Two Roads
Late in the summer, Teal'c fell in battle fighting offworld with the Free-Jaffa...it was a worthy death that brought him pleasure in his last moments, but it was a devastating blow to Jack who was already facing an extremely bad year.
The Ori were massing for an all-out attack on the Milky Way Galaxy. The Wraith and a new-brand of Replicators were squaring off in the Pegasus Galaxy with the winner poised to give the Ori a run for their money. His least-favorite Goa'uld, Baal, was gaining ever more power among the few remaining system Lords and threatening to take his sadistic reign of terror to a higher level. America was gearing up for a bloody election battle with no winner in sight; Team USA didn't stand a chance at the World Curling Championships; and the day they'd all been holding their breath against arrived...
Fortunately, Carter's rejection of Asgard intervention had required him to make other plans. Because by the time the attack came, the Asgard were already out of the picture. Four months earlier they had determined they were fighting a lost cause and chose to throw in the towel.
When Jack was informed of their plans, he'd given an inelegant snort of disgust and uttered a forceful 'Over my dead body!' Then he'd hatched a plan to kidnap one thousand of the little guys. He dropped them off on an appropriate planet-one lacking a Stargate-and left them without one scrap of their Replicator-enticing technology. Correctly surmising that Ally would have by then come into her own and either set her mind to saving their little gray butts or destroying them along with everything else, he extracted from a very irritated Thor a promise they'd give him twenty years. If at the end of that time they still wanted to blow out their collective brains...well, whatever, but if that was the way they went, he personally would never speak to them again. And then he'd left them...with Sam hovering on just this side of life and Ally glaring destruction in his direction, he really didn't have the time to deal with any more of their nonsense.
So for all he'd reconsidered and reevaluated, the river escape still stood as Plan A. Since he'd made his promise to Carter-except for the days he'd spent in the Twilight Zone of the ICU by her bedside or stuck under the Mountain or offworld-he'd carried forty pounds of potatoes in an oversized duffle bag on a practice run every night.
He had picked the darkest hour of the night or early morning, and he'd run it in nothing but the worn-out sweats he slept in. To throw any long-term, recon team a red herring, he ran one of nine different routes every time he went out. He varied each just enough to make setting a trap in any vulnerable area problematic--and he never ran the river route more than any other. He more often than not made an artistic slip down the bank to the riverside or some other slight foul-up whenever he did head that way. On a particularly, bright night he gave an Emmy-winning fall down the steep slope to hammer in the fact that the river route would be his very last choice.
He never glanced at the riverbank where an old tree's roots sheltered his hidden raft and supplies, never slowed down where he intended to enter the river, and always ran back up the bank and into the dark wood beyond his property line before looping back home.
The Bible, in a message for a different people and a different time, admonished, "...pray ye that your flight be not in the winter." He took that warning to heart. There was no way he could cover their tracks if there was snow on the ground; and rain turned the riverbank into slippery, sucking glop and made the route impassible. His prayers were answered. Autumn was making its last stand against the coming winter when he made his flight with Ally down the bank. The air carried with it the faintest promise of the snows to come, but the ground was firm and dry beneath his bare feet.
In the privacy of a locked room under the Mountain, far from any prying eyes, he'd put in hour after hour drilling raft deployment until he could do it as easily as he could tear down and rebuild his P-90.
He'd spent several of the afternoons Janet and Cassy drug Sam out shopping making recon trips. With the kids safely belted in the cab seat of his pickup, he'd scoped out the roads the river intersected and made contingency plans as well as he could. He found where the river branched off into two and followed them both to find out which would be the fork he would need, how long they'd stick to the water, and at what point they'd leave it behind.
He enlisted Teal'c's participation and one warm, lazy day they had rented a raft and made a run down the river past his house as though to make a change from their more usual pursuits. While they both pretended to enjoy the day, they'd tried to note every possible landing site and anywhere an inexperienced river-traveler could easily come to grief. One run wasn't anywhere near enough. He didn't dare make the run again and tip off anyone watching. Teal'c, however, struck up a friendship with a certain captain who regularly spent days out on the river and became quite proficient at the sport while making the careful, detailed observations Jack needed. Second-hand knowledge would, in this case, have to do.
Jack himself had kept his feet planted securely on dry ground and walked the riverbank for miles with a fishing pole in one hand and a tackle box in the other. The tackle box hadn't held bait and lures. He'd hidden its contents in various, likely places, and if Sam wondered about him never catching a thing, she kept it to herself.
So that night-early morning actually-when some sixth sense brought them both instantly to alertness with the awareness of impending peril, he was as ready as he could be. The one thing he hadn't drilled was Ally herself. He'd never made the run with her...she had enough nightmares without that. But, in every other sense, he was as prepared as he knew how to be.
He'd slunk quietly off the bed and sensed rather than heard Carter's low and urgent 'Go!' behind him. He could just catch the smallest glimpse of her as she slipped past him into the boys' room. There wasn't time for a last embrace or even a passing touch. He set his mind on his task and left her to hers.
There was at the end of Ally's bed a soft, fleece blanket...it was as black as the night and Carter--or someone else in her absence--had made sure it had been there every night since they'd arrived at Plan A. He flicked it quietly off the bed so it made only the slightest breeze in the still, night air and without a sound located his daughter in the dark. He placed a careful finger to her lips and put his mouth next to her ear. "Time to go," he whispered simply and trusted she recognized his voice. He covered her, head to toe, with the black blanket effectively concealing any glow-in-the-dark fairy princesses or dancing bears that might have been lying in wait on her pajamas to give them away.
He gathered her in his arms; she was lighter than the potatoes by a few pounds. She tried to wrap her arms around his neck, but he tucked them back under the blanket. She huddled into a small ball around his chest, and he took a fraction of an instant to pass a reassuring hand down her back and then began the heart-racing, breath-stopping attempt to reach safety without being discovered by whoever was lurking in the dark preparing for a full-scale or covert invasion of their home.
During his nightly runs, he's exited out just about every window and door they had...except for the one he'd planned to make use of when the time came. He'd 'accidentally' sent a hockey puck through Ally's window one day not long after he'd brought the family home to Colorado. In the process of replacing the broken window he'd made it more secure from the outside and added some cosmetic touches that made the window appear just a bit too small for a grown man to squeeze through. It wasn't though. He and Ally ducked easily through it without whoever was out there in the dark being the wiser. The sentries he expected to see around the perimeter of the house were only beginning to make their careful, slow way into position and missed him entirely.
Hugging the dark walls, he crept along the far corner of the house and didn't take the time to try to spot his adversaries. He wasn't looking to make a defense just an escape. Even without seeing them, he knew they were out there somewhere. His thoughts had sharpened, and his entire body thrummed with the precision that would make all the difference under fire. This was no drill, no false alarm. They-whoever they were-were out there readying for the attack, preparing for a battle he didn't plan to let them fight. He was racing for his daughter's life, and he had no intention of coming in second.
The fence, so necessary for the safety of the boys, was an obstacle he could have done without. He'd spent a fair amount of time slipping quietly through his new gate on his practice runs, but it had only been for show. Anyone with any sense would have a sentry or two posted there, and he had no intention of running into a trap. Instead, he'd drilled endlessly on the obstacle, training course. With his bare feet making hardly a sound he darted across the shadowed end of his yard and leaped over it with nothing but his own heartbeat sounding the alarm...one hurdle down.
The men preparing to assault his house had failed to pick up their too-slow pace. The man who would watch the back gate and might have stood a chance at stopping him slid stealthily into position only after he'd already flashed by and slipped down the slope toward the river. It was steep and rock-strewn enough it hadn't been a stretch to make it appear too hard to bother with in the dark. But he navigated it as though he was a mountain goat and later the trackers couldn't say for sure that anyone had come that way in weeks.
