FalloutGate (Part 2): Commonwealth

by devilishlysas

One year after finding themselves stranded on an irradiated alternate Earth (the Fallout 4 Universe), Sam & Jack have found a way to survive, but their brief peace is shattered when a Shadow of Steel is cast across the Wasteland and the ever present threat of the Institute looms closer. Continues from FalloutGate Part 1, please read that first or this won't make a lick of sense.

4. Chapter 4 - Lorenzo's Oil

CHAPTER FOUR: LORENZO'S OIL

Sam showered twice, feeling beyond filthy, like there was dirt on her that she could never wash off. She determinedly cleaned the fingers of 'that' hand before hurriedly towelling herself off. Taking the time to compose herself wasn't a luxury she could afford; Jack was still at Death's Door downstairs. She had no right to delay even a minute and with that she let the adrenalin fuel her actions, fighting back the urge to panic. It wouldn't help.

Practical logical thoughts kept her moving, kept her going. Like, what to wear? She hadn't considered that when she'd let that bastard ghoul Edward take her clothes to wash. She looked around realising there was a pile of neatly folded clothes left on the unit beside the door. She approached cautiously and touched the fresh garments. A pair of real black leather pants that were clearly pre-war, a pair of army boots only a size too big and an honest to God deep blue V-neck sweater. She wanted to cry again, wanted to fall to the bathroom floor and bury her head in her legs and just cry. It felt like payment … these offerings. Maybe Rhys was right, maybe she was a whore. Thoughts of Rhys and how it was her petty need to spite him that had gotten them and Jack into this mess to begin with were just what she needed. She swiped angrily at her eyes. She'd done this! It was her fault and she could damn well suck it up and pay the consequences for her rash decision.

When she emerged from the bathroom fully dressed, her longer hair drying naturally into a gentle curl, she wasn't surprised to find Edward waiting. She hesitated in the doorway, not sure she really wanted to be alone with him again. Not sure she wanted to see his distorted face, look into his black eyes and be reminded that he knew what she looked like when she surrendered. He'd made her feel ashamed and powerless. Neither were helpful emotions right now nor was anger which made up the rest of what she was feeling and as the urge to shoot Edward rose she was forced to fight with her instinct. She'd done this for Jack. She wasn't about to have gone through all of that for nothing because she couldn't keep her emotions in check. It had been a business deal, a transaction. She had to see it that way if she was going to look Edward in the face and tolerate his presence near her again.

"I've set you up a cot next to your man." he told her and Sam merely nodded.

"Thank you for the clothes." she replied finally when he didn't rush to fill the silence or to get out of her way. He apparently had no shame or was enjoying tormenting her; she fisted her hand, her nails biting into the palm with her restraint. His dark eyes tracked the movement and she released it with a shaky breath.

He shrugged, his eyes flickering quickly over her with an intensity she didn't miss. "I thought you'd appreciate them more than Emogene at any rate and they do look a darn site better on you." He smirked and then quickly turned walking away, leaving her to hesitate only a moment before following, suppressing the shiver his words, and that look, caused.

She was more than a little relieved when they reached the lab again, and Jack. After all she'd faced out here, the horrors, she thought it was telling that it was this seemingly 'nice' ghoulified old soldier that was scaring her the most. Although she wasn't sure if she was scared of herself and the way she'd practically whored herself out or if she was just scared that she was still at his mercy, with Jack vulnerable and dependent on their continued generosity.

Swallowing her fear and self-loathing, she focused on Jack; he was her priority. She hurried over to check on him. His vitals were strong and his chest looked better than when she'd left as she glanced beneath the bandage. Over a quarter of it had now sealed over into a raw ragged scar but it was healing. She traced her hand over him and realised someone had cleaned the blood from him; she suspected who of course with a start.

"Did you clean him up?" she asked quietly, lifting her head to find Edward stood beside her. Sam froze; her breath caught in surprise and concern. He inhaled sharply as if catching the scent of the shampoo and soap on her. For a moment she wondered if she'd be forced to kill him after all. Then he took a deliberate step back, clearly seeing her unease with his proximity and possibly the threat in what he now knew was her strong frame.

"I got most of the blood off." he shrugged. "Didn't want him to start to smell. He can clean up properly when Doc gets him fixed up, just as soon as you complete his little trip." he offered and Sam smiled, worried it might have come out more as a grimace. She hadn't missed the little nudge there - 'your man's still at death's door, best behave'.

"Thank you." she nodded, not sure what else to say.

