Old Faces and Secrets Revealed: An Immortal Spacemonkey Story
Disclaimer: As much as I might wish, I do not own Stargate: SG1, Highlander: the Series, or any recognizable characters from either show. However, any characters that are not from either show are mine and I will use and abuse them as I see fit. Everyone else will be returned eventually, for I am only borrowing for a while, but they might end up a bit scuffed.
A/N: This story fits into my Immortal Spacemonkey universe and takes place in the eighth season. There are some references that refer to things that happened five thousand years before which is understandable if you have read already Moebius: An Immortal Spacemonkey Story. It would also help if you have read Confession is Good For the Soul.
Also, the events of Highlander the Movie didn't happen. The Gathering didn't happen and neither did the shitty movies that followed the first movie.
I hope you enjoy it and as always, feel free to drop me a review, even if you don't like the story. Constructive criticism is always welcome; flames are not. Manners matter.
The members of SG-1 went out that night for dinner and some bowling. Jack was super insistent on going bowling for some reason. Daniel, not having it in him to voice an objection that he knew would either be overruled or flat out ignored, went along with it. He even had a pretty good time and was able to shove the sorrow and shame he was feeling to a back recess of his mind. It wasn't gone for good, it was just compartmentalized; compartmentalization was something he was very good when it came to his feelings.
The next morning he got up early, determined to clean out his basement. Sam had made a crack about the amount of crap he kept down there and he knew it needed to be dealt with in the near future.
When he was about half way through the far left corner of the basement, he had put in at least three hours of labor and about one hour of being distracted by an old book he had been looking for, his cell phone buzzed.
Really Old Guy, showed up on the display.
"Hello, Old Man," he said, fanning a cloud of dust away.
"There is a Master's thesis presentation tonight over at Mountain State, discussing the legacy of Ancient Egypt as the archetype of Western Civilization. Some of us that are off tonight thought we might check it out. You up for a good laugh?" Methos, also known as Adam or Dr. Pierson, asked.
"Hello to you too," Daniel snarked.
Methos did some deep breathing before responding to his old friend. "Hello. How are you? Would you like to go see some poor schmuck defend his Master's thesis in front of a bunch of not-so-scary college professors?"
"Do you plan on destroying some poor kid's hard work and mental well-being for shits and giggles?" Daniel asked, wondering what Death had in store for some poor grad student.
"Why do you always think the worst of me?" Methos asked, feigning outrage.
Daniel shook his head in exasperation. "Because that is exactly what you did the last time we went to a thesis defense. You made the kid cry on stage. In front of the entire history department. In front of his girlfriend and his roommate. You were asked to leave by campus security."
"It's for the best really. You were interested in recruiting the kid and if he couldn't stand up to questions about his Master's thesis, how could you expect for him to withstand the rigors of day-to-day life in the SGC?" the other Immortal asked, somewhat amused.
"Fair point," Daniel conceded, taking off his glasses and holding them up to the light to see how much dust coated the lenses, "but it was a jerk move. You made the history department change its rules. Questions are no longer allowed to come from the audience. Is this presentation and the presenter worth the bother?"
"Actually yes. Gavin Fischer is a pretty good researcher. His adviser, Dr. Hastings, was talking him up a few weeks ago."
"Dr. Hastings?"
"Jane's an associate professor of history who lives a few houses down from me."
"Is she the older lady who is apparently sweet on you?" Daniel asked absently, trying to clean his dusty glasses on his dusty shirt. Needless to say, he wasn't being very successful in his endeavor.
"No, that is Doris, the neighborhood crazy cat lady who makes a mean rum punch and knits tiny vests for her cats. Jane is the tall lady with all of the roses in her front yard."
"Doesn't mean a thing to me," Daniel said absently, giving up on trying to clean his glasses.
"Are you in or not? Nyan is coming too," Methos added, mentioning everyone's favorite alien that wasn't Teal'c. "And Dr. Lopez."
"Fine," Daniel sighed. "What time and do you want to pick me up?"
"Did your car crap out on you or something?"
"No, it is just in the shop for routine maintenance and I have to pick it up tomorrow morning. So what time are you coming to get me?" Daniel explained.
"The presentation is at seven, so I will be by your place at five thirty so we can get something to eat before the show."
"Good. See you then," Daniel said and snapped his phone shut.
~SG1SG1SG1SG1SG1~
Methos arrived on time, with Nyan riding shotgun.
"Daniel," Nyan greeted his boss. "Do you want to ride up front?" the research assistant asked, making a move to move to the back seat.
Daniel shook his head. "No thank you Nyan. I would rather sit behind Adam so it will be easier for me to strangle him," He said in an almost cheery tone, letting the alien-human think he was kidding.
"Like to see you try," Methos snorted. "So what has got your panties in a bunch?"
The other Immortal grumbled slightly. "Sorry," he apologized. "Just a little pissy. The last mission sucked. It brought up some unpleasant memories. We had to confess all of our sins and crimes."
Methos blanched a little at that. "That must have been interesting."