He heard the sounds of gunfire back up the hill. They crashed loudly in his ears and then faded away. They were not followed by shouts of alarm throughout the neighborhood, nor did he expect them to be. His house, backed by the river, sat on a large lot so there were few neighbors to raise an alarm. Those there were would either sleep on or roll over and go back to sleep without a conscious awareness of what they had heard. They might as well have been on an uninhabited world. More than likely, he was the only one who recognized what he'd heard, and he could not stop to do anything about it.
Carter, keep your head down, he thought as he ran silently on. He stuck as closely as possible to the dry soil against the bank and not the soft, wet sand of the riverside. His cache was just far enough downstream that any noise he might make setting up the raft would, he hoped, be inaudible from his back gate. He was still close enough that he couldn't miss the angry, concussive blasts of automatic fire. The neighbors would surely all be awake and dialing 911 now. What were the idiots thinking? He'd assumed it would be a covert, smash and grab hit not a street battle, but there was still nothing he could do but forge ahead.
"Stay down and still," he ordered Ally as he dumped her, still covered in the blanket, beside the old tree and swiftly dug out the raft and hidden supplies. Speed was everything tonight, but stealth would be tomorrow so he did his best to leave the tree looking as though its roots had never been disturbed. In the dark, he wasn't entirely successful but good enough in that it would take the light of day to give him away. Three-and-a-half hours or so too late.
He took only the time to pull on a black turtle-necked sweater and stuff a stocking cap on over his own head, before he had the raft ready to go. "In you go, girl," he told Ally in a harsh whisper and dumped her onto its cold floor. Then with a running push he propelled the raft out into the river's current and jumped in.
He let the river take them where it would while he pulled off Ally's too-thin pajamas (not a fairy or bear in sight, just frolicking penguins in purple slippers) and pulled on a hooded black sweat suit. Over it he secured a child's life jacket. He took her chin in his hand and lifted her face to his. "Keep your eyes shut," he commanded her and blacked her face. Her wide, terrified eyes stared out at him when he was finished, and he took a moment he didn't have to kiss her forehead before pushing her back down by his feet.
He was done just in time as he spent the next harrying few minutes fighting a particularly nasty stretch of the river. When they'd passed the worst of it, he glanced down at Ally and saw her mouth was open in a soundless scream of terror. For the first time and he guessed the last, he was glad Ally was mute. There was no time to comfort her.
He negotiated the next turn and maneuvered the raft toward the dark shore. He'd miscalculated the strength of the river and it had already rocketed them past his first two hidden caches...he was glad he'd gone to the expense and time to build so many redundancies into the plan, but he couldn't afford to miss this one. It was the last before they hit the first of three bridges where they would be sitting ducks. He ran the raft to ground and jumped out.
"Stay down," he commanded as he secured the raft. He hurried to his buried hoard, and this time he didn't worry about stealth. Speed was all that mattered. By now, the enemy would know they were gone. And if they thought at all like he did, someone with a sniper's gun would be racing to set up from one of those bridges. He couldn't let them get there before them. He was pushing off and throwing himself back into the raft as quickly as he could manage it.
He murmured gentle encouragements to Ally, but if she could hear them over the river's roar they didn't ease the terror in her haunted features. He leaned over her and said urgently, "Keep your head down and your eyes closed." She was tucked into a ball at his feet, and he tossed one of the bulletproof vests he'd just unearthed over her small form. With a great more difficulty he managed to pull on a vest of his own and not lose complete control of the raft. By then, he could already see the flashes of light from the approaching bridge. He was too inexperienced at handling the raft to try to influence their approach. He left it to the river and stretched his body over Ally's as much as he could. If they were spotted...if shots were fired-they'd have to get through him before they reached her.
After they'd passed rapidly through the cooler air under the bridge and back out again, the river's speed increased even more. He shouted in the hopes she could hear him over its roar, "We've got to get past two more bridges before we're out of sight of any roads...stay down!" He regretted not taking the time to lash her to the raft as they both were thrown about on their wild way past the next remaining bridges. He wedged his body over hers and took the brunt of the splashing, cold water rushing around and over them. They were so tossed about that he never even knew when they'd safely cleared the last bridge.
Only at the last minute did he raise his head and recognize the stand of small quaking aspen that marked the river's fork. He spent a desperate couple of minutes fighting the river before they were swept along on his intended path. They flashed under another bridge a mile farther on, but it didn't cause him much concern. Carter had been right, they were by then miles ahead of any pursuers...no one would be this far downriver hanging over the railing with a sniper rifle to target his four-year-old daughter.
The river slowed around the next bend, it was still moving along at a fair clip but was no longer a raging torrent. He pulled Ally out of the sloshing water collecting around her and wrapped her in his arms. "We're out of it, Ally," he assured her. He could see her teeth chattering though the river swallowed up the sound. "Few more miles," he promised her, "we'll get off the river then...get you warm and dry. Just a few more miles." There was, if it hadn't washed overboard during the worst of their trip, a waterproof bag with a change of clothes for the both of them and other supplies. And up ahead there was the perfect, shadowed, isolated spot to land the raft and make the necessary changes...they'd made it.
~*~*~*~***~*~*~**~*~*~
The unfamiliar sound going off near the head of his bed drug Daniel up from the depths of sleep. He lay a moment longer trying to figure out what he was hearing, but he made up for the lost time as soon as realization struck.
"Just as a safety precaution," Jack had assured him when he'd suggested installing the panic button. His tone had implied they couldn't have been discussing anything less boring if they'd been talking about shoe sizes. But, they'd both known differently. Jack had gone on without any hint of urgency or inner turmoil to outline just what he'd want Daniel to do if the alarm ever sounded. Daniel had memorized the instructions though he'd fervently hoped he'd never need to implement them.
He jumped out of bed and silenced its insistent warning. It was too much to hope this was a false alarm. He made the first call before he even dressed: 911; armed intruders at the O'Neill residence; please send help right away followed by Jack's address and a 'for God's sake approach with caution'; and a click because he wouldn't be staying on the line regardless of what the 911 operator requested.
He'd pulled on pants and stuck his feet in his shoes before the second call rang through: "Walter...it's Daniel. Please send the packages right away." He didn't want to think of the Shanahans being rousted from their beds without warning by armed United States military personnel and drug off to a safe-house. But, he was relatively sure Jack hadn't deemed it prudent to give them a head's up.
"Right, Dr. Jackson. They'll be in the post within the hour."
"Good," and another click because he was far from done.
He'd finished dressing and was already half-way to his vehicle before the next call connected, "Janet...it's Daniel."
"Daniel? It's 2:37 in the morning. What's wrong?"
"Just listen to me, please...I need you to meet me at the end of Jack's street."
"Now?"
"Ten minutes...if I'm not there, wait for me."
"Daniel, what's going on?"
"Just be there, Janet...and keep your head down."
"It will take me longer than that..."
"Fifteen then...any longer and I'll move in without you." Another click and no time to worry whether or not she would take him seriously or roll over and go back to sleep.
He was already driving towards Jack's when he placed the last call and found General Hammond's Texas drawl grew slower and thicker with sleep. Without identifying himself or giving any introduction he said, "Jack's throwing a party and I think we're going to need a clean-up crew."
The pause on the other end was measured in mere milliseconds and then the General asked, "Can't you make local arrangements?"
"I'm afraid not...you know how Jack loves his privacy."
"Right. I'll get someone on it immediately. But I expect an itemized bill at your earliest convenience."
"That will be fine." A final click and then there was nothing to do but drive and try not to imagine the worse. He made the trip in record time. Janet swerved in behind him almost before he'd put the vehicle in park. She ran forward, and he pushed open his passenger door. "Get in."
She had a million questions but from where they sat they could see revolving, colored lights projecting up into the clouds over what had to be Jack's driveway. Three more police cars with sirens blaring and lights flashing turned the corner and sped to join them, and she didn't waste any time asking her questions. Daniel pulled out to follow them before she'd even slammed her door shut.
