She was freezing. She lay in a fetal position on a cold, cement floor still dressed in her thin nightgown. Her hands were bound behind her back, and she supposed she should be grateful they hadn't stripped her before they'd dumped her here. Her body ached with the cold, her feet were numb and also bound, and she couldn't stop shaking. What was it with these shadow organizations and old, impossible to heat warehouses?
She bit down on her chattering teeth to keep from moaning out loud. She didn't believe for a moment that they were done with her, and she needed to pull herself together before she had to face her captors. It had been awhile. Imprisonments and interrogations were far removed from diapers, naptimes, and sippy cups. Unfortunately, her captors didn't give her the chance to adjust to the transition or strategize.
The men who entered the door and let it clang shut behind them were either not those who had visited the house or they had exchanged their Kevlar vests for business suits. For all of that, she thought they were the more worthy adversaries. There was that indefinable something about them that set off all of her warning bells.
They grouped around and stared down at her with curling lips like she was an unfortunate accident in the middle of their finest, Turkish rug. The col-Jack would have turned the tables on them if he had been the one caught in their disapproving gaze, but she wasn't Jack. She closed her eyes to shut the sight of them out and tried to let their disgruntled murmurs wash over her.
"Absolute foul-up." "Incompetent." "Should take the lot out and drop them in the Gulf." "Send a dozen men after a four-year-old, and what do we get?"
"Well," one of them finally got down to the business of what to do about her, "I suppose it could have been worse. They could have killed the goose that laid the golden egg...we'll get what we want as long as we have her. May take longer than we anticipated, but--"
Someone snorted in disgust, "Triple the cost."
The first man went on as though no one had spoken, "...this operation will be a success, gentleman. Leave her to me. I'll get you what you want." The rest happily took him at his word and trooped out. She opened her eyes to see their departing legs and found him smiling almost fondly down at her. She did not smile back. He turned and followed them out of the room, and she had no choice but to wait for him to return.
He came with two stacking chairs which he set up near her feet. "There now," he said with satisfaction. His voice carried no threat with it, and she found that more alarming than not. "Up you come then," he said and with a strong arm pulled her up to a sitting position. She gave a cry of pain. "Yes," he said as though she'd asked about the weather, "they did quite a number on you...but they assure me you asked for. Those were my men you killed, Dr. Carter...it is Carter isn't? As far as your work is concerned? Mrs. O'Neill's for neighbors and PTA meetings; Carter's for Astronomy Today and all that, right?"
While he rambled about nomenclature, she fought to find a way to surface under the long, unending wave of pain drowning her. He went on as though insensible to her sufferings. "Well, this is business, so Dr. Carter. I would have preferred you returned my men unharmed...at the least all alive, but I suppose it couldn't be helped. The question now is what do we do about you?" He put a hand to his mouth and assessed her with a thoughtful expression. "I think I can trust you to not cause me the sort of trouble you caused my men, don't you? I'm sure I can...because you don't want to die, do you, Samantha?" The menace level of his voice had risen dramatically. She knew she was finally hearing the voice of her adversary.
He lifted her chin to ensure she was looking at him. His eyes were dark and narrowed and gave nothing away. His voice once again mellow, he continued, "No, of course you don't. So-" he held up a knife in his right hand for her to see. Then he cut the ropes binding her hands and feet. She fought through the resulting wave of additional pain and managed not to cry out again.
"Good," he said. He grabbed her under an arm and yanked her up from the ground. Her feet scrambled for a purchase and between the two of them he hauled her onto one of the chairs. While she fought to stay conscious, he took out an ironed, white handkerchief and wiped her blood from his hands with a look of distaste. When he was done, he held it out to her, "Won't do much I suppose but perhaps better than nothing?"
She shook her head no. He shrugged philosophically and said, "Suit yourself," and if he realized that she couldn't have reached out and taken it regardless of what suited her, he chose not to show it.
She'd live...well, as far as her injuries were concerned anyway. It wasn't like she'd been crushed between two vehicles or anything. Beat up, kicked around, left on a cold floor in a weakened condition for a bit too long...but she'd live. The question was when the pain would fade enough the thought of survival would become a comfort instead of a bleak and unwelcome reality.
"Now, Dr. Carter...let's talk about General Jack O'Neill's daughter."
If he expected to get a rise out of her, he was disappointed. She had spent the last five years trying to think of Ally as Pete's daughter...trying to trick her mind into believing it so that even under the extreme duress of torture she would name Pete as Ally's father and deny the truth.
To herself it wasn't an easy story to sell-or buy. In everything but looks, Jack was unmistakably visible in Ally. So much so that at times, when she'd been missing him the most during the long years he was out of their lives and she'd caught sight of him in Ally, she'd wept. And now that he was very present in their lives; Ally acted more like him every day. She'd worked hard not to see it, not to ever acknowledge it; not to ever even in her own mind see her as his daughter.
It paid off. Her bewildered expression and her guileless, "Jack's daughter? He doesn't have a daughter...Ally's his step-daughter," gave less away then her interrogator's eyes.
"Come now, Dr. Carter..."
She looked as though a thought had just come to her, "Laira...are you saying Laira had Jack's daughter?"
"I'm talking about your daughter...yours and Jack O'Neill's."
"You've got it all wrong," she told him, shaking her head slightly and wrapping her arms around herself. Her nerves had begun to adjust to the change in her position and the pain was receding just enough that she could once again feel the cold eating through her.
"Not at all," he assured her. "We know the truth, Dr. Carter. It will do you no good to deny it. Now obviously you'd feel much more comfortable with some Tylenol and a nice, warm blanket or two." More like a shot of morphine and about a dozen of Janet's nice, warmed blankets. "I could arrange that...but, you can surely see that being cooperative would be to your advantage." Right, if my advantage was to destroy my daughter and get myself shot for the trouble.
"Jack had a son...he died," she said through chattering teeth. "He never had a daughter. Ally is mine. Her father was-"
"Jack O'Neill!"
"No...Jack was my senior officer. We wouldn't have-we didn't. Ally is Pete's. What could possibly make you think she was Jack's?"
"We don't think...we know."
"Someone has fed you a line."
