Prologue:
It was three in the morning when Carson Willis unlocked the door and entered his suburban townhouse. He'd just come from The Docks, a local nightclub, where he worked as a bouncer. He cursed quietly as the door creaked. Pausing first, to make sure he hadn't woken anyone, Carson closed the door and strode into the living room. All around him, he could hear the gentle pitter-patter of raindrops as they fell onto the roof. He tossed his rainsoaked jacket onto the armchair and continued to the bathroom.
He turned the light on and looked into the mirror, grimacing as he did so. Pulling out a small swab, he gently dabbed the wound over his left eye. The Docks was known for being one of the rougher night-spots in the area, so Carson was no stranger to getting hurt. This night in peticular, three guys had gotten drunk and had begun to harrass some of the waitresses. Upon seeing this, both he and Mikey "Eyes" McCormic, a fellow bouncer, put a stop to it. On the way from the bar to door, Willis soon learned that one of the men was an up-and-coming prize fighter. He grunted his injured flesh burned under the alcohol.
The man had managed to take him unaware and land one solid punch. Carson, an ex-marine brought the full exent of his combat knowledge against the Tyson wannabe and soon the club was peaceful once again. His eye had puffed up something fierce, and his boss had let him go early.
"Oh my god!" Carson heard a soft cry behind him. A glance in the mirror provided him with the picture of his stunned wife, Jen Willis. "Carson! What the hell happened?" She asked, as she rushed over to him. Returning her hug, he looked back at the mirror and continued his painful work. "Some guys got a little roudy. Me and Eyes had to kick them out, only one of the little buggers knew his stuff. No biggie Jen." He reasurred his wife.
Her expression turned from concern to annoyance instantly. "Carson Willis! How many times have I told you, I don't want you working in a place like that. Too many people get hurt there. Why just last week, didn't Jake Thomas have to be taken to the hospital?" She asked, already knowing the answer. Jake Thomas was another one of Carson's coworkers. Last tuesday, Carson remembered. Jake had broken up a fight between two women. One of their boyfriends had taken offense to having his 'woman' handled like that and put Jake through a table.
Carson and Mikey had been there, and the boyfriend had recieved his dues. But Jake had been taken to the hospital with a fractured collerbone. "Come on Jen! Jake's fine, it was only a partial fracture. He'll be back in a month, two tops." He replied. Inwardly he shook his head. Every time he came home hurt it was the same thing.
"Listen Jen, I don't really want to talk about this right now. Can't we just go and watch TV?" He implored. Seconds went by before she answered. Her eyes glistened, but she nodded and led the way back to the living room. Putting his arm around her, he settled onto the leather couch and turned on the TV. Glancing once, up at the picture above the mantel.
**
Outside, a dark figure moved through the shadows. His body one with the night. He trotted across the lawn and ducked under the front window. Inside, he saw the blue-white glow of a television screen. A small peek showed him two people sitting on the couch, arm in arm. A smile sprang across his face as he dashed to the side.
Expertly, he used a pair of wire cutters to cut the telephone line before continueing to the back. The rain masked the sound as he climbed the wall, towards the roof. Stopping on the brief outcropping he pulled out a canvas bag and rummaged through it. Allowing himself a quiet cry of satafaction, he pulled out his glass cutter.
The expensive piece of equipment clung to the glass easily as he slowly turned it. With the sound of thunder growing constantly, he wasn't worried about someone hearing. Seconds later, he removed a small chunk of glass from just above the locking mechanism. A few seconds of fiddling rewarded him with an effectively unlocked window. He pushed it up and entered the building.
He looked around, taking in the sights of the Willis' master bedroom. He recalled quickly where to go, from the blueprints he'd stolen from the construction company. Moving surely down the narrow hallway, he ducked silently into the first dark room. His night vision was excellent and his eyes quickly adjusted. Before him, laying the sleeping figure of a little boy.
Without blinking, he pulled out his gun and shot him. The only sound now, was the unemotional click of the trigger. Turning his back, he left the room and snuck even further down the hall, to the next room. Repeating the process with the two girls he found there.
His mind, frightfully silent. The figure inched slowly down the stairs, thankful for no creeks. Taking one simple breath he turned the corner and walked, almost nonchalauntly, into the living room. He shot the woman first, not even giving her time to realize his presence. The man was next, only able to look up at him before he too was dead.
Walking over, he gently turned off the television. He pulled from his side, a silver hunting knife and proceeded to complete his deed. All the time, the rain continued to fall and the neighbours continued to sleep.
Chapter 1:
Jack O'Niell burst through the doors of the Magistrate's audience chamber, a bright grin on his face. Behind him, the figures of Major Carter, Dr. Jackson and Teal'c struggled to keep up with his brisk pace. Not bothering to wait, O'Niell continued his course from the massive building. He had crossed the square before the rest of SG-1 reached him.
Much to their confusion, Colonel O'Niell flashed them a toothy smile. For three days, Jack and the rest of SG-1 had been on the planet Dragos, or PXC-778, negotiating for mining rights to a large deposit of Naqueda. At first, they found the natives to be more than willing to talk about the prospect. Now, however, the natives had begun to make unreasonable demands upon the Tau'ri. In the last meeting, the chief Magistrate had demanded that Earth provide them with several tonnes of weapons-grade plutoium.
Extremely tired of such astronomical proposals, O'Niell had simply stood up and walked out. Now, he continued from the square, in fact they we're almost two blocks away when he finally decided to stop. Turning around, he was confonted with the bewildered faces of his team. "Jack, what the hell was that?" Daniel Jackson asked.
"Sir, General Hammond ordered us to obtain those rights through any diplomatic means nessesary. I don't think walking out in the middle of negotiations is going to get us any closer to that goal." Carter added quietly. Jack O'Niell simply nodded his head and gazed over at the stone building overhead. In a barely audible voice he counted. "3...2...1...Now."
As if on cue, the massive doors swung open and the red-clad figure of the Magistrate's assistant could be seen running towards them. "Colonel O'Niell! Colonel O'Niell!" He shouted as he closed in. "Please wait! The Magistrate is willing to negotiate further. By no means were his demands set in stone Colonel. Please come back!" He pleaded.
While SG-1 struggled to keep their faces straight, Jack dawned an expression of stone. "Why should we return?" He asked. "It seems your magistrate is unwillling to see reason. I should think we'll have to go elsewhere with our business." He continued, ignoring the stunned expressions of his people. The aid's face fell visibly. His eyes begged him to return. Inwardly, O'Niell smiled again. I have you now! He echoed Darth Vader's sentiment.
"Colonel, the Magistrate has authorized me to accept your original proposal. I just ask that you return to finalize the deal." His voice began to shake slightly. Without an other word, with Jack in the lead, SG-1 returned to the audience hall. There, they spent the next six hours in deep negotiations. When they finally left, Jack had managed to get the mining rights for just under half of the original offer.
They began the long march back to their encampment. For the first few minutes, the only sound was that of the local wildlife. "Sir, that was...well amazing." Carter said. Jack, grinned slightly. "What can I say? I'm just that good." He shrugged and waggled his eyebrows. To his left, Daniel Jackson rolled his eyes. "Oh god! I wouldn't have thought it possible, but I think Jack's ego has managed to get even bigger."
"Yes Daniel Jackson, I believe I can see it expanding as we speak." Came Teal'c's gruff reply. With that, Sam Carter doubled over. Daniel began to sputter like an old engine and Jack eyes began to tear as he struggled for breath. Just over forty minutes later, the four soldiers reentered their camp. Daniel went straight for the luke warm coffee. Carter ducked into the tent and emerged later without her gear.