He stopped the car only halfway up the isolated street, and they crept cautiously forward on foot from there. Police met them at the end of the drive, and Daniel wondered just how Jack had expected him to proceed from there.
"Sorry, Sir, Ma'am...we've a situation here and have to ask you to vacate the area." They could see the beams of flashlights scouring the area around the house, down to the river, and out into the woods beyond.
"I'm sorry," Daniel said. "Our friends live here...they called me and I made the 911 call. Please, can you tell us what's happening?"
"Afraid not...please move along."
"Right," he said and only resignation sounded in his voice though it was far from what he felt. They retreated a few feet down the road and stood watching the action from its side. An ambulance passed them throwing loose gravel out at them. He closed his eyes and thought, Ok, Jack...what now?
"What's going on, Daniel?" Janet asked him over the chaotic blaring of the sirens.
"I'm not sure," he answered honestly.
"You're not sure? Jack or Sam called you and told you something was happening, right? What? Robbery? Attack? What?"
Daniel shook his head and wouldn't meet her eyes. With a frustrated sigh, she subsided. "Wait here," he said and walked back to have a word with the police. "Listen, um...my name is Daniel Jackson. Anyone asks for me--would you tell them, I'm out here?"
"Right, Sir. I can't promise you anything though."
"What about the people who live here? Can you tell me if they are all right?"
"Sorry, Sir." Right. He started back to Janet. Three, dark SUVs with government plates passed him, and he had no way of knowing whether General Hammond had been able to mobilize a unit that quickly or if he was watching reinforcements for the wrong side arrive.
Janet was shivering in the cool, night air. He put his arm around her and they huddled together waiting while the unit leader shoved credentials at the police and waved his men through. Daniel didn't recognize his silhouette.
The SUVs emptied their load of what looked like swarming SWAT men, their leader waved an irritated arm at the cop cars filling the drive, and someone cut the sirens. The sudden silence echoed painfully in their ears. They could not quite hear the rumbling of the police and GI heads butting up against each other in the age-old territorial dispute. It didn't last long. The policeman strode off with a stiff-back and motioned to several of his men; the spook called him back and after a moment Daniel and Janet could hear a call come through to the man guarding the entrance.
"Anyone show up by the name of Jackson...let him through. Right away." The man raised his eyes to meet Daniel's and nodded his head.
"Already here, Chief...on his way now." Daniel pulled Janet along with him and the cop made no objection. He'd seen everything they had and knew it was no longer his problem.
The police chief, who looked like Colombo only in the look of shuttered intelligence shining in his eyes, met them. Without comment he examined Daniel's ID and then said, "These folks are taking charge...matter of National Security, I'm to understand. I'm supposed to grin and bear it and brief you on what we've got...seems you're the man."
Daniel blinked at this news and nodded his head in what he hoped didn't look like shock. "Right," he said. "What is the situation?"
"Area seems secure. We've got three dead...two in the house, one in the front yard."
No, please no. Janet gave a low grown beside him, and he fought for air in order to ask, "Adults?" The chief frowned at him and nodded his head. "Woman-tall, blond?" Daniel went on.
"Nope...all male."
Daniel blinked in relief, and he knew it didn't escape the man in front of him. But he had to know, "About as tall as me, skinny...going slightly gray?"
"No...you're describing the folks who live here?"
"Yes."
"Well, we're not looking at the good guys here. Definitely perps--dressed a lot like your friends there," he said nodding at the government agents sweeping through the house and yard. "They didn't come here to steal the TVs. There are no civilians in the house or the immediate area as far as we have been able to ascertain..." the man looked intently at Daniel and his voice hardened.
"What we've got is a house shot up with machine gun fire and empty baby beds...now either you've got those kids tucked away nice and tight in a safehouse somewhere, and my men are out risking their necks in the dark searching for them for nothing...or you--," his clipped words failed to come up with a word vile enough for what he was suggesting and he came close to spitting at Daniel's feet instead before continuing, "...you've run some sort of operation with blatant disregard for their safety."
Daniel denied the accusation. "This wasn't a messed up operation...the people who live here are my best friends, and I love those kids as though they were my own...believe me."
Something in Daniel's voice and face must have persuaded the chief because he damped down his tone before continuing. "Really...Mr. Jackson? Your folks showed up awfully fast."
"Yes, they did...but you beat them," Daniel said.
The man acknowledged his score with a small nod. "I live down the street...my kid delivers their newspaper. Even so, I didn't beat you by much." His suspicions were still clear, but Daniel chose not to answer them. The chief let it drop. "I picked this up inside," he said. "Pretty recent wouldn't you say?"
"Yes," Daniel said looking at one of the family pictures Hank had shot the day Sam came home from the hospital.
"I'd like to run an APB...seems I need your ok on it though."
Daniel looked away from the picture and the man and stared off into the distance. Emergency lighting was turning the whole yard into daytime with long, eerie shadows dancing around the edges. He could see the police pushing farther and farther into the woods. If Jack had gotten away the last thing he would need was more people on his tail.
But, if he hadn't...Daniel sighed and cursed Jack's perverse idea of what was and was not 'need-to-know'. But, surely Jack had never expected Daniel to be the one left making decisions so far out of his expertise. That was either Hammond or the bad guys-he still wasn't sure which.
"Jackson?" the chief said, demanding an answer.
"I'm sorry," Daniel said, "that's not an option right now." Janet gave a dismayed squawk, and the policeman tightened his lips and scowled. "I'd explain if I could," Daniel assured them both though neither seemed to believe him. "Tell me what happened here. Please."
He thought for a minute the chief was going to stalk away without bothering, but in the end, he continued. "It was a well-organized operation. Men at each gate and corners of the house waiting incase someone made it out. Looks like some went in easy through the front door...others blew out the window of the master bedroom and went in that way. Probably, gave the folks a rude awakening, rousted them out of bed," he frowned as he pictured it all in his mind. "Made some demands, got some answers they didn't particularly like. Shot up the bedroom in retaliation...foolish thing to do--alerted half the neighborhood in the meantime.
"Of course, officers were already in route due to a 911 call that I believe you made, Dr. Jackson?"
"Yes," Daniel admitted without bothering to give away any more information.
The chief waited hopefully for a beat and then went on, "It just gets better and better from there...just about every wall in there's bullet ridden. It's possible they were looking for something hidden in the walls...they went after the fireplace like they intended to take it apart. But overall, it looks more like someone went off their rocker for a couple of minutes...ran through the house just letting it rip. The body in the yard? I'm willing to bet you he fell to friendly fire...standing on the wrong side of the wall at the wrong time.
"At some point, someone fought back--the body in the bedroom has a combat knife under his ribs-- probably his own as the sheath on his belt is empty. The fight went into the hallway...there's blood on the walls and carpet, good-sized dents in the walls, and another body."
"How'd that one die?" Janet asked.
The chief pursed his lips at her but seeing Daniel made no objection, he deigned to answer her. "No visible cause of death...we were still waiting on the medical examiner. Guess you'll be calling in your own now."
"Right," Daniel said. "Is there anything else?"
"I don't think we're looking at a failed abduction here. A bungled one with three dead, but successful nonetheless. The sirens got their wind up; they drug the family out of here and were gone before we arrived.
"Chance we take...come in with sirens blaring and hope we scare off the perps before they kill someone or come in quiet and hope to catch them unawares." He shrugged, "Hard to say which would have been better for the folks who lived here.
"Everything was quiet by the time we arrived, but the body outside was still warm--even the blood on the walls wasn't dry. We all but caught them in the act. If you let them get away trying to cover up whatever went down here..." He shook his head in disgust, "You say you care about these people, let me get that APB out NOW."
"I wish I could."
