Oh yes, a review has made me realize that I forgot to mention something in the first chapter Author's Note. MacGyver's timeline has been moved up by about a decade. There are also some things that happened in the series that never happened in my little AU (ie Sam Malloy) More information on this will be revealed as the story goes on.
Chapter Two
MacGyver stepped, with no little trepidation, onto the elevator that would take him into the bowels of the Cheyenne Mountain Complex . This was worse than six months ago, when he'd accepted his promotion to general. Then, he'd just been worried that he would screw everything up. Now, he had to worry about screwing everything up and about somebody discovering his little--well not so little, but it made him feel better thinking of it in those terms--ruse.
He smiled genially at the young lieutenant operating the elevator, but the kid was obviously a well-trained SF and, thankfully, not anyone he'd met. Probably just got his first duty-shift at the SGC and didn't have much security clearance beyond the elevator. MacGyver gave a light shrug and settled back to wait. Normally, he'd be chatting the guy up, but his nervousness kept him from speaking. He was afraid he'd say something incriminating.
Oh, yeah, Mac, he thought wryly, You're afraid of saying something this Lieutenant, Mac surreptitiously checked the nametag before continuing his self-recrimination, Billings can use to identify you with General Jack O'Neill, when he's probably never even heard of the guy. What're you going to do when you come face to face with SG-1? Blink at them?.
He snorted and shook his head. Really, if he was going to pull this off, he was going to have to get a hold of himself. Going around with 'guilt' written in big black letters all over his face was not the best way to inspire confidence in his abilities as a leader. At least he already knew most of the personnel, that would certainly help him out. People liked to be known--by both their names and skills.
The length of the ride down the elevator shaft gave him time to school his features into his normal--for MacGyver--mask of geniality. It also served his imagination quite well in that it let him think of the many ways his former team mates would react to him. He knew he looked remarkably like his uncle--which was the whole reason he had gone through nine, long, miserable--and yet inspiring--years in a life that wasn't his own. Okay, so they weren't so miserable. He'd had fun. Met a few new friends. Saw the universe.
By the time the elevator reached the twenty-eighth floor, MacGyver was grinning. He couldn't help it. While masquerades and intrigue weren't usually his forte, he'd had eight years to perfect it--and yes--to enjoy it. Now, he wasn't really masquerading; he was living his own life and merely had to be careful not to let on that he'd been a man the people of the SGC had known well.
As he stepped off the lift, a pair of SF's snapped to attention and then flanked him. The one on the right asked him for identification and he happily provided it.
"Don't worry," he quipped, "I don't even carry a gun." The SF, predictably, didn't react except to point in the direction Mac was supposed to go.
MacGyver smiled politely and took his leave. This was going to be hard to get used to. As a general--and even before as a colonel--he had commanded respect from everyone on base. As a civilian, that respect was going to have to be earned and it probably wasn't going to happen in a day or even a week. Which was a good thing. That whole gung ho military guy routine could get addictive after a while. As himself, he could look at the work the SGC did more objectively.
He walked a little ways further, noticing that another pair of SF's was following him discretely. He shook his head and entered the briefing room. Major Paul Davis sat at the table, his back to the entrance, looking out the glass window that overlooked the Gate Room. Mac took a deep breath before announcing his presence. Paul would be the first person who had known Jack O'Neill fairly well that he'd met. If all went well, he could probably expect the others to go smoothly.
"Major Davis?" Mac asked softly.
Davis turned his attention to him, a frown furrowing his brow. Then he did a double-take and a remarkable impression of a fish; Mac had to stifle an amused grin and struggled to maintain a slightly confused yet amiable expression. Davis gathered his wits with impressive alacrity and stood up, smiling. He walked around the table and held out his hand.
"That's right. You must be Doctor MacGyver. It's an honor to meet you."
MacGyver relaxed ever so slightly and grinned in real pleasure. He was in his element now. Grabbing the man's hand in a firm shake he remarked, "Just MacGyver if you please. I never did hold much stock in titles or formalities. My Grandpa Harry always said 'A measure of a man is not told by his title, but by his actions'."
Davis nodded politely, then gestured towards the office off to one side of the briefing room. "If you don't mind, I'll show you where you're going to be spending a lot of your time at, Doc...uh...MacGyver."
MacGyver grimmaced. "Is that a hint, Major?"
"Paul," Davis corrected, "Or Davis. And yes, it is a hint. There is a lot of paper work involved in running the SGC and it must be maintained in order to ensure that operations run smoothly."
"Ah," Mac commented, "Well, I figured I'd be a desk jockey by signing up. Too late to back out now, huh?"
"Yes."
"Right, so before we get started on all this 'procedure' stuff, I'd like to go and meet everyone on staff and all the SG teams that are currently on base."
Paul nodded, looking moderately surprised. "You seem quite well informed, MacGyver."
"Well," Mac drawled, "I take my responsibilities seriously. No half-assed stuff from me."