Edwards lips curved up into a smile and he stepped closer, almost touching again. Sam gripped onto Jack's hand. She'd either kill Edward or freeze if he touched her now; she wasn't sure she wanted to find out which. He leant in close, his body a hair's breadth from touching hers and she felt adrenalin spike, terror and fury racing through her as she clung to Jack's hand like the lifeline it was.

"Oh trust me Samantha, it's me who's thanking you. I have something in my memory now to last me a long, long time." he whispered like it was an intimate secret as he tapped his index finger suggestively against his temple. Then he leant in and his breath brushed her ear. "Something good and so damn beautiful." His hand hovered a few inches off her and Jack's joined one. He couldn't have missed the tremble in hers or the way her other one hovered over the butt of her gun at her hip.

"Does he even know what he's got in you?" he rasped provocatively and she was acutely aware of every inch of him stood beside her, utterly unable to do a thing about it with Jack in desperate need of their help her fingers linking with her husbands, grounding her even now.

"Please." she conceded, not above begging it seemed with Jack lying beside them. "I gave you what you wanted." she rasped, praying she could remain polite and daring to look up at him with eyes as cold as she could make them; when all she could feel was bone deep fear that he was about to take more than she'd agreed. The desires she'd stoked in him now as plain as day.

"Yes you did and then some." he replied, staring her down. "Answer my question Samantha. Is he worth it?" he asked with far too much familiarity and clear interest. Her concern shifted to Jack having some kind of 'accident' at Edward's hands.

"Yes." she replied turning her focus back on Jack, removing her trembling hand from her gun and the temptation it presented and brushing Jack's forehead instead, taking in his pale too still face. "Yes to both your damn questions." she replied sharply.

Edward huffed beside her and pulled back with clear reluctance and she breathed a little easier. "Good, that's good. You deserve to be treated right." He admitted with odd sincerity, before he turned and pointed to the desk, changing topic, and the sudden tension he'd created disappeared. "There's food on the table. Eat something. You've got an early start in the morning. We need Emogene back by nightfall." he barked, his tone instantly different, like the longing and tenderness she'd heard was just her imagination – along with the clear threat of him. Then he was gone, stalking away and leaving her with the slow rasping wet sounds of Jack's breathing through the ventilator and it's mechanical hiss and click. It wasn't until she heard the sounds of Edward's footfalls on the stairs that she all but collapsed against the gurney, drawing a shaking hand up to her mouth to quietly sob, grateful that Jack at least couldn't see her like this.

Sam ate the food because she needed her strength, along with the purified water he'd left her. She hesitated a moment over the beer chaser but then downed it quickly, deciding she needed the calories and given her metabolism it was hardly going to make a dent in her reaction times anyway. Then she slid onto the cot, trying not to think about who'd prepared it for her, and pressed it right up against Jack's cot. Gripping his hand, she leant close and placed a gentle kiss to his temple.

"I'm here Jack. I'm here." she rasped, squeezing his fingers. "Don't die on me, please. Stay with me. I love you too much to lose you now." she whispered into the back of his hand tightly clasped in hers.

Throughout the night she woke, sometimes to the sounds of Jack's monitors and machines, sometimes to the feel of eyes on her; she'd palm the gun stashed beneath her pillow. Once she opened her eyes to the silhouette of Edward stood in the doorway watching her and she froze. She didn't know if she trusted he wouldn't do anything; content to remain a voyeur and nothing more. Or maybe he was doing it just to freak her the hell out, in which case, mission accomplished. She turned on the gurney, giving him her back despite what it cost her. She couldn't be stupid or rash; too much rested on this. Sam clutched her gun, out of sight beneath her pillow, in one hand and clung onto Jack's hand in her other, like a lifeline; willing him to come out of this okay, for both their sakes.

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The following, relatively sleepless, morning Edward had been casually sitting on the sofa in the downstairs living room. They both seemed to choose to ignore the fact that they both knew he'd spent a good portion of last night watching her sleep. He was apparently in a helpful mood. He told her about a 'boyfriend' of Emogene's that she'd mentioned, last seen heading out towards Goodneighbor. A real peach of a guy that sounded like a Cultist to her. At which point Edward had looked at her slowly over his bottle and asked if she wanted him to come with her. She'd given him a hard pass which he hadn't looked surprised about but maybe a little disappointed. Sam had a moment of hesitation seeing that. She was about to leave Jack with these people, with Edward specifically. Worse, she was still being forced into leaving him still practically at Death's Door. They could kill him and say he passed away and she'd have nothing but their word that's what happened. Every instinct she had screamed at her not to leave him here but what could she do? If she didn't go he'd definitely die.