"Yeah, you said that. Well, I don't envy you this case, Dr. Jackson. I hope for those children's sake you know what you're doing. Here's my card. When you're ready to do the right thing--give me a call, the APB will hit the streets before you're off the phone."
"Thank you," Daniel said. "And thank you for getting here so quickly. You never know...you might have scared them off before they got what they came for."
The policeman looking old said, "Then obviously you and I don't have the same concerns here, Dr. Jackson."
"How's that?"
"Whatever you folks had hidden here having to do with National Security--it isn't worth a dime next to this," the cop answered as he waved the picture of Jack and Sam and the kids in his face. "These folks aren't here anymore are they? I'm telling you they didn't walk out of here on their own." He shook himself like a dog as though he could throw off his contempt and anger, and then stalked away to call off his men.
The team leader of 'his friends' stepped up to take his place before Janet could open her mouth to demand he start explaining things. "Major Forsight," he introduced himself, "General Hammond sent us."
"You won't mind if I verify that will you, Major?" Daniel asked, flipping open his phone to do just that.
"Of course not, Sir," the man said and waited calmly while General Hammond assured Daniel that Forsight and his men were the cavalry.
"Best I could do at such short notice,' Hammond said and got off the line to allow Daniel to deal with the situation at best possible speed.
"Where did you guys come from?" Daniel asked. He hadn't recognized a single man among them.
"That's...a matter of National Security, Sir. Let's just say we were out on night maneuvers and leave it at that."
"Right," Daniel agreed. Forsight tipped his weapon and for the first time Daniel noticed the telltale red of intars. "That the best you got?" he asked the major, understanding the general's comment a bit late.
"That's it...but the area is secure, Sir. No sign of any hostiles. I'd say the police sirens routed them; most likely they took the hostages and retreated. Wouldn't be surprised if they passed the locals on their way out."
"Are you sure they took the hostages...isn't it possible they got away?" It wasn't that he didn't trust the chief's assessment; more that he desperately wanted to hear something different. The major was not obliging.
"With three little children?" the major shook his head dismissively, and Janet put a hand over her mouth and made a failed attempt at not crying. "The cops and our transport will have put paid to any tracks"
"The chief said it looked like they did fight back...isn't it possible they killed the ones in the house and escaped before the men outside knew it?"
"And are hiding where?" the major asked. "The area's empty. The police were swarming it like flies before the blood was dry and never saw a sign anyone made it outside the house. I'm sorry, Dr. Jackson."
"Right," Daniel said for the umpteenth time since he'd arrived and for all his saying it, not one thing had been right the entire time. "Have your men do what needs done out here. Organize search parties to scour the area once daylight hits...see what they can find that's been missed in the dark. Leave the house for now...in fact, I want it cleared of all personnel. I'll secure it myself."
If the major thought him lacking the experience or training to do the job, he hid it behind a snappy, "Yes, Sir." Calling out orders like a drill sergeant, he sent his men scurrying to the task.
Daniel put an arm around Janet but found nothing he could say to comfort her. Things were quite possibly just as bad as they looked. He nudged her to walk with him into the house, and they passed a black-shrouded body on the way.
"What are you looking for, Daniel?" Janet asked him as he carefully shut the door behind them. He didn't answer but went into the living room where Jack had brought him that fateful day so many years ago when he'd lost Sha're. He'd spent a lot of time in this particular room in the intervening years-good and bad times.
Here Jack had taken a good shot at destroying their friendship when he'd been infiltrating Maybourne's little smuggling ring. It had been where they'd gathered to spend what they'd feared would be their last hours with Jack before the Ancient database overrode too much of his mind. And more recently to mourn Teal'c.
They'd watched way more hours than necessary of The Simpson's and Star Wars sprawled around this room. Ate too much pizza and far too many donuts. Argued and joked. Let Jack skunk them in cards and Sam whip them in chess. And they'd laughed in the face of death here, celebrating countless times the end of a mission that should have ended in tragedy and defeat but had instead ended in victory. They'd celebrated birthdays, Cassy's first Christmas on Earth, and plenty of other holidays as well.
Peter had taken his first faltering steps in this room after Jack had carried Sam home from the hospital and settled her on his less than comfortable couch.
But no one would ever again be sitting on that couch. Machine gun fire had torn it apart. All around the room the walls had received the same treatment. Someone had taken an ax to the fireplace...its gleaming metal head was buried deep into the mantle. The desecration of the room made Daniel physically nauseous. He took Janet's arm and stumbled toward the back of the house. Glancing into the kitchen, they could see dark, gaping holes torn into the cupboards, cabinets, and even the trashcan.
As they entered the hall leading back to the bedrooms, they couldn't help noting that the chief had undoubtedly been right: there had been a pitched battle fought in its narrow confines. The walls showed it all too plainly in smears of blood and dents penetrating into the underlying sheetrock. Between the doors to Ally's and the boys' rooms, there was a darkening, rust colored stain in the carpet that they both did their best not to see. And the covered hump of a dead body lay outside Jack and Sam's room just in case more evidence was required to prove the Chief's point.
Stepping carefully, they paused in silence to stare into Ally's room. Machine gun blasts had torn into Belle and her Beast on Ally's walls and shattered the mirror over the dresser, but somehow left undisturbed the shelves full of unread books and unloved toys.
The boys' room was even more distressing. The walls hadn't been spared, but Daniel and Janet were both almost used to the sight of that sort of damage by now. It was the shattered crib and little toddler bed that made the bile rise in their throats and caused their hearts to thud painfully in their chests. Daniel had seen more than his share of war zones, but there was something horrifyingly wrong with bullet-torn crib sheets with racecars zooming along the edges and teddy bears with their heads blown off. And on the floor, the stuffed lamb Jacob had carried everywhere with him since the accident lay abandoned and alone.
Just inside the door of Jack and Sam's room was the third body. Neither Daniel nor Janet stopped to raise its black shroud to see if they recognized the face of evil. The walls of this room had escaped their share of machine gun blasts. Only the near wall was pockmarked with bullet holes.
The pictures of the boys hanging on it had somehow survived unscathed. They smiled, uncomprehending little boy smiles over the devastation of their lives. Ally's picture had not been so lucky. Where her solemn little face should have gazed out at them was only a gaping hole.
"Daniel," Janet said in a stricken voice. He held her for a few minutes desperately fighting to overcome his own overwhelming horror. Then he put a shushing finger to her mouth and let her go. She looked a thousand questions at him, but he didn't answer any of them.
Jack had shown him the hidden room years before when he'd put it in after Adrian Conrad's goons had had a go at Sam. "If any of us ever need a place to run..." he'd said and left it at that. Daniel only hoped someone here had had time to run. With his heart in his throat, he opened the door and stepped into the dark little room. He found the light switch. Janet gave a startled gasp at what it revealed.
Covered by the red, flannel blanket with appliquéd dinosaurs that Lois had made for Jacob, both of the boys lay on their tummies in a narrow playpen. Neither of them responded to the light or the noise of their arrival. Janet gave a low groan, but Daniel shook his head. "It's all right," he said. "They're all right. Now you know why I needed you with me. They're sedated. It's that long-lasting stuff we brought back from P7R-237."
Still stunned, Janet was nevertheless able to understand what he was telling her. "Fast-acting, long-lasting, few if any side effects," she automatically recited.
"Right. But Sam was still worried about leaving them under for any length of time." He rooted around on a high shelf, found what he was looking for, and held it up for her inspection.
"The counteragent," she said.
She reached out a hand to take the two, pre-drawn syringes from him, but he said, "Not yet."
"Daniel," she began. "The stuff's as safe as anything, but Sam's right...they shouldn't be under any longer than absolutely necessary."
"This is absolutely necessary, Janet...why do you think they're here like this? You think Sam would knock them out and hide them in here if she had a choice? If whoever shot up this place gets their hands on them...you think Sam and Jack aren't going to do whatever they tell them too?"