"Confession is supposed to make you feel better," Daniel said. "This just made me feel worse about my life."
"Live, grow stronger, fight another day," Methos advised, using words that he knew Daniel would understand.
Daniel sighed heavily. "Yeah. Someone once told me that a long time ago."
Methos smiled, glancing back at his friend in the rearview mirror. "Must have been someone wise and good looking."
Daniel snorted out a laugh. "No," he said. "It was you."
Methos affected a hurt expression. "Your words wound my tender soul."
"Oh, poor thing."
Nyan just sat there, listening to the two friends bicker and good naturedly pick on each other, like they were centuries-long friends.
They decided on going to Pizzeria Rustica on Colorado Avenue. It was a quaint, small space that specialized in Neapolitan-thin style pizza made from locally sourced ingredients. Nyan had never been there, while Daniel and Methos had both been there a few times.
They had decided on their drinks and appetizers with little fanfare, until Nyan asked if they made Hawaiian pizza.
Everything came to a crashing halt and heads were turned.
"We specialize in authentic food, not some unholy bastardization of pizza," the server, a tall skinny girl, with a nose ring and purple hair said in a very snotty voice. "The ingredients of pizza should complement the dish, not overwhelm it."
Poor Nyan, never having experienced a public derision of his favorite Earth food before, sat there quietly, looking slightly mortified.
Methos, not Adam, looked at the girl with ill-concealed contempt. "I get it that pineapple on pizza may not be everyone's cup of tea, but you don't need to be rude about it." His voice was calm, but low and slightly scary. He really liked Nyan, saw him as a gentle little brother who's quest for knowledge to be cheering and something that should be nurtured.
The server, seeing the dark and chilling look the older man was giving her, gulped and apologized.
Methos glared, while Daniel and Nyan smiled awkwardly. They went on to order their food and the waitress scurried away as fast as possible.
"How is it that pistachio is an acceptable pizza topping, but not pineapple?" Daniel asked, after taking a drink from his beer. "I mean, I am not pro-pineapple myself, but it seems to me to be a double standard in pizza etiquette."
"Is it Italian?" Nyan asked, having recovered from his experience with the server.
Methos shook his head and took a long drink of his beer before answering. "They originated in western Asia and Asia Minor and were not introduced to Italy until the first century A.D."
Daniel just rolled his eyes. "How is it that you know obscure facts like that, but are totally clueless on other things?"
"Like what?"
"Baseball. Even I know about baseball," Daniel retorted.
"Then explain the designated hitter position in the American League," Methos challenged his friend.
"The purpose of the designated hitter is to allow the pitcher to rest his arm and focus on his pitching skills and avoid risking injury. Also, most pitchers are worthless as hitters and the DH gives opportunities to sluggers who are challenged in their defensive skills but can still swing with the best of them," Daniel said, looking smug.
"Fair enough," Methos raised his beer slightly, saluting his friend.
The rest of their time at the restaurant was pretty pleasant. The server was quick to bring them their food and made sure to keep their water glasses full. She did not linger to chat them up and gave them the bill as soon as possible.
Methos took the bill, looked it over, and handed it off to Daniel. "Boss?" the Immortal looked at his friend with an almost angelic look on his face. Nyan attempted to pull out his wallet, but was waved off by Methos.
Daniel shook his head at Nyan, just as fond of the guy as everyone else, rolled his eyes at his old friend, and snatched the bill from Methos' hand.
"A good boss takes care of his employees," Methos reminded Daniel.
"Good employees don't give their boss a hard time," Daniel said lightly as he pulled out several twenties from his wallet. In reality, he didn't mind paying for their meal. It was only money and he did have plenty of it in several bank accounts. He did not leave much of a tip for the waitress. She was pretty rude to Nyan after all.
~SG1SG1SG1SG1SG1~
They made it to the thesis defense in plenty of time and found Dr. Lopez and Dr. Angela Hillman, another linguist at the SGC, waiting for them, seated towards the back.
The student, the third one in line, finally presented his argument that the Egyptian culture was the archetype for Western Culture. He was able to back up his arguments that due to the multilevel and rich culture of Ancient Egypt, this was translated and served as a foundation for the development of Greek and Roman societies. Without the Egyptian culture, the idea of an omnipotent god and nation-state would not have been possible.
He made interesting arguments, pulled in Jungian views of religion, the self, and the state and how those came from Ancient Egypt and the world view of those that lived in that period of time.
When Mr. Fischer brought in how Nut, Ra, and Osiris had parallels to Christianity, the group from the SGC barely suppressed snorts of derision. Having met, and killed, a few Egyptian "gods," the group had a hard time accepting the comparison. The student made a sound argument for his paper, but because of the reality of the myth that they had to face at the SGC on a daily basis, it was hard to take the idea completely serious.
Once the presentation and criticisms came to a halt, the next student came forth. The members of the archeology and linguistics division of the SGC all looked at each other, nodding. They approved of how Mr. Fischer structured his arguments and responded to questions and criticisms flung at him by the faculty.
