Jack woke slowly, a dull throbbing pain behind his eyes. He tried to lift a hand to rub the sleep from his face, only to feel a strong binding holding his wrists together in front of him. He blinked his heavy eyelids open, the soft light from the bedside lamp revealing a thin black cord wound tightly around the skin of his wrists. He glanced further down his body and saw the same cord at his ankles over the pajama pants he had thankfully remembered to put on before bed. He looked immediately to his right and saw Carter next to him in their bed – tied in much the same way, black cord around her wrists and ankles – still unconscious.
"You're finally awake," a raspy, feminine voice came from the darkened doorway of the room.
"You have got to be kidding me," Jack swore under his breath, "It's not even my house this time."
"Lt. Colonel Carter is fine," the gravelly voice spoke again, "She should wake up in about an hour or so. I thought you and I could have a short conversation in private, while we're waiting."
"I had to be tied up for this conversation?" Jack scooted himself up awkwardly until he was leaning back against the headboard.
"And mildly sedated, yes," the voice agreed, "But that should be mostly counteracted by the stimulants I gave you a minute ago. You might be experiencing a mild headache. I used a new cocktail of drugs and I haven't quite perfected the dosages."
"Always glad to be a guinea pig," Jack rolled his eyes, "Who are you and what do you want?"
"I'm no one important," the voice answered evenly, "As for what I want...I want some answers, General O'Neill."
"Well, you woke up the wrong person then," Jack scoffed, "Carter's the one who knows everything about everything."
"Unfortunately for you," the voice countered, "That is not the case this time."
"Unfortunately?" Jack inquired, "I thought we were just having a friendly conversation. You make it sound like I'm about to get tortured or something equally ridiculous."
"I'm not here to torture you, General. I'm here to kill you."
The figure belonging to the rough voice finally emerged from the dark entrance of the room. Jack was mildly surprised to see a young woman, not quite five and a half foot tall. Her almost perfectly symmetrical face had delicate features; a straight, pert nose, lower lip slightly fuller than the upper, and wide eyes framed with long, full lashes. She had lightly tanned skin with a sparse dusting of freckles over the bridge of her nose and her cheekbones. Her dark copper-red hair was pulled back in a severe French braid, the end rolled and pinned up to the nape of her neck. She wore a slim jacket made of heavy black leather, zipped all the way to the base of her throat, with a pair of skinny black leggings in a soft stretchy leather. Her hands were partially covered by fingerless black gloves, dull silver metal covering the knuckles and the outer edges and a pair of tightly laced combat boots came up to mid-calf, the soft soles soundless over the carpet.
"Aren't you a little short for a stormtrooper?" Jack asked flippantly.
The woman didn't respond but kept moving closer, pulling one of the kitchen chairs behind her, stopping just outside arm's reach of the bed. She unzipped and removed the jacket, silently draping it over the back of the chair. Underneath she wore a plain black cotton tee-shirt with long sleeves, the fitted clothing revealing the leanly muscled curves of her body. More disconcerting to Jack was the black shoulder holster she wore that he hadn't noticed before she removed the jacket. The holster contained three black knives, the handles with small holes in the metal hanging down over the lower part of her right ribs.
She sat down in the chair gracefully, leaning back and crossing one leg smoothly over the other. She looked over Jack slowly, gaze stopping momentarily on both sets of his bindings, and when her gaze finally met his, the light from the bedside lamp made the ash gray shade of her irises clear.
Jack's first thought was how incredibly young the woman looked – unless you saw the hardness in her expression. His second thought was that she was completely sincere in her desire to kill him.
"Fine, I get it. No Star Wars references," Jack sighed wearily, "Look, if you're going to kill me, can you just get it over with? It's the middle of the night and I'm tired."
"I'll kill you eventually, General," the woman crossed her hands neatly across the top of her knees, "I just have a few questions first."
"Do you normally question the people you kill?" Jack asked dryly.
"Only if I'm asked to," a small scowl creased the woman's forehead, "And I'm rarely this polite about it."
"Lucky me, I guess," Jack sighed again and tried to make himself more comfortable.
"I have a small issue with the latest set of directives I've been given, General O'Neill," the woman tilted her head to the right, "I'm hoping you can clarify a few things for me."
"Why don't you ask whoever gave you the orders?" Jack questioned, "I'm sure they know more than me about…whatever it is."
"If the people I work for find out I've been questioning my orders, even in the slightest," the woman spoke calmly, "They'll kill me without hesitation."
"Sounds like you need a new boss," Jack snorted, "Or a new line of work."
"I don't believe either of those are options for me," the woman looked down to her lap as she responded evenly, "I can either continue to follow my orders until I'm finally killed trying to complete a mission or refuse to follow them and spend the rest of my extremely short life constantly on the run, always looking over my shoulder, until the inevitable day that I'm caught and executed."
