The Debriefing of Robert Makepeace
by Sheryl Rieling
The small gray room was a cell.
There were nicer names for it, but it was irrelevant to the two men sitting in it. The man handcuffed to the bolted base of the table was openly belligerent, staring at the man across from him with open contempt, rattling his shackles and casting covert glances at the mirror that covered the entire far wall. It was obviously two-way and the significance of it was not wasted on either one of them. The tension in the room was palpable.
"Hell, the tension in the small room behind the mirror isn't much better," thought George Hammond as he watched them. Between the two JAG officers, the prosecutor and Major Davis, the room was downright hot and claustrophobic, and it was getting smaller all the time. Class A jackets had been abandoned after the first twenty minutes. Ties followed after the next ten. Glaring was definitely not a spectator sport.
Hammond turned to the prosecutor. "Are we taping this?"
"Yeah, for what it's worth. Is your boy ever going to say anything?" Colonel Fleming was becoming impatient, sweating profusely and mopping his neck with a handkerchief.
George snorted. "They're saying plenty. They're just not talking."
From his side of the mirror, George could feel the heat of Makepeace's anger. He had to hand it to Jack. The colonel was cool, sitting there waiting for the explosion that was becoming inevitable. You couldn't put two bulls at a table and not expect some butted horns.
"You know, O'Neill - you really blew it big-time." Makepeace said, his voice sounding tinny as it fed through the speaker on the wall.
Jack responded conversationally, as if he were discussing the weather. "So you said before. Care to explain?"
Makepeace sat back. "I have nothing to say to you - or to your buddies behind the mirror. I want my lawyer."
"There aren't going to be any lawyers for a while, Robert, so you may as well talk to me."
George stepped over to the mirror and suddenly found himself in a crowd as every other person in the room jockeyed for a good view. The charisma of the two men in the cell was hypnotic and the show was bound to be a four alarm fire. He found himself inordinately proud that both of these men were under his command. It said a lot about a general that had officers like these who reported to him.
"What's the matter, Jack?" The cuffs rattled again. "Is Hammond afraid to let me have my day in court?"
"There's not going to be any 'day in court'. You know better than that. You'll simply disappear into the military justice system." Jack placed his hands on the table, palms flat against the scarred surface. "No one is coming for you. You've become expendable."
"They won't lock me up for protecting my country!"
Jack laughed, a cold, unpleasant sound. "Come on, Robert. Guys like us know the score. We never cross the end-zone and spike the ball. We never get the girl and we never, ever expect anything more than what we have in the here and now. That 'they're coming for me' bullshit is for the Maybornes and the Samuels of the world. WE know better. We've been there. They waltz away and guys like us get left holding the bag."
George felt a chill run down his spine as Jack concluded his little speech. If he really felt that way, they had some things to discuss after the interrogation. George Hammond did not leave his men to rot in prison.
"You're nothing like me!" Makepeace spat. "All you did was weaken our country and the entire world! At least I was doing something about it. I was doing my part in making sure we could defend this fucking planet against the Goa'uld. Not playing errand boy for a bunch of aliens!"
"Errand boy?"
The two words were said so low that the five observers leaned forward, as if standing closer to the glass would make the words louder, less menacing. The warning in the voice was unmistakable. O'Neill had reached the end of his patience. Dangerous was the word that popped into George's head.
"Yes, errand boy. The Asgard snap their fingers or whatever the hell they have and you go running, like a fucking lap dog. You should be careful whose ass you kiss, O'Neill, they won't help us when we're under attack. They'll sit there in orbit with the fucking Tollans and let the snake-heads wipe us out!" Makepeace sat back and shook his head. "They have you brainwashed, Jack. You said so yourself that they only intercede when it suits them. Limited benevolence you called it. They wouldn't lift a finger in our defense. We have to rely on ourselves and what we can bring back from off world. Hell, the Goa'uld steal what they need, why not us? I know you understand this. You don't like the fucking Tollans any more than I do."