"Granted, but...you don't trust those men out there?"
"I don't trust anyone at this point. Except you and Hammond."
"How do you plan on getting them out of here without anyone knowing?"
He picked up two heavy, black canvas bags from the corner of the room. She closed her eyes and shook her head but said, "Let me take a look at them first...make sure they are all right." Neither of the boys reacted to her touch. Jacob stirred when she checked his pupils, but settled back into a deep sleep as soon as she finished.
She gave a reluctant ok to Daniel. He carefully placed Peter into the first bag. Taller and narrower than a regular duffle bag, its bottom was just wide enough for a curled up, newly turned one-year-old to lie on. Daniel left the bag open while he just as carefully folded Jacob into the other bag. In an upright position, he did fit...barely. When the time came they'd have to carefully tuck his head down to avoid catching his hair in the zipper.
Daniel started to tuck the dinosaur blanket in with him to help keep him upright, but Janet stopped him. "He's too far under, Daniel...he could suffocate." Daniel put the blanket back in the playpen.
He took a slow look around the room to see if there was anything else he was supposed to do here. Whatever Jack had lined the room with had done the job. Daniel had felt sick seeing the blasts in its outside walls, but nothing had penetrated the little room. Whatever horrors and atrocities had happened in the rest of the house, the boys had slept quietly and undisturbed through them all.
"Daniel, we can't leave them like this for long," Janet prompted him, and he realized he was stalling. There was something unsettling about zipping babies up in luggage bags.
"Wait," Janet said after he'd zipped the bag shut over Peter and started on Jacob's. She moved quickly down the hall and grabbed up the abandoned lamb. Daniel closed his eyes for a brief second when she held it out to him, and then he nodded and tucked it into the bag along with Sam's son.
As they left, they shut the door to keep the secret room a secret. Janet kicked the bits and pieces of blasted sheetrock the door had misplaced around until their actions weren't obvious while Daniel stood waiting with his precious cargo straining the muscles in his arms. They were dead weight and unbalanced, but neither of the boys weighed that much in the physical sense; however, in the psychological sense, they outweighed just about anything he'd ever been entrusted to carry. He walked very carefully around the dead bodies on the way out.
At the door though, he took a deep breath and walked through casually swinging the bags as though they carried nothing of any real significance. 'His friends' didn't give his load a second glance. Need-to-know was their way of life and for all Daniel knew they lived in a world where 'if I told you, I'd have to shoot you' wasn't a joke. He took only a brief moment to instruct Major Foresight to arrange for the removal of the dead men and secure the house after all before he and Janet shuffled off down the drive on foot.
Trouble came just past the end of the drive. The police chief climbed out of his silent, waiting unmarked car to stand in their way.
"Is there something else?" Daniel asked him. By now both boys had gained an untold number of pounds, and he was really ready to reach his vehicle still parked halfway down the street.
"That is what I'm here to find out," the man told him. "I need to see what you have in those bags...I know, I know I don't have the jurisdiction. But," he shifted just enough to allow them to see his holstered weapon.
"You are out of line," Daniel said.
"Out of line or not, there are children's life at stake here, and I need to see what you have there..."
Daniel weighed his options. He could call back to the men they'd just left behind and use the authority General Hammond had for one reason or another invested him with. It might be the worst thing he could-draw unwanted attention to just what it was he carried. Plus, for years and years, he'd been telling Jack to ask questions first and maybe avoid the shooting altogether...to not exert his authority where trust and cooperation would accomplish the same thing.
He looked long and hard at the man before them, then he gently settled one of the bags onto the cold hood of the car.
"Daniel," Janet said quietly.
"It's all right," he said to her. As the chief reached to unzip the bag, he said, "Careful there." The policeman glanced at him sharply but apparently decided the warning was not a threat. He unzipped the bag.
For one frozen moment, he stared at the bag's contents, and then he turned his eyes back to Daniel. "Are you a good man, Dr. Jackson?" he asked.
"I like to think so," Daniel answered simply.
Janet watched the two men. Sam had told her of countless occasions where Daniel had been able to talk their way out of numerous hazards, but she'd had few opportunities to see it for herself.
"It's not so much what he says," Sam had told her. "It's who he is...what he believes. Somehow he makes everyone else believe it with him. Sometimes, I get home and try to figure out just what he said to make them trust him...and I realize, he never really said anything." She'd stared out the window for a minute and then added, "Sometimes, just being willing to take a stand is all that's needed I guess. The act itself says everything that really matters."
Janet understood exactly what Sam had been trying to explain as the policeman nodded at Daniel's simple declaration of goodness and carefully tucked a tuft of Jacob's hair in before rezipping the bag. He shifted uncomfortably on his feet and asked, "The other just like it?"
"Pretty much...bit smaller."
The chief nodded again, reached into his pocket, and drew out his badge and ID. He tapped a long finger against it and looked again at Daniel. "My badge," he said. "If I let you carry that out of here..."
"You'll be doing the right thing," Daniel told him earnestly. "I can keep this safe...that's what that badge is all about right-to serve and to protect?"
With a resigned shake of his head, the man lifted Jacob in his bag off the car and held him out to Daniel.
"Thank you," Daniel said. The man stood watching them as they hurried down the street and loaded the bags into the back seat of the car. Janet climbed in with them, and Daniel started the car. As they pulled out, the chief finally put his badge back in his pocket and returned to his own car.
~*~**~*~*~**~*~**~
To Ally the raging, tumultuous waters of the river had been too much the picture of the inner turmoil her very, very young mind had endured in her beginning. She'd struggled hard to escape its overwhelming, relentless presence and even now after all these years could at times still be caught in its powerful undertow...to have it physically manifested was just too much.
And beyond that, it seemed as black and malevolent as the all-dominating, vengeful hate that had battered and carried her away in that parking lot. The water seemed to call to her in just such a deceptive, destructive way...sucking at her, enticing her to embrace a fate that perhaps she didn't have the strength to escape.
But beyond even that, it was impossible to fight against. Swirling and rushing, it carried them on its relentless journey to a sea 1500 miles away, and there was no turning back. She'd expected attack everyday of her life, looked for it, prepared for it, and dreaded it to the point she'd almost begun to believe its actual arrival would come as relief. Escape had always been her goal. But, though they had made good their escape, she felt no accompanying relief.
She'd heard the shots back before the river had obliterated all sounds except its own beneath its unstoppable roar. Everything both her parents had ever given her and everything that made up her own being cried out the need to turn back around, to provide the back up Carter would need against the intruders. But they had broken Sir's one unbreakable rule; they hadn't turned back. They'd kept right on running. They'd left a man behind.
Shots had been fired, and they had run not to help but to flee. Shots had been fired, and they'd done what they knew they must. Carter had demanded it of them. And necessity itself. They'd known it would come to that one day; they'd prepared for, waited for it, and in the end they'd done it. And that knowledge had held just as much terror for Ally as the raging river.
She shook on Sir's lap from the horror of it all and his long arms encircled her, his heartbeat, sure and strong, sounded in her ears, and his body heat warmed her. But she couldn't stop shaking.
"Just a few more miles," he assured her and the river's roar had faded enough she could hear his rough voice. But his heat and his voice couldn't change the fact there was no going back; no way to change the reality of what they had done.
The river rocked them now, as though it had spent all its anger up above and had found peace of a sorts here. Instead of warring against them, it now sought to comfort them. But, if she couldn't find peace in Sir's lap, the river didn't stand a chance of imparting it to her.
She looked up at him. He was scanning the riverbank and didn't glance down at her. "Is she dead?" she asked in a voice that was too small for him to hear and didn't find the strength to ask it again.