"Hmmm...Ally was born thirty-nine weeks after Anubis' defeat. Thirty-nine weeks after Colonel O'Neill had used the Ancient device and received their knowledge."
"I never counted it out, but if you say so..."
"Ally was conceived while O'Neill was still under the influence of the alien device."
"Well, yes. He was in stasis, and he stayed there the next three months until the Asgard showed up. He certainly wasn't running around joining me on my honeymoon."
The man closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "I think you are well aware of what I am talking about."
"If Ally was Jack O'Neill's, believe me I would be well aware of it...and why do you care? Last I checked this isn't quite the proper procedure for a court-martial...and that's what would have happened if Colonel O'Neill and I would have-he was on the short list for his first star. He wouldn't have thrown that away for a bit of sex on the side."
"But, this wasn't about sex, was it?"
"You're the one telling the story,"
He frowned at her. "Really, Dr. Carter, you are not making this easy on yourself. Sooner or later you will tell me what I want to know...why fight it?"
She shook her head helplessly at him. "I can't tell you what I don't know. You're working under a false assumption--someone has lied to you. Jack isn't Ally's father and I'll never say he was."
"It is neither a story nor a lie. Jack O'Neill had the knowledge of the Ancients and he fathered a child to pass that knowledge on."
"If the Ancients had genetic memory, it wouldn't work for Jack. He might have had their database but he was still human. Do yourself a favor--do me a favor--and borrow your kid's biology textbook. Brush up on the facts before you tear peoples' lives apart over a load of--"
"I'm growing tired of this," he said, and she could hear the malice behind his calm veneer.
She ignored it. "I'm a bit tired myself...and I really need to use your facilities, maybe get a coffee?"
He gave a small chuckle and shook his head. "Where is your daughter, Dr. Carter?"
She bit her lip and let the tears come to her eyes. "You tell me," she said with a shaking voice. "She was sleeping in her bed the last time I saw her...that was before your men invaded our home. I haven't seen her since-you tell me where she is!"
He blinked and for the first time she saw uncertainty in his eyes. "General O'Neill ran with her," he said.
"You don't know him very well if you believe that," she said.
"He took her to prevent us getting our hands on her."
"Where then?" she asked. "They told me they had men all around the house. They said no one could get out pass them. You've been double-crossed by your own men...and duped by whoever fed you the fantasy about Ally being Jack's."
He shook his head in denial. She thought for a moment the interview was over, but he rallied. "On that Al'kesh, before the defeat of Anubis, you and Colonel O'Neill plotted to create the ultimate weapon. A child you could manipulate to your will, a child with all the knowledge and power of the Ancients. I will find Ally, Dr. Carter. I will have what she possesses."
"Ally is a four-year-old little girl not a weapon. She has no power. And, she's..." she dropped her eyes, lowered her voice, and bit her lip before finishing, "...mentally disabled. She doesn't have the knowledge of the Ancients. She's barely aware she exists."
He switched gears. "Your name was on the short list for promotion as well, Dr. Carter. A few more years, you might have been looking at collecting a star of your own. General Carter, sounds pretty good, doesn't it? It had to be something compelling that made you walk away from that."
"I'll tell you what happened on that Al'kesh. I had one birthday too many. My clock was ticking and all that. I promised myself if we were able to stop Anubis, I'd walk away before it was too late for me to have what I'd spent all those years fighting to protect. Anubis was defeated, and I married Pete Shanahan. Ally was born nine months later, and I've never looked back..."
"You put on a convincing act," he said. He stood up and moved his chair against the wall near the door. "But, the DNA tests will tell the real story. General O'Neill is the father of your daughter." His eyes bore into her waiting for his words to sink in and shatter her nerves.
But, his trump card didn't take hers. She'd freeze to death before she had to worry about the results of any DNA test fingering Jack as Ally's father. She'd had the tests run herself, multiple times. Ally shared fewer genetic markers with Jack than she did with Pete. And that wasn't saying all that much. If all he had to go on were the DNA tests...they would be home free as far as whatever plans her captors had in mind for Ally.
"And when you get the results, will you give back to me what you've taken? Will you return my family, will you take back the nightmare of armed men invading our home, taking us from our beds, shooting up our house--will you give us back our peace of mind, our lives?
"I have a husband, a beautiful daughter, and two wonderful baby boys...or I did until your men came bursting into my home...now what do I have? You keep asking me where Ally is...what about the rest of them? Where's Jack? Where are my sons?"
He turned away from her and banged on the door. When it opened and he walked out of the room, he was the one that was shaking.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
He did send someone--two big, burly well-armed someones--to escort her to a small bathroom which was even chillier than her prison room. She ran the water until it came hot and stood with her hands in it, letting the steam rise and warm her face. Without knocking, someone opened the door and tossed in a Wal-mart bag with a complete set of clothes. They weren't exactly her size, but close enough. They weren't her colors or style: bright orange sweats with a garish green stripe-presumably if she managed to make a run for it, they planned on being able to spot her in a crowd. But they were warm. She threw them on, huddled into their warmth, and decided she wouldn't complain.
She ran her fingers through her hair and looked at her bruised and battered face in the mirror. She'd seen better days. She closed her eyes and tried not to cry. Yesterday, she'd taken advantage of one of the last warm days of the fall and taken the kids to the park. Jacob had gone up and down the slide, laughing and squealing, proud to not need her standing at the bottom to catch him anymore. She had held Peter on her lap to swing. He'd grinned into her face and rocked back and forth to make her go higher. And today...where were they today? Were they safe? Were they even alive? They had to be.
Still-they'd lain so still and quiet the last time she'd seen them. She shuddered at the memory of their deathly, still little forms as she'd flicked off the light and left them behind. But, they hadn't been dead. She'd been careful with the doses...they would have woken up hours ago. They would have been fine, and if there was a problem Daniel would have been there with Janet. They were not screaming alone in the dark, locked in a soundproof room with no one to hear their cries. They weren't.
And Ally. She'd taken Ally down the slide on her lap. Something she would never have thought of attempting before the recent change in her. Ally hadn't stiffened in her arms, hadn't silently screamed in terror. She'd leaned back to see her face and when they'd reached the bottom, she had smiled. And then she'd stood up and taken her hand and led her back to the steps to do it all over again. One of those rare, perfect moments with her daughter. Her last.
