Changing of the Guard 3: Be All That You Can Be 3/22 [PG13] xover
Ecolea (ecolea@WT.NET)
Mon, 24 Sep 2001 08:46:30 GMT
Chapter 3
"Just figured it out, did you?" Methos grinned as he playfully
flipped a knife and carefully laid it on a napkin.
O'Neill still looked a little shell-shocked as he sat down across
from the ancient Immortal. Alexander put the tray in the center
of the table and gestured for everybody to dig in.
"Just? No," O'Neill shook his head, a little amazed at himself.
"I knew the face," he glanced at his host. "Can't not know it if
you're a student of military history. It just took a while for my
brain to catch up with my gut. Then I remembered what I was
dealing with."
"Immortality does have that effect sometimes," Alexander
commented as he sat. "It shouldn't be possible. Can't be
possible. But it is."
"True," O'Neill nodded, loading food onto his plate. "But in my
own defense, I've always been more of a Hannibal the Carthaginian
fan. Gotta love those elephants."
"Mmm," Alexander grunted, pointing west. "That'd be the next
tower over."
O'Neill glanced up sharply, eyes wide as he turned to the window.
He grimaced ruefully at Methos' bark of laughter, while Alexander
snickered. "Good one," he admitted with a touch of chagrin. "And
Genghis Khan runs a Chinese restaurant in Ohio."
"Chinese? No," Methos shook his head. "Although he swears
Mongolian will be all the rage once the taco craze is really over
with for good."
"Yeah," Alexander chimed in. "Look at Julius. He was dead on with
that Caesar salad thing."
"It was the croutons," Methos nodded sagely.
O'Neill rolled his eyes and went back to his food, listening to
the two Immortals as they ate, chatting amiably about current
events and Alexander's latest projects until O'Neill at last put
aside his fork and sat back to look at the man. Really look at
Alexander and complete his evaluation.
"So, are you finally happy now?" he asked softly when Alexander
pushed his plate away.
The bright golden head tilted a little further in its almost
permanent cock and the eyes widened in surprise. "What makes you
ask that?"
"Reading your history," Jack said quietly. "I always got the
feeling you weren't happy being the world conqueror. That you'd
rather have been doing something else with your time, like
exploring, or cataloguing plants and animals."
Alexander smiled with just a touch of sadness. "Very perceptive,
Colonel. But I was born to be who I was and I did what I felt I
had to at the time. But was I happy?" he shrugged. "At times
perhaps. More proud than anything else really. Proud that I'd
survived. Proud in all the ways a man was supposed to be back
then. It was a hell of a responsibility to suddenly be King of
Macedonia and Protector of Greece at seventeen. Happiness wasn't
part of the bargain."
"And now?"
Alexander nodded slowly. "Yeah, I'm happy now. Happy as I can be.
Responsible only for myself. Exploring and cataloguing to my
heart's content. It's a good life," he glanced at Methos and
smiled. "This gift of Immortality."
"It suits you," the elder Immortal said. "Not to denigrate your
skill at arms, but you've a warrior's heart and a scholar's
mind."
"That's good to hear, Captain Pierson," O'Neill suddenly
interjected, having finally come to a decision.
The former general sat back in his chair all business now as Jack
abruptly reminded them of why he and Methos were there. "You
wanted to speak with me even before you knew who I was," he said
simply. "Adam indicated it was as one war monger to another.
Before you begin, Colonel, let me just state for the record that
I'm no longer in the conquest business and I have no plans to
return to it anytime soon -- if ever."
"Good," O'Neill nodded briefly. "But you are a soldier and you
have served this country in time of need. Is that correct?"
"Sure. I signed up when they waived the height requirements in
World War II. And I've been here long enough to consider myself a
citizen. But we're not at war and I'm not really comfortable," he
looked hard at Methos, who didn't flinch, "with the military
knowing about Immortals."
"The military as whole doesn't know," O'Neill ceded
diplomatically. "But as to the question of are we at war... Let
me ask you this. If you knew of a threat that might one day
annihilate the world as we know it -- for mortal and Immortal
alike -- would you be willing to fight it?"
Alexander's brows rose in consternation, the deep creases above
his eyes drawing tight. "If there were such a threat," he glanced
at Methos, "then I would certainly be willing. With everything I
have," he insisted passionately. "And you say there is such a
threat?"
"There is," O'Neill quietly acknowledged and Alexander turned to
Methos, who nodded soberly.
"Not just the cold war heating up again, or something mortals can
handle?" Alexander asked.
"Not the cold war, or even a world war," O'Neill explained
calmly. "And we've been handling it up until now. But we need all
the help we can get. And Immortals possess more than a few
capabilities that we've come to realize might be essential in
overcoming the opposition."
"Is it aliens?" Alexander asked calmly.
"What?!" O'Neill blurted.
"You know, space aliens. Is it an alien invasion?" he repeated,
eagerly leaning forward in his chair. "I mean if it isn't a
threat from here then it's gotta be from there, right?"
"Uh..."
"Hey, I watch the X Files like everyone else. I've seen
Independence Day. You don't think I have the same fears as the
next guy? Big eyed bug people trying to take over the planet. It
could happen."