The woman looked back up at Jack and he caught the flash of hesitation in her eyes before it was quickly replaced with an expression of bland indifference.
"I'm going to ask you a few questions, General," the woman continued smoothly, "This will go much quicker for both of us if you answer honestly and completely the first time."
"I make no promises," Jack gestured clumsily toward his temple with his bound arms, "My memory's not what it used to be."
"The last instructions I received from my employer were a set of termination orders for you and Dr. Elizabeth Weir," the woman explained, "Someone wants the two of you gone, in the next three days. Someone with a great deal of power, a lot of spare cash, and extensive connections, since I was given the order."
"Lots of people want me dead," Jack replied easily, "What else is new?"
"They could have sent almost anyone to kill you, General O'Neill," the woman's expression somehow turned even more serious, "They could've given any idiot off the street a gun, hired one of the many freelancers available to them, even used a lower caliber asset. Instead, they sent me. While you have extensive military training, I find it…curious that they would assign me this task."
"Job too easy for you?" Jack snarked.
"Yes, as a matter of fact, it is," the woman answered, raising a hand to stop the objection Jack had been forming, "Don't misunderstand, it is not a commentary on your abilities. The simple truth is; I am only given assignments that no one else can complete. I am the best asset currently employed by the US government. I see no valid reason for me being assigned this mission."
"A little full of ourselves, are we?" Jack raised an eyebrow at the young woman.
"It's a simple statement of fact," the woman laid her hand back in her lap, "Setting aside the fact that I should never have been assigned this task, I've come across some concerns during my research of the targets."
"Let me guess," Jack smirked, "You found out that I'm a pretty amazing guy and you're having second thoughts about killing me."
"Oh no, General," the woman smiled – an all lips, no teeth smile that didn't quite reach her eyes and made Jack think of a cat about to pounce, "I understand completely why they want you dead. I fully intend to kill you once our conversation is done."
"Hey," Jack protested, "I think I might be offended."
"What I don't understand is why Dr. Weir's execution was ordered," the woman ignored his outburst, "From what I've seen, she's done exemplary work in every field she's chosen, including her tenure as head of the SGC and as the leader of the Atlantis expedition."
"The what?" Jack wondered curiously.
"General O'Neill," the woman leveled a flat stare at him, "Please don't insult either of us by pretending you don't know what I'm talking about. I know all about the Stargate program that has been run out of Cheyenne Mountain for the last eight years; I've known ever since that moron Kinsey found out about it. Even if I hadn't already known about it, I research any and all assignments given to me quite thoroughly."
"If you have a problem with killing Dr. Weir," Jack hedged, "Why are you talking to me? Why not have this conversation with her?"
"I don't have a problem killing Dr. Weir. I'm merely curious," the woman answered, "I don't believe that Dr. Weir would be able to provide the answers I want in the time I have allotted. You accepted the fact that people in your own government wanted you dead without hesitation and moved past it quickly. If I tried to have this conversation with the doctor, it would take quite a bit more time than I have available."
"If that's the case," Jack paused, "and you know what Dr. Weir has been doing the last year – hell, even the last six weeks – I'm sure you can guess why someone would want her dead."
"I would assume it's because she is a formidable woman who doesn't put up with any bullshit and an expert at political maneuvering who has no problem using her influence to get her way," the woman replied carefully, the hardness in her eyes fading slightly as half a smile twitched onto her face, "She also seems to have the complete support of the President as well as many of our international allies. I believe whoever wants her out of the way wants to put someone weaker-willed in charge of the Atlantis expedition in order to gain control of the advanced technology there. The quickest, most efficient way to do that is to arrange an unfortunate accident for Dr. Weir. It would otherwise take years of subtle shifts in power to maneuver someone else in her place."
"You admire her," Jack studied the young woman's face, "Respect her, even. You don't want to kill her."
"That's not relev-" a confused expression replaced the momentary softness on the woman's face, "I didn't say that."
"Why did you really come here?" Jack narrowed his eyes at her.
"I told you," the woman started tapping the fingers of her left hand on her knee, "I have questions that require answers."
"Please don't insult either of us by pretending that's the only reason," Jack echoed her earlier words, "It sounds like you already have all the information you need on both Dr. Weir and myself. You obviously could've killed me in my sleep. Instead, you woke me up to talk. Why?"
The woman held his stare for a moment, then dropped her eyes into her lap again, opening her hands to stare at her palms.
"'It is better to light a candle than curse the darkness'. Eleanor Roosevelt," she spoke quietly, "I'm tired of cursing my own darkness, General O'Neill. I'm looking to light a candle."
Something in the woman's tone of voice pulled at Jack's emotions.
"You got a name, kid?" Jack asked softly.
"Yeah, lots of them," the woman laughed bitterly, "Choose one."
"How about the real one?" Jack questioned.
