In this part, I treat the death of Hathor...slightly different than they do on SG-1, for those of you who have seen it. It has an interesting twist to it. Also, there's some serious MacGyver/Jack O'Neill bonding and discussion in this part. Enjoy!
The Queen’s Best Part Six
Rated: PG
“How did she get through security on the base?” MacGyver asked.
“We’re not sure,” Sam said.
In the corridors, blasts and shouts could be heard, rocking the walls as soldiers defended the base, battling with Jaffa and their staff weapons.
Teal’c raised an eyebrow. “Hathor is a most vengeful Goa’uld,” he said. “She will seek retribution for what she perceives to be the abduction of her king.”
Jack shuddered, remembering with revulsion what Hathor had done to him in her private boudoir. “Yeah, well I was never her king,” he said savagely, his eyes dark with rage. “In fact, I…” he paused.
“What is it?” Daniel asked.
“Is Thor still here?” Jack asked.
“No, he’s gone,” MacGyver said.
“Damn,” Jack said. “I was hoping to get a little backup from my little gray buddies. I guess we’ll just have to do this on our own.”
“Do what?” Daniel asked.
“Everybody sticks with me,” Jack said. “I have an idea.”
“What are you thinking, Jack?” MacGyver asked.
Jack grinned. “Hathor wants me back, right?” He asked.
“Yeah,” MacGyver said.
“So, I’ll just have to give her what she wants.”
***
Hiding throughout the complex, SG-1 waited for Hathor’s approach. Jack heard her first, torturing an airman with her hand device in the hallway.
“Tell us where our king is,” she growled.
Jack peered around the corner and watched her, memories of torturing MacGyver with the hand device briefly returning to disturb him. Flashes of MacGyver’s face wincing in pain as he watched helplessly, trapped in his body as it did this atrocious thing to his cousin haunted him. Watching the airman struggle and cry out in pain only intensified the memories for Jack, and he suddenly felt as if he was watching himself as a Goa’uld with the hand device, and the airman had transformed into MacGyver. Screwing his eyes shut to erase the memory, Jack took a deep breath and stood, knowing now was the time to appear. Still weak from the Ancient’s Goa’uld extraction device, Jack leaned against the wall to regain his strength before continuing. Dressed in the ornate gold robes that he had been rescued in, tugging at them in disgust and wishing he didn’t have to wear them again but knowing he had to be convincing, Jack emerged calmly, staring directly at Hathor.
Sensing his presence, Hathor looked up and smiled. She released her hold on the airman, who collapsed to the ground, groaning in pain from the hand device. “You have returned to us, our love,” she said, looking at him up and down, pleased again with his appearance. “Have you been harmed by these pathetic Tau’ri captors?”
Jack shook his head, doing his best not to speak or at least to say little, trying not to reveal the lack of the deep, throaty Goa’uld voice. He strode towards her, doing his best to look seductive and sultry, the anger and hatred for her in his eyes disguised as lust and admiration. He carried Teal’c’s staff weapon, and pretended to fire upon members of SG-1 and MacGyver as they darted in and out of hiding places down the hallway, making sure the blasts missed and struck the walls instead. As he got closer to Hathor, he wrapped his strong arm around her back, stroking it and grinning. Hathor stared up at him, her eyes glowing. She smiled lovingly and stroked his chin.
“Soon, our Jaffa will defeat these Tau’ri who have held you prisoner,” she said, exploring his lips with her finger and gently kissing him. “Then, you will return with us and we will establish a new realm, with them as our slaves.”
Cringing as she kissed him, Jack quickly pulled away from her, the intensity of his rage increasing. He was no longer able to contain it. Hathor glared at him.
“What is the matter, our love?” She asked, watching him suspiciously.
“Oh, nothing, since that snake in my head was killed,” Jack said, aiming the staff weapon at her.
Hathor’s eyes blazed with fury. “That is impossible!” She shouted, fuming. “You are my king! You belong to me!”
“Oh, I think not,” Jack said.