She had to believe Ally and Jack had both gotten away unharmed because her captors were still searching for them. They were ok. And that had to be enough for her. Wherever Jack had taken Ally, even if she managed to get out of this warehouse alive, she had no way of calling him back. No way to tell him the attack was premature; based on suppositions that were soon to be proven wrong. He might come to that knowledge on his own and come home or he might stay in the wind forever.
He was right; she didn't regret saying yes to him. The little time they had had together would last her a lifetime if that's all she got, but she wanted more. She wanted a lot more.
~*~*~**~*~*
Sir whistled while they walked, a haunting, not-quite on tune rendition of Danny Boy. It was a song from his childhood, and she thought that was the reason he whistled it this morning. Surely not the words. Surely not those words this morning. "But if you come, and all the flowers are dying And if I'm dead, as dead I might well be." She looked up at him. He glanced down, and the whistle died on his lips as though he too had suddenly remembered the words.
It was a long hike, wherever it was he was taking her. The Spiderman shoes were well worn-in, but they were just a pinch too small so she could feel a blister forming where they rubbed over her left little toe. The rising sun had only made a partial job of warming the chilly night air, but in just her jacket she was hot and sweaty. His urgent desire to get as far from the river as they could made it hard for him to slow his long-legged pace down enough for her. She scurried to keep up with him and every little bit had to run just a bit to do so. He would slow down then but it never lasted.
The trail they followed meandered through a forest of pine trees, and she wondered if it reminded him of all the trails SG-1 had traveled on their many journeys...it did her. It wound up and down, sometimes sharply enough she had to grab hold of branches to keep from falling backwards as they climbed and twice, even though he held her hand and assured her she'd be fine, she'd sat down on her rump and scooted down after him.
They might as well have been on another world. The air was loud with the calls of birds, but the sounds of town life, which had always marked her life, were absent. More than once, they startled deer which flashed their white tails and ran quickly away. Watching them leaping over the fallen brush and undergrowth of the forest, Ally longed for their speed and grace. No one could catch them if they ran like the deer, she thought. But, even as she thought it, older thoughts in her mind assured her that bullets brought down deer every hunting season...and they gave her the images to prove it.
She held tightly to Sir's hand and fought the urge to crumple down onto the path in a tight-frightened ball and cry. Ally would have; Noah would have pointed a make-believe gun after them and fired.
Jack felt Ally drop his hand and looked down in amazement to see her take a pretend shot at the fleeing deer. "Pow!" she said, but it was only a whisper and tears were running down her cheeks. He swayed gently on his feet, caught his breath, and swallowed down his own tears. It was too much. Both what he was asking of her now and what he'd determined to ask of her before she'd even been conceived.
He took her fishing pole and drew her up into his arms. "You know," he whispered into her ear, "you are a kid in a million?" She didn't know what he meant, but she didn't care. She lowered her head onto his shoulder and slept. Fighting his own exhaustion, he trudged on.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
General George Hammond walked through the halls of the SGC. Nothing much had changed in the years since they'd been his halls and the people hustling through them had been his people. He'd been back now and again, keeping Jack in line and trying to keep the place running in his absence, but it wasn't the same. The salutes thrown his way were salutes to the visiting bigwig not to the man who watched their backs every moment of every day.
But, that man was gone. Missing...maybe in enemy hands, maybe in the wind, maybe dead. He needed to know which...the President, the Joint Chiefs, and the men and women he passed in these halls needed to know.
"Dr. Jackson," he said and held out his hand when he reached Jack's office and found Daniel pacing at the door. Daniel didn't look like he'd gotten any sleep in the time since he'd first woken the general up in the small hours of the previous night.
"General," he returned and shook Hammond's hand.
Hammond opened Jack's door and motioned Daniel in. "What can you tell me?"
"Not much, Sir," Daniel said with a sigh. He'd already given the general his detailed 'bill' of the night's events, and there was only a disappointingly small amount to add to it. "Blood in the hallway matches Sam's...Janet doesn't think there is enough there to get frantic over, but it's more than would come from only a scrape or two.
Just downstream from the house, someone dug around an old tree-recently, maybe in the night, maybe earlier. Could be something was stashed there...looks like whoever it was they took some pains to cover their tracks. We've got men canvassing the riverside..."
"What's your take on it, Dr. Jackson? Is the river a viable avenue of interest or just a red herring?"
Daniel hesitated only a minute before answering. "I think Jack probably escaped down the river and is half way to Timbuktu by now."
Hammond shook his head.
"You don't, Sir?" Daniel asked.
"I can't see Jack running...if he could get Sam and Ally out with him-fine, maybe. But even then, I think Jack would have a thing or two to teach anyone breaking into his home, threatening his family. If he could have gotten Sam and Ally out, and if Sam was in any shape to pilot a raft or whatever they might have had...I can believe he'd send them down the river. But, Jack? He'd have gone back and taken the intruders apart."
"If Sam wasn't in any shape to go it alone?"
"Right," the general agreed. "He'd have got them to safety...and then he'd have gone hunting."
Daniel nodded his head in agreement. Under any other circumstances, Daniel knew the general was right. Unfortunately, the general was missing a few key pieces of the puzzle. And Daniel wasn't about to open his mouth and spill the beans under the blinking red eye of the camera in Jack's office.
The general took his silence for granted and went on. "We'll see what the searchers turn up. It might be worthwhile to have them out tomorrow morning-talk to fishermen, see if anyone saw something."
"Good idea," Daniel said. "Anything else?"
The general shook his head, but then pointed his hand toward Daniel, "Let's not get too discouraged if nothing shows up for the next day or two...if Jack's out there and he's free, he might take the weekend to do whatever he's going to do.
He's due to show up here at 0700 Monday morning. We both know he is not the sort of man to walk away from his duty. If he can be here, he will. Let's give him until then before we flood the wires with this."
Daniel nodded again though he thought the need to protect Ally might be enough of a concern to override Jack's sense of duty to the SGC. Jack might be as arrogant as they came, but he did have the sense to know he was not indispensable to the program.