He drew the raft to shore as the first hint of morning began to lighten the gathering clouds in the dark sky. For some reason her mother might have been able to explain, the clouds that night had held the slightest tint of red. Ally had glimpsed them from between Sir's feet on their wild ride, and their unaccustomed color had only added to the ominous feel of the night. As morning encroached upon its darkness, the red faded away and the unfamiliar sky transformed into the familiar. She was not fooled; the day held just as much threat as the night had.
By the time they walked hand and hand away from the riverside twenty minutes later, they were unrecognizable.
Sir with rapid precision had snipped and shaved away her long blond hair while singing 'This is the Army, Mr. Jones' under his breath. Ally thought if she rooted around in her mind long enough she could probably find the connection between her buzzed head and the song, but it was too much effort.
She was suddenly overcome with exhaustion, and he had to support her with a hand while he blew the last of the hair from her face. He smiled, kissed her, and called her 'sleepyhead' before pulling her into his lap to dress her in a blue-striped t-shirt, faded denim overalls, a hooded red jacket, and red and blue Spiderman shoes. She was too tired to be of much help.
"Hey, there...don't go nodding off on me yet, little boy. There're a couple of things we need to talk about...well," he said pausing to think about it, "I guess as long as you plan on keeping up the silent act this is going to be a piece of cake as far as you're concerned. All you really need to remember is to never go in the girls' bathroom and when I say 'Noah'-that's you. Oh, and try to give the space cadet thing a rest, will ya? We don't want to make anyone look at us twice. Got it?"
"Yes, Sir," she said. He winced.
"Hmmm...I suppose you won't be any better at this than your mom, but let's give it a try. No 'sir'. You've got the haircut, but you're not in the army...uhh...let's go with 'ok, Dad'-that should work. Give it a try."
He looked at her expectantly and nodded his head encouragingly, and she forced the unfamiliar words out as though they were a foreign language. "Nice," he said, nodding his head in satisfaction. "Now you can nod off a minute." But, her tiredness had vanished as quickly as it had come and she watched wide-eyed as he transformed himself into a man she did not know.
Definitely a Dad not a Sir. A black-haired man with glasses in a long-sleeved flannel shirt, faded blue jeans, cowboy boots, and a tan, baseball cap emblazoned 'Fish tremble at the mention of my name'. He held out his hands and twirled for her to inspect his new appearance.
She nodded her head and said, "Nice" in a perfect imitation of his earlier act. The contrast between the word and intonation and her solemn expression made him laugh; but her expression was the real mirror. The emerging day did not bring with it the promised joy after the sorrow of the night before. Only more sorrow, more worries, more secrets, and fears.
He rifled through his dwindling pile of supplies and handed her a granola bar and a juice box. She accepted his offering and sat them both on her lap. "Eat," he told her. She looked blankly down at her breakfast, and only then did he realize how little of the day-to-day activities of life had really passed into her awareness.
In the short time he'd known her, he'd grown accustomed to her peculiarities, and she had over the last little bit become so much more responsive that at times he forgot the constraints of her life. He wondered, not for the first time, just what it was that so occupied her thoughts that she was all but totally ignorant of the world outside her mind.
"For crying out loud," he said, "open it and eat it!" She looked up at him and bit her lip and seeing Carter's mannerisms in her face drained the exasperation from him. "Here," he said gently. He showed her how to rip the wrapper from the granola bar before tearing off the pointed, little straw from the box, poking it through the hole, and handing it to her. He went back to his tasks, and she swallowed down salty tears with her make-do breakfast.
From here on, she could not be the person she had always been. Just as she could no longer be a little girl named Ally but a boy named Noah, so she also had to become someone capable of living in the world Outside. There would be no Carter or Grandma and Grandpa to see to her needs. Sir had to be free to focus on their survival; he had neither the temperament nor the time to wait on her.
She must learn not only the intricacies of the Ancients but the ways of humans. She knew no more and perhaps even less than Peter about what was required to get by in modern life on planet Earth...she might have been marginally better thrown into the same situation a million years or two before when it was an Ancient world. But for either, she was hopelessly ill equipped.
Sir finished with his preparations and stuffed the evidence of their time spent here into one of the waterproof bags that had protected his hidden supplies. The raft he cut lose and let the river claim, but the bag he carefully buried so that by the time he was done Ally had trouble spotting where it was hidden.
He turned to her then, "All done, Noah?" She held her garbage out to him. "Good boy," he said and took it to tuck inside the blue tackle box waiting for them by the river's edge. "Time to go, then...fish don't seem to be biting this morning, no use hanging around out here." He pulled a Spiderman baseball cap down over her shorn head, handed her a child's fishing pole complete with a blue Mickey Mouse reel, and picked up his own pole. She took his hand and they followed a deer trail out of the river bottom and into their new lives.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
"Are they all right?" Daniel anxiously asked Janet after she'd carefully extricated the boys from their bags. He could glimpse only pale, still faces in the review mirror, and she'd been extraordinarily quiet as she worked.
She raised her head and looked at him through the mirror. "They're fine...they are already starting to come out of the sedative. I think we can skip the counteragent."
"Good," he said with relief. He raised Walter once more on his cell phone. "It's Daniel again," he said. "I forgot a couple of small items that were supposed to go with those packages you mailed...any chance I can get them sent this morning?"
"The post has already left," Walter answered.
"I really need them sent out today."
"Right. I'll send someone to collect them. Have them packed and ready to ship in say, thirty minutes?"
"That will be perfect-thanks."
"Always glad to be of service," Walter said and hung up.
"Okay, Daniel," Janet said in her 'don't mess around' voice. "Time for you to start talking."
He knew her well enough he didn't waste time fabricating lies she wouldn't believe or using the 'if I told you, I'd have to kill you' line. "It's complicated," he said instead.
"I got that," she said dryly. "But, we've got thirty minutes."
"Right," he said with a sigh. "You remember way back when General Hammond 'resigned' and then turned back up at the Mountain before the paperwork was even filed?"
"Daniel," she warned, "get to the point. What does that have to do with this?"
"Just that he'd been gotten at...through his granddaughters. So when Jack brought Sam and the kids here he was concerned something similar might happen-he made some contingency plans, just in case."
"Ah," she said but it wasn't the sound of comprehension. More of a 'don't stop there because I'm not buying it' sort of sound.
He pulled to the curb outside a gas station. "I'd think the rest is self-explanatory, but if you want to hear it, go get us a couple coffees and I'll tell you when you get back." She carefully untangled herself from the sleeping, little bodies sprawled over her lap and the back seat and returned with not only coffee, but also a bag of black licorice, animal cookies, and two small cartons of milk.
"Licorice?" he said in disgust. "What did you buy that for?"
"Me," she said, "I like it. The milk and cookies are for the boys in case they wake up hungry. Now quit complaining and start explaining."
Daniel sipped his too-hot coffee and said, "Jack installed an alarm system in my apartment. If it ever went off I was to call in the reinforcements-from Hammond and the local force and then hightail it out there and find a way to get into his secret room and get the kids if they were there."
"What if you were offworld?"
"Jack didn't say...I suspect it was routed to Walter."
"And the packages?"
"Hank and Lois...he didn't want to take any chances of them being taken as secondary targets. Walter moved them to a safe house earlier tonight."
"And that's where we'll take Jacob and Peter?"
"No. I don't know where they are...we'll drive by Hank and Lois' and Walter will have someone there to take the boys to their grandparents."
"I'm not comfortable with sending them off without medical supervision," she said automatically.
He almost laughed. "Come on, Janet, you said they were fine...if you think they'll have problems waking up, you can give them the stuff now. Sam said it works almost immediately...they'll be fine before it's time to turn them over."
"Right," she conceded but made no move to inject the boys. "So there is a reason we are driving around in circles? Here I thought you were lost."
"Funny. But yeah, we're just killing time and making sure no one is following us...and Walter has probably been sitting in a parked car watching the Shanahan's to make sure no one showed up to cause trouble. He'd never have us take the boys there if he didn't know it was safe."
