Author's notes: Thanks for the reviews and the PM's with reviews I got on this story. I am always happy when my musings on paper (or screen would be more accurate) give some moments of pleasure to others. Hope you like the next chapter as well. Let's bring in more angst, as that was the challenge, wasn't it?
At 5 o'clock in the evening, Major Samantha Carter knocked on the door of her CO. Dressed in blue jeans and a plain black T-shirt, she carried a cooler filled with salads for the barbecue. She had also taken the effort to bake a pumpkin pie for dessert. She was really looking forward to this evening, although a little bit nervous. She hoped everybody would be relaxed and happy to be together again, maybe even be ready to talk about the past few months.
When the Colonel didn't answer his door, she was not immediately worried. He had probably run to the store to get something for the barbecue. She walked into his backyard and started to unload her stuff on the picnic table.
About ten minutes later, she heard a car pulling up the driveway and soon she recognized the voices of Daniel and Teal'c. Teal'c carried the beer and Daniel knocked on the door. She walked around to the front.
"Hi, guys! It's good to see you. The Colonel is not here yet, probably forgot the hamburgers. You know him. Come on, make yourselves comfortable." While she led the way, Daniel and Teal'c followed.
Daniel shivered, looking briefly over his shoulders. "I'm still uncomfortable with this house. I'm sorry. The last time I was here he told me our friendship was all fake…."
Sam looked at him, not knowing how to respond to that. Teal'c said: "He did not mean that, Daniel Jackson. You should know that."
"Yeah, I know now. But it still hurts, you know? He sounded so real, so cold; how could I not believe it?"
"Oh, Daniel. If you didn't believe it, neither would the traitors. The house was bugged!" Sam pleaded. "The Colonel just had to be very convincing. He only did his job!"
Daniel snorted. "His job, right. How could I forget that?"
All fell silent at the young man's outburst. Daniel's soft voice broke the silence. "He said some things to you too, Sam. You were pretty upset, if I remember correctly. Can you forgive him that easily, by telling yourself it was his job?"
Sam looked at the grass. Softly, she spoke. "Not easily, Daniel, not easily. But I do know now, that he didn't mean what he said. That he had to do it. So there is nothing to forgive."
Daniel looked her in the eye and just shook his head. He couldn't believe it. Sure, Jack was doing his job, but it still hurt. It would still take him some time to get over it. He looked at his watch. It was almost 05:30 and there was still no sign of Jack. "Shopping doesn't take that long, does it?" he wondered, "Jack should have been here by now. Or is he too scared to face us?"
Throwing a reproachful look at Daniel, Sam grabbed her cell phone and dialled the Colonel's cell phone number. He didn't answer it. "Hmm, that's strange. Maybe I should try the base." She dialled the Mountain Complex and asked the guard on duty: "Sergeant, this is Major Carter speaking. I was wondering, is Colonel O'Neill on the base?"
She waited patiently for him to check the records. "Thank you. No, I don't want to leave him a message. Thanks again." She hung up and looked surprised at her team-mates. "He apparently slept on the base last night and left around three this afternoon. I thought he went home last night?"
"He did. Just after we all agreed to this barbecue. Why would he have returned to the base?" Daniel asked, frowning.
"Maybe O'Neill forgot something." Teal'c suggested.
"Jack only seems to forget about us lately." Daniel grumbled.
"Daniel! Don't say that. He probably had something important to do." Sam tried to defend her CO.
"Important? More important than us? Come on, Sam. We agreed to have a barbecue tonight. I arranged the beer, you the salads. You even took the time to bake something, didn't you? Yet, here we are, waiting for Jack and you're telling me he has something more important to do?" Daniel sounded really angry now.
"I am positive, O'Neill has a logical explanation," Teal'c stated.
"Well, I'm hungry. Why don't we leave Jack a note, pick up some burgers ourselves and start the barbecue at my house," Daniel suggested.
Sam hesitated. "I would like to wait a little longer. Maybe the closest stores were running out of hotdogs or something." She tried to call her CO again, but he still did not answer it. "Maybe he left his phone in the house." Daniel didn't look convinced. "Come on, Daniel. Let's give him a chance, will yea? If he doesn't show up within the next thirty minutes, we'll go to your place. Deal?"
Daniel nodded. He sat down, his back resting against the house, knees bent, arms crossed around them. They waited, but O'Neill didn't show. They waited a little longer, but no sign of the Colonel. Finally, they agreed to leave. Sam wrote a message for him and shoved it under his door. Disappointed, she followed Daniel and Teal'c to their cars.