Jack O'Niell gave himself a mental pat on the back and settled onto one of the logs they'd put around the make-shift firepit. Tommorow they would return to the village to finalize the treaty. For now, O'Niell was content to sit here and drink his cup of well deserved sludge. Later that night, as Jack slept, a dream entered his mind. A dream he'd not dreamt in many years. A nightmare to be exact. This nightmare was different, for twelve years earlier he'd lived it. Little did he know, soon he would live it again.
**
12 Years earlier:
"Alright guys. Let's get moving, double time." Came the hardened voice of USAF Colonel Gary Wilson from the front of the group. Captain Jack O'Niell nodded and waved on the rest of the men behind him. He squinted as the hot Iraqi sun came overhead. As he walked, his M16 rifle slapped against his stomach. He could feel the sweat begin to drip through the black bandana.
They had been walking through the desert for almost six days and his feet hurt something fierce. Jack looked up at the man in front of him and shook his head. "My god Sarge! Does anything ever bother you?" He spoke to the only noncom in the group. Staff Seargent Fred Harris was a Marine sniper. He'd been part of Wilson's commando team for almost seventeen years. Jack himself, had only put in three months with them and already he wanted out.
He'd been in the USAF for close to ten years already and had participated in a number of operations. He was good, and even he knew it. Last year, he'd been selected for Special Forces training. Like most things he enjoyed, he excelled and was handpicked by Colonel Wilson to participate in his black ops team.
At the time, he'd been ecstatic. That was before he learned what it actually entailed. No ammo. No support. No hope if you screw up. And, lots of walking. They had walked to the city from the drop zone almost two weeks ago. Then they had snuck around, which amongst other things, meant walking. Then, once the job was done. They had, you guessed it, walked from the city. Now they were walking towards the pickup point along the Iran border.
Thats what he missed about piloting, at least in an F-18, you didn't have to walk. But in the end, he guessed it was all worth it. When they returned, he'd be paid out a massive sum and be granted two months vacation. He hoped he'd be able to spend the time with his wife Sara and his little boy Charlie. All he had to do was survive until then.
In front of him, Seargent Harris emitted a quick laugh. "Sure, plenty of things bother me." He replied lightly, much to O'Niell's aggrivation. Hoping the conversation would take his mind off the pain, Jack pressed on. "Apparently sun, heat, sand and long death marches don't." His sarcastic nature leaking through as he spoke. He realized that his breathing had become labored. Fred was silent for a moment before responding. "It's alright Jack," He reassured, using the officer's first name. Normally, O'Niell would have jumped down a noncom's throat for such a display of disrespect, but Harris wasn't your average noncom, and he didn't mean any disrespect. "I've spent more time in the desert than you have breathing. My parents were diplomats. In fact, I spent most of my summers not far from here." He explained as the band carried on.
Hours went by as Harris and O'Niell talked. At first, the others were quiet, but soon everyone joined in. Not bothering to stop for the night, Colonel Wilson pressed them on with the promise of being back in the US the following day. Jack would have complained, except for the fact his conversation had totally taken his mind off his aching feet.
Their voices echoed through the night, giving the persuing Iraqi forces the team's exact position. They struck quickly, efficiently, before anyone noticed their presence. Jack dove as the fire poured from the dune behind them. He landed with a faceful of sand. All he could hear was the distance pop of AK-47's and the sound of bullets whizzing by his head.
"Ever..aaa..." Gary Wilson tried to shout as two rounds entered his chest cavity. He fell with a thud. Captain O'Niell scambled up beside the still form of his commanding officer and shook him once before reporting down the line. "Batey! Wilson's gone!" He called to the teams 2IC, Captain Ron Batey. "Alright! Harris, Knowles, O'Niell, Willis get your asses down there and give'em hell! I'll call in the calvary!" Came the reply.
Jack crawled down to where the three other men waited. On his left, Lieutenant Carson Willis prepared, pulling out his black bayonet and fixing it to his own M16 rifle. On his right, Seargent Harris and Lieutenant Greg Knowles copied his movements.
Two hundred yards yonder, seventeen Iraqi soldiers closed in, their weapons firing nonstop. Behind him, he could hear the panicked voice of Ron Batey on the radio. "Blackbird 1! Blackbird 1! This is Raven X! We're pinned down! We need pickup! Repeat! This is Raven X! We need pickup!"
Jack cursed as he emptied the last of his clip into the nearest soldier. "Damn! I'm out," He called over the gunfire. Beside him, Seargent Harris shifted and stopped firing. Seconds later, Jack was given three fresh magazines. Nodding his thanks, he popped one into the rifle and continued shooting.
Luckily for the team, only a small group of Iraqi soldiers had located them. O'Niell ran through his next two clips quickly. He was about to let lose with his last batch of ammo, when he heard a distant chopping sound. Just as he looked up, two jet-black helecopters entered the sky.
Before long, they had touched down, their door-gunners pumping away at the advancing Iraqis. Before Jack could get to his feet, they were upon him. One man, about six feet in height raised a wicked looking knife and prepared to plunge into him. Before that could happen however, Seargent Harris entered his chest with his bayonet. One simple thrust was all it took before the man was dead.
"O'Niell, get your ass on that chopper!" He screamed as more Iraqis came up. Harris put two to them down before joining the Captain on his mad dash to the choppers. In front of him, Jack O'Niell watched as Ron Batey was felled by gunfire. "Shit, Batey's gone!" Jack yelled back to Harris.
One look at him and the Seargent told him to forget it. "He's dead Jack! Forget him, get on the bird!" Captain O'Niell sprinted as hard as he could, behind him the Iraqis continued to gain. Jack had almost made it, when the closest chopper began to pull away. "Wait!" He screamed, but it made no difference. Changing his course, he ran toward the second chopper. As it began to lift off, Jack, in his desperation made a final jump toward it. He was surprised when his outstretched hands found purchase.
Glancing up, he saw two hands reach forward and pull him into the airborne chopper. Below, the dark figure of Seargent Fred Harris fell to the ground. "Pilot! Turn this thing around, he have a man on the ground!" Jack screamed as his friend was surrounded by the enemy. Knowing it was useless to argue, Captain O'Niell watched with baited breath as Harris was hauled to his feet and marched off into the night...
**
"Colonel! Colonel! Colonel?" A voice pierced Jack O'Niell's dream. Instantly, he was back in the tent, his sleeping bag a protective sheath over his body. As he looked up, the haggard figure of Major Carter stood there, hunched over by the door calling him. "Colonel! Colonel? Oh, your awake.....Sir, we just recieved a transmission from the SGC, apparently something has come up, we're to pack up and leave...now."
Beside him, the sleeping body of Daniel Jackson stirred slightly, before being jolted awake by a small shove from Teal'c. "We must collect our things Daniel Jackson, we are leaving." The large Jaffa said, by way of explaination. It would seem he had been awake for the entire conversation.
Simply nodding, Daniel began to get dressed. "Carter!" O'Niell shouted. Immeidately her blond head popped back into the tent. "Yes sir?" She replied. As Jack stood, his knees cracked audiblely, causing him to grimace in pain. "Carter, what exactly did they say?" He queried, trying to keep the irratation out of his voice. Looking down at his watch, he cursed. Before he could complain about the time Carter answered. "Sir, it was General Hammond. He said something has happened and that we, or rather you have to get back to the SGC. The General is sending SG-6 through to continue the negotiations."