Edward seemed to know exactly where her head was at as he stood so that they were eye to eye. "Your Jack will be fine." he attempted to reassure her and she swallowed. She didn't like that he could read her that well.

"I have your word?" she pressed. So far he'd demonstrated self-restraint and he had kept his word with her, so maybe she could trust him enough for this. After all, they did need her help too it seemed.

"My word." He held his hand out. Sam looked at it for a flat second, feeling revulsion at the notion of touching him, before placing hers into it and shaking firmly. Only a sense of dignity kept her from ripping it out of his grasp when they were done; calmly removing it instead and curling it into a fist at her side, just like before. She chose to ignore the fact that it was 'that' hand. He made her feel like there was oil seeping over her body at just his proximity; it was revolting. Not even Rodney McKay had ever made her feel this objectified.

"You so much as touch an inappropriate hair on his head while I'm gone and I'll turn that Sentry Bot outside into your own personal limb rearranger, then I'll shoot what's left of you." she snarled, utterly calm in her sincere loathing of him in that moment.

He snorted and backed up.. "Bring her back in one piece would you? She's a pain in the ass, but she's family you know?" he tossed back at her casually returning to the sofa and dropping into it. Then he looked at her with a cocky smile, but she got the distinct impression he was actually turned on more than terrified of her all too real threat.

Emogene, it turns out, hadn't been all that hard to find. From the impression she'd been given Sam expected Emogene to be a teenager; a young girl throwing a tantrum. In fact, by the time she'd caught up with her, all of seven hours and fading light later, she'd realised she couldn't be more off base. Emogene in fact looked older than her, well into her late forties and she'd had in fact joined a Cult of all things with her so called boyfriend Thomas, and just as she'd suspected from Edward's description he was the leader of this little group. Sam had only had to threaten Thomas, s with actual physical violence to get results; one sharp grip on his wrist that threatened to snap it when he'd tried his spiel on her, mixing threats with pseudo-religious ideas and disparaging remarks, smoothly trying to convince her to hand over her life and money to him. Idiot. But he was a coward and hadn't protested when he'd shown her to Emogene's 'locked' room. Suffice to say the woman was ready to leave.

"I was getting bored here anyway." she sighed attempting to retain her dignity Sam suspected given as she'd been 'sent to her room'. But Sam could see that same old weariness in her that she'd seen in Jack Cabot and she realised, with a start, that this woman was just as old as her brother. Nearly four hundred years of this world … no wonder she looked done with it all.

"Do you have the serum?" she pressed and Emogene gave her a look. "He's got the bottle. Not that he's got the first damn clue what it is." She indicated her very soon to be ex.

Sam felt her stomach fall. She was going to have to kill that idiot Thomas to get it she suspected, which meant the rest of the Cult might attack. She really didn't want to have to wipe out this entire damn commune of desperate deluded people.

"Can you get it back? Preferably without me having to resort to something unpleasant?" Sam asked her irritated, cocking her semi-automatic rifle to make a point. "Your brother needs it to save my husband!" Given the woman's romanticised view of things she thought a little honesty and honest to God relationship drama might work to motivate her.

"Oh." Emogene started, looking surprised her eyes widening at both her words and the big gun, as if it hadn't even occurred to her. "Well, I could try. I hadn't much use for it. I suppose I do need to give Thomas a short sharp smack for locking me in my room to 'cool off'." She sniffed and stalked off, every inch an aristocrat still.

Emogene hit him. He hit her. The whole thing got ugly and Sam put a bullet in 'Father Thomas' kneecap but that was the extent of it. She'd been correct in her assessment of him as a coward, as were most of his Cultists; they were looking to escape. Thomas had handed the vial to her pretty quick after that. Sam took it from him, quietly pocketing it. This was Jack's one chance and if anyone wanted it they'd have to kill her for it, literally.

"Cult Leaders often wind-up dead," she told him pointedly, holstering her gun across her chest. "You should consider a new career choice whilst you still have one working leg." she added darkly, in warning. This encounter triggered the memory of her last encounter with a Cult and its leader Seth; one of her first and most unpleasant kills. Killing a man because you 'willed' him dead wasn't nearly as fun as it sounded. There was nowhere to hide from yourself after something like that, no excuse. Hail Dorothy. Possibly the worst thing – or most misjudged – that Jack had ever said to her.

