Scenarios

A/N: This chapter was inspired by the recent re-watching of the pilot episode of Syfy's Killjoys (not mine) and Shepweir always' request many moons ago for more family stories.

Enjoy.

Bedtime Story

"So did you have a good birthday, monkey?"

"Yeth…but what happened to your fathe? Did you get dithtwacted again while you and mummy were whethling?"

Peggy had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing and giving herself away as she eavesdropped from the hallway on Jack's conversation with their now five year-old daughter.

"No, I did not get distracted again while mummy and I were wrestling. I learned my lesson," her husband huffed. And he had learned. After a black eye and sore jaw, he had learned that her 'female assets' did not signal her next move when they were sparring.

With far less annoyance, Jack asked, "Do you wanna know the story of how my face got all purple and blue? Or shall I continue reading - ?"

"No, thtory!" she lisped imperiously.

Their daughter was no idiot. The man with the silver tongue could spin a right good yarn. Peggy settled back to listen and to intervene if he could not keep it child-friendly.

"There was a time, not too long ago, that there was an evil man who ran a wicked empire. It was wicked because its people supplied bad things to bad people so they could hurt other people in their greedy quest for power."

It was an adequate enough description of Oren Tiers' criminal organization.

"Unfortunately, for your father, a Knight of the Shield, in his quest to put an end to all of this evil, he found himself captured and thrown into the evil man's dungeon to be questioned by his goons…"

~A~

zzzZZZztt!

"Aa-ah-ha!" she heard Jack cry out through the bug that he must have planted somehow on one of the goons before he started getting zapped with electricity. Otherwise, her connection with him would have shorted out.

"You're taking this a bit personally for a boat, aren't you?" he gasped.

"My boss paid a pretty penny for that 'boat'. Even if it were at the bottom of the ocean, it is worth more than your sorry hide is, whole or in pieces. So I ask again, where is the yacht?"

"And I say again, you are asking the wrong guy. But when this gets all sorted out, I am just going to let you know an apology bouquet of roses, just isn't going to hack – "

Thwack!

Jack's smart-ass rant must have gotten cut short by what sounded like a smack to the face. But did that stop him? Of course not, because in between spitting what had to be blood he started laughing.

Goon #1 was just as unamused as she was, because he barked, "And what is so funny, Mr. Thomas?"

~A~

"…But even though his fate looked bleak, the Knight did not lose hope, as he knew the cavalry was coming…"

~A~

"It's just that I am always being told what a conceited bastard I am," explained 'Jack Thomas, thief-extraordinaire', between continued spats of blood. "But I now have proof that I am not – for not even I, a reputable ghost with sticky fingers, can claim that I was able to steal that fine-assed prize out from under you all by myself.

"So you gotta ask yourself…If I had a cracker jack team to help me steal it, what's preventing them from charging in here any minute n– ?"

"Our own 'cracker jack' team of guards that's what."

~A~

"…But in order to storm the Fortress of Evil, the Princess of the Shield had to do so by less than conventional means…"

~A~

She had listened to this violent exchange through the earpiece that was disguised as a pearl earring, and which they had thankfully not removed when they caught her.

She didn't see how violent it had been until they finished dragging her into the room by her hair and removing the cloth sack from her head.

"Shit," she cursed, because his right eye was swollen and his mouth was a bloody mess, and that was just his face. He was hanging from chains that were bolted into the ceiling, and his shirt was torn open, exposing a chest crusted with trails of blood, a torso that was a patchwork of bruises all colors of the rainbow, and studded with scorch marks from where he had been zapped with a cattle prod. All of this was not only on display for her, but for whoever was on the other side of the gilded two-way mirror on the far left wall.

The eye that wasn't swollen shut was swirling with anxiety, as he asked hoarsely, "Are you okay?"

She shifted on her knees a little and then gave him a grim nod, as she quietly reassured, "I'm okay."

"We caught her, not so much 'charging in here', but rather less than stealthily trying to bribe a guard. Let's just say, that I am most unimpressed."

Jack ignored the dig, and instead glared at the 'mirror on the wall', growling, "Fine. Get your boss. Tell him I am ready to parley."

"Mr. Tiers just isn't summoned. And he does not personally deal with the likes of you," the Goon sneered.

"No boss. No boat," Jack sneered right back.