O'Neill looked to Methos for help, but the ancient Immortal
merely shrugged. It was his call. Besides, Alexander on an alien
conspiracy theory kick was a new one for him.
"Well, they're not exactly bug people," O'Neill explained
uncomfortably. "More like these snaky parasite creatures that
take humans as hosts and control most of the galaxy."
Alexander sat back in his chair looking stunned.
"He isn't kidding, is he?" the Macedonian asked softly.
Methos shook his head, much bemused. Clever, he thought. Drawing
the truth out of O'Neill when it had been obvious the colonel
wasn't very willing to talk despite what Methos had told him.
"No," O'Neill said coldly, knowing he'd been had. "I'm not
kidding."
Alexander nodded slowly. "I know my friend here isn't insane and
you don't strike me as the least bit crazy -- not enough to make
up a story like that and still hold any kind of rank. So,
unlikely as it sounds, logic dictates it must be true. Besides,
Adam trusts you and that's good enough for me. Count me in,
Colonel. What do you need?"
O'Neill held up a hand. "Ah, could you just give me a minute? I
gotta make a phone call."
Methos grinned as O'Neill wandered downstairs. No doubt the
colonel hadn't really expected his plan to succeed.
"You need to be careful around that one, Metopholus," Alexander
commented as he leaned back in his chair and tucked up his feet.
Methos raised an eyebrow. "How do you mean?"
"On the way up with lunch your colonel was muttering something
about some minion of his doing push ups until he was pushing up
daisies."
Chapter 4
"Yes, Colonel?" General Hammond answered as soon as the call was
put through. "What can I do for you?"
O'Neill glanced over his shoulder toward the stairs then reached
out to delicately run a fingertip over the hilt of Alexander's
sword.
"Uh...yeah," he muttered distractedly.
"Colonel O'Neill, you have something to report?" the general's
voice reminded him of duty and he reluctantly turned his back on
the display.
"Yes, sir. Sorry. I need a chopper for three. North Cascades
National Park. Tower twenty."
There was a pause at the other end. "Then I take it Pierson's
plan is doable?"
"Oh yeah," he grimaced. Methos would be impossible to live with
for a few days, but he could handle that.
"Care to explain?"
"Not much to tell, sir. I only just recruited Alexander the
Great."
"YOU WHAT?!"
O'Neill pulled the phone away from his face, switching sides as
he rubbed the offended ear. "I recruited--"
"I heard you the first time, Colonel," General Hammond
interrupted. "Are you sure?" he asked. The voice at the other end
of the line held more than a slight hint of awe.
"I'm lookin' at his armor now, sir. And it's the real deal. At a
guess I'd say he stole it back from the Romans. Goes by the name
Alex Philipson, if you can believe it."
"Well I'll be..."
O'Neill waited as Hammond digested the information. Not an easy
task, he knew, but well worth the effort.
"All right, Colonel," the general finally spoke. "Tell Pierson
good work and I'll send transport. ETA..." O'Neill listened to
the muffled conversation in the background. "One hour. Anything
else?"
"Yeah, we're gonna need someone to cover Philipson's position
here. He's a Park Ranger. Better yet, make it a full team with a
botanist and a biologist."
"I'll see what I can do, Colonel."
"Oh and, sir?"
"Yes, Colonel?"
"We don't have a height requirement, do we?"
***
"You have forty minutes to pack," O'Neill said as he topped the
stairs to the observation deck.
Alexander looked up from where he and Methos were clearing the
dishes. "I can't leave now," he insisted. "It's the middle of
fire season."
"We're sending a team in. Biologist and botanist too. As far as
the rest of the world is concerned Alex Philipson will still be
on his mountaintop working."
Alexander glanced worriedly at Methos. "It's that serious?" he
asked quietly in Greek.
Methos nodded. "We've had a few setbacks recently."
Without another word Alexander tossed the dish he was holding
back onto the table and started packing. Thirty minutes later he
joined O'Neill and Methos outside the tower carrying his pack.
O'Neill looked him over carefully. He'd changed again. Faded blue
jeans, nondescript work shirt, and a hip length black leather
jacket.
"Where's your sword?" the colonel asked staring at the pack.
Alexander raised both brows. "Down my back, why?"
"One of 'em, anyway," Methos muttered, ignoring the glare he
received while Jack simply shook his head.
"Okay. Rules of the road," the colonel explained curtly. "Swords
and military installations. Rule One. Edged weapons must be
carried in secure cases at all times and clearly marked as such
when traveling. Rule Two. Said weapons will reside either in
storage or in a clearly visible display rack or case within the
owner's quarters. Rule Three. Weapons may be removed from said
quarters for practice purposes only in a duly designated area;
must be carried to and from said area within a secure clearly
marked case, and practice guards must be in place at all times
when in use. Rule Four. Failure to follow any of these
regulations constitutes a violation of orders and all weapons
will be confiscated from the owner under our No Receipt No Return
policy. No exceptions."
"And if I'm challenged?" Alexander demanded. "What do I do then?"