She shook the thoughts off and grabbed Emogene by the arm, whisking them both away quickly. Jack didn't have time for this. They skirted the ghoul town of Goodneighbor. Sam had been warned by Sturgess and Jack that showing her pretty face in there might not be healthy; they weren't all that keen on 'Smoothskins'. Given Edward's reaction to her she was inclined to trust that assumption. Right now, the idea of seeing that many of the same fierce black eyes and rotted skin made her distinctly uneasy. MacCready had certainly never encouraged her to join him on his regular trips out here which said enough. There was also Rhys's recent reaction to her to consider. She hadn't told Jack what that nasty bastard had suggested he do to her to help her 'blend in' out here. She certainly hadn't needed to have it rasped in her ear as he'd passed her on the stairs, when she'd been heading out on their way back to the Castle a few days ago. 'Like I told your husband … if you love him like you claim to, stop painting such a target on both your assess. I'll be more than happy to use this razor to take the edge off those 'factory-setting' looks of yours'.

Asshole! Jack being Jack hadn't mentioned the suggestion of course and Rhys wouldn't be suggesting it again after the resounding blow to the balls she'd delivered; leaving him curled up on the floor, gasping. She did however make sure the damn bandana was in place and the sunglasses cut off the view of the rest of her face. Combined with a militia hat hiding her blonde locks, there wasn't much about her features that remained identifiable. It wasn't even that she was being vain about the idea. If it would genuinely make Jack safer (and her) she'd have done something to ruin her aesthetic a while ago. But it had nothing to do with that as far as she could tell. Out here, the people who'd really tried to kill them hadn't given a rat's ass what she'd looked like. It was the people she'd needed to be civil around that were the issue; she refused to do something just to make them feel more comfortable. Especially because they'd never asked Jack to do the same and he was a darn sight prettier than most out here.

Thoughts of Jack sent the pit of anxiety in her gut roiling again. She pushed the clearly privileged, slightly aging woman at a soldiers pace until they were back outside the Cabot house, where she all but shoved her through the door. Sam barely slowed down as she headed straight for Jack, passing Edward on the way with barely a nod – if she never had to see his face again it would be too soon. She heard him greet Emogene before he was hastily following her as she skidded to a halt in front of Jack, checking him over for signs of improvement or deterioration. He seemed the same, although his wound had closed a little more in the time it taken her to get there and back. His colour was still deathly pale and the edges of his wound looked raw and ugly, parts of it still gaping wide, but he was alive. She traced her hand over the undamaged side of his chest, willing him to pull through this. She'd have given anything right now for a Goa'uld healing device, certain that this time she'd have the will to make it work right.

"He's fine." Edward assured her as he approached. Sam glanced back at him, stepping around to the other side of the table so Jack was between them.

"So is Emogene and the serum." she replied pointedly about the woman alive and well sitting next door. "Where's Doctor Cabot? He promised me a miracle." she reminded him, praying to God they didn't double cross her. She kept her right hand by her weapon in case they did, the miracle serum heavy in her pocket. Edward's sharp dark eyes noticed the movement to her gun and he smiled amiably at her; she found it unnerving rather than soothing.

"You don't need that here beautiful." he reminded her, his eyes softening a fraction as if the term of endearment was supposed to soothe her not agitate her more. "I won't let them harm a hair on your head!" He swore and turned as if to go, before pausing mid-step, he glanced back. "With that in mind, if the Doc comes down here forgetting he asked you to take a little road trip North, you best be forgetting too." he told her grimly; she tried to mask her surprise. "No matter what crazy story he tells you or how much he offers." Sam didn't think there was any way of misinterpreting that, the nasty old Ghoul might actually be trying to play chivalrous now by trying to protect her – except he was one violation too late for her to buy that. Sam wondered uncharitably if he'd expect payment for that little bit of inside info too?

"We clear?" he asked when she didn't respond, her eyes fixed on his rotten face.

"Crystal." she replied, deciding she was more than done with this place and him. Once Jack was better, they were gone, all debts paid in full.

"I'll get the Doc. Wait here." he instructed and stomped up the stairs in his heavy boots.

Jack Cabot appeared a few moments later with Edward taking up the rear. "Well done, well done." he told her rubbing his hands together with glee, an uncharacteristic smile on his face that made his ridiculous moustache bounce, he held his hand out expectantly. "Hand it over then." he insisted and Sam hesitated.

"Look, just don't double cross me. I'd hate to shoot you. You might not age but I'm betting this serum won't grow you a new head." she threatened, reaching into her pocket. "I got it like you asked and your sister's safe and sound. So please as agreed, heal my husband." she implored, not caring how desperate she appeared because she was, she was also right to the edge of her patience now, on the verge of hysteria with Jack inches from salvation.