Now, both Daniel and Teal'c were sitting upright, looks of concern on their faces. Jack, realizing the situation's urgency made a beeline for his pack. It wasn't long before the camp was cleared and they were off. It was a short hike to the stargate, but somehow SG-1 got there even faster. Dr. Jackson, taking up his cue, jogged over to the DHD and inputted the coordinates for earth. The gate responded quickly enough and before long a blue vortex hung in front of them. Stepping through, the Colonel found himself in the cold grey of the gateroom. Overhead, he saw General Hammond standing by the microphone. "O'Niell, briefing room, five minutes." Was all that came out.
When Colonel O'Niell walked through the door of the SGC's briefing room, he stopped dead in his tracks. As usual, General Hammond sat at the head of the table, clad in his blue uniform. Beside him, was a woman. Jack's confusion skyrocketed as he realized just who it was. It was Sara, his ex-wife, and she looked like she'd been through hell.
**
Blue and red lights flashed all around as Detective Greg Knowles pulled up to the red suburban house. Across the street, Greg caught sight of a number of concerned neighbours watching from their front porches. As he brought his green sedan to a hault, he was greeted quickly by a uniformed officer. Sticking his head through the open window, the officer spoke. "Sir, you can't be here..." He began, just as Greg reached down and pulled out his badge. Abruptly, the officer nodded and turned tail.
Upon stepping out, his coworker and friend, Detective John Grimsby met him. Just by looking at his face, Greg Knowles saw that John was stressed out. He was young, single and doing well finacially, so Knowles ruled out his personal life as the cause which left only one thing. The scene inside the house.
"What do we got?" Detective Knowles asked. Grimsby opened his mouth to speak and then shut it. Seconds later he opened it again, his voice a small peep compared to his usual clear confidence. "It's bad Greg, real bad." Not saying another word, John led Greg up the stairs, passed the crying wreck of their next door neighbour. "She was the one who found them." As all he recieved by way of explaination.
He nodded and followed the younger man into the house. Before entering the living room, Greg tugged on his partner's coat. "John, this place looks familiar. Who lives here?" He asked, noticing a grimace from John. Taking the hint as what it was, he mentally changed the word lives, for lived. "Here, let me check," He said, looking down at a piece of paper in his hand. "The house belongs to a Carson Willis and his wife. They also had two children."
Greg's jaw just dropped. Had he heard right? Grunting he followed up the question. "John, was this Carson Willis ever in the military?" He asked, his voice carrying the sense of urgency. Fortunatly, his partner's reply was prompt. "Yeah, he was in the Army for about ten years. He was discharged just before the Gulf War, I think he was a Lieutenant at the time. Why? Do you know him?"
Nodding his answer, Greg wasted no more time and pushed his way into the living room. There, right before him two bodies sat upright on a sofa, with large holes protruding from their foreheads. In addition, both of them had their right fingers removed, causing them to bleed profusely. As he stifled a gasp, he noticed that the formerly blue fabric of the couch was a crimson red. "The fingers were removed after they were killed." John offered, answering one of many unasked questions. Before he ask another John continued. "At first we thought it might have been a trophy thing, but it turns out it wasn't."
He didn't speak anymore, leaving Greg to wonder what that reason was. Then as if answering another unspoken question, John turned his head behind him. This time, Greg did gasp. Right up on the wall, about five feet up was a note, written in bloody script. On top was a sentence, followed by a list of six names. The sentence read:
You left me in hell, now I'm here to return the favor.
The list was of six names, all of which Knowles knew very well. Three of them were crossed out. Looking at it he read the names that were crossed out. "Gary Wilson, Ron Batey, Carson Willis."
Next, he read out the names that weren't crossed out. "Jack O'Niell, Fred Harris and..." His voice trailed off as John gasped, actually taking the time to read the list. His voice got even softer as he spoke. "Greg....it's you."
**
Jack O'Niell sat at the conference table with his ex-wife and his CO. With tears streaming down her cheek she relayed her story.
**
Sara O'Niell got out of her car and slammed the door. She felt her face flush red as she stomped toward the house. How could he be such a jerk?!? She thought to herself as she grabbed the two bags of garbage and threw them uncerimoniously on the front lawn. As she did so, her mind continued to wander back to her work.
She'd been working at the loan office for over a year now, but her boss still refused to give her any vacation. And, because she wasn't part of a trade union, there was nothing she could do about it. She trotted up her stairs and strode over to her mailbox. Inside, she found a number of envolopes of assorted colors. Looking through them, she spied a number of bills.
She turned back to the front door and unlocked it. Sara fumed as the door refused to open. Finally, with the help of her shoulder the oak wall gave in and allowed her access. She waltzed in and plopped herself down of her blue sofa. Beside her, lay the grey box that was her answering machine.
She sat just long enough to rewind the tape and press play, then she was off to the kitchen. As she rummaged through her fridge, she listened to the messages as they were presented. The first two were from her mother and sister respectively, the third was a wrong number and the fifth was a call from her boss, who redeemed himself by aplogizing and agreeing to give her the much needed vacation.
Quite satasfied with herself, Sara gave up on making her own food and grabbed one of the many fast food brochures lying on her table. Picking up her cordless phone she quickly placed a call to her favorite pizza place and went upstairs.
She entered her bathroom and proceeded to disrobe. While the pizza and Jay's was great, it was not known for being quick so she knew she had time. Running the water was a simple task and within two minutes she was soaking in a nice warm bath. Pulling out a book she began to read. Slowly the aches and pains of the day began to ebb from her tense muscles.
She was dry and dressed when the pizza guy finally came an hour later. She smiled and paid him, then returned to the cool safety of her living room to enjoy her double-cheese pizza. She turned on her TV and began watching a rerun of Friends. She continued like this for another three hours before she finally resigned herself to bed. Knowing she'd be off tommorow, she planned to go shopping.
Sara slept quietly for several hours and was woken suddenly when the phone rang. The loud beeping pierced her dreams and brought her upright. Upon realizing the situation, she ran downstairs and fumbled around her darkened kitchen for the phone. She found it seconds later and pressed the 'talk' button.
"Hello?" She whispered into the reciever and waited for a response. On the other end, she heard breathing, but no voice. "Who is this?" She demanded, the irratation replacing her tired haze. "Do you have any idea what time it is?" She continued when she was greeted again by silence. "Don't call here again you creep!"
This time, she recieved a response. "Creep!?! You call me a creep? How about that snot nosed, disloyal piece of shit you married? How about him?" He screamed. Sara tried to reply but was cut off. "He's the creep honey! Not me. And he's gonna pay fot it. In fact, I'm going to kill everyone he holds dear, starting with you honey." He paused as Sara gasped.
Her mind was racing as she listened to the man's breath. It seemed labored, which made him even more intimidating. Then with a light, almost jolly voice he added "See ya soon."
Then the phone went dead.
**
"I called the police, but they didn't seem all that interested. They said they'd send someone over in the morning to make out a report. I didn't know what else to do, so I called the base. I figured that you would want to you." She explained, barely keeping her voice steady.
Jack struggled to keep his emotions calm. Even though it had been years since they'd parted ways, O'Niell stilled cared for his ex-wife deeply. He also felt extremely guilty that she had been threatened because of him.
General Hammond listened to the rest of the story before glancing over at him. "Colonel, do you have any idea what this might be about?" Jack tore through his mind searching for something relevant. "Umm, no sir. I can't think of anything." He replied hoarsely. Sara stared at him for a moment, before turning back to the General. "I'm really sorry about all this General. I'll let you know if the police turn anything up." Then she collected her things and left the room.
"Sara! Sara! Hey, wait up!" O'Niell called as he led to SFs down the hall after her. She stopped and turned to look at the three men coming up. Once he caught up, they all began walking toward the main gate. "Sara, this is Corporal Ryan and Private Murphy. I've assigned them to watch your place for the next few days." He spoke as he motioned to each of the two massive men.