"In the meantime, I've heard rumors of who might be behind the attack...Agent Barrett of the NID and Major Davis are following up on the lead. If they have any luck, I want you and Dr. Frasier to join them before they move in. This is a SGC problem, and I want a hand in whatever goes down. And, Ally knows and trusts you...if things don't turn out the way we are hoping, she may need you." He left unsaid the reason he would send a medical doctor on such a mission.
~*~*~*~*~~*~*
They were almost to clear the forest when they happened upon a man walking a golden retriever. The man might have passed them by without a second look, but the dog thought a hello was in order. He pulled on his leash and jumped up on Jack to say hello. Ally, startled awake, got a quick lick on her chin before the man was able to pull the animal back.
"Sorry about that," he said sincerely. "He's just an overgrown puppy."
Jack accepted the apology with a noncommittal smile; Ally held tightly to him and kept her eyes on the dog. "Every kid has got to have a dog," he'd told Cassy years before. She'd taken his word for it. Carter had proven to be a harder sell. "I already spend my day cleaning up messes, tracking down shoes that Peter has carried away, and filling round little bellies...we do NOT need a dog!" were more or less her exact words. Seeing Ally's wide-eyed distrust of the animal, he figured she'd been wise in her refusal.
The man failed to notice Ally's alarm. He rambled on, "Alamo loves kids...got one about that size myself. Usually he'd be traipsing out here with us, but he started school this fall-Alamo misses him."
Jack nodded and smiled in understanding, but first day of school separation was galaxies away from his concerns for the child he held in his arms. Even if they wouldn't have been forced to run, that was a day that was never coming for Ally.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
He'd passed the sign posted at the school down the street on his way home. Kindergarten screening. "What are we doing about that?" he'd asked Sam when he'd kicked off his shoes and flopped down onto the couch. The thought of Ally thrown into the midst of twenty-two loud and rowdy five-year-olds was not one he enjoyed.
Carter hadn't even looked up from her monitor. "Nothing-we're homeschooling."
He'd sat up, "Is that even legal?"
She'd looked up then. Looked up and laughed. "It's not exactly unheard of and yes, it's legal. Well over a million kids are homeschooled...and more all the time." She'd opened a new window and pulled up a very official website to prove it to him. As it loaded and he came to lean over her shoulder, she'd continued, "We're not putting Ally into the school system." She'd shuddered as she said it, and he'd known her thoughts matched his own.
He'd made appropriate sounding noises as she'd pointed out the effectiveness and legality of her suggestion, but he'd been thinking more about how good she smelled, how beautiful she was, and what the chances were he could convince Ally to lay down for a nap before the boys were up from theirs. Sam had looked back and caught him at it.
Sarah would have elbowed him and said, "Come on, Jack. This is Charlie's future we're talking about. Please, can you just pay attention for one minute!"
But, Carter, secure in the knowledge he trusted her judgment and would respect her decision, had laughed, put both her computer and her daughter to sleep, and made him a happy man.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
He bit back a sigh at the memory. It didn't look now that Ally would be enjoying the benefits of either public education or homeschooling. The man looked at him, expecting a reply of one sort or another. He'd have preferred to have walked on without having to give anymore away, but he kept up his end of the conversation.
"Noah here's got another year before school...then I reckon I'll have to get a dog myself."
The man laughed. The dog, eager to be off again, pulled at the leash, and the encounter came to an end. Great, just great, Jack thought. The man would remember them.
He stood Ally on her feet. "Time for you to walk, sport...you weigh a ton." Ally took his hand and walked beside him wondering just how much of the information he'd given her was incorrect. She had it in her mind that a ton was 2,000 pounds, the size of a Volkswagen bug, and she did not weigh as much as a car.
~*~~**~*~*
Between her two escorts, she walked shakily back to her prison room through open warehouse space. A few, metal doors lined the walls. There were no windows. She had no way of telling how long she'd been unconscious or how many hours and days had passed without her knowledge. Hunger had not quite overridden her body's complaints of bruises and stiffness so she thought it was probably still just Friday.
Her captors had spared no expense in running their little operation, so she also assumed the DNA tests they were conducting would be extensive and complete. And they wouldn't accept the first results as conclusive...give them two days before they became resigned to the fact someone had made fools of them. Two days. If she hadn't escaped before that, she'd die in two days. They'd made no effort to keep her from seeing their faces, hearing their voices. She was on death row without any hope of appeal.
The man who had questioned her stood near the open door of her room and watched her with a veiled expression in his eyes. She raised her eyes and met his look. "Dr. Carter," he acknowledged as she walked by him as though they were colleagues passing in the hallways.
"I'm sorry, I didn't catch you're name?" she asked. He gave her a small, amused smile as her escorts pushed her into the room. The door clanged shut behind them.
They apparently didn't expect her last days to pass in abject misery; while she was out they'd moved in a cot and sleeping bag. No pillow, but she still wasn't complaining. Someone had tossed a vending machine packet of two extra-strength Tylenol and a greasy bottomed McDonald's bag with breakfast on to the cot. The food was cold and there was no coffee but it took care of her hunger pangs. The Tylenol didn't do as much for her pain, but the comforting warmth of the sleeping bag was such a big improvement she had no trouble sleeping anyway.
And that pretty much comprised her existence: an occasional trip out to the bathroom; a not quite steady diet of Big Mac's and fries, Egg McMuffins and hash browns, and once, as a special treat, an apple pie; and sleep. The Tylenol had been a kindness that was not repeated.
For all his stated confidence that she would give him what he wanted, her interrogator did not return to question, goad, or threaten her. She gained no information about her surroundings-besides the possibility they were a close neighbor to Ronald, her captors, or their purpose. It was going to be a long two days.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~**~
Hammond laughed when he heard the news, and he was still chuckling when he passed it on to Daniel. "Call came through the President's private line. Never passed the screening of course, but when the tapes were reviewed the message contained a password that made sure it got sent on to the proper authorities." He pushed the transcribed record across Jack's desk to Daniel.
"Yep, O'Neill here. Would you tell the President I'm going to have to take a few days of personal leave? I'm a bit indisposed...nothing serious, I'll live but might not make it to the office until-oh, Wednesday or Thursday?"