"A deal is a deal. As they say." he confirmed and Doctor Cabot's smile was thin but indulgent as she passed the small vial of serum to him. He took it, holding it up to the light. "Ah the bane of my existence … and its salvation. Irony it seems would have them as fine bedfellows." he lamented as he turned to get a syringe.

Sam stepped closer to Jack as the Doctor approached holding the serum. Her hand threading through his hair, her body wound tighter than a coiled spring as she tried to keep both Edward and Cabot in her frame of vision, her grip on the gun at her thigh firm. He withdrew a half dose.

"Doesn't he need it all?" she asked and the Doctor hesitated. "No. No … that, well, that would have consequences. He has already had a diluted dose and it has healed the most critical of his internal wounds. I must confess however that the delay between doses may mean that I am unable to rid him entirely of this unsightly scar," he peeled back the wound and revealed the jagged mass of flesh that Sam could see had started to come together. " The internal tissue will be fully functional but the scar tissue, once created on the skin … well it rather tends to stick." He held the serum over Jack's wound. "With your permission?" he asked and she looked one more time at Jack and nodded, praying to God she wasn't deciding a fate worse than death for him again.

Cabot nodded and stuck the needle into Jack's chest, injecting him, then he pointedly looked up at her. "I should warn you …"

"Now you warn me!" she exclaimed as white hot terror lanced her and she gripped his wrist tightly as he withdrew the syringe. Her hand pressed to Jack's stomach as she felt fresh panic blossom, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Her consequence of the deal with the Devil was about to reveal itself. Please God, not memory loss … or complete personality change … ghoulification … the list seemed endless. Sam felt her lip trembling as tears threatened. What had she done?

"Don't look so panicked dear," Cabot hissed, removing his wrist from her grasp and rubbing it furiously; his eyes on her in surprise at the strength he'd clearly felt there. "I am merely referring to the most likely rejuvenating side effects of a second dose of course." he added looking cautiously at her now, taking a step back in case she grabbed him again.

Sam's eyes shot up to him. "Rejuvenating?" she hissed. Jack might kill her if he regressed to a kid again … and she might kill the Doctor. He wisely stepped back as she swiped for the syringe.

"I said might." Doctor Cabot snapped, looking irritated. "I rather think he might be grateful for the extra years. He was rather getting on wasn't he?!" he declared, his eyebrows up at her in clear surprise at her reaction.

Sam didn't know what to think but her eyes drew down to Jack as the serum clearly started to work. The remaining red ragged tissue of his chest began to knit together rapidly. His chest began to rise and fall evenly, free now as Doctor Cabot hastily pulled the cables and machines that had been keeping him alive and out of the way of his rapidly healing flesh. The ventilator tube was yanked out of his throat and she winced pressing on his chest as his body arched into it, a gasp stuttering out of his lips as he started to take in unassisted breaths. Jack's complexion regained some of its healthier sun-kissed colour. Whatever it was, the serum worked fast. The freshly closed areas didn't leave so much as a mark but the skin that had closed over last night with a ragged red scar began to darken to look decades old. The evidence of the wound extending from his lower ribcage and up across his pec to his collarbone. It looked like someone had tried to fillet him a long time ago and failed.

Sam pressed her hand over his chest and almost sobbed in the relief of feeling his heartbeat strong and thundering beneath her fingers. It was working. Actually working. Then the grey in his hair started to recede. Sam watched as the whitened sideburns and the salt and pepper sprinkle became much more pepper. The lines around his face softened and she noticed the tightening across his skin, his jaw becoming even more defined.

"My God." She put her hand to her mouth, focusing on the other changes now that the life-threatening wounds were closed. "He looks years younger, decades even!" she managed to get out. She'd never seen him like this; he looked even younger than when she'd first met him. God, he'd never looked bad for his age but now, hell, he looked closer to her age, mid-thirties maybe. She shot her eyes up to Doctor Cabot who looked pleased and a little smug.

"He won't get any younger than this though?" she asked slightly unnerved as the smoothing continued across his whole body that she could see at least.

He frowned. "It is not able to regress a subject to puberty no. Why? … have you seen such an effect before?" Cabot asked clearly interested but Sam wasn't listening. Her hand stroking across Jack's cheeks, which no longer looked hollow and gaunt. Nearly twenty-four hours at Death's Door had taken its toll before this miracle serum.