Hathor raised her hand device and prepared to blast Jack, but he was faster, firing the staff weapon at her heart, sending her flying across the hallway. She landed with a heavy thud, her body limp and lifeless, and her chest scorching from the wound. Jack approached her cautiously, the staff weapon still aimed at her. Once he stood over her body, he kicked her with his boots, trying to see if she would respond. A gaping wound leaked from her chest, and she remained still. Satisfied that she was dead, Jack glared at her with complete contempt. Her face in death was frozen halfway between a painful grimace from the shock of the blow and an almost sad, sweet grin, as if remembering the pleasure of having Jack as her possession and the realization that she could never have him as hers again. The expression seemed so lifelike and full of emotion that Jack continued to watch her, expecting her to rise and strike him at any moment.
His focus on her face became all encompassing, erasing everything else that surrounded him. Strange, mixed emotions filled him until he wasn’t sure who was feeling them—himself of the Goa’uld that had been inside him. Even though he knew it was gone, he couldn’t explain why a part of him was remorseful for killing Hathor while another part of him celebrated his liberation from her. He barely heard the firefight that ensued around him, the blasts and shouts sounding like distant rumbles barely registering in his ears, blending with the sound of his heart as it thudded heavily in his chest. Chunks of wall fell around him, bullets and staff blast fire exchanged around him, yet he remained still, watching Hathor.
The intensity of the battle increased, the Jaffa fighting near him believing he was saddened by the death of his queen and prepared to defend him against those who had caused the loss. Stray blast weapon fire almost struck Jack as he stood there in shock, but before the danger could reach him, bright beams of light encircled the Jaffa and they vanished. Once again, Jack barely noticed the sudden cease fire as Hathor’s army of Jaffa disappeared one by one beneath the beams of light, the action inside the base growing quieter. He didn’t notice, just as he didn’t hear his team and MacGyver running towards him to see if he was all right. Hathor remained beneath his stare, her body still present, untouched by the beams of light that had erased all her soldiers, eliminating them from the base.
“Jack!” MacGyver shouted, running towards him. Once he reached him, he stopped and gently shook him, trying to awaken him from his trance. “Jack, can you hear me? It’s all over. It looks like Thor came through after all!”
Jack remained motionless, staring down at Hathor’s fallen body.
“Sir?” Sam asked, also trying to awaken him, perplexed by the almost horrified look on his face as he stared down at Hathor. She looked at the others. “What’s the matter with him?”
“I don’t know,” Daniel said, also staring grimly at Hathor.
“O’Neill,” Teal’c said, also trying his best to help Jack return to the present. “The battle has been won. Hathor will no longer be a threat.”
“It’s okay Jack,” MacGyver said quietly. “She’s gone.”
As he looked down at the eerily expressive face of Hathor, frozen that way in death, he began to see what disturbed Jack so much. Instead of looking like a villainous Goa’uld, she seemed…almost human. There was love, regret, and sorrow on her face, mixed with the pain she felt at the moment the staff blast ripped into her chest. She looked as though her feelings for Jack had been betrayed by that last action that ended her life. A flash of light suddenly grew around her still form, causing everyone to back up and watch, astonished as Thor’s beam erased her body from the base as well. Jack looked up at everyone, his eyes bloodshot and tired.
“The witch is dead,” he said, his voice flat and unemotional.
***
Several Days Later…
In the recently repaired Gate room, General Hammond performed a formal ceremony thanking everyone who had participated in defeating Hathor and restoring Colonel Jack O’Neill to SG-1. MacGyver was honored, as was Thor and Sam’s father Jacob, along with his Tok’ra allies. The mood was celebratory; the Gate room decorated for the special occasion, the officers dressed in their finest uniforms and saluting, lining the ramp and filling the room, creating an overall atmosphere of fanfare. Normally, MacGyver loathed any displays of formality or being officially honored for anything, but he had to admit that he was impressed and appreciated the show of support he received for helping to save his cousin’s life—and his soul. Still, as he watched Jack, lauded and cheered by his fellow teammates who beamed at him, glad to see him returned to them as their leader, MacGyver could see sadness lingering in his dark, hard eyes. His face remained stony and expressionless, and he looked pale and haunted as he saluted his team.