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Colonel O'Neill had visited one of the three addresses he had dug up on the computer. This address belonged to an apartment, located in a huge condominium, on the twelfth floor. His target didn't use it anymore; an old lady rented it two weeks ago and had just moved in. She had been very nice to him, offering him a cup of tea and some cookies. She told him she had never seen the person who lived in the apartment before she moved in, so she obviously couldn't help him.
The second address was an old brick house, with dusty windows and a broken mailbox in the front yard. A fresh paintjob would do no harm to the place and the lawn definitely needed to be mowed. Although it looked deserted, the Colonel took no chances and drove by, scanning the area around the house. It was a big property; the neighbours lived some distance from the house. Finding his way around it, Jack discovered that there was a small forest behind the backyard of the house. He found a parking spot on the other side of the woods. There was an open spot on his right side, with a huge picnic table and a black spot on the ground obviously caused by campfires. All the signs were telling him that families gathering for picnics used this place.
Locking his car, Jack hiked through the woods, finding his way easily to the house. The backyard contained a barn on the right side and a vegetable garden on the left. A firepit was located near the vegetable garden, with a pot hanging above it on three tied sticks, probably to make maple syrup. Behind the barn, invisible from the front of the house, two old vehicles were parked. The first was an old grey Plymouth with a black tarp over the front. The second car, closest to him, was a blue Chrysler.
Studying the house carefully, Jack could not tell if anyone was home. Dark curtains covered the windows, the chairs on the deck had no pillows on them and the table on the deck was empty. He could detect no signs of life. Taking in every detail and locking it in his memory, the Special Ops trained soldier knew he would be able to reach the house unnoticed and without stumbling over something in the dark. For now, he decided to stay where he was.
His patience was rewarded sometime before dark. Jack noticed some movement in the house. The backdoor opened and a man, dressed in blue jeans and a white shirt, appeared on the deck. The man closed the door behind him and walked over to the cars behind the barn. Taking his keys out of his pocket, he opened the left door of the blue Chrysler, started the engine and drove off the property.
Jack had examined the man the best he could, without giving himself away. The man's movements had been athletic and smooth; his posture belonging to somebody who took time for workouts instead of eating too many hotdogs. According to the estimated age of the man, this could be the well-trained ex-soldier he was looking for. Unfortunately, Jack had been too far away to really study the man's face.
Not knowing how long the man would be gone, SG-1's CO made his decision easily. If this was the person he was looking for, the chances of somebody else being in the house were very small. He carefully approached the house, using all the cover he could along the way. Without trouble, he reached the deck and simply knocked on the back door. He was not surprised when no one answered it. Unlocking the door without leaving a trace of tampering was a piece of cake for him; two minutes later he stood in the small living room.
The living room was a big mess. There were empty cans of pop and beer on the table, on the couch and on the floor. There was also a bowl with left over potato chips on a side table, with a jar of "ONE-HELLUVA-DIP" beside it. Parts of newspapers and advertisements were left on the couch and floor. Finding nothing of interest in the living room, Jack quickly scanned the kitchen. The smell of left over food and the pile of unwashed dishes made his stomach turn. He entered another room, which was used as an office. There was a small wooden desk with a computer and telephone on it. Jack ran the paper, sticking out of the printer, through his fingers. Underneath the desk he found the trash basket. Quickly looking in it, he found his proof. Bingo! A piece of white paper, with bold black letters, similar to the message he had found in his house yesterday. Jack thought for a second, threw it back in the basket and made sure, he left no traces. However, he deliberately took the receiver off the hook and left it beside the phone. That would give old-Dave something to think about! Satisfied, Jack left the house the same way he had entered it and headed back to his car.
The Colonel took the same road back; he wanted to take another look at the house from the front. It was almost 7 o'clock and growing dusk. When he approached the house, he saw that Moser had returned; he had parked his car on his driveway and just walked towards the mailbox. Without hesitation, Jack pulled over, opened the window of his car on the passenger's side and called the man. "Excuse me, Sir. I'm looking for the Simpsons's residence. Do they live on this road?"
If Moser was shocked at all, he managed to control himself very well. Absolutely no emotion showed on his face as he glanced at Jack for a second. Nonchalant, he shrugged his shoulders slightly, responding: "Don't know them, Mister. Sorry!" Without giving Jack another look, Moser opened his mailbox and grabbed his mail.
Satisfied that he now had a face belonging to the name Dave Moser, a face he would not forget anytime soon, Jack answered: "That's okay. Thanks anyway!" and drove off. Looking in his mirrors, he saw Moser get into his car and drive it to the back of the house.
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