"You see. I told you." Cabot sighed, "Ah the wonder of science. Alas I'm afraid such rejuvenation only works for a time. For your dear husband it will last until his natural death, hopefully years from now, but for me …" he shook his head sadly and injected the remainder of the serum into his own arm. "… perhaps another few weeks, maybe months, before time catches up again." Sam startled, the Doc only had months left, wow! She really didn't want to know what happened when the serum ran out. Suddenly, the slightly aging middle aged appearance of Emogene, who hadn't taken her serum, started to make more sense. But not Jack… for him this would be a permanent and likely irreversible change, until age caught up with him the old fashioned away once more. She had no idea if he'd thank her for that.

Jack's eyes fluttered. Sam clasped his hand, pressing on his chest gently as he took in a sharp breath and tried to sit up; relief flooded her. "Easy, easy Jack honey. You're okay." she promised, although that had yet to be proven. He slowly roused, his dark eyes finding hers and instantly flitting away, aware of other people in the room with those instincts of his.

"I'm not dead?" he muttered sounding more than a little alarmed to be waking up, as he patted down his chest and started to sit up gingerly. Sam got her arm behind him and helped eased him up as he noticed the huge, ragged scar, spanning the entirety of the right length of his torso, with widened eyes which narrowed into a frown as he touched his fingertips along it.

"Huh … that really left a mark." Jack tried to swing his legs round and she gripped his arm tightly, not entirely certain he should be getting up but she wasn't going to stop him. She was just so damn relieved he was alive and moving around at all.

"You're not dead. But it was close." she told him. He looked up and she realised she was crying when he swiped the tears from her cheeks. It honestly took her breath away; he was alive and okay, and able to care that she was crying about it.

"Hey, it's okay Sam baby." he murmured and pulled her in close, wrapping his arms around her whilst she clung to him, forcing herself to hold it together and not sob into his recently healed chest. Right now, in this moment, she honestly didn't care if he called her 'baby' or not.

"I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere." he soothed, knowing exactly what was wrong and she accepted his words for the moment because the alternative was too awful to contemplate again so soon.

"Where are we?" he questioned after a few seconds, looking at a point over her head.

"Ah good Sir. I am Doctor Cabot. You have been a guest and patient in my home for the last twenty-four hours." Cabot exclaimed, approaching again now it seemed Sam wasn't in danger of skewering him with his own needle.

Jack went rigid as he took the implications of that in. "He saved your life Jack." Sam pulled back and pressed her hand to his cheek, meeting his eyes, "Although it may have had a side effect."

His eyes widened in surprise. "It what now?" He looked between them uneasily. Whether he blamed her or not, there was definitely the shadow of Ba'al and Kanan in his eyes as he reached for the mirror Edward held out to him. The ghoul had an amused expression, as if eager to see what Jack made of this, as if she needed more reasons to hate him.

"I'm Edward, private security. Pleasure to meet you General." he told him, his grip still on the mirror forcing Jack to look at him.

"You have a fine woman here." he didn't look at her but Sam felt his gaze all the same. She wondered if she could ever be around Edward again and not feel the heat of his stare, whether he was looking at her or not. It was more than enough reason to not want to hang about.

"You best be taking better care of yourself in future, if you expect to be of much use to her." came the final scathing comment. Sam bristled but didn't rise to it, which she was certain Jack noted as he swallowed his eyes darkening a fraction at the accusation. Sam didn't want to rouse rouse his suspicions right now, choosing not to look too deeply at her desire to simply bury this whole incident as she pointedly didn't look at Edward, trying to school her expression into something carefully neutral. Jack's eyes scanned her a moment as if checking she was in one piece. She nodded and he finally took the mirror and turned it over to look at the damage, or in this case … restoration.

"Holy Hannah!" he murmured, stealing her Dad's line. He patted his cheeks and pulled back his darker thicker hair line, opened his mouth and generally making about a million faces from every angle into the thing before he put it down.

"Plastic surgery?" he asked sounding a little hopeful.

Sam shook her head. "Miracle cellular regeneration serum." she corrected. "I think."

"That's about the crux of it yes." Doctor Cabot strode forward and shook Jack's hand. "Good to see you up and about." Jack shook it warily.

"So, aside from the facelift, I'm healed … yes? I won't suddenly, you know, keel over … grow a second head … start speaking a dead language or have my brain … explode?" he mimed a kaboom and Doc Cabot merely grinned and clapped him on the shoulder reassuringly and she only wished he wasn't being entirely serious.

"Good. That's good." Jack nodded and reached out, extending his hand to the man. "I guess I owe you big time for this Doc. I mean, I was pretty sure I was done for out there." They shook on it and Jack glanced at her again and Sam squeezed his wrist a litter harder than was necessary, soundly wishing he hadn't accepted any more debt on their behalf. But then, he couldn't know that she'd already paid … twice.