Finally, after sitting through a painfully boring presentation on the history of suburbs, the production was over.
The others moved forward to meet Gavin Fischer, while Daniel hung back. His academic reputation still had him labeled as a kook in certain circles and he would rather not have to deal with asshole faculty members potentially scaring the kid away.
The others talked to the grad student for a little bit before Methos led the kid over to Daniel.
They did the usual meet and greet, with Daniel asking a few questions about his thesis and other academic classes he had taken, especially any expertise in foreign or dead languages. Finally, Daniel hands him a business card with his email printed on it and asks the student to send him his resume and academic record and that he, Daniel, might have a possible position that Fischer might be interested in. At that point, Fischer got a slightly wry and apologetic look on his face.
"I am sorry, but I was offered a post graduate position with a think tank and learning institution in Paris and I start in June," the grad student said, looking happy, but not wanting to be rude about it. "It sounds super exciting and promises to be something that will blow my mind with the way they look at and teach history."
Methos, at this point joined in on the conversation. "What is the name of this school?"
"Academie de le Surveiller et Enreistrement de Paris," he said.
At that Methos let out a snort of laughter, which caused a worried expression to cross Fischer's face.
"Do you know the group then? Did I make a mistake?" he worried.
Daniel rolled his eyes at his friend. "Ignore him Gavin, Adam sometimes lacks manners. He used to be with them, before he came to work in my department. You are not making a mistake," he said gently, trying to dispel any doubts the kid might have. "What you will learn there will change your life and will lead you to something amazing. However, still send me your resume. Eventually, most people do get sent out of the academy and work outside of their classrooms and libraries. We might have what you are looking for eventually."
Gavin looked slightly unsure of what exactly Daniel was telling him, but took the proffered business card. He turned to leave but Methos called him back.
"When you get there and go through orientation, do me a favor and tell Dr. Comtrois that Adam Pierson says hello," he said with a big smile on his face.
"Really?" Daniel muttered to his friend while keeping a smile on his face.
Gavin said he would and left immediately.
"He'll be back," Methos said with an air of certainty.
"I hope so and hopefully can pass our background check. Abbott is going to retire from the military in the next year or two. What is an Immortal to do without some creepy Watcher recording our every move?" Daniel asked, laughing.
"I don't know, save the galaxy? Live in peace without a creeper recording what brand of toilet paper we use?" Methos retorted.
"Aren't you the pot calling the kettle black with that one, Adam?"
Adam shrugged. "I didn't spy on other Immortals. I just spied upon the spies, protecting myself in the process. Besides, didn't you do the very same thing, once upon a time?"
Daniel shrugged. "I admit nothing."
Soon after the group from the SGC left, not wanting to interview anyone else (the student who did his master's thesis on suburbs did not whet their interest). Dr. Lopez offered to take Nyan back home. Nyan was quite happy about the offer since he had been crushing on the perky doctor for some time.
Methos of course was willing to drive Daniel back to his home, but said he wanted to stop off at his own home first. He had found a copy of "The Ancient Book of Deer," the oldest known Gaelic text in existence. His copy was much younger than the original, the original was from the pre-Norman Scotland era; Methos' copy was a copy of the original from the 1800s.
Daniel wanted a look at it, out of academic curiosity. For once, it had nothing to do with the Stargate, false gods, or the fate of the galaxy. He just wanted something fun to read. It was either this or "War and Peace" again.
They were inside Methos' current home, a nice three bedroom, sparely furnished bungalow. One of the walls in his living room was filled with book shelves. Some of the books were classics, and the Harry Potter books, books one through four.
"What's Harry Potter?" Daniel asked absently, looking at the book covers, clearly convinced that they were kid books.
Methos looked up from the book he was currently holding, 'The Ancient Book of Deer,' and gave his friend an incredulous look. "How can you not know who Harry Potter is? Everyone knows who Harry Potter is,' he exclaimed.
"Well, apparently not, since I don't," Daniel shot back, picking up the first book, "Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone," and thumbing through it absently.
"Teal'c even knows who Harry Potter is," Methos replied. "Take it with you. You might enjoy it."
Just then the presence of another Immortal made itself known, washing over Methos and Daniel, causing their heads to start pounding.
"Expecting someone?" Daniel asked, his eyes narrowed, not recognizing the particular Quickening he was feeling.
"Hardly," Methos snorted, hoping against hope that it wasn't whom he thought it was.
With his sword in hand, Methos crept over to the large double window and looked out at his front porch to see who was setting off his Immortal early alert system and ringing his doorbell at the same time.
"Sonofabitch," Methos sighed and stomped over to the front door and flung it open to reveal Duncan Macleod, of the Clan Macleod, standing there.
"Shit," Daniel and Duncan both exclaimed upon seeing each other through the open door.
A/N: Well, what did you think? Hit the shiny review button and let me know what think. All constructive criticisms are welcome, flames are not. Thank you though for reading my story. It is appreciated.
Thank you to Lorilei for your help and suggestions. PS…happy birthday, sorry your Spacemonkey is not nekked. He wouldn't cooperate this time.