Each of them nodded to her. "If that creep actually does try something, he'll be in for a big surprise. Right guys?" He asked. The closest of the soldiers nodded before adding his own, "No sir, he'll be in for two big surprises."
Sara giggled slightly while Jack emitted a sharp bark of a laugh. Nodding to them, Jack gave a Sara and gentle hug and walked off, leaving the SFs to escort her home.
Chapter 2:
Loud music prevaided the ears of Colonel Jack O'Niell as he led the three other members of his team into the club. The club was known as 'NOS' and was considered one of the rowdier places within the city limits. Jack tugged slightly at his black leather jacket as Sam Carter and Daniel Jackson flanked him. Teal'c, clad in all black with an equally dark tuque brought up the rear.
Reaching the bar, each of them ordered a drink and sat down. O'Niell was at the far left, with Samatha Carter, Daniel and Teal'c sitting to the right respectively. Carter was wearing a red tank top and a pair of form-fitting blue jeans, Daniel wore a dark green T-Shirt and tight black pants, which brought more than a few glances from the female patrons.
He wasted no time finishing his beer and took Carter's proffed hand. Smiling slightly, he 'allowed' himself to be led out onto the dance floor. Looking behind him as he walked, Jack noticed Daniel being dragged off by a busty blond in similar fashion. Teal'c threw him a look of confusion as he was also taken onto the dance floor.
Settling to the swaying motion of the crowd, Jack and Carter danced. They twirled and attempted more complex tricks through three rather heavy songs before interlinking arms for a rare slow dance. It was here that Jack first saw him. He was roughly six feet tall, rather well built all dressed in black. He entered the club alone, sauntering over to the bar.
Normally, O'Niell didn't notice such details, but this was different. The man was familiar, so familiar. Jack creased his brow, trying to recall the man's face, but failed. Finally giving up, he turned back to Carter and spoke. "Hey Carter, that guys seems awful familiar, does he work at the base?" He asked pointing.
She turned her head and watched for a moment before shaking her head. "I don't think so sir. If he does, I've never seem him before." She replied. He shrugged and continued their dance, forgetting the man.
**
In the darkness of the alley-way, he waited. Clad in his dark clothing, using his fine tuned stealth skills, he remained undetected. In front of him, only twenty yards yonder, was the pale green side-door of the 'NOS' nightclub. Farther up, three men lay slumped against the brick wall. He mocked them silently for being so easy to kill.
His mechanical hearing devices allowed him to pick up most of the sounds from in the nightclub. He sorted through the various conversations, arguements and laughter before he found his match. Turning his headphones to the correct channel, he turned up the volume:
Voice 1: "For crying out loud Teal'c! It's just one song!"
Voice 2: "No O'Niell, I will not sing with you."
Voice 1: "What if I make it an order? After all, I am your CO."
Voice 3: "We're off duty Jack, he doesn't have to listen to a word you say."
Voice 1: "Daniel?"
Voice 3: "Yes Jack?"
Voice 1: "Shut up!"
Voice 3: "Yes Jack."
Voice 4: *Laughter is heard*
Voice 1: "Carter?"
Voice 4: "Yes sir?"
Voice 1: "Shut up!"
Voice 4: "Yes sir."
He listened on as the four individuals continued their friendly banter. His brow creased as he continually heard the name 'Teal'c" used. He racked his mind, but no matter how hard he tried he couldn't come up with anything similiar. He waited there in the shadows for another twenty minutes before he finally heard what he wanted to hear.
Voice 1 : "See Teal'c? What wasn't so bad!"
Voice 2: "No, it wasn't."
Voice 3: "Jack, you're horrible!"
Voice 1: "Daniel, I thought I told you to shut up..."
Voice 3: "Maybe I don't want to.....oo...o..."
Voice 4: "Daniel, you're drunk."
Voice 3: "I AM NOT..TTHHH..."
Voice 1: "Oh god! Gotta pee!"
Voice 4: "Not gunna make it with that line...."
Voice 1: "Fine! I'll go in the alley!"
Voice 4: "Sir, that is just gross!"
Voice 1: "Yeah, yeah, yeah...."
Voice 3: "I..I...IIII...AM.M...M...NOTHHH...DR..U..NKTH..."
Voice 2: "Daniel Jackson, you are indeed intoxicated..."
Seconds later, the door burst open, and the billigerent figure of Colonel Jack O'Niell filled the space. Behind him, the sounds of the raging party filled the air. O'Niell stepped down off the step, allowing the door to close behind him.
His movement was fast, quick and accurate. O'Niell never had time to look...
**
No sooner had Jack O'Niell stepped down into the alleyway, when an invisible fist came out from the deep and collided with his temple. Gasping slightly, Jack fell over. As he fell, his combat honed instincts kicked in and pulled him from a drucken mess into a perfect clarity.
He hit the ground hard, a little too hard. The impact rattled his teeth, and he could see the edges of black in his eyes. Pushing himself over and into a half summersault, he landed a few inches away in a crouched position. Instantly, a black booted foot lept out and caught him in the jaw, flipping him over onto his back.
Coughing and sputtering, he tried to call for help, but remained painfully silent. At the last second, he saw another foot lead attack come at him, and swung himself over. Narrowly missing it, Jack lept out into the darkness with his own two pronged attack. One with an exploritory jab, followed with a connecting roundhouse kick.
As his attacker landed on the ground, Jack caught his first glimpse at him. He was tall, well built and dressed in pure black. The man came in quickly, not giving Jack time to breath. He led with a quick jab, followed by a powerful right cross. Both connected. O'Niell reeled, backing up.
As his attacker continued the assault, Jack fell into a defensive position. Using his appendages to deflect many of the blows, he forced the other back toward the street. Using his space, Jack stripped himself of his confining jacket and pulled his fists toward his face. He trotted closer to the man, firing punches wildly.
Several connected, but not enough to knock him out. Jack felt his heart beat in his chest and his breathing become ragged. Even though he was in excellent physical condition, his age kept him from pulling off a lot of the moves he normally would have.
The man was good, really good. He was using a number of moves and shots taken directly from the CIA handbook. Jack struggled to keep up and eventually failed. After throwing a overextended, useless punch, the man brought his knee up into O'Niell's chest.
Crying out in pain, he fell to the ground. He gasped for air, but it didn't come. Above him, the alleyway swurlled endlessly. Near the centre, he could make out the black figure as he reered up his foot for the final blow. Jack closed his eyes and waited for it. Instead, his ears were greeted with the sound of doors opening.
"Jack?" he heard Daniel call into the darkness. "Jack, I thought I heard somethin...Jack! Teal'c! Sam! Come here!" Daniel screamed as he dashed into the alley. The black figure's head bobbed back and forth as Jackson charged toward him. Once in range, Dr. Jackson let loose with a single, sloppy uppercut. Using the scientist's momentium, the man flung Daniel against the wall.
"Daniel Jackson, are you in need of assistance?" Jack heard Teal'c shout as he stuck is large, bald head out of the doorway. Mere seconds was all the trained warrior needed to indentify the situation for what it was. Like Daniel, Teal'c charged the assailent. Unlike Daniel, Teal'c was able to bat off the figure's attack and land a crushing blow to his abdomen. The man cried out and cursed. "Shit!"
Apparently realizing the battle could not be won, he slipped into the night, leaving Jack, Daniel and Teal'c alone in the alleyway. "O'Niell? Are you injured?" Teal'c asked as he helped his Colonel to his feet. Still winded slightly, he nodded his head and allowed the Jaffa to tend to Daniel.