"The boys," she said. He'd known they'd get there eventually. He didn't say anything but just drove. "Why just the boys?"
"What do you mean?" he asked delaying the unavoidable.
"What about Ally?"
"Well, if we were bringing Ally, he'd be making sure it was safe for her, too."
"But, we're not...why aren't we? Why didn't Sam put her in with the boys?"
"Janet, I don't know what went down there tonight...maybe they weren't able to get to Ally in time to hide her, too."
"There were only two bags, Daniel. Two syringes full of the counteragent."
"Ally's too big to fi-"
"Come on, Daniel. You didn't go there to collect Ally. Please don't try to convince me you did."
"I'm sorry, Janet. I had to try."
"Why?"
He pulled into a parking spot along a dark, side street, switched off the ignition, and turned to face her. "Sometimes the secrets you know aren't yours to share," he said.
She acknowledged the truth with silence. She knew she didn't have to say anything...they weren't anywhere near the Shanahan's and still had ten minutes before their time was up. It might not be his secret to share, but she knew he had already decided to tell her anyway.
He placed a tired hand on his forehead and shook his head, but she was still waiting for an explanation when he finished. He sighed. He hadn't thought she'd let him off the hook, but he had hoped.
"Ok...Ally's a pretty special kid."
"Special is one way of saying she has some very severe problems, Daniel...I noticed them. But, she survived the separation from Sam after the accident. I won't believe they ran with her--and please tell me they did run-to avoid subjecting her to another traumatic separation."
"Not that kind of special. I mean..." he breathed out a frustrated puff of air and threw his hands up to indicate words were failing him.
"Yes?" she demanded. "Just spit it out...I can handle big words."
"Ally's not Pete Shanahan's daughter."
"She's not? Then?"
"She's Jack's."
"Daniel? What are saying? If you told me she was Sam's clone, you'd have a better chance of convincing me. I know Sam...she's the closest thing I have to a sister. We talk. She believed in the program, she knew she was important to its success...and so did Jack. Neither of them would have thrown away their chance to make a difference for-personal reasons.
"Even if they'd avoided a court-martial, their names would never have been on the list for promotion again...they were career officers, Daniel-it mattered to them both."
"But, Sam left the program, didn't she...the program and the Air Force."
"Ok...let's say Sam was ready to toss it all in for a chance at having a family and they decided to forget the reg's-which I absolutely do not buy...Sam would never have pawned another man's child off on Pete. She's not that kind of person."
"Janet, I'm not talking about what you're talking about--court-martial was the last thing they were worried about. If the truth were known, they'd probably end up with commendations not reprimands. And a person will do a lot more than you can imagine if the stakes are high enough, but no, Sam didn't lie to Pete...he knew she was pregnant when he married her, and he knew the baby wasn't his."
It was Janet's turn to lower her head to her hand and rub her forehead. Jacob rolled over and stared up at her. "Hey there," she said quietly to him. "How are you doing?"
He looked around and called, "Mama? Jack?"
"They're not here, Sweetie...we're taking you to see Grandma and Grandpa. How about that?"
"Grandma?"
"In just a few minutes...you hungry? I've got some cookies?" Jacob sat up eagerly and was soon happily munching the heads off of giraffes. Janet looked back to Daniel.
He continued, "Listen, this is hard enough to talk about as it is and we're almost out of time, so just let me get it all out, ok? I can't tell you what we were expecting or thinking that made the whole thing seem like a good idea. We were all so afraid we were going to lose Jack-I really don't think we were thinking straight. Because the whole idea was nuts...but what were we going to do about it by the time we came to our senses?
"Anyway, when Jack had the Ancient's database in him, and we were coming back from getting the working ZPM? He...he umm, well he told us he could pass on that knowledge genetically...he thought it was important-that we shouldn't lose it when he-died. He suggested...um-well, one way or another, Ally's his."
"You're serious? No wonder Sam has resisted getting her into any intensive therapy...so, you're telling me that Ally is..."
"Jack's daughter with possibly the knowledge of the Ancients...well, more than possibly-she has the healing power, Janet. She tried to use it on Sam. Jack had to stop her."
"That's what was wrong with her that first couple of days after the accident? And this attack? It had nothing to do with the SGC-they were after Ally."
"It looks that way. We always knew if the wrong people found out...the idea was if someone ever came after her, Jack would get her out...we can't let her fall into enemy hands, Janet."
"I can see that, Daniel, but-" Peter stirred and fought his way out of the sedative with plaintive cries. He didn't want milk and he didn't want cookies. He wanted his mom, and Janet was a very poor substitute. By the time, he'd unhappily settled for Jacob's lamb and a handful of tigers and elephants, they were pulling up in front of the Shanahan's house. As Daniel turned off the ignition, Janet met his eyes in the mirror and voiced what they were both thinking, "So, if Jack got Ally safely away...then where's Sam?"
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"Go," she'd urged Jack and slipped down the hall to the boys without waiting to see if he did. She'd given Ally over into his charge, and she couldn't afford to take the time to second-guess that decision one more time.
Jacob first. Her dear little man. She hefted him into her arms. She willed him to stay asleep and he did. She settled him into the crook of her arm and in her urgency he weighed less than nothing. She felt for his stuffed animal but in the dark couldn't find it. No time for that. Grabbed his blanket instead and turned to the crib. She lifted Peter more gingerly; he was her lightest sleeper. He wiggled as she juggled him in her arms with Jacob, but with a soft baby sigh he settled back to sleep.
Hurry, hurry, hurry. No time to glance across the hall and strain into the darkness to know if Jack and Ally were safely away yet or not. No time for anything.
She'd never have time to do what she had to do--never. How could she have taken such a risk? How could she have brought these precious little people into the war zone of her life? I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Carefully, carefully...but hurry, hurry!
The house was deathly silent as she juggled the boys and opened the door of Jack's hidden room. She pulled it quietly shut behind her and fought to catch her breath in its blackness. Felt for the light switch. Struggled to put the boys down without waking either of them. Hurry! Hurry! Hurry! Turned back to push the button that would make what she was about to do excusable.
Fumbled on the top shelf for the syringes and alcohol pads. Peter first because he was too young, too young to not cry if startled awake in the night. Oh baby, stay asleep, stay asleep. With trembling hands, she exposed his chunky little thigh; swabbed it quickly with the cold alcohol pad; thrust the needle through his soft baby skin; drew back the plunger...let out a shaky breath of relief-no blood, she was into the muscle and not a blood vessel; pushed in the orangish liquid-slowly, slowly so the burn wouldn't wake him; pulled out the needle; held her thumb tightly against the puncture hole for a brief second; put both her hands over her mouth and gulped down terrified breaths of air...oh, Peter. Oh, my baby...so sorry. So sorry.
Jacob. My little clown. You've made me laugh every day of your short life. I love you. I love you. Don't wake up, don't wake up. He stirred when she swabbed his leg...no, no, baby-stay asleep, stay asleep. Don't look at me and see the failure I am as a mother. Don't look at me and see how I put my selfish desires to have you above your safety. Stay asleep.
He didn't though. His long, soft eyelashes blinked and he opened his eyes. He looked at her dazedly for a minute. "Shhh..." she whispered to him...Jack tell me this place is sound proof-tell me it is. Of course, it was. He'd never have expected anyone to be able to stay quiet long enough to evade detection. Still...not a sound, little boy, not a sound. "Shhh..." she said again as she plunged the needle in. He jerked in surprise, and she whispered, "It's ok...over in a minute." He whimpered softly as she pushed in the sedative but made no other sound.
The stuff worked unbelievably fast, his eyes were closing before she'd removed the needle. He reached out his chubby hand and pulled his blanket to him. She gently rolled him over and patted him. She wanted to lean over him, kiss his check, and whisper her love to him as he drifted off; but she had no time. Peter was still sprawled on his back where she'd left him. In her anxiety, he looked too much like her nightmares, and she stole the brief second to roll him onto his tummy so he looked merely asleep. Pulled the blanket over both of their still forms. Tossed the empty syringes far back on the highest shelf in case Daniel didn't come before the boys were awake...of course, he'd come. He would. She had to believe he would.
