three thousand years. And that was certainly nothing to
laugh at, especially when it came to female Immortals. She was
intelligent and cunning with a will to live almost as strong as
his own. A good fright would probably serve her well, he decided.
At the very least it would keep her adrenaline pumping and her
wits sharp when she confronted the Goa'uld.
Freya's workroom as Jacob called it was on the other side of the
complex. As they made their way toward it the inhabitants of the
Tok'ra base paid them little attention, though every so often
someone would look up from what they were doing, take one look at
Methos and gasp.
"Racial memory," Jacob explained at Methos' narrowed glance the
first time it happened.
"From Inanna's symbiote," the Immortal nodded. Of course they
would recognize him just as Selmak originally had.
Behind him, Methos heard Cassandra whispering a question to
Daniel, but the boy's response was muffled by the stomp of their
heavy boots as they made their way along the twisting corridors.
He didn't need to wonder what she was asking, nor about Daniel's
response. He wasn't sure he liked the notion of Cassandra knowing
so much about his past, not even the distant history of his
mortal years, but there was little choice. After all, he'd
suggested she join this little excursion in the first place. It
was a bit late to worry about the consequences now.
They turned a final corner and entered the workroom, a large,
spacious cavern filled with a variety of odd looking machines and
very little in the way of furnishings.
"Hello, Colonel O'Neill. Dr. Jackson," Freya nodded, greeting the
others in turn. Methos merely raised an eyebrow in her direction
and she took a step back, putting a rather wide work surface
between them.
Jacob frowned in disapproval at him but got on with the business
at hand. "Freya, this is Cassandra. She believes she may be able
to help us with Kabra'kan."
The two women seemed to take the measure of each other then Freya
smiled. "Welcome, Cassandra," her soft measured tones were warm
and friendly. "The Tok'ra are grateful for any assistance you can
provide. I was told," she went on. "That you have some ability to
both project thought and modulate your voice to obtain
cooperation from your subjects. I will, of course, monitor you
during the procedure."
"No way!" O'Neill interrupted furiously. "That was not part of
the deal, Jacob."
"But, Jack," Carter began to respond.
"Don't even bother," O'Neill cut him off. "It ain't happening,
Jacob."
"But to keep such an ability to yourselves," Freya complained,
"would give you a tactical advantage."
"Which you've always had over us," O'Neill angrily retorted.
"Live with it!"
"If I might speak," Cassandra coolly interposed herself into the
growing argument and the heated discussion paused. "Whatever
power I have is mine to do with as I please. And I do not please
to share it with just anyone. It is dangerous and easily abused.
It remains with me."
Jack grinned widely at her. "Good choice. Hear that, Jacob?"
"But if something should happen to you it would be lost," Freya
pleaded and Cassandra gave her a pitying look.
"I've lived for three thousand years in a world more dangerous
than you can possibly imagine. Nothing will happen. There will be
no monitoring. Is that clear?"
Freya pressed her lips together and nodded. "The holding cell is
this way," she said, moving toward the far side of the room where
a pair of guards stood outside what was little more than a deep
indentation in the rock.
Inside, a blond, blue-eyed Goa'uld was pacing angrily, dressed in
the clothes of a Maya warrior -- a simple pleated thigh length
tunic heavily embroidered at the collar. At their approach he
paused, sneering at them until his eyes came to rest on a
familiar face.
"The shol'va Teal'c," Kabra'kan rumbled, his eyes glowing bright.
"Come to gloat, traitor?"
"Gloating is for children," the Jaffa smiled back. "The
infliction of pain and suffering on one's enemies a more
appropriate pastime for adults."
"Torture will gain you nothing," Kabra'kan promised.
"It shall gain me your distress. That will be enough."
The Goa'uld's face became a mask of fury. "We are gods! You
cannot destroy us! We shall have you, shol'va. Then we shall
destroy the Tau'ri world."
"Who writes his dialogue?" Methos' squinted at the seemingly
deranged Goa'uld. "Are they always this delusional?"
"Pretty much," Daniel responded. "No sense of proportion."
Kabra'kan quieted to stare thoughtfully at Methos. "You are not
afraid, little man?"
"Of course I'm afraid," Methos told him, mockingly gentle as he
let his eyes go dead and expressionless. "I'm terrified the
Tok'ra will dispose of your worthless corpse before I can skin
you alive. I really do want a matching belt to go with my Goa'uld
hide boots. And if you've any friends at home," he smiled affably
as Kabra'kan stepped back. "I should very much like to meet them.
Another bill fold and wallet set would be nice, too."
Cassandra gave him a horrified stare. Beside her, O'Neill
whispered quietly in her ear. "Remember the tape I showed you,
Cassandra. He's softening up the parasite for you, not the man."
"I do not need his help!" she hissed then turned to Freya. "I
will speak with the prisoner now," Cassandra ordered.
"Lower the shield," Freya nodded and they slowly moved inside.
"Hello, Kabra'kan," Cassandra began, her voice soft and soothing.
"You are feeling very tired. Sit, Kabra'kan. And relax."
The Goa'uld faltered and reached for the chair behind him.
"That's right," she went on as Kabra'kan sank heavily down. "Make
yourself comfortable and we'll have a nice little chat."
Beside her, Jack nodded slowly. "Cool."