"Right. The tour of the base wasn't scheduled until after you'd gone over the personnel files, but I assume you've already done so?"
MacGyver couldn't help but feel a little guilty as he nodded his acquiescence. He had read those files--about two months ago. Though, he was happy to admit, he had scanned them briefly just in case there were any important changes. "So, where do we start first?"
Paul grinned at him. "The Gate Room."
"By the way," Mac tossed out, "In case you were wondering, Jack O'Neill was my uncle."
"I know," Davis admitted, "The President warned me just before you arrived. I didn't think there'd be such a resemblance though."
"I take it that means everyone else here is going to be shocked?"
"Actually," Paul said hesitatingly, "That's an understatement."
"Great."
"Sorry, sir," she murmured to the general, "I just needed to..." Then she shook herself mentally and blinked so that her eyes would focus some more. Unfortunately, they still told her that someone was standing in front of her that looked like a younger version of Jack O'Neill. For a minute she wondered if the Asgard were playing a cruel trick on her, but Davis dispelled that notion.
"Uh, Colonel Samantha Carter? This is MacGyver," Davis said, "General O'Neill was his uncle."
Sam brushed a hand through her hair and groaned inwardly. What a way to make a first impression on her idol. It wasn't fair really, especially the fact that he looked so much like the man she had fallen in love with. He even had those big, brown puppy dog eyes that could hold so many emotions--the topmost of which was concern for her well-being. The Fates must be conspiring against her--she must be meant to go insane.
As she looked at MacGyver, she wondered how she could have mistaken him for O'Neill. For one thing, he was much too young--by about twenty years--and the scare that had bisected the general's left eyebrow was conspicuously absent. There were other details that were slightly off as well. She really should have listened to Paul and gone to bed the night before. At least then she could have awakened in her own room and not embarrassed herself.
"I'm sorry, Doctor," She apoligized, "I was up all night working on..."
"It's just MacGyver," MacGyver said with a gentle smile, "And I've pulled a few all nighters myself. One time I fell asleep in the middle of an altercation--but I'm sure you don't want to hear about that."
Sam couldn't help but smile back, even as an ache in heart that she had refused to acknowledge surfaced with renewed intensity. Still embarrassed at her lack of protocol, she shrugged lightly. "I'm sure it's a fascinating story, si...MacGyver," she murmured, "I have to say, it's definitely an honor to meet you. I've read all your papers." She stopped, blushing, then shrugged again. "Now I feel like a school-girl who gets to meet her idol in person."
A strange expression flickered across MacGyver's face, but it was gone so fast Sam couldn't decipher what it was. The smile was still in place however, so she didn't think more on it.
"Well, Colonel," MacGyver said in a conspiratal tone, "I've read all the work you've done--that was non-classified--and since joining the SGC have read what I could of that." Again, the strange expression crossed his face. "I look forward to discussing your theories at length sometime."
"That sounds good, MacGyver," Sam said warmly, "In fact, now that you're here, maybe you can help me figure out what this thing is and does." She pointed at the dreaded cylinder that had become almost a bane to her.
"Well," MacGyver said, "I'd be happy to. But I think you can figure it out yourself. I mean, you haven't had me around for the past eight years and have done perfectly fine. Better probably. I have a tendancy to...attract trouble sometimes."
Sam smiled in response to the praise. If she could get over the fact that he could be the late general's duplicate, she could get used to working with him. What, "if"? She would get over it. She had had nearly six years practice at burying her emotions concerning Jack O'Neill, and she wasn't about to start letting him get to her now that he was dead.
She waited until he and Davis had left before picking up her notes and perusing them for something she may have missed. MacGyver was right. She was damn good at her job, and she would continue to be, for the sake of the SGC, for the sake of the planet, and for her own self. She couldn't allow herself any self-doubt, not now.
Daniel ignored the temptation to look at the alien text one more time. He already knew what he'd find. A familiar, yet totally different language than one he'd ever encountered before. It was maddening to say the least. Kinda like having a name or definintion on the tip of your tongue, but not being able to give it voice.
Instead, he worked on his laptop, updating old files and re-organizing. Maybe he'd come across something that would jog his memory. At the very least, he would be doing something that had needed doing for some time, so he didn't feel too bad about what looked like it would amount to a monumental waste of time and effort. And without Jack around to bug him, he might even finish it.
He sat stunned as soon as the thought crossed his mind. He knew he was still thinking in terms that Jack was still alive--just on an extended vacation--and he normally tried to take steps to keep from doing that. However, as usual, his brain refused to adhere to his strict commands and tripped him up from time to time. He supposed it was because he hadn't actually seen Jack die, hadn't actually seen the body like Sam had. He could still delude himself with wishful thinking.