After the ceremony ended, MacGyver tried to follow Jack, but he moved too fast, as if trying to avoid everyone. He watched as Jack caught up with General Hammond in the hallway and spoke to him in hushed tones. Deeply concerned, Hammond nodded slightly and showed Jack inside his office. The door shut on MacGyver, and all he could do was wonder what was being said inside.
Daniel caught up with him. “What’s going on?” He asked.
MacGyver sighed. “I wish I knew,” he said. “Jack just went in Hammond’s office.”
Daniel bit his lower lip and nodded. “Listen MacGyver,” he said. “I know it’s hard, but give it time. You have to realize that Jack’s been through an experience that few of us can understand.” The pain he felt over losing his wife to the Goa’uld showed in his eyes.
MacGyver nodded and stared at the floor. “I know, Daniel,” he said. He looked back up at the closed door. “I just hope he’s not considering doing something he’ll regret in the future.”
Sam and Teal’c appeared, looking equally concerned. “I just saw the Colonel rush this way,” Sam said, her eyes moist with tears. “He wouldn’t even talk to me. What’s happening?”
MacGyver shrugged and gestured toward Hammond’s office. “He’s in there,” he said.
“Oh God,” Sam said, looking with dread at the closed door. “I hope he’s not considering…” she couldn’t finish.
“I do not believe that O’Neill will leave us,” Teal’c said. “He is going through tremendous pain, trying to understand what the Goa’uld’s effects were on his body. We must give him time to recuperate. He is a strong warrior, and he will not allow his blending with a Goa’uld to defeat him too easily. We shall soon see him again.”
“I only hope you’re right, Teal’c,” MacGyver said.
***
“I want to resign,” Jack said, staring directly at General Hammond.
General Hammond studied Jack carefully. He could see the torment hiding beneath the colonel’s calm exterior. He knew his second in command too well, how he fought hard to conceal his pain beneath protective layers of stoicism, sarcasm, and humor.
“I’m afraid I can’t let you do that, Son,” he said.
Jack rolled his eyes. “Oh, great,” he said. “Here we go. What’s your excuse this time?”
Normally, Hammond would censure Jack for insubordination by talking back to him that way, but this time, he demurred.
“You’re far too valuable to this command and your team,” he said.
“General, I had a snake implanted in my head,” Jack said. “I did some damn detestable things that I’m not proud of while it was in there.”
“Colonel, those things were not your fault,” Hammond said. “They were the fault of the Goa’uld that was inside you, controlling you.”
“Yeah, that’s what everyone keeps saying,” Jack said, smirking, his dark eyes hard and gleaming. “That doesn’t excuse what I did.”
“The Goa’uld in you is gone,” Hammond said. “It can’t force you to cause more damage, and everyone on your team, including your cousin, is fine. Hathor’s dead. Why can’t you accept that?”
Jack cringed slightly at the mention of her name, the memory of her expression at death seared in his mind. “After what I’ve been through, Sir, I’m not sure I’m fit for duty, to be quite honest with you,” he said.
Hammond leaned forward, crossing his hands, an earnest expression in his pale blue eyes. “All of us worked hard to get you back from that Goa’uld inside you,” he said. “You could have died.”
Jack released a slight laugh. “Well, maybe I should have,” he said quietly. “I’d be better off than I am now. I’m tainted forever. The memory of that snake boring into my head will always disgust me. I’ve been a host, General. I’ve been a party to what those Goa’uld do, and I hate myself for that.”
“Regardless of what you think, Son, the team that serves you is damn proud of you,” Hammond said. “So am I. So is your cousin. I recommend you take some time away from the base to relax. If after that you still decide to resign, I’ll accept it. Understood?”
Jack sighed. He was never one to compromise, but in this case he changed his mind. “Yes Sir,” he said.
***
SG-1 had been called to other duties, but MacGyver waited outside General Hammond’s office. It had been hours since he went in there, and he could only imagine what his cousin was discussing with his commanding officer. The door opened, and Jack stepped out, still looking glum. He acknowledged MacGyver with a slight nod.