"Jack called in sick?" Daniel said incredulously. "To the President?"
"That's my boy," the general said with a big grin. "He's all right. And I've received word from Davis and Barrett. They've got a pretty strong lead...they are tracking it down now. We might have something to work on soon."
"Good," Daniel said with a grin of his own. "The river search has turned up a couple of things. Search dogs unearthed a buried bag of supplies-including two Kevlar vests-several miles downstream from Jack's."
"No weapons?" Hammond inquired.
"No, but Jack wouldn't have left something like that where someone could accidentally happen upon it."
"No, he wouldn't have. Anything else."
"There's a place even further down the river where it looks like something about the same size was dug up. There are miles and miles of nothing but trees and brush along the river...lots of sheltered areas to come to ground. Kind of place Jack would love. AND, a man out walking his dog early yesterday morning ran into a fisherman and a four-year-old out that way. Neither exactly fits the right description, but with a little hair dye and a pair of scissors...it could have been Jack and Ally."
"They looked all right?"
"Yeah...the guy didn't think another thing about them until he was interviewed this morning."
"It would be a relief to know Ally's out of it when we make our move on whoever is behind this," Hammond said.
"I'm pretty sure we can count on it, Sir," Daniel said.
The general leaned back in Jack's chair-times like this, he wished he'd left him the good one. Jacob and Peter were up to their usual tricks tearing up the safe house they were staying at with their grandparents. Jack had Ally, and they were both apparently free and unharmed. For a reportedly, well-organized hit, the bad guys had come away with a very poor showing. They'd hold on to their one prize like a pit bull. Whatever their intentions when they had torn into Jack's house, they'd made no demands, offered no concessions for Sam's safety in exchange for political, financial, or military favors.
He was left with the unwelcome conclusions that they'd gotten their target. They weren't making their demands to anyone but Sam alone. She either held the knowledge or expertise to give them what they wanted. He was confidant, if she knew her family was safe, she wouldn't give them the time of day. But, could she know that? And what if it wasn't a matter of what she could give them, but of what they could take from her? If they were dealing with someone determined to carry on the research Adrian Conrad's people had started years ago...Sam may have never survived that first night.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Ally had seen more of the world in the last day and a half than she'd ever seen before. They'd spent most of the previous day and night on a Greyhound bus or hanging around in depots. She felt exposed and trapped and absolutely exhausted from the constant need for vigilance and the tremendous energy she was investing in being someone she was not.
She looked out the window and pointed at cows and horses they passed, she smiled at people who looked her way, and twice she'd actually swallowed down her panic and remained standing and quiet while complete strangers couldn't resist rubbing a hand over her buzzed, fuzzy hair. After that she'd left the hot, sweaty cap pressed tightly on her head even when she drifted off to sleep.
At Sir's prompting, she'd said 'thanks', 'yes, please' and 'no, thank you'. Out loud to people she did not know. She'd dutifully said "OK, Dad" to countless things that had not been okay: "How about we take the bus, Noah?" "How about you stand here really quiet while I buy our tickets?" "How about we scoot over and let this nice woman sit beside us, Noah?" "Noah, why don't you tell her how old you are, what pop you want with your lunch, if you like riding on the bus, or one hundred and one other things you'd rather not talk about?"
As they traveled, they'd collected a pile of belongings that they had to juggle every time they changed buses: a yo-yo, packs of chewing gum, and fishing magazines for Sir; three children's books where for unknown reasons talking animals ran around like people and did things that made no sense, and coloring books with crayons for Noah who apparently liked talking animals and wasting time filling in pictures with colored wax; and a SUDUKO Challenge book for Ally who did not.
The knuckle over her left, middle finger was sore and red where, though she didn't know it, a writer's bump would one day form; she'd never handled a writing utensil of any sort before. She'd finished the last of the puzzles several miles back. It wasn't that she liked them anymore than the coloring books or saw a purpose in spending time doing them. But, Sir had grabbed it randomly off the shelf and said, "Thumb through this a minute. I've got to step over there and..." And she couldn't remember what. He'd parked her in too many aisles while he asked questions or bought tickets or who knew what he didn't want the cashier to remember seeing a man with a little boy doing. By the time he'd returned, the empty squares on the pages had held her captive.
"Noah, time to go, buddy," he'd said. When she'd simply continued to stare at the book, he'd taken a look at what he had handed her. Without a word, he'd taken it out of her hand and left her standing there while he paid for it. He'd given it back to her with a pen as soon as the bus was on the road again. She'd stared blankly at the pen a moment, and he'd positioned the fingers of her right hand awkwardly around it and used it to write 'NOAH" on the inside cover of the book. She'd rubbed her nose with her other hand and his memories of his mother's hand helping him form his name on paper for the first time flashed through her mind.
The challenge of the book had not been the puzzles but getting the hang of using the pen. He'd frowned at her beginning attempts and pursed his lips, but it was the retired teacher across the aisle who glanced over and said, "Might as well let him use his left...we quit trying to make everyone right-handed years ago," that saved the day. After that the numbers had flowed compulsively into the little squares until every single one of them was completed. She had not enjoyed the book and did not feel a sense of accomplishment finishing it.
"I want to go home," she said voicing what she did feel.
"I know," Sir said, "I know. Come here." She climbed obediently from her seat to his lap and lay against him. He ran his hand down her back and in a quiet murmur said, "I'm very, very proud of you...you are one brave little kid. Bet right now it feels like we'll be on a bus forever, but we won't. This is the last bus out...we should have lost anyone following us by now. Not that I think anyone was," he assured her when he felt her stiffen with alarm. "I think as far as anyone knows we disappeared into the night. I want to keep it that way...that's why we've been on the roads, switching buses and destinations so often. We'll go back the same way, but...I think we're safe."
"And Carter?" she asked sadly.
"I don't know anybody by that name, Noah. And I don't think you do either," he said. To anyone listening his tone may have sounded a bit harsher than was warranted but his lips had brushed the top of her cap and he'd pulled her closer while he spoke.
She blinked away tears and said nothing more. And he didn't either. His silence told her he had no answers for her...he knew no more about her mother's fate than she did.
