Taken

Prisms

He hadn't been able to go back home. And he'd realized the depths of his own cowardice when he'd left her car in the parking garage. The only reason that he'd allowed Daniel to pick him up at the Pentagon rather than drive himself to the mall was that he'd intended to bring the car home. Pregnant or not, Sam would kill him if he let it get stolen.

The extra key to the Volvo felt leaden in his pocket. He'd perfunctorily dropped it in there, practicality dictating the action. His default setting always seemed to be tactics and expedience. Especially when he found it difficult to breathe around the fear that gripped his core.

But he desperately wanted to be wrong—wanted to believe that she had just gotten lost in a book or a conversation or a store and would eventually find her way back out to where the Volvo sat in its place near the elevators. And, ridiculously, it bothered him to think that she wouldn't have a ride home. So he'd gotten back into Daniel's car and they'd driven away, and Jack had not allowed himself to look back.

But neither could he return to his house. He'd chosen the brownstone a month or so after his arrival in the city. And he'd lived in it, alone, acquiring a couch, a table, a bed. He'd hung a picture or two, chosen a new shower curtain when the old one had developed something nasty along the bottom. Figured out the best places to put the TV and speaker system, spent an inordinate amount of time finding the perfect microwave, and finally put his telescope on the small balcony that opened off the master bedroom. He'd installed shelving for her books and moved a computer desk into the smaller of the two extra bedrooms—just for something to do.

The projects had kept him occupied on those rare days when the world didn't seem liable to explode—had kept him from focusing on the fact that he was married to the most incredible person he had ever known, and couldn't even manage to keep her on the same planet for longer than a weekend.

But still, all along, he'd imagined her there—pictured her sitting by the large bay window overlooking the back garden with her afternoon tea, the sun glinting off her hair. In his mind, he'd seen her reading in the chair they'd moved from her apartment in Nevada, and watched as she gazed at birds at the feeder by the kitchen window, oblivious of the toast burning. At times he'd been surprised when he'd passed the office he'd built for her and glanced in to find it empty.

As the solitary weeks and months had stretched out, he'd found other things to improve—planting things in the postage stamp sized back yard, installing wood shutters, painting. He'd unpacked, finding some measure of intimacy in handling her books, her clothes, her things. She'd helped when she'd been home—but frankly, the thought of trying to accomplish the mundane in those brief weeks that he would have her to himself between assignments felt only slightly less obscene than volunteering to be an Ori Prior.

So they'd found themselves ignoring the boxes and bare walls and concentrating instead on each other. Filling other empty spaces with memories and warmth. It had been supposed to carry them over until the next time she arrived back on Earth.

It didn't.

Because no matter how much stuff he filled the place with, until she'd arrived back on terra firma for good and he'd woken up next to her for the first time in their wide bed, it hadn't been home.

This time, though, she'd taken a leave of absence. To be honest, Jack didn't know how many strings had been pulled to give her this amount of time without a specific responsibility. And when she'd unexpectedly turned up pregnant, she'd started talking retirement.

He still wasn't quite sure what to think about that. He thought he'd be the one to do that first. But then, he wasn't gestating. There was something to be said for the powerful decisive power of the uterus.

Jack closed his eyes. He felt tired—and the street lights flashing by exacerbated the throbbing that had taken over his head. Their destination eluded him until he heard the air traffic and recognized the highway they were on—they had passed Reagan National several minutes before and Daniel had turned onto Slater's Lane, apparently aimed for the gracious colonial that Vala had fallen in love with when Doctor Jackson had first accepted the curatorship at the Smithsonian.

Daniel must have sensed Jack's realization. He offered a little half-shrug from behind the steering wheel, his face illuminated in the lights of the dash. "I hope you don't mind—I figured we could hole up at our place and get some ideas."

Jack nodded. "It makes sense. Better location."

"Are you really sure that you don't want to call in the police on this?"

The General considered, then glanced sideways at the man who was arguably both his closest friend and greatest critic. But there wasn't anyone else he would have—or could have—called. No one else who would understand. "There's nothing they could do. They would investigate and ultimately find nothing."

"Because you think this is related to the Stargate."

"I know this is related to the Stargate—and to that damned glowing box."

"They studied Telchak's device at Area 51 for years—and they never found any use for it other than the weapon Sam, Selmak, and Jacob developed to stop the Kull warriors."

"And the only person on Earth who figured it out is who, again?" The answer was self-evident.

The archaeologist tilted his head, nodding slightly. "I know, Jack. But it doesn't seem necessary to kidnap her. Why would anyone take her and the box? And how does your secretary fit into it?"

Jack leaned his head backwards against the seat. "I don't know, Daniel. But it's all related. Somehow it's all connected." The phone in his hand vibrated, and he unconsciously flipped it open with his thumb and pressed the 'send' button. As he raised it to his ear, he cast a narrow look at the man driving. "I know it is."

And the General tried to ignore Daniel's wince when he finally spoke into the phone. "What?"

"Jack."

"Hank. What do you have for me?"

"We've traced the transponder." His pause said more than words would have.

O'Neill interpreted the hesitation, then swallowed. "When did it lose transmission?"

"Twelve forty-eight in the afternoon your time. And you were right—it was last tracked in the vicinity of that parking garage. Because of varying levels of interference, Colonel Baxter wasn't able to pinpoint it any further."

"And then what happened?"

"Baxter's communications officer says that it just stopped transmitting—as if it had been turned off."

"E M pulse?"

"Could be. It would have to be something big."