"You know nothing!" Jack snapped, slapping the table and leaning forward. "The Tollans and our other allies are the only thing standing between us and the snakes. You and your NID pals almost left us out there without friends!"
"They're not our friends! They're aliens just like those snakey mother fuckers!" Robert leaned forward, his expression anxious, desperate to convince. "We're human. We need to stick together on this deal.
"No! They're not like the Gould!"
The two men were breathing hard, leaning towards each other, struggling to make the other understand, now, when understanding was everything.
George watched as O'Neill finally sat back, letting the tension drain out of him. Fleming had warned him about allowing the prisoner to rattle him and Jack was apparently taking that to heart. He could see the effort expended as Jack unclenched his fists and placed his hands flat on the table once again.
"How long have you known Newman?" he asked, changing the topic.
"Newman, who?" responded Makepeace, obviously unhappy about the change in tact.
"Newman, the kid who came through the gate last. You were cuffing him and you said, "I've got you, Newman.""
"I don't know what you're talking about." Smiling, taunting.
O'Neill rested his elbows on the table and rubbed his temples, tiredly. "For crying out loud, Robert. We know you know him. Do you honestly think this is helping you?"
"Not helping you is helping me, O'Neill," he said. "Not to mention amusing." He gestured at the mirrored wall, his chains clattering against the table. "Don't you guys think so?"
"Never mind them, let's talk about Newman."
"I have nothing to say."
"Then I guess this is over." Jack stood and made to leave. "I'll see you around, Robert." He paused, raising his eyebrows. "Oh, that's right, I won't. You're going to disappear."
Makepeace laughed and called out in a soft voice, "How's Dr. Jackson? Does he trust your command now?"
George flinched behind the mirror, holding his breath as O'Neill stalked over to the table.
"What the hell do you mean by that? What does Daniel have to do with any of this?"
"When I told your team that I hoped they would trust my command as much as yours," Robert smiled, cruelly, "he told me that he never trusted your command. It was the high point of my day. Your own team didn't trust you."
"Don't believe him, Jack." George muttered to himself. "He's mind fucking you."
Jack's eyes flashed he turned towards the mirror. "I don't believe you. Besides, this isn't about SG-1, it's about you and your choice of friends!"
"My friends trust me, Jack. How come yours don't? Could it be that you have none? Does it ever get lonely being the only double D on the flagship team?"
Makepeace continued and Jack stood rigid, unknowingly in front of George.
Do you have a single friend that doesn't report to you?"
George reached out a hand and touched the glass, willing his strength through the thin barrier to the gray man before him.
"He's getting to him. Your boy is going to lose it."
George turned to address Fleming. "You don't know Jack O'Neill the way I do. He's not going to lose anything. He's just letting him spout off. Give him time." He crossed his fingers and hoped that he was telling the prosecutor the truth. Jack didn't look very convincing. Hell, he looked ravaged.
O'Neill's voice came through the speaker. Low and menacing.
"I don't care what you say, Robert. If SG-1 has a problem, it will be resolved. At least I'll have the time to fix it." Jack turned back to the table and squared his shoulders. "YOU on the other hand will be lost in the top secret files out at Area 51." He walked over to Makepeace and bent over, placing his hands on either side of the shackled prisoner. "And if you keep making these uncooperative noises, you're going to disappear for good. Lack of cooperation does not go over well with these folks, Robert." He stood again, moving around the table and resuming his seat. "Now how about helping me out here. How long have you known Newman?"
The two men stared at each other for long minutes, sizing each other up. Confronting the current situation and making new resolutions. Two old soldiers assessing a mission that left a bad taste in the mouth. Makepeace finally broke the silence.
"I met Newman through that Goa'uld ball on Maybourne's aircraft. He was leading a rogue unit from an undisclosed location."
"Was it Maybourne that recruited you?"
