Changing of the Guard (271K)
The Ninth Chevron (524K)
Be All that You Can Be (321K)
The Road to Hammelcar (273K)
Terms of Engagement (256K)
These fics are gen, action/adventure. (Some third season Stargate spoilers.) Very entertaining, especially the first two. The author does a really nice job with Methos and Jack's friendship. I read the fics because they were fun, but there were also a few surprisingly insightful moments.
To get into the series, you'll have to suspend your disbelief. There were several things early on that were difficult to believe, but I was amused and kept reading. After the first two fics, the suspense of disbelief has to be turned up another couple of notches, so this series won't be for everyone.
Other things to be aware of:
--The author has a serious problem with homonyms. Don't read these if you're in a particularly Grammar!Bitch mood.
--Methos is very much larger-than-life here. He's definitely got powers we don't see him having in the series. (This is not quite at the level of D.L. Witherspoon's Restoration series--which I've recommended on my other LJ, I believe--but it's close.) If you only like seeing Methos as "just a guy," this isn't for you.
--Methos and Jack are really the stars here. If one of the other characters is your favorite, you might feel a bit left out.
One of my favorite bits:
Jack shrugged. "Okay. Full name and date of birth. Oops. Sorry," O'Neill grinned apologetically. "Could have done that one myself. M-E-T--" he started to type.
"Are you mad?!" Methos suddenly stood up. "You can't put my real name on there!"
"H-O-S. Methos. I have to. Law says so." He glanced up, grinning happily. "Don't worry so much," he waved Methos back into his seat. "No one reads this stuff anyway once it's in the computer."
Methos rolled his eyes and sat down. That much was probably true given the nature of bureaucracies in general, but he'd lodge a complaint with General Hammond anyway. A public record of his name and stats hadn't ever been part of their deal.
Methos looked at the man as if he'd lost his mind.
"Guess not, huh?"
"O'Neill," Methos sighed in exasperation. "Don't try my patience."
"O," Teal'c rumbled from his place near the cabinets. "The middle letter must be O."
"O?" Methos raised an eyebrow. "And how do you figure that?"
"Colonel O'Neill once explained to me the purpose of a second or third name to identify one with a clan or place of birth. Did you not?"
"I did," O'Neill nodded.
"So, if I am Teal'c O. Chulak as you are Jack O. Neill then he must be Methos O. Earth."
Methos squeezed the bridge of his nose and tried not to laugh.
"Well if ya gotta have a name..." Jack grinned.
"Thank you, Teal'c," Methos said, then waved a hand to tell O'Neill to just do it and move on. "And I've no doubt, my young friend, that one day you too shall discover that not only have you served your people well, but that they have repaid you by turning your name to mud."
"Date and place of birth? Oh, I know that! Chal-co-li-thic era," Jack typed slowly. "Planet Dirt."
Methos chuckled. O'Neill had better hope no one else read this, or someone would likely schedule him for a psych evaluation -- and not just his strange inductee.
"Social security number?"
"000-00-0001," Methos grinned as Jack looked up.
"First in line, eh?"
"Early riser," Methos shrugged negligently.
"Works for me. Mother's maiden name?"
"Terra," Methos answered promptly.
Jack snorted. "Big guy, huh?"
"24,000 miles in circumference." Methos squared his shoulders and smirked.
"Ouch! Okay. List job titles and previous places of employment."
"Well, let's start with the longest period you've ever worked and go from there."
"Death. One thousand, three hundred seventeen years."
"Death?" Jack sat back from the typewriter and stared at him.
Methos nodded. He'd wanted him on the team so badly, then he really ought to know just what he was getting. "Yes. Death. As in Revelations. You know, the fourth seal, rode a pale horse, Hades followed behind. That was me. Death."
"O-kay," Jack nodded skeptically and typed. "Angel of Death."
"Trust me, O'Neill," Methos said quite seriously, leaning forward. "I was no angel."
The colonel frowned and searched through his drawers until he found an old fashioned eraser. He rubbed away the words, then blew on the page and laid his hands on the keys. "No angel. Right. Minion of Satan," he typed instead, then pulled the form out of the machine, ignoring Methos' laughter.