Jackson was up quick enough and the renentered the club. Carter, who had been in the washroom the whole time, turned white at the sight of the battered officer. "Oh god! Sir, are you alright?!" She half-screamed. Jack nodded again, searching for the air he needed to speak. He found it soon after. "Yeah, I'm alright Carter. Teal'c, did you get a look at his face?"
"No O'Niell, I did not." He spoke quietly. "He fought most...excellently." Jack allowed himself to sit at the bar. Turning to his teammates and nodded. "That he did..." Carter was the first one to voice his thoughts. "You're thinking military sir?"
"Either that, or a spook. He knew a lot of it. Lots of black arts stuff. If he's military, he's deffinatly a SpecOp of some type." O'Niell thought back, the man's voice sounded very familiar. Carter nodded, and Daniel proceeded to get the car. Minutes later they were on the freeway, heading toward the mountain.
Chapter 3:
General George Hammond cursed loudly as he read the paper in his hands. He stood at the head of the large conference table in the SGC's main briefing room. Sitting at the table were the four members of SG-1, Dr. Fraiser and a terrified private. The private, was the unfortunate soul who'd been forced to deliver the message from Dragos."What the hell is the meaning of this?!?!" Hammond bellowed, causing Jack O'Niell to grasp his extremely sore head. Accross from Colonel O'Niell, Major Samatha Carter offered up a look of confusion. "What is the meaning of what, sir?" She asked, her voice diplomatic as ever.
The base commander glared at her, but relinquished the paper. Sam creased her forehead and a blond lock fell into her view as she read. Upon completing the message, she sighed and passed it over to Teal'c, who sat to her left.
The Jaffa warrior scanned through it and handed it to O'Niell saying nothing. Jack nodded and forced his eyes to focus, a task made extremely painful after the beating he'd recieved. He scrolled over the words, muttering to himself. After the first time through, he found himself uncomprehending, so reread it twice more. Each time, his face turned a deep shade of red.
"What...the...hell?!?!" He barely kept his voice in check. In sloppy Dragosian script, the Magistrate's assistant had resinded the trade agreement and asked for three times the amount of supplies as originally agreed upon. The Colonel could feel his CO's stare piercing his skull and he turned to him. "Sir, we had an agreeme..." Jack began.
"Colonel, I don't want to hear it!" Hammond snapped. "I told the president that the deal was done. Now they go and pull this shit on me! I want SG-1 back there first thing in the morning."
Sam Carter piped up, her face blushing slightly. "Sir, that won't be possible." She tried to sound confident, but under the General's gaze, she faultered. "And just why not?" He asked, his voice dripping with venom. Major Carter shifted uncomfortably.
"Well sir, because of the very nature of the Stargate, it requires enormous amounts of power to operate. Thats why we have four main generators on the base. The system is designed to alternate between them so that burnouts don't happen. However, every once and awhile the whole system is shut down and the generators are all replaced. There was one of these scheduled to begin about..." She paused to look at her watch.
"About fifteen minutes ago." She finished, allowing the implications of this to settle in with her CO. "Major Carter, would you mind telling me why I wasn't notified?" Hammond responded. Jack watched as the Major's face contorted slightly. "Sir, the report was delivered to your office..." She spoke quietly.
Hammond opened his mouth and promptly closed it again. "Oh thats right! I remember now." He shouted out unintentionally. A small snicker from O'Niell was heard, but only by those closest to him. "Fine, you'll return as soon as the repairs are made. Until then, consider yourselves dismissed." With that, Hammond stormed out of the room.
"O'Niell, perhaps you should get some rest." Teal'c suggested as Jack slumped into his chair. His head hurt but he shook it. "Can't, gotta find out who that guy was." He tried to stand, but his balance had left him. He crashed onto the floor with a loud yell. "GOD DAMMIT!"
Teal'c rushed over and hauled his leader to his feet. Carter shook her head as Dr. Fraiser went over to check him out. "Well Colonel, I think you're in need of a good sleep. You don't have a concussion, so I suggest you take the next couple of days off, until you return to Dragos. I'm sure the General wouldn't mind." She spoke, her voice carrying a wait of authority that didn't imply a request.
"Fine Doc, fine." Jack sighed. "Daniel, would you mind driving me home?" Jackson nodded, and the two men left for the surface.
**
Jack and Daniel arrived at the house fifteen minutes later with three SFs in tow. Colonel O'Niell had refused their offer to accompany them at the base. But, they had insisted and Jack was in no mood to argue so he allowed them to follow. They spent little under twenty minutes searching the house and the surrounding area. Nodding their goodbyes, they took Dr. Jackson back to the mountain. He was asleep the moment his swollen face hit the pillow.
He had been sleeping for close to five hours when he was jarred awake. Jack groaned as his body began to ache. He mentally searched for the reason of his awakening. Seconds later, he heard it. Loud knocking, on his door. He turned to the clock, it read 4:30 am. "Who the hell could that be?" O'Niell muttered to himself as he struggled out of bed.
He threw a robe on, and grabbed his gun. Jack made his way to the door and opened it. The gun in plain view. Before him, stood a man. He was a little shorter than Jack, and quite muscular. He wore a green jacket and black jeens. His face was held in a tight grin, which disappeared at the sight of O'Niell's gun.
"Colonel Jack O'Niell?" He asked cautously. Jack nodded, looking at the man carefully. He looked at the man's face carefully. He brought on a feeling of familiarity, much like the man from the club. Except, he wasn't the same. He was too short, and too big. Suddenly a name popped into his head. "Knowles? Greg Knowles?!" Jack half screamed. "My god, its been....ten years! Come in! Come in!"
O'Niell led the other man into his living room. "God Greg! Where have you been hiding yourself?" He chirped, taking some beer from the fridge and handing one over.
Greg Knowles smiled and took a large drink out of his bottle. "Well, after Iraq, I spent three more years in. Then resigned. Moved to Denver three years ago, and joined the PD." He explained through sips of beer.
"You're a cop?" Jack asked. When his friend nodded he smiled. "So Jack, what are you up to?" O'Niell shifted slightly at his friend's question. "Working on deep space radar telemitry." He responded, his voice emotionless. Greg's head came up suddenly, looking the Colonel right in the eyes. His voice was even and understanding when he replied. "Bullshit."
Jack O'Niell frowned and his friend continued. "Thats got to be the worst cover I've ever heard. Seriously, if you can't tell me then don't. But, don't give me that shit."
O'Niell's cheeks burned slightly and he smiled sheepishly. "Sorry, classified. But seriously, could you see ME in deep space radar telemitry??" He asked. Knowles barked out a laugh and downed the rest of his beer.
"I'd could chat like this all night," Greg began. "But I'm not here on a social visit. We've got a problem." His voice dropped to a conspiritory whisper. "As I already said, I'm a cop. A detective in fact." Jack's eyes rose as he continued. "I've been working homicide for most of that time. I've seen some pretty nasty stuff, but last night takes the cake."
Greg reached into his jacket and pulled out a brown folder. Passing it over to Jack, he continued. "We were called to some place in the suburbs, someone broke in and killed everyone in the house." O'Niell grimaced as he flipped through the photos in the folder. "They killed the husband, wife and the three kids. Then, they did something wierd."
Greg fished another package of photos out and gave them to O'Niell. Jack scanned through them. They showed the bloody message on the wall of the living room. He gasped slightly as he read the names. "Greg, who owned the house?" He asked softly.
Detective Knowles looked up and into his eyes. "It was Carson, Jack." His voice conveyed the emotion he felt. "I think we have a problem."