Carefully she opened the door the slightest crack. Everything was still...either they hadn't hit the house yet or they were making their own quiet journey down the hall. She grabbed the Zat from its place by the door as she slipped out into the bedroom. Closed the door on her sons, forced her feet away from that wall...mustn't be found near that wall.
What now? Had Jack made his escape? Surely, surely by now he was out of the house. Possibly hitting the slope down to the river with its loose rocks waiting to give him away. Or scrabbling open his hiding place...either way, she'd promised him she'd stall any pursuers-she hit the light switch. There, you're discovered...come out and show yourself; take the bait and let the fish get away.
Heard something in the hall. They were in the house. She rushed the door and fired blindly into the hallway. Three, maybe four, forms jumped for cover...the nearest one went down almost at her feet. Out or getting into position to take her? No time to ask questions...she took him out of the equation with a second shot. Hunkered in the doorway--your move.
She had no one to guard her back; bullets tore through the bedroom window, and men in dark, military-type clothing and Kevlar vests followed them through. She took down one but in doing so had to expose herself to the men waiting in her children's rooms.
It was all over far too quickly. They jerked her to the floor. Pulled the Zat out of her hand. One of them dug his hands into her hair and pulled her head back.
"Where's the kid?" he hollered at her. "Where's the kid?" She shook her head at him as though in incomprehension. He forgot the dead man he'd kicked on his way down the hallway and made the mistake of his lifetime. He looked at the pale woman in a nightgown on her knees before him and failed to see the decorated Air Force officer. He gave her a vicious shake and yelled in her face, "Where's is she?"
"Ally?" she said, her voice trembling.
"Ally," he snarled with disgust. "Where is she?"
"I don't understand," she cried. "What do you want with my baby?"
"Don't play dumb," he told her but at least she was only playing while apparently he really was an idiot. How could he imagine any woman would turn her child over to him?
"You come into my house, threaten me, wave guns in my face, and want me to tell you where my daughter is? What kind of game are you playing?"
"No game, lady," he told her and raised his arm as though she hadn't just told him violence would only work against him. She artistically flinched and, when he lowered his arm without striking her, drew in a shuddering breath.
He believed in the power of his intimidation. She cowered before him, and he thought it was only a matter of time until he had what he wanted "We only want the girl. We'll leave the rest of you," he promised. "Where is she?"
"She's not here..." she said as though the words were involuntarily torn from her throat. "My husband...I had work-urgent work to do...he-he took the kids so I could get it done."
"Really?" He leaned into her face, "We've been watching the house all day--we know that isn't true. They were here! Where is O'Neill? Where is he hiding the kid?"
"I told you," she said, "They're not here."
He hit her with the full force of his anger. The blow knocked her against the door jam. "You will tell me! He's hiding here somewhere." When she only shook her head, he turned to his men, "Find them!" They spread out through the house, thumping their heavy boots and banging doors.
He watched her while they waited. A cold calculation entered his eyes and he untwined his fingers from her hair and pulled out a revolver. Making sure she was watching, he took careful aim and shot a jagged hole through the picture of Ally hanging on the wall. The wrong wall. The one wall she didn't want him taking a second glance at. The wall behind which her sons lay.
Her cry really was involuntary this time. She shouldn't have let it out. He smiled wickedly in enjoyment of her distress and used his automatic weapon to splatter holes all along the wall. "You will tell me," he promised her in the quiet that followed. "Or when I find them, I will kill you all."
His men hurried into the room. "The house is clean." Their news took the enjoyment off his face. He squinted at her. "They were here tonight...don't think they're safe. I've men all around this house. If they got out, we'll hunt them down. We'll find them. Tell me where they went, and I'll spare them."
"What do you want?" she asked as though she didn't know. He didn't bother to answer her. He turned to one of the men and held out a small Ziploc bag, "Go to the girl's room. Collect some evidence for the DNA match. If we can't find her, we'll at least have that."
Then he turned back to her. He pulled her to her feet. She swayed weakly before him and almost went down. He nodded his head with satisfaction; she was no threat to him.
"Move out," he said to his other men, "somehow he knew we were out there...he's on the move-in the woods, down by the river, somewhere. Find him-and find out why those fools at the fence didn't stop him like they were supposed to!"
Please God, by now Jack and Ally had made it to the river and were gone, gone, gone...but she wasn't willing to count on it. She threw off the cowering woman and became Major Samantha Carter. She had his knife out of his sheath and into his chest before he recognized the change. She left him to die and darted out after the men hurrying down the hallway.
She couldn't hope to stop them all. Just keep them from reinforcing whoever was out there on Jack's tail for as long as she could. She hurled herself down the hallway after the men. She struck the first one she could reach with all the power of her purpose and knocked him into the next. All three of them went down like dominoes. With a startled cry, the man in Ally's room rushed her before she could struggle back up. He kicked out at her. She grabbed his leg, and he toppled over and joined them on the floor.
With a roar, he fought his way back to his feet. By then the other men she'd brought down had as well. She scrambled up herself and found she'd succeeded in her intent. None of the men had continued out to join in pursuing her husband and daughter. They filled the hallway, cursing and pushing for the chance to get at her. She gave them the fight they were looking for, but she was vastly out-numbered. She went down under their kicks and blows.
Someone took charge, wading in to pull men off of her and issue commands, "Enough! Don't kill her yet. We need that kid. She knows where she is..." She lay stunned in the middle of the hallway between the kids' rooms and stared into the eyes of Jacob's little lamb lying just inside his bedroom door. In the distance, she heard the sound of sirens...Daniel to the rescue.
The men heard them, too. With outrage, a couple of them tore through the house firing and screaming out their frustrated wrath. The man taking charge reached down and pulled her to her feet. "Idiots," he hissed, dragging her along, and yelling at the others, "Let's go!" He palmed a radio switch and ordered, "Clear out!"
She stumbled along, trying to stay on her feet but not quite succeeding. When they reached a dark Yukon, she came to her senses enough to try to tear herself lose from his grasp. But, he tossed her easily to the floor in back. Men piled in over her.
One of them pressed a heavy knee to her chest to keep her down, but it wasn't necessary. She was past fighting back. But that was all right. Jack and Ally were safely away, and Daniel was riding to the boys' rescue. Nothing else mattered. It was all right.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Heliopolis Main Archive
A Stargate: SG-1 Fanfiction Site
Inside the Dragon's Egg
by OffworlderKapitel Bemerkung:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I, I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference. (Robert Frost...The Road Not Taken) At a guess, no one has bothered to wade their way through the rambling run-ons and rabbit trails of this story without being at least somewhat a fan of Sci-fi and this little note is probably both unnecessary and slightly offensive; but just in case:
Way back towards the end of season 7 the Carter of this story made a decision to follow a path that diverged significantly from the path that carried on with the series...and that as Robert Frost so ably said, 'has made all the difference.' Things from there have progressively changed, some almost indiscernibly (I hope anyway) and some quite drastically...suffice it to say, that things by this point aren't going to match up with canon--which means I can take a big breath of relief (yea!) but no longer have an excuse for staying up all night watching SG-1 DVDs (bummer!).
Kapitel Abschlussbemerkung:
I'm sure it's obvious that everything I know about rafting and machine guns I learned from Google. In the amount of time I was willing to dedicate to research, Google was sadly lacking on the details I really wanted: how long and far would that trip down the river have carried them and taken? How far would the sound of the machine guns carry? And how much damage might they actually do tearing up the walls of a home? My apologies...I hope my ignorance doesn't distract too much from the story.Site Navigation
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