He turned his eyes to the window and watched green mile markers and the browns of late autumn flash by. He thought of what he still had to do, ran through everything he had done to make sure he'd left no trail, and steadfastly refused to acknowledge the desolation in Al-Noah's eyes and voice.
But, when the bus finally pulled into the small, overcrowded depot and they'd collected all their belongings and stood watching it pull out on its way to its next destination, he'd made the call.
"Hello," Daniel's voice had sounded distracted but not devastated. Not like he was sitting vigil in the ICU or coming back from the funeral home. Not like that.
"Daniel," Jack said. All the carefully terse dialogue he'd rehearsed in his mind dissolved away. He fingered Noah's overall strap and played with the tight coils of the phone cord but couldn't come up with anyway to voice his fears.
There was the indrawn breath of recognition on Daniel's end of the wire, followed by a calm, "How are you?"
"Fine," he stammered back in reply. "We're fine...enjoying the trip. How about there?" And if his voice didn't tremble on the question, it was years of training and experience speaking not Jack himself.
"So so...the kids are off to their grandparents. Having a ball as you can imagine."
Jack swallowed painfully and struggled to not let the wave of relief washing over him bring him to his knees. "Good. Good," he eventually choked out. There was only silence from Daniel's end, so he knew the answer to his next question, but he still had to ask it. "So what else is new...that can't be all you know?"
"Afraid so..." He should be relieved he decided. He was relieved. They hadn't carried her out of their home in a body bag. He pressed his back firmly against the wall beside the pay phone and looked anywhere but Ally's strained, white face staring up at him underneath the bright reds and blues of the Spiderman cap. He became aware Daniel was still talking, "planning a get-together here in the next couple of days."
"I'm sorry," he interrupted, "I didn't get that?"
"I said Peter and a couple of his buddies are working to get everyone together in the next few days. Might not work out. Things are still in the air, but...it would be good to see some of our old friends." Jack struggled to gain some clarity of thought...Peter, Peter-did he know a Peter that wasn't still in diapers? Ok, Daniel give me a clue here. Peter and Paul. Paul. Paul Davis. They had a lead on Carter. A couple of days-they'd already had her for...he was losing it. Had it really been less than two days since they'd left her behind? "Are you still there?" Daniel said in his ear.
"Yeah, I'm here..."
"I was saying maybe you could call back in a couple of days, and I can let you know how it goes?"
"Sure," he answered though if things went according to plan, he'd be several hundred thousand light years from a phone by then. "Listen, suppose I should let you go. Just wanted to see how things were going and say thanks for taking care of things while I'm gone-the mail and all that."
"Not a problem," Daniel said easily as though they really were talking about emptying mailboxes and watering plants and the life of two very small boys hadn't hung in the balance. "Call me when you get a chance."
Jack had assured him he would, but he had hung up without a good-by because he was no better at voicing them now than he'd been at hearing them five years before.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
It appeared the rest of the men had lost faith in her interrogator. Two of them spent a few uncomfortable-for her anyway-hours trying to get her to tell them where Jack and Ally had run. Failing that, they'd tried to get her to admit that Ally really did have the knowledge they were determined to possess.
They were sadly disappointed. They left her shaking and trembling on the floor behind them when they finally called it quits. She stayed there unsuccessfully trying to pull together the strength and will power to pull herself off of the floor. But, despite appearances, she had emerged from the encounter the victor. It was they who had retreated in defeat.
She thought their actions had been the panicked last ditch attempts of men who knew they were going down. They had gotten back the initial DNA tests and were desperately trying to salvage something out of what was turning into an unmitigated disaster on their part. By the morning, they would no longer be able to deny their error. And then they would begin working on containment and damage control.
She had wanted to believe that she'd get out of this alive. That she'd see her sons again. Have a chance to thank Daniel for saving their lives. Maybe in one way or another hear word from Jack that he and Ally were safely away. But, she'd had no chance at escape earlier, and now... It was taking more than she had to pick herself up off the floor. She wasn't going anywhere.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Pizza. What was it with all-night surveillance teams that required them to eat pizza? Daniel turned his nose up at the piece Janet offered him. Was there something in the sauce that was supposed to keep your eyes from shutting after five hours of staring through tinted glass and into TV screens or what?
"You sure? Last piece?" she asked.
"I'm sure...go ahead."
"All right," she said and took a big bite. They'd joined the rest of the assault team late the evening before, and they'd spent the rest of the night elbowing each other for room in the nondescript van full of monitoring equipment, too many people, and five large pizzas with everything on them.
Major Davis politely maneuvered his way pass other members of the team to reach Daniel. He indicated his mobile phone and said, "We've got the go-ahead. Intelligence confirms we're dealing with a break-away group from the Trust."
"No offworld involvement?"
"Nope, just home-grown bad guys with a power complex."
Daniel nodded. That simplified things anyway. "Any idea what they were hoping to gain?"
"Nothing, but I'm sure it's safe to say they hoped to capture General O'Neill and either use him as a hostage or use his family against him to coerce him into giving into their demands. Probably wanted access to the Stargate."
Daniel nodded his head thoughtfully and hoped the powers that be would be satisfied with that explanation and dig no further. "They've got to know that isn't going to work now."
"You'd think," the major agreed. He turned to the others in the van, and raising his voice slightly so everyone could hear detailed their plan of attack. He was still speaking when alarms sounded and someone called, "They are on the move."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~~*~*
She hadn't stirred the first time someone had stuck his head through the door to see if she needed to use the restroom and toss in her latest supply of fast food. She'd managed to climb on the cot and lay in a painful heap on top of the sleeping bag by the time they peeked in the next time. They pulled her to her feet and more or less drug her with them to the rest room. They tossed her in much as they had her uneaten supper. She struggled to hold onto the sink and stay on her feet. She was not up to crawling off the floor one more time.
The door opened and someone thrust in a duffle bag for her to take. The man met her eyes and grimaced in what she thought might be an apology. This was it then.
She grimly sat about the task of somehow dressing without passing out. Apparently, her captors had the same concerns. The apologetic man hesitantly joined her in the cramped room.
