Changing of the Guard 3: Be All That You Can Be 12/22 [PG13] xover
Ecolea (ecolea@WT.NET)
Mon, 24 Sep 2001 23:08:38 GMT
Chapter 14
"Are you sure this is the right address?" Jacob turned to his
daughter as they stood outside a neat little turn of the century
building in a suburb just outside of London. "It looks like a
doctor's office."
"This is the place," Ramirez said cheerfully, grinning widely as
he looked up into a third floor window and waved to someone.
"That buzz thing, right?" Jacob whispered to Samantha who merely
shrugged.
The window was shoved open and a pair of dark, feminine heads
leaned out, long hair blowing in the stiff breeze of late summer.
"Ramirez?!"
"Juan?!"
"Beloved and Beloved!" the gregarious Egyptian called out,
spreading his arms wide as if to embrace them both. "May weary
travelers ask succor and hospitality of thy welcome abode?"
"Heavens! It really is the old Casanova!" one of the women
laughed.
"Get up here you old reprobate!" the other called and the women
disappeared as their guests entered the first floor hall.
The stairs were narrow and steep, but Ramirez took them two at a
time reaching the top just as the door nearest the landing was
flung open. Cries of joy and exclamations of happiness echoed
from above as Jacob and Samantha followed more slowly. They were
dressed casually as Methos had suggested and the two women merely
nodded politely as they ushered everyone inside.
"There is no more fortunate man," Ramirez said as he held the
hand of each woman in one of his own. "Excepting my friend
Jacob," he winked at Carter. "Who finds himself in the company of
the two most beautiful," he placed a kiss on one delicate hand,
"splendid," another kiss on another hand, "women in the world."
"Speak for yourself," Jacob grinned. "I think my daughter's a
knockout."
"Dad!" Samantha hissed, looking embarrassed.
"Of course," Ramirez bowed elegantly to her. "And I should have
said as much, but doing pushups for being impertinent to a
superior officer wasn't something I'd planned on."
Ignoring the looks of confusion this comment received from the
two ladies Ramirez went on to make their introductions. "My sweet
Cassandra," he gave a little half bow to her. "And my darling
Cierdwyn." He offered her the same courtesy holding out one arm
toward his companions. "I should like you both to make the
acquaintance of this very fine gentleman and his brilliant
daughter. General Jacob Carter and Major Samantha Carter. Both of
the United States Air Force, my new employer."
Shock colored both Cassandra's and Cierdwyn's expressions.
"First you're not dead and then you come here with the Air
Force?!" Cierdwyn shouted, shoving Ramirez' hard enough to make
him stagger back a pace. "Have you lost your mind?!"
"Cierdwyn," Cassandra chided gently. "We must stay calm. I'm sure
he has good reasons for this," her voice rose in a question.
"I do indeed," Ramirez murmured. "But perhaps we should find a
more commodious place to talk than this empty, albeit charming
hallway."
A few minutes later they were making themselves comfortable in
Cierdwyn's sitting room. Her secretary brought in tea then
Cierdwyn asked her to cancel the rest of her appointments for the
day and take the afternoon off.
"So," Samantha asked just to break the ice once the assistant was
gone. "How long have you been a therapist?" Cierdwyn looked
curiously at her, obviously confused. "I mean," the major
gestured at the shelves lining the walls. "Some of these books
are really old. Did you study with Freud?"
Cierdwyn hid her surprise though Cassandra stiffened
uncomfortably as they both realized that her question not only
implied these mortals knew what they were, but confirmed it
utterly.
"No," Cierdwyn responded calmly. "I only recently took up the
profession. Circa 1955. Those books were bequeathed to me by my
old friend and mentor, Sean Burns." She looked to Ramirez,
mentally dismissing the mortals. "You have a lot of explaining to
do, Juan. Start with why you aren't dead, then tell me why I
shouldn't challenge you on the spot?"
Ramirez waved a hand. "The first is a long story, for which there
is plenty of time. The second..." he shrugged. "Times change and
we must embrace them. Sometimes it is better to know and be known
by those who can be trusted then to remain ignorant and miss the
greater fight."
"What fight?" Cassandra demanded. "And how does this concern us?"
"Actually," Jacob interjected. "It concerns you more than your
friend," he nodded to Cierdwyn. "Though from what I can see," he
gestured toward the shelves littered with Celtic bric-a-brac. "If
you are what I think you are, then I know a few people who'll be
glad if you listen in."