He pushed himself away from the desk in disgust and poured a anothe cup of coffee. Surprisingly, he hadn't drank as much as he usually did, and he had had only a little over two hours sleep the night before. He breathed in the soothing vapors of the java and cupped his hands around the warm cup. He hadn't even been aware of the fact that he was cold.
"Okay, Daniel," he muttered to himself, "Maybe now would be a good time to take a vacation. Preferably somewhere nice and normal--and as far away from the SGC as possible. Like Hawaii. I've heard its nice this time of year."
"Or better yet," came a familiar sardonic voice, "Why not off-world? Another planet's about as far as you can get."
Great, Daniel thought, Now I'm hearing his voice arguing with me.
"Doctor Jackson," Paul asked, slightly concerned.
Daniel looked up at the man in question and then dropped his coffee mug to the ground. It shattered upon impact, splashing himself with scalding hot coffee, but Daniel was momentarily impervious to the pain. There, in front of him was a younger replica of Jack O'Neill. Hoping against hope that his brain hadn't finally just given up on him, he began spluttering.
"You...he...there's really someone there, right Paul? I mean, you see him too?"
The man who looked like Jack winced and an expression of guilt crossed his face. "Yes," he said, "I'm really here. My name is MacGyver, Jack was my uncle. We really need to get a memo out, Paul. This could get tiresome having to explain to everyone."
Paul nodded thoughtfully. "I probably should have called SG-1 at the very least when I got the news," he said apologetically.
Daniel watched the interchange, still confused. "MacGyver?" He asked.
Paul grinned. "You remember, Daniel. The new commander of this base?"
Daniel stared at the major silently for a moment, before his stunned brain recalled the conversation from the night before. He flushed slightly, but then shrugged. "Right. Well. You look a whole hell of a lot like your uncle. Are you sure you're not really Jack? A clone? Or maybe the Asgard rescued you and you don't want the NID to know?" A stupid question, but Daniel felt he had to ask it.
There was silence for a moment, and then MacGyver answered quietly, "No, the Asgard have nothing to do with my being here, and I am not a clone."
Daniel digested this response and then nodded. "Well, it was worth a shot. Just more wishful thinking I suppose."
MacGyver and Paul both nodded. Daniel smiled tightly. "I really need to get cracking on this translation..."
The two men took the hint and left him to his own devices. Daniel clenched his fists and squeezed his eyes shut. Damn it! Why couldn't he just get over Jack's death? Everything would be so much simpler then. Letting out a short, mirthless laugh, Daniel couldn't help but see the irony. Even in death, dealing with Jack was far from simple.
Teal'c moved gracefully into the new commander's office to await its occupant's arrival. He had not been present during Doctor MacGyver's tour and so was unable to meet him at that time. He stood in front of the desk and gazed down at the mess that covered its surface. This was reminiscent of O'Neill's habits, and Teal'c felt a tightening of his throat muscles. O'Neill had been as a brother to him, and the means of his death still struck the Jaffa as odd.
He did not believe that anyone would ever be able to replace O'Neill, either in command or in friendship, but he would make the effort to gain this new leader's trust if the man warranted such. Teal'c was not one to give his own trust lightly; it had been a strange thing that day in Apophis' keep on Chulak when he had turned his back forever on the Goa'uld for a man he had not even known. He had never regreted that decision once.
Only his loyalty to Daniel Jackson and Samantha Carter kept him on Earth at this time. His aid was better served with the Tau'ri, he felt, but if not for those two, he would have returned to lead the rebel Jaffa as soon as he had been certain of O'Neill's death. He permitted himself a small smile. O'Neill would have approved, of that he was certain.
Before this train of thought could continue much further, the new commander walked in. Teal'c was taken aback by his resemblance to O'Neill and for a brief moment allowed himself to believe that it could be.
"You resemble O'Neill greatly, Doctor MacGyver," He told the man.
Doctor MacGyver appeared off balance, but quickly regained his footing. "He was my uncle...man am I getting tired of explaining that. Apparently, you never got the memo."
Teal'c raised an eyebrow, but said nothing, preferring to let the other man speak first. He wanted to get as accurate an appraisal as he could.
"You must be Teal'c. And uh, you can just call me MacGyver...I don't like titles."
Teal'c inclined his head, suddenly feeling that he could trust this man, just as he had eight years ago with O'Neill. This bothered Teal'c only slightly. Perhaps it was simply something that O'Neill's family had in common.
"Right, so T, was there anything you wanted to tell me?"
Teal'c glanced at him, startled, but kept his expression neutral. MacGyver's expression revealed almost as little, but the Jaffa thought he saw a flicker of something, and a telling flush to his cheeks. There was more going on her than met the eye, but he would let it go. For now.
"Uh..." MacGyver appeared flustered, "Sorry, I...it was kinda automatic. I like nicknaming thi...people. I even nicknamed my hocky stick. It's called Woody. Do you like fishing? My uncle did. I don't. I hate it. A lot."
Teal'c raised an eyebrow. Definitely something odd going on here.