Squinting out the window as the buildings flew past, Jack considered. "Zats wouldn't do it."

"No, the transponders were created specifically to be able to withstand that kind of energy weapon. It would have to be something else."

The General's fingers made furrows in his hair. That Mayfield woman had cut the locator beacon out of Vala's arm. His hand tightened around the cell phone at his ear, his breathing quickening.

"Jack, there's also information about the missing device." Hank voice carried a good measure of apprehension.

"Spill it, Hank."

Shuffling papers accompanied a lengthy pause. Finally, Landry sighed, and Jack could practically feel his hesitance. "You know about the internal audit."

"What about it? It's routine—nothing out of the ordinary."

"Well, the science team in charge of that was led by Doctor Lee."

"Doctor Lee? I was under the impression that he was still in Colorado Springs."

"He requested a transfer a few months ago. He was quite adamant about it, too." A smile tinged Hank's words. "Said something about stagnant science and no longer being on the frontlines of discovery."

"Sounds like him." O'Neill relaxed his hold slightly on the device in his hand. Tossing a look to his left, he muttered, "Sounds like most scientists, come to think about it."

"Anyway, he personally performed the audit on Telchak's machine. His assistant said that he arrived early for work, logged in the device, and then left the facility."

"He just came in to deal with that box?"

Landry's response was immediate. "Jack, he hasn't been back since. They sent a team to his house, and his wife said that he'd been invited to a conference somewhere near Arlington. He left two days ago. She hasn't heard from him, and he's not answering her calls."

Jack scowled. "Hank—are you telling me that Doctor Lee took the zombie machine?"

"We don't know, Jack. What we do know is that he and the box have been gone for the same amount of time."

"Doctor Lee." He just had to be sure he'd heard correctly. "Balding, glasses, shaped-like-a-penguin Doctor Lee?"

"That's the one. Except for the penguin part."

"Come on, Hank. You've seen the man."

"All right. But he's a good scientist and an honorable person. I just find it hard to believe he'd be involved in anything nefarious—regardless of apparent coincidences."

Daniel pulled up in front of his house and stopped the car. Turning the ignition off, he sat back and glanced over to where Jack was deliberating, a scowl marring his features. It was obvious that he'd heard the conversation, and his disbelief showed blatantly on his face.

"Coincidences." The General allowed the word to float, the implication to seep in a little. "Hank, I'm asking a favor."

"Don't alert the IOA?"

"Yeah—that's the one."

"The only people that know about this situation right now are me and Walter." Landry waited for a moment before continuing. "We've devised a cover for why we're asking around. I know that you want this hushed. What I can't figure out is why."

"Something's fishy, Hank." O'Neill shook his head, staring at the house in front of him without really seeing it. "It doesn't feel right. I don't want those idiots from the Advisory barging in. They'd just make it worse by trying to help. This has to be handled correctly. Covertly."

"Because she's one of this country's greatest assets?" Somehow, Landry found it possible to exude both compassion and skepticism in his tone. "Or because she's your wife?"

O'Neill waited, pondering. His fingers picked at the buttons in the door panel that raised and lowered the windows—flicking them without pressure. Finally, ducking his chin, he breathed shallowly. "She's pregnant, Hank."

"And her transponder's been disabled." The implications weighed heavily. Anything strong enough to kill the locator could damage other things. And being held captive was hardly an ideal situation for anyone—the compounded worry in this particular instance would be practically unbearable. In Colorado, the General shook his head. "Jack, there are some good people around who can still help."

"I know that." O'Neill stared out of the car window into the deepening night. Old growth trees around the house obscured the moon, making the lights languishing yellow through the windows seem even brighter. "And when the time comes—" His voice trailed off into the darkness.

"I know, Jack. You'll ask." A squeak of chair leather accompanied a change in Landry's tone. "Just don't wait too long. In the meantime, I'll keep the Hammond informed.

O'Neill closed his eyes against the relief that rushed through him. "Thank you."

"Well, I figure you've saved the collective asses of everyone on Earth often enough to merit a freebie or two." Landry paused, and his chair squeaked again. "And you're welcome."

Clicking his phone shut, the General sat silent, his lips thin, brows slung low over dark eyes. He felt Daniel's gaze on him, knew that the younger man was judging, assessing, making considerations. Balancing the cell phone on his knee, Jack threw a glance in his direction. "You heard all that?"

"I did." Daniel nodded, removing the key from the ignition.

"Good," He leaned backwards in his seat, extending his long legs as much as possible in the close confines of the sedan. "Then I won't have to repeat myself."

"We'll find her, Jack."

It took too long for O'Neill to reply. "I remember back in the early eighties when that little boy was kidnapped in Florida."

"Adam something—his dad did that fugitive show."

Jack nodded. "I sat there looking at the TV every night—like a load of other people, I'm sure—and I remember wondering how in the world they'd find him. There are millions of people out there—how do you find one kid in a country of millions, in a world of billions?"

Daniel sat silently, staring straight ahead, waiting.

"That was before I knew what I know now. About what else is out there. Who else is out there." He peered through the window at his side, trying to see past the large trees looming over them, past the neighborhood lights, out into the darkness of space.

"We'll find her, Jack."

"I keep thinking that." He angled a look at his friend. "I keep trying to think positive."

Daniel extended a hand, palm up. "I mean, there are only so many places she could be."

"That's where you're wrong, Daniel." A raise of the other man's brows was all it took for Jack to continue. "She could be anywhere in the universe by now."