"Sit down," he told her and she unsteadily perched on the toilet. He wet a wash rag and handed it to her before filling a bright and cheery flowered Dixie cup with water. "Here," he said and handed her two chunky, white caplets. She didn't have to ask what they were. Heavy-duty painkillers. She'd practically lived off of them for a while there after the accident.
"Thanks," she acknowledged and drank them down.
"Sure," he replied. "Need more water?"
"Yes, please." He patiently refilled it and waited for her to drink it down before beginning to rummage through the clothes. "I'll do it," she said.
"I'm sorry, Dr. Carter...I don't think so. Not until that medication takes effect...and they're wanting to move out NOW. It's all right," he told her kindly, "I won't look." Though, of course, he had no choice because in the end she was barely capable of keeping herself from slipping off the toilet onto the cement let alone dressing herself. He worked quickly and efficiently and managed to get her out of the track suit and into the men's business suit they'd provided before the meds hit her empty stomach and made her violently ill. Wonderful.
Someone banged on the door, "Come on. What are you doing in there? Let's go." She rinsed her mouth and wiped her face, and her helper met her eyes in the mirror and tried to smile encouragingly.
"Where are they taking me?"
His eyes slid away from hers before he answered, "Home...it's over. We have the DNA results. We know we made a mistake...it's over." He'd been kind and gentle when he could have been rough and bullying so she swallowed down the accusing, biting words that rose in her throat and threatened to spew out. "My family?" she asked instead.
"They're safe from us," he said. And that had to be enough. He opened the door and took her arm to steady her as she walked out to face her death. There was a man's overcoat to struggle into, a hat to cover her once blond hair, a briefcase to complete the image, and two unsmiling men on either side of her when she walked out the door. Just a group of businessmen taking a break from an all-night power meeting.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
The van wasn't situated where they could actually watch the group who came milling out of the warehouse's side door. With red-rimmed, burning eyes, Daniel squinted into the snowy feed showing on the monitor. It looked like the whole operation was on the move. Ten to twelve men moving in what appeared to be a disorganized group; swinging brief cases and kicking their polished shoes through the grit of the windblown debris of the alley. And in their midst, Sam.
At first glance, and even the second, anyone else might have taken her for one of the men. But, not Daniel who had followed her in her BDUs and military-issued headgear over field and dale for seven years and never once forgot she was a woman. It would take more than a hat and a man's overcoat to fool him.
Not trusting himself to speak, he pointed towards the screen and everyone leaned forward and squinted to see.
"She's hurt," Janet said. No one argued with the years of experience in her voice.
"Ok," Davis said, "Obviously, we're not letting them walk out of here with Major Carter." Sam wasn't a major anymore, but no one corrected him. The type of operation they were contemplating was forgivable with an Air Force major on the inside, not with an injured civilian in harm's way. Daniel thought the plan didn't have a chance of doing much besides turning this all but deserted back street of an industrial area into a battle zone, but Davis was right. If they let them walk with Sam, they wouldn't see her again until she was on the way to the morgue.
Davis got on the horn to other teams positioned around the building and gave the nod to his two snipers. "Go," he said, but they all knew their targets would be gone before they had time to get into optimal positions. The men slunk out of the van and melted into the surroundings like fog dissipating in the early morning sunlight. The rest of the team slung on their Kevlar vests, checked their weapons one last time, and prepared for battle.
Daniel gave Janet an encouraging nod as he silently slipped out the van door. Time to play the game. He crouched to run behind the shelter of an industrial-sized dumpster and let the group advance on his position before he slowly stepped out into their line of sight. "Good morning," he said. Sam's head jerked up at the sound of his voice, and the group shuffled to a stop.
The sounds of safeties being released clicked through the alley and from all around them. From their hiding places beyond Daniel and behind the group, men edge forward to show their presence. "It might be best if you surrender," Daniel said.
Apparently they didn't agree. Those nearest Sam made a grab at her, but she'd been ready for them. She crouched and whirled out of their reach. The snipers took the opportunity and didn't miss. Then both sides opened fire and shots threw from every direction. Sam dropped to the ground. For a heart stopping instant, Daniel who had ducked back behind the dumpster thought she had been hit.
"Sam!" he yelled and maybe she heard him over the sounds of the weapons fire and maybe she didn't. But, she turned her head, looked at him, and held out her hand. Without hesitating, he flung his handgun out to her. She was firing into the midst of the men around her before he was even sure he'd gotten it to her.
It was all over almost before it had begun. The gunfire faded away. It was replaced by approaching sirens. One of the downed men groaned in agony. A rasping gurgle came from another and then ended abruptly. The assault team scurried in quickly, kicking guns from limp, outstretched hands and burning off the last dregs of the adrenaline that had permeated the alley an instant before.
Daniel didn't waste time worrying about the men. He rushed to Sam and bent over her. "Are you hit?' he asked urgently and before she could get out an answer Janet was dropping to her knees at their side.
"I don't think so," Sam said, but her mind wasn't in the alley strewn with broken bodies. "The boys, Daniel...did you get the boys?"
"Yeah, yeah, I did," he assured her. "They're fine...giving Hank and Lois a hard time as usual. Asking for you."
She rolled onto her back, put a hand over her mouth, and began to cry. Janet ran a practiced eye over her. "Are you coughing up any blood? Passing blood in your urine?" Sam shook her head to each question and looked up at Daniel.
He answered her own questions as well as he could. "Jack's called in. He and Ally are ok. I don't know how they got out or where they are, but they are ok."
Janet finished with her initial assessment of Sam and turned to call to Major Davis, "We'll need an ambulance here!"
Sam reached out and caught her arm. "Please, Janet...I want to see my babies. Please can't you let me go home?"
"Sam, I'm sorry. I can't just stick a band-aid on this. But, we'll get you settled at the hospital, and Hank and Lois can bring the boys up to see you. Ok?" Janet exchanged a quick glance with Daniel over Sam's head...home with its bullet-ridden walls and dried blood on the carpet was the last place she would be going even if she didn't look like she'd been worked over.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Ally had never been to the Mountain before but when she caught sight of it she felt like she was finally coming home. They went in through a 'backdoor'. Not one she recognized from his memories; one he'd carved out of the base's extensive security system sometime in the years he'd lived without her. It was a lot more complicated than the ones she was familiar with, and she guessed at one point or another he'd had to use the others and let security seal them shut behind him when they'd traced his steps.