Cabot was grinning congenially. "Yes well, it seems Dr Carter was extraordinarily quick thinking in getting you here so fast, dragging you in half dead. Handy in a fight too it would seem and mighty convincing in getting misguided young women to find their way home." He paused and looked between them. Sam didn't offer anything more and she felt Jack's tension ratchet up as he picked up on the tension in the room.

Cabot was staring between them. "Oh, you're quite welcome to stay and get cleaned up General. I'm sure your wife can show you to the bathroom. I've no doubt you want to get all that off you." He indicated the general layer of filth and blood that Edward hadn't managed to reach whilst he was so badly wounded. Jack glanced at the congealed and stinking pants he had left on.

"Good … that sounds good." Jack admitted, seeming a little shell shocked, as if he was realising just how close he'd come to dying. Sam helped him down from the gurney onto surprisingly sturdy legs and led him quickly away before he could ask any more questions or notice anything else. How the hell was she supposed to take him to 'that' bathroom and not let on what had happened to her, only a sixteen hours ago, in there? Jack was quick at the best of times and she was one raw nerve right now. But, she had to. The only alternative meant provoking Jack and their rescuers, and if she'd just proven anything it was that she was willing to do just about anything to keep Jack alive and healthy.

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Jack shut the bathroom door with finality and turned the lock, his hand stayed there for a moment whilst he seemed to take a steadying breath. His other hand rose slowly to rub uneasily over his chest beneath his torn clothing which had stiffened with his dried blood. Sam watched him quietly, wondering what toll this had taken on him. His body was healed but she wondered at what cost to his soul, again. Surely a man shouldn't be expected to keep waking from his own death. His head rose and he glanced back, giving her a shaky grin that she saw straight through.

"So … they seem creepy." Jack pointed out, running his hand though his hair uneasily, not quite meeting her eyes.

"They saved your life." Sam replied firmly; she didn't want to talk about them and she didn't want to think much either. Her eyes were drawn to his face. He looked like Jack, but not. The eeriness of that hadn't settled in yet nor had hearing his voice come out of that face.

"And yet … still creepy." he shuddered, poking his cheek and turning his old but new face this way and that in the mirror. "Wow … this is … I mean, I look barely in my thirties. Really didn't think I'd see this face again." He bent his knees looking faintly surprised. "Knees feel pretty darn good too." he added for good measure, giving her a hopeful smile. She returned it quietly, masking her concern as he examined the new facets of his face with clear bewilderment and dare she say it, faint glee. The dam inside her broke; she crushed herself against his back, wrapping her arms around him and hugging him as hard as she could. As hard as she'd wanted to when his chest had been practically on the floor. This had been too close and she didn't want to let go anytime soon; her face pressed into his back, a sob breaking free.

His hands rose and covered hers, looped over his chest, but he didn't try and move. "I'm sorry Sam … I got careless." he admitted quietly and she nodded. Edward's words apparently struck a chord with him. He clasped his hand around hers and lifted it up to his chest. Sam kept her forehead pressed into his back as he stroked her hand along the path that was his new terrible scar. He stopped and Sam continued the movement, showing him what could no longer be seen … just how close it had been.

"We both got careless." she replied. "Cocky maybe too." He spun around gently in her arms and took her face in his hands. "And if anyone should be apologising it's me. I made us take them on and for what…?" she snapped.

"Sam baby, you saved my life. You got me in here, convinced them to treat me …" there was a flicker of unease in his eyes, "… what do we owe them for that little miracle drug by the way?" he asked cautiously. Sam stiffened, she couldn't help it and he gripped her arms, drawing her chin up. His eyebrow arched in question.

"Debts paid." she replied firmly. His grip on her chin didn't lessen as he got in her eyeline. "It was nothing …" she shook her head, "… a quick job to retrieve his sister from a cult leader and babysit her back. It was a milk run." Sam clarified. "She actually took him out herself and bought back their serum … we're all good." she added with finality, hoping he'd drop it.

Jack frowned, "That's it?" His eyebrow up as he scanned her face for more but her poker face was improving; he clearly hadn't forgotten the tension earlier.

"That's it." she replied. "Apparently Emogene isn't big into listening. I think they were expecting it to be harder than it was, but she'd been locked in her room by that guy for throwing a hissy fit. So, like I said, milk run."

