CHANGES PART 3: THE LONG WAY HOME
SPOILERS: Shades of Grey
CATEGORY: first-person POV, rambling thoughts
SEASON/SEQUEL: Third season / sort of a sequel/ missing scene to "Turning Tables", my second SG1 story, which offered a solution to "Shades of Grey" that didn't leave Makepeace as one of the bad guys. So, I guess it's still all AU.
SUMMARY: Makepeace's return to the SGC doesn't go as smoothly as he had hoped
TIMEFRAME: about a month after "Turning Tables"
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Somehow I seem to have created my own version of the SG universe with my first story "Revenge?" and now everything else just seems to follow it in a logical way. My logic, at least. *G* So, this is the third story in an obvious series (I have one more already sitting on my hard drive waiting to be completed/revised/reworked whatever – expect it here soon).
FEEDBACK: Yes, please. I like to know how I'm doing with my stories, so don't hesitate to tell me.
What's *home*? - A dot on a map, or rather a place where there are people who understand you?
THE LONG WAY HOME
Sometimes coming home isn't as easy as it seems.
I'm back.
Home again!
Doc Fraiser finally kicked me out of the infirmary two weeks ago and told me to take a vacation. The general told me the same, and so I did. Now I am back on duty. Back with the SGC. No more secret missions, no more double-or-triple-dealing, no longer Makepeace, the traitor. I'm back home - where I belong.
Home?
Somehow it doesn't really feel like home anymore.
Is it the way people are looking at me? The way they whisper behind my back? The way saying my name seems to leave them with a bad taste in their mouths?
They don't seem to be sure whether I have the right to be here. I can see it in their eyes, in the furtive looks they cast at me, in the way the talking either stops when I enter a room or worse still, in the way the muted whispering starts as soon as I have passed a group of people or have left a room.
I knew it would happen.
I knew I'd still be branded a traitor for some people.
I even expected some of the cold-shoulder treatment I'm getting from a few of the other team leaders and some of the SGC staff.
What I didn't expect, though, is the reaction of my team, my former team - and as of two hours ago mine again.
The strange looks they are giving me, and the uneasiness they project around me, are what is so hard to deal with. Nobody has to spell it out for me; I can see it for myself. They don't trust me anymore. And that's what hurts.
I hadn't expected it to hurt so much, either.
I thought I could cope, but I realise now that I can't.
I am back, but everything has changed.
So what do I do now?
Should I tell the general I can't lead SG3 anymore?
I don't want to do that. For all that counts, the SGC and especially SG3 have been home to me for too long.
I thought - if nobody else - my team, at least, would understand.
We were a good team.
One of the best.
Before.
Before I got transferred to SG1.
But they understood that. It was a command decision the general had to make, and they accepted it.
Before I got arrested as a traitor.
Johnson even tried to see me when I was in jail.
Before the trial.
Before my court martial.
I don't know why he came, I never saw him. I just heard he'd asked to see me. He wasn't admitted, of course. No visitors for the traitor.
The traitor – yeah! Me! Makepeace - the mole! The guy who sold out on the SGC.
So much for trust!
Johnson! How long have I known Johnson?
It must be more than three years.
Ever since we met here at Cheyenne Mountain, to form the SGC's only team of Marines. He is the only one who has been on SG3 with me right from the beginning. We had other people on the team with us during those three years; some we lost to the Goa'uld, some transferred for various reasons, but Johnson and I, we survived and we stayed.
We fought side by side against people or things we could never tell anybody about. Not that many would have believed us.
Neither of us has a real family anymore. I got divorced years ago, because she couldn't stand the hero stuff, the secrets, the missions I couldn't talk about even then, way before I ever stepped through the Stargate. You make your choices in life and then you stick to them. And I guess I chose the Marine Corps, and my marriage could never take more than second place. So, she left.
I know that Johnson's wife asked for a separation two years ago, too. Now he only sees his kids during school holidays and for a two weeks' vacation during summer.
We're all loners of some kind or other.
In a way I have always thought of the SGC, of SG3, as my family. The people here were the only ones I could talk to about this crazy job of ours, anyway. Been there, done that, the T-shirt wasn't worth it.
We downed quite a few beers together. I can't count the times, Johnson took more than a small share of my pay off of me at pool, while I regularly whipped his ass at poker. Harris is a crack shot and could never resist showing off at the paint ball games I used to organise for us from time to time - more for the fun of it and not as veiled training sessions, as Johnson used to complain jokingly. And Edelman – oh, boy, the kid has a mean sense of humour, and we've all been at the receiving end of it more than once or twice.
All in all, I probably spent more time with my team during the past three years than I ever spent with my wife in the six years of our marriage.
Three years!
Johnson was with me for three years!
And now, he doesn't know whether he can trust me!
Harris has been with SG3 for more than two years, and even Edelman was part of my team for almost 9 months. Before I had to leave them to somebody else's care.
All that time and on all those countless missions to planets all across the galaxy, we always looked out for each other. The one thing we could always count on completely, was that whatever happened, we'd protect each other's backs. For me, my main concern was always to bring my team back alive. It might not easily have shown - I'm not the demonstrative kind - but it was true nonetheless.