He tinkered with the security feed going in. Cutting out just enough cameras that it looked more like a glitch than a purposeful action. He hated to do anything to undermine base security-well, as far as fending off actual threats anyway-but he needed a clear, unobserved, unmarked path.
They very quickly ran into a glitch of their own. The base was on alert. He'd picked the quietest hours of the SGC's typically quietest day, but the halls were swarming with activity. All wasn't peaceful in Oz.
Pressing himself and Ally tightly against a wall in what should have been a more or less deserted hallway, holding a warning finger to her mouth, and waiting for his own people rushing by to detect them and give them away, he knew everything was up. He was minutes away from getting this child he loved so much to a place of safety, but...his place was here. In these concrete halls, buried under a mountain, protecting not just one little girl but an entire planet and those that depended on it for their safety.
He took a deep breath, smiled encouragingly at Ally while trying not to see how small and vulnerable and dependent on him she really was, and reported for duty.
Their appearance caused quite a stir. "I think that's my chair," he said from the doorway to the worried group clustered around his desk. Every head in the room whipped around and stared in shock.
Hammond was the first to pick his jaw up off the floor. A slow smile stretched across his face, and with a gracious nod of his bald head, he stood up and gave Jack back his chair. He settled into it amid what seemed like a thousand 'Welcome back, General's. Ally who'd tried to disappear behind him when every eye had turned their way, crept under the desk and hunkered next to his legs. Without looking down he put a comforting hand on her shoulder and said, "Someone want to tell Siler he really needs to check the junction box near Storage Room G? Seems someone's messed with the security feeds down there. Tell him it's unfortunate he won't be able to get the camera to this office back online, but...we are in a crisis after all. Some things just can't be helped." And then, "Well, what have you gone and done while I've been out? Someone want to fill me in?"
It wasn't news he wanted to hear...but then it never was. He regretted the day he'd said 'sure, why not' to Daniel and the geeks and let them play around with those stones. It wasn't like they didn't have enough problems in their own galaxy. Oh no. They'd had to thumb their noses at someone else's nightmare and put a 'kick me' sign on the Milky Way. Not one of his better command decisions.
So the Ori were on their way. Way more ships than anything he had to throw at them. He stretched out the kinks riding more or less two days in a Greyhound bus had left in his neck and wondered how they were going to get out of this one.
Under his desk, Ally was stricken with a horror and dread that had nothing to do with a room full of strangers. The Ori. She knew of them. Knew of their evil and of their power. Everyone in that room knew they had to be stopped, but none more than Ally. Images, thoughts, and stirring speeches in a language she could not yet fully understand flashed and shouted through her every synapses. Hidden under the desk, her little body rocked and shook with the power of their fears, their convictions, and their resolve. If their legacy was ever to be used, this was the time. The Ori were an enemy surpassing even the Replicators.
One day had come.
She struggled to exert control over her own mind; to quiet the turmoil and rise above her own fear to a place where rational thought was possible. She concentrated on the Sir in her mind. For all his restless energy and need for action, when the situation called for it, he had the ability to still all his thoughts and focus only on what mattered. A natural ability that years in command had honed in him. One he'd passed down to her as a gift without knowing it. One that if she could apply it might allow her to save his world.
Slowly, she drew his calm around her and carved out a quiet place for herself in the midst of their upset. From there, she began to sort out the situation. She was at a distinct disadvantage having no knowledge of what had happened in the many, many years since the Ancient database had been compiled or of how the Ori had discovered the Milky Way Galaxy and its defenseless multitudes. Still, she knew their ways, their strengths, and their limitations.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Daniel had had a million things to attend to, and he hadn't meant to climb into the ambulance and hold her hand for the trip. Janet was with her; she was going to be ok. He should have been able to let her go without him. But...it was the second time she'd been in the back of an ambulance in less than five months. He nodded to Davis and Barrett, scrambled in after Janet, and smiled down reassuringly into Sam's face as he took her hand.
Like good little children, he and Janet had both turned off their cell phones for the ambulance ride in compliance to the posted request. It was only when Janet and the emergency room staff of her hospital had whisked Sam away behind closed doors that he began to think about summoning a ride back to the warehouse where he knew cleanup would be ongoing for the next several hours and switched his phone back on. The recall order was terse and imperative, and he obeyed it with the same speed and urgency that he'd responded to Jack's panic button.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The group in the room began to filter out until only the two generals and the little girl hiding under the desk separating them remained.
"Good to have you back, Son," Hammond said.
"Thank you, Sir," Jack answered.
"I don't know where you've came from or where you've been but..."
"Yes, Sir."
"With this hitting the fan, I haven't had time to receive a full report, but I think you'll be happy to know assault teams took down the folks who attacked your house."
His thoughts and Ally's full of the ramifications of the Ori's impeding attack both came screeching to a halt. "Carter?" he asked in a voice suddenly harsh with fear and dread and hope.
"She's being transported to the Academy Hospital. Dr. Frasier's with her. And Daniel. Major Davis reports her injuries are not life-threatening, but that's all the details I had time to receive."
Jack nodded his head slowly but couldn't find the words to respond. Ally climbed out from under the desk and into his lap. She was crying silent tears, and if they'd been alone he would have been as well. General Hammond swallowed down the lump in his own throat and stepped out of the office to give them time to absorb his news.
Carter was alive...alive and going to stay that way. There were no words to express their relief and joy at that news. Not then when their fears and guilt over leaving her behind was still so strong and overwhelming. Not while the truth of the general's words was nothing compared to the strength of the images their minds had conjured up over the last fifty-some hours. Not in the time, the current emergency would grant them. With a pat on her back, he gave up the attempt and turned back to contemplating the fate of the universe.
She recognized the signal and did the same. "Tell me how the Ori found us?" she said. "What do you know about them? What are their numbers? And how much do they know about this galaxy?"
He looked down at her, and she saw in his eyes the minute he realized what he held in his lap. "What do you know about the Ori?" he asked in turn.
She grinned up at him and said, "Enough."
The End
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