"And what do you think I am?" Cierdwyn asked curiously, sipping
her tea.
"That's Boadicea's symbol, isn't it?" Carter asked, nodding
toward a rather large, circular stone ornament bolted to the
wall. Cierdwyn raised an eyebrow, inclining her head
fractionally. "And from the looks of things I'd guess you're too
damn old not to know what that stands for. You fought with her
against the Romans, didn't you?"
"Fought and died," Cierdwyn acknowledged, rather liking the
forthright man.
He looked at Ramirez then glanced at his daughter. "It's your
call, but I'd say your man knew she'd be here."
Samantha nodded, smiling just a bit. "Agreed. Go for it."
"Airman Ramirez," Carter grinned. "Why don't you introduce your
friends to the other member of our party?"
The Egyptian's brows went up and he nodded. "A wise idea,
General. My dearest ladies, I should like you to meet Selmak,
Representative of the High Council of the Tok'ra..."
***
Cassandra patted her neck with a cool washcloth, carefully
checking her face and hair in the ladies room mirror to make sure
everything was in order. She felt more hysterical laughter coming
on and covered her mouth, sitting abruptly on the covered toilet
seat to calm her nerves. Deep breaths, she told herself.
Steady... The urge passed and she sighed, standing slowly before
stepping outside to find Ramirez waiting for her, a concerned
expression on his handsome face.
"Are you well enough to talk?" he asked gently.
Cassandra nodded. "I was only startled," she explained. "The
creature," she swallowed and looked away. "Selmak. The way it
described itself and these Goa'uld... I may have already killed
one, you see." Ramirez' eyes widened and he waited for her to
continue. "I cast out a demon once," she explained. "In Antioch.
It spoke as this one did -- the voice and glowing eyes, but
making claims of divinity. I called it forth from the young man
it had inhabited and a serpent of some sort tore through the poor
boy's throat, entering my body. When I awoke the thing was gone
and I could not sense it anywhere within me. My Quickening must
have destroyed it," she added thoughtfully.
Ramirez nodded slowly, agreeing with her assessment. "The mortals
said we could not be possessed, but it is good to have you
confirm this."
"And you truly believe them?" she asked curiously.
"I have been to another world, Cassandra. Passed through this
gate of which they speak. How could I not?"
"Of course," Cassandra smiled. "You are no one's fool, Ramesses.
Forgive me for doubting."
"Always, beloved. Now come," he held the door to Cierdwyn's
office open, leading her inside where they could talk in private.
"There is much to discuss," Ramirez said once they were seated.
"But I will not try your patience with flowery words and oblique
declarations. It was Methos who sent us on this errand. And he
who requested that I warn you of his presence."
She paled and her breathing sped up, but Cassandra got control of
herself, pressing her palms together as she took a deep breath.
"That one is also involved?"
"He was the first -- as usual," Ramirez shrugged.
"And you trust him? As you do the mortals?"
The crease between Ramirez' eyes deepened. "He has been a bit of
tyrant these past few weeks, but yes, I trust Methos. He has
never played me false."
Cassandra sighed. "He and I," she shook her head. "There is much
bad blood between us. They tell me he has changed, but..." she
shuddered slightly.
Ramirez reached out and gently took her hand. "He has changed.
And to tell you a secret, he was not like that to start. He was
not raised to be a brigand and thief, but an honorable warrior
and scholar."
Cassandra laughed bitterly. "So he claims!"
Ramirez shook his head. "I had the opportunity to converse with
his father." Now she looked truly surprised. "Methos may have
been born on this world, but he was not raised here among
mortals. His father, who called himself Tok'ra, was of an alien
race called the Ancients -- beings of such power that they no
longer required human forms to survive. It was this Tok'ra, the
man who was honored with the taking of his name by those for whom
Selmak speaks, who saved my life when I fought the Kurgan."
Cassandra thought hard. Methos had been a monster in her eyes for
so long... And though she had dealt with her feelings of anger
and guilt -- these past three years with Cierdwyn had been a
blessing to her -- she still had difficulty seeing him as
anything other than the Horseman. Finally, she nodded.
"Tell me why you believe he has changed," she requested quietly.
"Perhaps..."