"No one has called me by my birth name," the woman sighed, keeping her eyes in her lap, "as far back as I can remember. And you'd be surprised how far that I can remember."
"Kid, you're making this kinda difficult," Jack rolled his eyes.
"D," the woman finally looked back up at him, speaking haltingly, "My initial…I guess…you can call me D."
"All right, D," Jack nodded once, "You can call me Jack. Can I tell you what I think?"
"I almost positive you're going to tell me whether I agree or not, Jack," D said dryly, "I'm not sure why you bothered to ask."
"It's like you know me," Jack grinned, then his expression turned serious, "I think you came here, wanted to have this lovely conversation with me, because you knew I would be able to talk you out of doing something you don't really want to do in the first place."
"I've done many things I didn't want to do," one of D's shoulders jerked up in a shrug, "That doesn't change anything."
"And because you knew I could offer you a way out," Jack finished gently.
"There is nowhere on Earth my employers cannot find me," D replied, "Nowhere in this galaxy, if my suspicions are correct."
"But you forget, young padawan," Jack smiled widely, "I have the power to send you to a galaxy far, far away."
"If I don't kill the both of you, they'll simply find someone else to do it," D declared, "The people I work for are…not nice people. They are quite persistent. I am a rather unique asset for them. I doubt they will give up so easily if I disappear."
"I'm a big boy," Jack insisted, "I can take care of myself."
"While that might be true on a good day," D rolled her eyes, "Dr. Weir can't necessarily do the same."
"Wow," Jack cocked his head to the side, "I didn't realize assassins were so…snarky."
"I doubt you've met that many assassins," D gave him a flat stare, "And you're one to talk, Mr. Sass-the-person-here-to-kill-me."
"I have a proposal for you, D," Jack grinned, "One that I think will benefit us both."
"All right," D nodded once, "I'm listening."
"I'll send you to Atlantis as Dr. Weir's bodyguard," Jack studied D carefully, "That way you don't have to worry about your employers whacking you because they're pissed and Elizabeth has someone I can trust watching her back."
"You know nothing about me, Jack," D tilted her head to the side, "I'm not what you think I am. How do you know you can trust me?"
"I'm usually a pretty good judge of character," Jack said easily.
"I'm not…" D frowned and paused, her eyes narrowing as she continued, "What's the price?"
"Price for what?" Jack wondered.
"The price for helping me," D clarified, "What do you want from me in return?"
"The truth," Jack answered sincerely, "all of it."
"That's it?" D asked warily.
"And for you to trust me," Jack agreed with a shrug, "But that will come with time."
"I'm not…I don't…" D trailed off and looked past Jack to Sam, "Your wife is awake."
"Jack?" Sam blinked open her eyes. She pulled on her bonds and sat up suddenly.
"I'm here, Sam," Jack assured her.
"Why are we tied up?" Sam frowned at him, then looked over to the red-haired woman sitting next to her bed, "Who are you?"
"Sam, this is D," Jack gestured with his bound hands, "D, this is Sam."
"Hello," Sam greeted D politely, then looked back to Jack cautiously, "What's going on here?"
"Interesting," D raised an eyebrow at the blonde woman, "I thought I took into account your unique physiology when I was calculating your dosage. It seems your body processed the drugs faster than I had anticipated. I'll have to keep that in mind in the future."
"Sir?" Sam looked at D out of the corner of her eye.
"Do we have a deal, D?" Jack drew D's attention back to him.
"Truth and trust, Jack?" D asked.
Jack nodded solemnly.
"Acceptable," D agreed finally.
"Great," Jack grinned, "Now, I enjoy a little light bondage as much as the next guy, but maybe you could untie us so we can talk details?"
D used her left hand to pull one of the knives silently from the holster at her ribs. She uncrossed her legs and stood in one efficient, graceful motion. She leaned down to slide the knife under the cord at Jack's ankles.
"As long as you promise your wife isn't going to try to kill me," D sliced through the cords easily.
"Oh, Sam you're worried about," Jack rolled his eyes, "Not me."
"I hate to be the one to tell you this, Jack," D looked between Jack and Sam as she cut the bonds on Jack's wrists, "But you aren't nearly as dangerous as Colonel Carter."
"Hey!" Jack protested as D flipped her knife around, holding it by the blade. After a short moment of hesitation - D looking between the knife in her hand and Jack's calm brown eyes - she handed it to Jack hilt first and he nodded his approval.
"Don't be offended," D sat back in the chair as Jack cut Sam loose, "I can easily subdue both of you again. It's just, well, she might have some weird technological thing up her sleeve I don't know about. She's entirely too good for you, you know. I can't believe you convinced her to marry you."
"This is going to be an interesting story, isn't it?" Sam wondered as she rubbed her hands over her wrists.
"Yeah, sure, you betcha," Jack handed the knife back to D.