Robert's shoulders slumped as if the very act of talking about it would somehow leave him bereft. "Yeah. He came by my house after you guys arranged the Asgard peace treaty with the Goa'uld. We talked about the necessity of finding technology that could repel the snakes. He understood how I felt and he already had assets in place that were ready to deploy. We talked about you too."
"Me?"
"Yeah. He didn't like you much back then. He thought you were a pushy, arrogant asshole." Makepeace laughed. "He probably likes you even less now."
Jack's smile was arctic. "I'm heartbroken."
"I'll just bet you are."
For a few moments, the atmosphere in the room was calm. The two soldiers had found common ground and the lines between them blurred for a few short minutes.
O'Neill ended the truce with a single question.
"Did you consider what would happen if you got caught betraying the SGC?"
"I didn't betray anyone! You're the guy letting the aliens dictate the earth's policies. You're the guys who jump when the little gray men whistle. All I did was protect my country and my planet."
Jack shook his head. "You really don't think you did anything wrong?"
Makepeace glared at him. "I was defending my planet from all enemies, foreign and domestic. The Maybournes of this world may be slimy, but they have the right idea. We need to start building our defenses now. Not hope that an alien race will defend us or help us enforce an unenforceable treaty. When the shit hits the fan again, we're going to be standing with our dicks in the wind." Robert looked at O'Neill, his expression saddened. "After reading your reports for the last two years, I thought you understood. We need the ability to protect ourselves without relying on anyone else. Especially not these fuckers who have all of the technology and aren't willing to help us out."
"Those 'fuckers' as you call them, have bailed our asses out of the fire more times than I can count," Jack said.
"So did SG3. You'd be a Goa'uld right now if we hadn't gone back for you and the rest of your fucking team. The Tok'Ra may have given us the floor plans to Hathor's facility, but the SG teams were the ones putting their asses on the line."
"Why did you if you hate SG1 so much?"
"We did it because you guys are part of the team. An annoying part, I'll grant you" Robert said, sitting back with a clatter. "The human team and we don't leave our own behind. In retrospect, maybe we should have."
Jack rose. "I guess after that, there's nothing more to say. Have a nice time in whatever fucking hole they put you in, Makepeace." He walked to the door and paused as Makepeace made another comment.
"You wanted the technology as much as Maybourne did, O'Neill. You know you did."
Jack answered him without turning around. "Yeah, Robert. I want an ion cannon so bad I can taste it. But I'm not willing to steal from our allies to get it."
"Then you're a fool, O'Neill."
Jack opened the door and walked into the small observation room. George immediately moved over to him as the prosecutor closed the door behind him.
"Jack, are you alright?"
"No." he said, his eyes were flat, unreadable. "Tell me you have enough to nail Maybourne and his minions so we can get the hell out of here."
Fleming answered in a slightly awed voice. "More than enough, Colonel. You did a great job."
Hammond flinched as Jack's dead eyes fell on Fleming. "Well apparently I have a gift for screwing my friends." He turned and saluted Hammond. "I'll be in the car if you need me, General."
George couldn't find it in him to make Jack stay in the depressing room another minute longer. He returned the salute. "Very well, Colonel. We'll be leaving shortly."
"Yes, sir."
He watched as the colonel left the room, wondering about the entire interview. Wondering about Jack and his misconceptions about himself. As the men in the room began to gather their papers together, one of the JAG officers entered the interview room and sat down with Makepeace. George looked at his disgraced officer. Given the right set of circumstances, it could be Jack sitting there.
Images of O'Neill's face when he returned with Marin, the Oban child, flashed through his mind.
It wasn't that far a stretch from stealing their children to stealing their technology. In fact, there was barely a whisper of difference. Sighing heavily, George snapped his briefcase closed. There was no margin of comfort when you commanded people like O'Neill and Makepeace.
Non at all. But he was honored and slightly humbled, none the less.
-Fin-