Colonel O'Niell nodded.
**
Major Samatha Carter arrived home late that night. She parked her car in the driveway and marched quietly to the front door. Instantly, she knew something was wrong. Instead of being closed up and locked, the green wooden door was partially open. A large hole appeared where the lock used to be.
Quickly, Carter reached to her side and withdrew the Colt 45 from its holster. She silently cocked the weapon and slid into the hallway. Peering into the living room, she saw the contents of all her cupboards on the floor. Apparently, someone was looking for something.
A small creak in the floor boards alerted her to his presence. "Upstairs," she muttered to herself. Allowing her military training to override her sense of fear, the Major crept up the stairs, one by one.
As she neared the top, she could make out a dark figure in her bedroom. He seemed to be short and stocky, but nothing was for certain. Sam squinted and could barely make out a dark object in the stranger's left hand. 'Gun' she thought to herself, her stomach tightened slightly.
Holding her weapon out in front, she trotted to her room, not caring about stealth. She made it before the man could react. "Freeze!" She cried. The man turned toward her, surprised. He jumped forward, catching Carter offguard.
She slammed into the floor with a loud thud, the Colt slipped from her grasp. Her eyes lost focus as the man jumped on her. She kicked out, but only did token damage. The intruder wrestled her down and pinned her to the oak surface.
He reached around behind him, pulling out what she thought to be a gun. "No!" She screamed, her voice carrying far into the night.
The man pulled back, as if shocked by her outburst. His breathing was hard, but he weezed out a small question. "Sam?"
Instantly, she knew the voice. "Daniel?" She clammered up as the man backed away, slightly afraid. "Sam?" He asked again. "What the hell are you doing here?!?" His voice was loud, obviously upset.
She blinked as he flicked the lights on. "I live here Daniel, what the hell are you doing here?!?" Her voice broke slightly.
The image of Daniel Jackson was pathetic. He wore a pair of blue jeans and a black shirt. His eyes were red, his voice was hard and gruff. "I...I....I...I" he stammered, taking a moment to compose himself. "I came over to check on you, then I saw the door and the living room. When you were nowhere to be found I..I...I" He beared his soul.
"I'm fine. You weren't the one who broke in here?" Her voice was light, but she didn't miss the seriousness of the situation. He shook his head and wiped his eyes. Carter raised her eyebrow, had he been crying? "Daniel, whats got you so upset?"
He came over and took her hand. Then, quickly he marched her down the the living room. The place was a mess, she could tell. But in the dark, she couldn't see anything else. Dr. Jackson turned the light on and she gasped. In deep, dark, crimson red letters, splattered on her wall she read the message.
"He left me in hell."
**
Across town, in another house. A dark figure entered through the upstairs window. In the dark, he made out the figure of Mrs. Sara O'Niell, sleeping soundly in her bed. I wonder, what would she think if she knew Jack was in love with that blonde bimbo?
He made his way to the foot of the bed and raised his gun. He chambered the weapon and took careful aim. His anger began to consume him, he prepared to fire. Just then, the door burst open and a large uniformed figure appeared.
The soldier charged him, not taking notice of the gun in his hand. A mistake to be sure. He whipped it around and caught the man in the face. He pulled the trigger, which fired several silent shots into the man's brain. The only sound heard was his dead body hitting the ground.
Sara O'Niell bolted upright, her face inches from the black barrel. He spoke slowly. "What's it like bitch? Knowing your dead, and that noone is going to save you?" His voice was cruel.
She opened her mouth to scream, but only succeeded in being knocked the ground. Blood poured from her upper lip, where the gun had connected with her head. She screamed silently as a boot rammed up into her from the abyss.
"Please..." she pleaded through painful sobs. The man laughed and kicked her again. "How does it feel?!? Knowing that all your pleading, all your reasoning isn't going to work? How does it feel to be truely alone? How does it feel?!?"
He was screaming now, hysterical. Sara quieted down as a small shadow crept in behind her attacker. "She wouldn't know." A strong voice came out and the man whirlled around. A loud shot and several flashes light the room up. Both figures fell to the ground.
The intruder cried out in pain and half ran, half crawled out of the room and into the night. The SF lay on the floor, blood slowly oozing out of him. Sara crawled over to the man, her eyes flooded with tears. "Because," his voice was strained. "you're not alone." His body went limp and he stopped breathing. Even as she dialled 911, she knew in her heart he was beyond help.
The ambulance came within minutes and the soldier was rushed to the hospital. Sara O'Neill was treated for her injuries and was about to be discharged when her ex-husband stormed in with his team running to catch up.
**
Colonel Jack O'Neill gathered his former wife in his arms and hugged her. "God, Sara, are you alright?" His voice quivered a bit. Behind him, Major Carter and Daniel Jackson spoke with the doctor.
Daniel poked his head into the room and cleared his throat. Sara broke from the hug and gave Jack a reassuring smile. "I'm fine, really."
The Colonel nodded and turned to his friend. "Ryan? Murphy?" His voice sounded hopeful, but the look in Jackson's eyes told all. "They're both dead." He shook his head and walked out. Carter made eye contact, her eyes betrayed her mixed feelings. "Did you get a look at the guy?" Instantly, O'Niell was all business.
Sara shook her head. "No. It was dark and he was dressed in black." She convulsed slightly, and then walked out of the room.
"Carter!" He shouted, bringing the blond Major into the room. She looked confused and spooked, but otherwise unhurt from her own ordeal. "What time is it?" He snapped.
"Just after seven, sir."
"Alright, lets get some food."
"Yes sir."
"Oh, and Carter?"
"Yes sir?"
"You okay?"
"Yes sir."
Collecting Daniel and Teal'c, Carter and O'Neill headed down to the cafeteria. Ordering up some dry waffles, they sat down at one of the tables. "Does anyone know who this guy is?" Daniel broke the silence.
"Seems he's got a problem with me." Jack answered plainly. "At first, I thought it was someone who didn't like my winning personality." Everyone chuckled and the Colonel swallowed some more waffle. "Last night, before all this, a friend dropped by and shed some light on him. But nothing solid."
The team finished up and headed to Daniel's car. He dropped each of them off at their respective homes. The General had given them the day off. Tommorow they would have to go through the gate to Dragos.
**
Greg Knowles slept fitfully, his wife beside him. Down the hall, his kids slept silently. His eyes moved rapidly underneath his eyelids as mental images filled his mind. In the midst of all this, a dark man stood over his bed.
The blood of Knowles' children on his hands. The man raised his gun and shot. Neither Gred, or his wife had enough living time to make a sound. The day light poured in the room as the man pulled out his knife and did his work.
When he was done, he put his equipment away and opened the front door. One of the neighbours came out to water his flowers. The man looked over and smiled. "It's a beautiful day." The nieghbour nodded, thinking him a friend of Greg's.
He stepped off the stoop and walked down the street, whistling a happy tune.
**
Chapter 4
The following day, Jack O'Niell walked into his office. His face had pretty much healed from his beating and he'd managed to get some sleep. He'd expected Greg to come by for a visit, but didn't mind having the extra sleep.
On his desk, and neon pink sticky note sat. On it, in green pen, someone had written: "See Hammond." Not one to disobey orders, usually, Jack strolled to the lower level and knocked on the General's door.
"Come." Came the gruff reply. He stepped in and looked at his CO questioningly. "Reporting as ordered, sir."
The General nodded and motioned for Jack to sit. "I received word this morning from the Denver police. Apparently, one of their detectives came to see you the other night. Is that right?"