~A~

"…The Knight knew that if a true bargain was to be struck, he would have to look the man in the eye, so he stuck to his guns, figuratively speaking of course, and waited. They did not have to wait long, because the iron-barred door soon creaked open and in stepped The Dragon…"

~A~

"My stars. Dictating terms to me in my own home? That is rather ballsy of you, Mr. Thomas. How do you manage to get around?" asked the crime lord, known to the criminal underworld as 'the Dragon', as he circled the pair of them.

Although his voice was light with amusement, there was a hard edge to his tone that – well – set her teeth on edge.

Bloody, dangling Jack ignored it of course and sassed, "There's some special cream for that kind of chafing. It does wonders."

"I am sure it does. Just like threatening your girl here got you to fold, when an hour of working you over got us nothing," the Dragon observed with such deceptive coolness that Peggy knew the violence was going to resume soon.

"That about sums it up."

"Good to know that you Western trash are still a bunch of pansies."

"And it's good to know that you Commies still get off on pain and brutality."

It would start of course once the prerequisite exchange of insults was over. Men.

"Oh, we are far from barbarians. For example, after we have done a thorough … inspection… of your lady here, we'll be sure to leave her the standard gratuitous fee for services rendered."

From out of the corner of her eye, she saw Tiers give a jerk of his head to his henchmen.

While Jack shouted his protests, Goon #2 dragged her up from her knees and threw her onto the nearby table.

Over her own snarled protests and struggles, she heard Tiers snidely comment, "If this is all the team you hired, I'd consider asking for my money back if I were you."

Goon #1 waved off #2, claiming first dibs on her, but she was far more interested in her partner's exchange, as he had quit struggling and was now smirking.

~A~

"…With an opening like that, the Knight knew that it was time to signal the Princess to quit playing damsel-in-distress and to start kicking a– er, derriere …"

~A~

"Well, that's assuming."

"Assuming what?" Tiers asked, foolishly not picking up on the change in her partner's demeanor.

"That I am the one who did the hiring, and it was your boat that we came for."

At his words, she turned her full attention back to the henchman who was pawing at her thick wool skirt and spreading her legs. She decided to 'help' him out and spread them even further, which allowed for the clever contraption that Howard had designed to aim right at him.

"What the - !"

She fired. Hit by the stun blast, Goon #1 flew across the room.

While Jack was doing an admirable job taking care of Goon #2 with just his feet, she decided to help him out by blasting apart the chains he was dangling from before setting her sights on the Dragon.

He reconsidered scrabbling for the gun that one of his henchmen had lost and held his hands up in surrender.

When Jack was at her side, she declared, "Oren Tiers, in the name of S.H.I.E.L.D., you are under arrest for your crimes against humanity."

~A~

"And so even though the Knight got a little banged up, he was still able (with the help of the Princess) to lock-up the Dragon and his evil underlings and shut down the wicked empire for good," Jack triumphantly concluded his tale.

"Good thtory, but – " her daughter declared tiredly mid-yawn, "not what hap-p-pened."

"Oh yeah?" Jack challenged, both offended and amused by her doubt. "Still like your theory better, huh?"

She couldn't hear her daughter's answer, but she could see, when she peeked around the corner, her dark curly head bobbing up and down in the affirmative.

"And why, monkey, is that more believable?"

"I am five yearth old. Not a little kid anymore. I know that princesses and knights aren't weal…" She let out another yawn, before concluding dismissively, "You are just mummy and daddy."

Confounded by that logic, Jack wished her goodnight and then turned off the light.

Upon seeing the sad, defeated look in Jack's eyes from being demoted from 'legendary hero' to 'just Daddy', she took pity on him when he joined her in the hallway and reassured softly, "Don't worry. Your son still believes we have magic."

Jack raised his uncut eyebrow questioningly at her.

She grinned at him mischievously, even as she sighed with heavy resignation, "Yeah, I am under strict orders to kiss you and make you all better."

Her husband practically beamed, "That's my boy!"

He then leaned down and proffered his wounded face to her, and she obliged.

She brushed her lips across his black eye, over his bruised cheek, down his sore jaw, to the corner of his mouth, and then gently kissed his lips.

A kiss, which he swiftly deepened until they were both breathless.

"How – how are you doing now?" she gasped when they broke apart. "Any better?"

There was a brief pause, and then rather roguishly he mused, "I don't know. I think we have less magic than Michael thought. It could require a few more attempts for the full healing effect to take place."

She returned his grin and kissed him again, happy to test out her husband's theory.