And now, they are wary of me.
Why, for God's sake?
They can't really believe that I worked willingly for that louse Maybourne, now can they?
Two hours ago, when General Hammond held that little ceremony here at the SGC, inside the gate room, and officially restored my rank to me and gave me back my command, he explained to the assembled SGC personnel that everything I did, I did on the highest orders.
At the beginning only he, the President and some joker at the Pentagon knew the truth. He told them that I had never really left the SGC; that I had been secretly working as the President's man to get a lead on Maybourne and his cronies a long time before Jack came into the picture and put a stop to Newman and his people.
So why do they still doubt me?
God, I even got a commendation for service above and beyond duty, as if that could make me forget the pain I felt in that austere, little court room four months ago, when they stripped me of my rank and then threw me out of the Marine Corps.
Strangely, I hadn't expected that pain, either. I had been so sure I could pull it through. Hell, I knew the demotion wasn't for real, but it hurt nevertheless. And without my uniform I suddenly not only felt naked, but lost and uprooted.
During the three months I then worked for Maybourne, I found out firsthand why spies seldom get to collect their pensions. When the general first proposed the mission to me, I was so sure I could do it. The general was confident, too.
I have news for you, General Hammond: I tried it and went through with it, as you asked me to - and I didn't like it one bit. Not only because it almost got me killed. No, the worst was that I found out I can't really function outside of a team anymore, outside of my team. I know now that I need people I can trust at my side, watching my back, just as they know that I'm watching theirs. Ever since I decided to infiltrate Maybourne's operation, I have been looking over my shoulder, expecting a stab in the back at any moment. All it made for were a lot of sleepless nights and a nervous digestion. The lone wolf scenario isn't my world.
True, with my information we could roust another group of Maybourne's thieves, but somehow I doubt that they were the only ones he had out there. The Tollans and the Tok'ra got their renegades, and I could point the finger at two SG people who worked for Maybourne - and then Simmons gave himself away with trying to kill me and Jack. So the SGC should be safe - for the moment.
A couple of thugs caught, some more names for the general, an extended and unquestionably painful stay in the infirmary and a medal for me, that's all. Was it a success? I don't know. The thugs got put away, the names - who knows - I guess, the general took care of that. At least I never found out what happened to the others, the Senator and the two guys from the staff of the Joint Chiefs who supported and cloaked Maybourne's activities. I gave their names to the general, and he most certainly passed them on to the President. So they should have been dealt with, too. I don't care anymore.
What I care about is the future of SG3.
Do we still have a future?
I know my team doesn't feel for me what some of the other teams seem to feel for their COs.
Take Ferretti, for example, he is buddy-buddy with everyone on his team. They even call him by his first name, and not only off base, either.
Or Jack O'Neill. There has always been a special relationship between him and his people. In a strange way they are all more than just friends. Sam Carter loves him; I know that for a fact, even if they can't and won't act on it; it is still true. And I'm sure that in their way Jackson and the Jaffa love him, too.
I thought my team at least respected - and trusted - me.
Then why am I sitting here in the locker room with my head in my hands?
Big, tough, silent, hard-ass Colonel Robert Makepeace.
Wondering whether it isn't better to tell General Hammond to leave SG3 to Major Anders. He has led them the past four months, they probably trust him. It may be better for them if he stays on. Better he than a commander they can't trust absolutely. A commander who might lead them into a situation they can't get out of because of that lack of trust.
I don't want to be the reason they get killed.
That decides it then.
Sighing, I push myself up, knowing now what I have to do.
I turn around - and I look into the faces of Johnson, Harris and Edelman, who are standing just inside the door, watching me.
I freeze.
And I can't tear my gaze away from them.
My team - - not anymore.
When Johnson noisily clears his throat, I almost flinch. I hope they didn't notice.
"Sir," he hesitantly starts.
I want to stop him; I don't want to hear what he is most certainly trying to tell me, what I already know - that SG3 isn't mine any longer.
"Colonel Makepeace, sir, ..." he makes another start. And then he just plunges on, eager to get it over with as soon as possible. He has never been big on speeches. "We just wanted to tell you that we're real glad you're back. Would you accept our invitation, sir? We'd like to celebrate your return."
I just stare at him, at the three of them.
That is the very last thing I expected to hear him say.
When I don't answer, they continue to look at me. Puzzled? Uncertain of my reaction? Afraid I won't accept?
Finally I manage to retort a hoarse "Celebrate?"
Johnson straightens his shoulders and glances at the other two. I know him well enough to realise that he's feeling very uncomfortable.
"Yes, sir," Harris takes over. "We'd like to celebrate that you made it back safely. That SG3 is complete again." He looks at me hopefully.
Edelman only nods.
I take a deep breath and suddenly the whole mountain seems to drop off my shoulders.
"I'd ... like that very much. ... Thanks."
Sometimes, coming home is easier than it seems.
The End
To be continued in Changes Part 4 – Past Mistakes