Colonel O'Neill nodded. "Yes sir. Greg Knowles, he's a friend of mine from my black ops days. He came over and showed me some stuff about a case he's working on. It shed some light on the man who attacked me. But I haven't really gotten a chance to look into it yet, with the attack on Sara and Major Carter and all."
The General looked down at his desk, then up at O'Niell. "He's dead, Jack." O'Neill's face paled. His mind raced. He tried to speak, but no voice came to him. Finally, he managed to squeak something out. "When?"
"He was found last night. Him and his whole family were killed, all shot. The killer then removed a finger from each of them and used the blood to write a message. Here are the crime scene photos." He threw them over. Jack looked them over in mild horror, they mirrored the ones he'd been shown.
"Sir, this is the same thing that happened to Carson Willis and his family." His voice quivered a little. "Greg was working on the case, he came over to talk to me. Apparently, someone is killing everyone from the black ops team I was in."
The General looked at him uncomprehendingly. "Sir, if you look at the names crossed out. Gary Wilson, Ron Batey, Carson Willis and now Greg Knowles. They're all dead. Batey and Wilson bought in back in Iraq, so did Fred Harris. But, his name isn't crossed out for some reason. Carson was murdered last week. And now, Greg and his family are dead in the same manner. This has to be more than conicidence."
"Adding in the phone call to your ex-wife, the attack at the club, the attack on Sara and the ransacking of Major Carter's home. I think your right Colonel. What happened to this Fred Harris?" The General asked.
"He was captured by the Iraqis. I guess he was killed, but noone knows for sure." Jack answered. The General nodded and spoke. "Well, I want you to check into it as soon as you get back from PXC-778. We need that treaty issue resolved."
Standing up, Colonel O'Niell saluted his commander and left. He found SG-1 in the prep room already packing up. "Ready kids?" he asked. Carter nodded in his direction and Daniel smirked. Teal'c, somber as ever replied. "Yes O'Neill, I am adequatly prepared."
Opening his locker, Jack pulled out his gear, one piece at a time. He put it on carefully and checked over his weapons. Once he was satasfied, he led his team to the gateroom, where General Hammond awaited them. His face was still grim. "I don't have to tell you how important this." He said simply.
SG-1 nodded their respective heads in unison. "So, I'll just wish you luck. Good luck." O'Niell and Carter each tossed Hammond a salute, which he promptly returned. Just then, the intercom buzzed. "Cheveron 7 locked."
The stargate errupted in a blaze of blue-white fury as the portal opened. Settling down to its watery event horizon, the SG team moved up the ramp. The Colonel, led the way through the gate. Within seconds they disappeared.
**
Seargent Fred Harris smiled as the marine fell to the ground, two shots lodged in his head. Behind him, several others laid in a heap. He shook his head. Too easy. Very few people knew about the secret enterance to the mountain facility. But, several days of searching through the hidden and classified records, Harris found out about everything.
He walked over to the hatch, and entered the keycode into the panel. Instantly, the locks let go and the circular platform raised, revealing a small hole. He expertly climbing down and closed it over him. In his left hand, he carried his trusted 38 calliber Beretta with silencer.
Opening the small door in front of him, he was assaulted by the glare of florescent lights. He slipped through and into the hallway. He looked over and muttered to himself. "I'll never get to the main level like this. I'll need a change."
He trotted down the hall, carefully navigating between security cameras. It was late, so there weren't many people active. He was about to access the elevator, when he heard two voices behind him. Ducking into a storage cloest, he watched through a small crack.
Seconds later, a man and a woman entered his view. The man was tall and muscular, wearing a green uniform and black beret. The woman was shorter, with redish hair and deep eyes. She wore a white lab coat down to her knees. Her hair was tied up in a type of bun. She spoke with authority. "Major Wallace, I insist you let me treat it. If you don't, it might get worse. You could even give it to someone else."
The man sighed. "Come on Doc, all I want is some sleep." His tone was irratated, yet respectful. Harris bit back a laugh. He pulled his gun out, and watched as they passed him. They were about three meters away when he opened the door and stepped out.
He leveled the gun at him and cleared his throat loudly. The man and woman turned, startled. "Excuse me, could you tell me where I might find a restroom?" He smirked evilly. The man, reacted and reached for his gun. The woman, sprited down the hall toward the alarm.
Harris fired two shots into the Major, killing him instantly. Then he shifted and fired, catching the doctor in the upper back. She fell with a scream, but managed to push the red button on the wall.
All around him, klaxons blared and lights flashed. He hastened to the Major and quickly removed his uniform. He changed quickly and left the corpse in the closest. He ran down the hall and into the elevator, just as the security teams arrived.
He made all the way to the second level before power was cut off. He opened the doors manually and entered another cooridor. He walked quickly, catching only a few glances from passing personel. People rarely stopped a person who walked with purpose, they just assumed he was supposed to be there.
He took the stairs for to the first level and entered the control room. The stargate was open, he heard voices as he crept up the stairs. "Cheveron 7 locked, wormhole open sir." Came one voice.
"Very well, patch me through to SG-1," ordered another voice, this one much stronger. It came from an overweight bald man, wearing an Air Force general's uniform. He spoke again, this time to the team. "SG-1, we have a situation, the base has been compermised, you are required to stay where you are."
Quickly, a male voice responded, asking the nature of the situation. Harris smiled again. He knew that voice. It was Jack O'Niell. He moved swiftly, walking into the room, gun ready. The General's eyes widened and he went for the gun. The Seargent seated didn't have time to move before he was dead.
The General's charge proved ineffective against a trained Special Forces soldier. Soon he lay on the ground, out like a light. The radio blared again. "General? Sir?"
He cut the transmission and ran down to the gate room. Finding it unoccupied he ran up and through the vortex.
Chapter 5
"General? Sir?" Jack spoke through the radio but recieved only static. Major Carter was still inside the great hall, negotiating with the Magistrate. Hours before, a furious Colonel O'Niell had stormed in and demanded an explaination from a shocked leader. It turns out, that this was an acceptable trading practice on Dragos.
Daneil Jackson and Teal'c also sat with Carter and the others, unaware of the General's message. It had been full of static, but he'd been able to make out a few words. Words like 'situation' and 'compermised' and 'stay where you are'.
He thought back to his days with Batey and Wilson. Knowles and Harris. After that operation, O'Niell had been transfered to a different team. There, was where he met Kawalsky. But, he'd always wondered what had happened to Seargent Harris. He'd assumed that his friend had been killed, but maybe he'd spent all that time the Iraqi prisons.
He shuddered at his own memories of being captured and wondered if it was possible that Harris had endured the same thing for almost twice as long. Jack continued to wonder as Daniel came up behind him. "Jack?" He spoke, his voice a little uncertain. The Colonel started a little, and turned to the other.
"Yes Daniel?" He tried to keep his voice calm as a sense of danger began to fill him. Voices raised in the other room as Carter tried to talk sense into the Dragosian leader. Daniel bit his lower lip, a sign of nervousness. "What did the General want?"
"He said something about the base being compermised. He ordered us to remain here until further notice. Thats as far as he got before the radio konked out." Jackson looked slightly confused, but remained silent.
O'Niell and Jackson returned to the main hall. Major Carter seemed to be on the verge of violence. She tried desperately to keep her voice level, but her face was beet red. "Magistrate, you have already agreed to a trade. You cannot take back what has been agreed upon."
The Magistrate's voice was annoyingly light. "Yes, I can." Jack moved toward the man, keeping himself between Carter and the leader. "You ever heard of the Goulds, Magistrate?" Colonel O'Niell asked dangerously.
The Magistrate nodded slowly. "Yes, our ancient texts refer to them as the Destroyers of Civilizations. A most unpleasent spieces I'm sure."