“Where’s SG-1?” he asked.
“They were called away,” MacGyver said.
Jack nodded again and stared at the floor. “Just as well,” he said. “The last thing I need is more attention or pity right now.” He turned and began walking down the corridor, heading towards the locker room, the hallways still showing damage from the firefight with Hathor’s Jaffa.
MacGyver followed him. “Where are you going?” He asked, catching up to him and walking with him.
“I was going to resign, but that old coot Hammond won’t even let me do that,” Jack said bitterly. “So, I’m going to go fishing.”
“In Minnesota?” MacGyver asked.
“Where else?”
“Can I join you?”
“No, I’d rather be alone,” Jack said.
They rounded the corner and entered the locker room together. MacGyver sat on one of the benches and watched as Jack opened his locker and began pulling out his personal effects.
“I think that’s the last thing you should do right now,” he said.
“Oh, yeah? What are you, a shrink?” Jack asked angrily, tugging hard on his leather jacket until it freed itself from the hook inside his locker.
“No,” MacGyver said. “I just think that you’re dealing with a lot right now, like the death of Hathor.”
Jack whirled around to face MacGyver, his eyes black and filled with anger. “What?” He asked. “You seriously think I give a damn that that vile snakehead bit the dust?”
“Not the Goa’uld, no,” MacGyver said. “I know you’re glad it’s dead. I’m talking about the woman that the Goa’uld enslaved and turned into Hathor.”
Jack absently dropped his jacket, staring at the floor.
“I know you think about it, Jack,” MacGyver said. “The person you saw doing these awful things to you was probably just as innocent and blameless as you were, trapped helplessly inside her mind as the Goa’uld controlled her.”
Jack sighed and sat down beside MacGyver. He looked around the locker room, making sure no one else was in there but them.
“Of course I thought about it,” Jack said. “You don’t think I haven’t? At times, when I had that snake inside me, I thought I could sense the person that was actually Hathor asking for my help. I couldn’t talk to her in my head the way I could with you, but I think she loved me, and not in the sick way her Goa’uld did. She wanted me to help her, and what did I do? I killed her. I could see it in her face as she died. I let her down, Mac.”
“No you didn’t,” MacGyver said. “As much as it hurts to admit it, you probably helped her by relieving her of her misery.”
“Yeah, but I could have put her in the doohickey that killed the Goa’uld in me,” Jack said. “Who knows what the actual human being in her would have been like?” He stared into MacGyver’s eyes. “Yes, I think about these things all the time. But then, a part of me remembers how she always referred to herself in plural, as if her host was enjoying hurting others as much as her Goa’uld was, and I begin to wonder if I enjoyed what my Goa’uld was doing, enjoying the power he had.”
“No Jack,” MacGyver said. “I don’t think so. You couldn’t. I remember hearing how tortured your thoughts were, how you wanted nothing more than to get that thing out of your head so you could stop unwillingly harming me and others. You’re not a bad person, Jack. You don’t hurt others for pleasure.”
MacGyver knew some of Jack’s guilt came from the death of Charlie, but he remained silent on that subject, not wishing to expose Jack to any more pain. He was all too aware of the feelings of self hatred and blame that arose from the accidental death of someone close.
“I’m very confused right now,” Jack said. “It’s like I’m having an identity crisis or something. I feel a little…schizophrenic right now. I don’t even know who I am anymore.”
“That’s understandable,” MacGyver said. “You had a parasite invade your thoughts and your body, but you have to remember…you were still in there. We could still talk to each other. The Goa’uld didn’t manage to block you from everything. Maybe you should come to my house boat for awhile to relax. I might be the only one who can help you through this right now.”
Jack looked at MacGyver, smiling slightly. “Maybe you’re right,” he said.
To be continued…
"If a man does not keep pace with his companions, perhaps it is because he hears a different drummer."
--Henry David Thoreau
brains+brawn+beauty+personality=MacGyver