"You won't be," Methos told him. "Cheyenne Mountain is holy
ground."
"It is?" O'Neill asked, surprised.
"Yeah, MacLeod told me. Besides," Methos looked to his old
friend. "None of the Immortals we're assembling are interested in
taking heads. It's a prerequisite," Methos grinned. "I've rather
liked the last few months not having to look over my shoulder
every other minute."
Alexander sighed and nodded slowly. "I'll just be a moment," he
muttered heading back to the tower.
A short time later he was back, a pair of sword cases strapped to
his pack, staring in astonishment at what he saw then grinning as
he listened.
"Three thousand four hundred twenty six," Methos called out as he
completed another pushup. "Three thousand four hundred twenty
seven..." All the way up to three thousand four hundred and fifty
before he stopped and asked for permission to recover.
O'Neill looked like he was debating the issue and after a long
moment finally gave the order. "Next time, Captain," he said
sourly as Methos stood. "You remember to tell me things like the
base is on holy ground. I need to know stuff like that to protect
my people."
"But you had to know!" Methos exclaimed. "MacLeod found it in the
base guide. Besides, all military bases are built on consecrated
ground."
"Did you know for certain I knew that?" O'Neill inquired archly.
"Or did you just assume? Didn't you think that maybe, just like
you, I didn't bother to read that handy dandy little guide? Or
that I was unaware that having a chaplain say a few prayers
before we laid the first stone made a place holy ground. Or," he
added. "Did you think it just didn't matter whether or not the
mortal was apprised of the facts?"
Methos looked away clearly annoyed. Sometimes Jack was just too
damn smart.
"I don't like surprises, Pierson. The holy ground stuff, or who
Philipson really was."
"Now, that's not entirely fair, Colonel," Alexander interjected.
"No one but Adam knows who I am and it might have colored your
evaluation of me. And to be honest, I wouldn't have told you if
you hadn't figured it out. What I was has nothing to do with who
I am."
O'Neill frowned. "It would have colored my perceptions for all of
about a minute. Then I would have discarded the information as
irrelevant. What is relevant is that who you were indicates a
skill level I can use -- immediately. If I had known I wouldn't
have bothered to waste five days trekking through the forest. I'd
have come in with a chopper, made you an offer, and we'd have
taken it from there. I'm fighting a war here. I'm not interested
in clever games played by people who should really know better."
Alexander stared at him with open respect then smiled
appreciatively. "Colonel O'Neill is absolutely correct, Adam. You
wasted his time. If I had been your commander you would not have
gotten off so lightly as a mere fifty push ups."
"Fifty extra push ups," Methos muttered disgustedly. He'd done
his daily set first thing this morning before they'd even broken
camp. "And as you very well know it wasn't my secret to tell.
Certainly not after making you swear that you'd never reveal the
truth to anyone."
"Why is that?" O'Neill interjected. "Why the need for secrecy?"
Methos' eyes widened in astonishment. "Methos is a myth and still
they hunt for him. Alex hasn't anywhere near the power of a
Quickening that ancient, but he'd be hunted all the same. Just
for the bragging rights."
"Okay. We'll keep this on the QT for incoming Immortals," O'Neill
nodded. "And in one sense you're right. I do want his head -- but
only because it's a goddamned tactical database. And you knew I'd
want him, which brings us right back to where we started. Trust.
You knew he trusted you enough not to be pissed when you brought
me here. You knew I trusted you enough to make the hike. But you
couldn't bring yourself to trust either one of us without
controlling the situation. Which is why, when we get back to the
base, you are going to hand me a list of all the Immortals you
planned to approach in a clandestine fashion and why I am going
to determine how best to approach them now. Is that clear?"
Methos nodded abruptly.
"Good. Because I'm tired of playing these games with you,
Pierson."
"It isn't a game to me," Methos growled. "It's how I've
survived."
"That doesn't make it right," O'Neill pointed out. "And your
survival isn't in question here."
If there was anything else to be said it would have to wait. The
sound of the approaching helicopter ended the conversation. After
a quick briefing by Alexander they exchanged places with the
team. Forty five minutes later they were landing at the Naval
base outside of Seacouver. They caught a flight already headed
east to Great Lakes which O'Neill detoured to Colorado Springs
and a few hours later were turning up the road into the SGC to be
met by...nobody.
"What gives?" Methos asked Jack after they installed Alexander in
one of the VIP suites and were finally alone in O'Neill's office.
"No reception committee? I'd thought for sure General Hammond..."
Jack's face was expressionless as he took his seat at the desk.
"You're assuming, Captain, that Mr. Philipson is going to be
treated as anything other than what he is. A recruit. Granted,
he's got some excellent skills," Jack admitted. "But like every
other Immortal he's going to have to learn how we do things
here."
"You're sending them through Basic Training?" Methos asked
flabbergasted as O'Neill simply nodded. "But... You didn't do
that to me."
Jack sighed deeply and nodded leaning back in his chair and
putting his feet up on the desk.
"You got me there," he agreed. "But... You're my special cross to
bear," the colonel grinned cheerfully. "Now, Captain, drop and
give me fifty."