"And you know that we need the Naqueda to find them. To protect ourselves and our friends." He continued, the Dragosian nodding again. "Trading with us would make you our friends. But, in breaking your word, there can be no friendship. Do you understand?"
The members of SG-1 looked at their commander in slight horror as they realized the implications of his explaination. "And if you are not our friends, I see no reason why we should attempt to hide your world from the Goulds. Its my understanding that they're always looking for new Naqueda desposits. Perhaps we can make one of them our friends, huh?" He looked at his team for confirmation.
Daniel and Carter nodded slowly, deliberately. Teal'c spoke out. "Perhaps we could sell the information. I believe that the system lords would pay much for such information."
The Magistrate paled. "You..you...you wouldn't. Would you?" He stammered out. " I..I....I..I mean, you are at war with them are you not? Why would you give them such a weapon to use agaist you? You are bluffing." He tried to sound confident.
"Bluffing am I? Hmmm, who do you think would pay the most?" He looked at Teal'c expectantly. The Magistrate's eyes darted wildly.
"I believe that the system lord Nut would pay much for such a desposite. Especially because of the ease of which he could conquer his world."
"Sound good Teal'c. Well kids, its time to move out. Magistrate, its been a real pleasure." O'Niell and his team uncerimoniously walked toward the door, just as they had done the last time. This time, however, the Magistrate did not even let them open the door before speaking.
"Please Colonel, return. Perhaps, I have erred. I think that your original proposal will be acceptable for my people." He spoke quickly, but strongly.
Jack turned and shook his head. He pointed his thumb down and watched. The Magistrate sighed and nodded. "Alright, one third of your original offer."
Again, O'Niell shook his head and pointed down. "One half?" His tone anxious. Fearing another shake, he closed his eyes. Opening them to see O'Niell smile. "I think that will be fine Magistrate. We will send a team through sometime next week to begin the prospecting. Until then, I bid you all adieu."
With a walk as gracefull as his words, Jack O'Neill left. Once outside, Carter spoke. "A little unconventional, sir." Her voice filled with concern.
Ignoring her, he kept walking. "Jack," Daniel called. "I think you owe us an explaination. The last week has been more than a little unnerving. The club incident, Sam's house, the attack on Sara and the message from the General..."
"What orders?" Major Carter interupted. Daniel quickly told her about Hammond's orders and the sudden termination.
They reached their camp minutes later. The Colonel sat down on a log as Carter lit a fire. The sun was almost down and darkness threatened to consume them all. SG-1 sat there for several minutes in utter silence before the Colonel talked. "I can't tell you the specific details, but I'll try to explain the situation as I understand it."
They looked at him intently. "A few years before I met up with Kawalsky. I was sent with a team to carry out a mission. Can't tell your where, or what we were doing. We completed the mission and escaped the city undetected."
The fire cracked and spit. "We were within sight of the LZ when we were abushed. They came in on all sides, like they'd known where we were the whole time. My CO and his 2IC were one of the first to go down. I was pretty far out and birds were lifting off. My friend, and mentor, Seargent Fred Harris took up the rear guard and held them off."
"I made it to the helecopter, barely. But he didn't, they captured him. I wanted to go back for him, but it wasn't an option. I always figured he'd been shot, but I'm beginning to think he survived. I figure he spent most of the last 12 years in prison. About a week ago, up in Denver a friend of mine and his family were murdered..."
For the next hour and a half Jack O'Neill beared his soul to his teammates. Finally, at about eleven o'clock they retired to their tent, leaving the Colonel alone on watch.
Chapter 6
A twig snap awakened Carter instantly. The fire's light danced against the tent's wall. Immeidately she knew something was wrong. It was too quiet. Usually the Colonel would hum to sing to himself to pass the time, but now he was silent.
She quietly grabbed her side-arm and opened the tent. Outside, she found no trace of the Colonel. Around the fire pit, she saw the imprints of their boots, and something else. Something not right. It snapped into her head almost immediately, there was a set of footprints that wasn't wearing boots. In fact, it looked more like a pair of running shoes.
As she looked, she found that these strange prints led off into the direction of the stargate. Along with it, were a pair of boot prints that she knew were the Colonel's.
Not knowing how far away they were, Carter didn't want to make any noise. She krept after them alone, hoping they weren't far.
She had travelled for little under ten minutes when she heard the sound of voices. She looked through the trees and found two figures standing in a clearing. One was wearing a SGC combat uniform and the other was dressed completely in black. She listened and closed in, her weapon raised.
"Come on Fred, you don't have to do this." She heard her CO's voice and realized that the figure held a weapon to his head. "Shut up Jack!" The figure retorted. "You left me behind, sentence me to death hundreds of times over."
His voice was hot, angry, even psychotic. "Everyday, I wished for death. I begged for it, but no. You were my team, my friends and you left me behind. Then, when freedom was finally granted to me, I was shunned by my own government."
The moonlight played across Jack's face and Sam saw for the first time, real fear. "We would have come back if we could. But Batey and Wilson were dead. There were Iraqis all over the place. It would have been suicide, you know that."
"Bullshit! You should have tried!" he sounded on the verge of tears and she saw the gun waver slightly and then settle again.
Sam chose that moment to act. She slipped into the clearing directly to O'Neill's left. Her gun pointed at the stranger. "Drop it." She said simply.
Harris laughed and looked at her. "So, its the bimbo. How did you like my little house warming gift?" He glared at her, his eyes unnaturally bright.
"Drop the gun." Her voice was dangerous, even more so than the former Seargent's. She aimed at him, her finger rested on the trigger.
"Aw, come on now. You wouldn't shoot me, you don't have it in you." O'Neill watched the display, looking for a window of oppertunity, which never came.
Without another word, Seargent Harris fired his gun. The shots rang loud in the countryside. Carter reacted and fired her own gun, catching Harris twice in the chest. He fell with a thud.
She inched toward him and checked his pulse. "He's dead." She muttered to the Colonel. She waited for some sort of snide remark, but only silence accompanied her. She turned and found Jack on the ground, blood pouring out of him.
Carter swore and ran to him. She ripped open his jacket and found three wholes in his chest, one trying to suck in air. The Colonel coughed and struggled to breath. She keyed her radio and screamed into it. "Daniel! Teal'c! The Colonel's hurt bad! We NEED to get him out of here, now!"
The others responded and she heard the sound of running in the distance. The Colonel's eyes fluttered and he looked up into her eyes. "Carter..." he wheezed.
"Shhh. Don't talk sir. Concentrate on staying alive." She felt a lump rise in her throat.
"I...left him.." His voice was so quiet, so drained. He was white, pale and fading. He closed his eyes, and his breathing became shallower and shallower.
"Sir," she pleaded. "Don't die."
The End
Author's Note: I finished this some time ago and posted it on Heliopolis. I recieved a lot of excellent feedback. This is the first fanfic I've finished thats been longer than a few paragraphs. I'm really open to any suggestions and feedback, and would love to hear from you. The only thing I ask is that you be kind, I really don't want to be insulted. Otherwise, I hope you like it.
© January 2003 The characters mentioned in this story are the property of Showtime and Gekko Film Corp. The Stargate, SG-I, the Goa'uld and all other characters who have appeared in the series STARGATE SG-1 together with the names, titles and backstory are the sole copyright property of MGM-UA Worldwide Television, Gekko Film Corp, Glassner/Wright Double Secret Productions and Stargate SG-I Prod. Ltd. Partnership. This fanfic is not intended as an infringement upon those rights and solely meant for entertainment. All other characters, the story idea and the story itself are the sole property of the author.