He patted her hand and smiled. "Because I was there. Not at the
beginning," he amended. "That was Methos' doing. He broke his
oath, betrayed the others and left to seek his way among
mortals." Cassandra raised an eyebrow at that. "It is true,"
Ramirez insisted. "He went to buy new armor in Athens and was
accosted in the market by Socrates."
Cassandra laughed hard at this, picturing what that confrontation
must have been like. The wily philosopher and the clever Horseman
sparring with words not swords. She could indeed see Methos being
subtly conquered by the Socratic method of teaching. A process
which forced the student to examine every reason they had for
believing as they did. It was why Socrates had been condemned to
death. He taught his students not only how to question their own
motives, but the long held traditions and beliefs of the city.
Still...
"I do not need to remind you, Ramesses, that the Socratic method
does not require one to give up one's misconduct, merely to
understand why one does it," she pointed out.
"Exactly," Ramirez nodded. "Methos' reasons for doing what he did
were... What do the children say today? Lame. And the more he
tried to justify his behavior the more he had to admit that his
reasoning was flawed. That angered him and so he sought more
knowledge in order to bolster his position. But in the seeking
Methos was forced to conclude that he was in error. It shattered
his perceptions of who he was and what he should be."
"He told you this?"
"Not in so many words," Ramirez sighed. "But I saw the effects
myself centuries later once he'd left the Horsemen. A lost soul
desperately seeking knowledge and a means to exist."
"You took pity on him?" she asked in astonishment.
"Indeed I did," he nodded. "For many reasons. But mostly because
I found the situation amusing. The Horseman reduced to stealing
library books -- and putting them back on the shelves after, if
you can believe it!"
"Methos," she stated with a hint of amazement. "Putting stolen
goods back where he found them." Cassandra shook her head. "Why
am I surprised?" she asked rhetorically. "He was always the odd
one."
"And there you have hit the nail on the head, my dear," Ramirez
smiled proudly. "He was a Horseman, but not of the Horsemen. Not
cut from the same cloth as the others. It was circumstance that
placed him there. And fear."
"Fear?" she demanded. "He led the Horseman!"
Ramirez shook his head slowly. "You are seeing him from the point
of view of his slave, Cassandra. He may have seemed all powerful
to you and an equal to the others, but he wasn't. If you were his
prisoner, he was Kronos' trustee. More freedom of movement, but
just as constrained by fear."
"Of what?"
"His teacher. Ku'ahktar."
Cassandra inhaled sharply, absently making the sign to ward off
the evil eye.
"I see you have heard the name," Ramirez nodded. "Good. Because
when you think on what he did to you, you must also consider what
was done to him. He trained you as he was trained, but with more
kindness than was ever shown to him. If you can feel no pity for
the Horseman then take pity on the gentle scribe who came into
the hands of that beast."
"I'd no idea," Cassandra breathed, closing her eyes to push away
the images his words had called forth. Terrible rumors she'd
heard of deeds so unspeakable they could only be whispered.
Methos was doubtless mad by the time he was released. And
brilliant madmen could be most dangerous indeed.
And oddly enough, she did feel pity. And a sense of sorrow for
him. The emotions shocked her and Cassandra opened her eyes,
deciding not to look too closely at them for the time being. She
would have to wait and see.
"All right," she sighed. "You have warned me. And I have had a
few years to accept the idea that Methos is still among the
living. I will not challenge him immediately."
Ramirez nodded thoughtfully. "I know he will be relieved. He does
not wish you ill, Cassandra. I don't believe he ever truly did.
Just as you have known he lives, so too Methos has known of you.
And we both know him well enough to say that if he wished you
dead you would be."
"Then we have a truce," Cassandra agreed, silently amazed at how
little anger she felt at the idea. Then again, she thought as
they rose to rejoin the others, Cierdwyn had worked long and hard
to help her past the memories. Of course there was fear and a
lingering doubt about the eldest Immortal's involvement in all
this. But she would deal with it when she saw him. Make her
decisions based on who he was and not who he had been.
That was a fool's game, she reminded herself as she listened to
Major Carter explain the travel plans which would bring them to
the United States. As Cierdwyn had reminded her time and again,
her captors might have been longer lived, but they were no
different than thousands of other men of that era. What had made
Kronos, Silas and Caspian worse was that they had carried those
same beliefs into the modern age. Could Methos have done the same
despite what those who knew him now seemed to believe? she
wondered nervously. Perhaps. But again, she vowed silently, the
anger would not have her. This was something she herself would
need to see.