"Good, that's good." he nodded, the clear relief in his voice twisting her gut; he wouldn't appreciate her lying to him. His hands slid down to her shoulders and he stood there a moment just looking at her. "I was worried you'd have had to sell your soul or something." Sam didn't react; okay so maybe he wasn't entirely convinced. She knew he was pushing, trying to get something, to dig just that little deeper. She resisted the flinch his words almost triggered. She'd not sold her soul. Her body maybe, but that was only because they hadn't asked for her soul. She had no doubt she would have wrapped that up and handed it to them too had they asked.

"You trust them?" he asked finally when she didn't offer anything else and she shrugged. Not Edward. She didn't say that though. In fact, she tried to keep any expression whatsoever from registering on her face. Jack was far too good at reading her, although given as she'd fooled him for years that she wasn't hopelessly in love with him, maybe she was better at it than she thought. He couldn't know this, not now. He'd murder the very man that had just helped save his life and she didn't want that on his conscience.

"As much as anyone." she replied finally. "They've been kind. Patched you up, let me clean up too, gave me new clothes, even laundered the old ones." she admitted, trying to demonstrate to him what a lucky break this had been as she pointed at her outfit. He grinned with his newly un-lined face; looking, if possible, more devilishly handsome than she'd ever seen him and she'd been pretty taken with the way he looked before. His eyes dropped down to her leathers and his hand smoothed over her hip and rounded her ass, giving it a pat that made her momentarily uneasy. But this was Jack and whilst she'd feared or expected some sort of visceral reaction to his touch after what had last happened to her in here, that just didn't happen. Jack's touch could never make her feel anything but safe and loved which was a relief. She wasn't sure she could have dealt with that on top of all this.

"Oh yes. These I'd seen … very nice." he murmured and buried his head in her neck as he wrapped his hands around her waist and drew her into him. Then he stopped and glanced down at his crotch, "Huh … that was fast. Perks of youth!" He looked particularly pleased, if somewhat surprised. She rolled her eyes and pushed him away; a mild flutter of panic at the feel of his touch against her, despite her previous assertions to herself that she was fine. Retreating away from sex with him would be a sure sign all was not well. It was probably just the cloyingly familiar surroundings and too much too soon.

"Go shower. You stink." she told him, deflecting for now whilst she tried to get her head in gear, slipping out of his arms.

"Only if you join me." he retorted, starting to unbutton his jeans, his shirt falling off in strips as it was already practically in tatters. It was a damn shame; she'd loved that shirt on him but it was more red than white now. Sam glanced at the shower, at the glass screen and turned away sharply, forcing herself not to think about it.

"Maybe, when you're clean." she replied, having no intention of following through, "Just go enjoy it. There's products in the cabinet. You may not get to shower like this again for God knows how long." She smiled thinly, watching as he approached the shower and turned the spray on with a look approaching bliss. Her position, here by the damn chair, watching his naked body as he stepped under the spray; she was suddenly the voyeur. It was too much. She spun, her heart rate spiking and her palms going sweaty with sudden anxiety.

"I'll go get you some clothes." she called, barely recognising her own voice and hastily left, shutting the bathroom door behind her. Edward was outside and she almost crashed into him. Startled, she fell back and he gripped her arm to keep her from crashing back through the door.

"Oh my God! Edward, you scared the life out of me!" she managed, clutching her chest where her heart was pounding. Apparently having someone with a face like a ghoul appear in front of you was justification for a minor coronary. Particularly the ghoul whose memory you were trying to flee from anyway.

"Sorry." he replied and held out a pile of clothes, his fingers still around her arm. "Thought he might need these." he indicated with a wan smile.

Sam hesitated a moment before taking them gingerly from him. "Thank you." she replied and pointedly looked at his hand. He nodded, removing it from her. She tried not to let the relief show on her face but her stomach was in knots at his proximity. He didn't leave. He just continued staring at her.

Feeling the need to fill the uncomfortable silence she smiled thinly at him. "I was just going to come ask if you had any spare clothes. We should pay you for these really. You've both been very hospitable to us." she admitted trying not to spit out the word, along a few other choice ones; wondering how she was expected to keep playing nicely with the man that had accosted her in the shower for sexual favours whilst her husband lay dying.

But then that was the rub wasn't it. This pitiful bastard had made her debase herself and come under his watchful gaze, which was only fuelling her shame and self-loathing every time she looked at him. She wasn't even sure it had been sexual assault and that was what was screwing with her head the most. The whole twisted encounter didn't feel simple. It was more insidious than that. She felt complicit and still did with these blandly polite interactions she had to continue to screw her smile on through. This was worse than if it had been solely a business exchange; a pure, cold agreement and payment for services. You shouldn't want to slowly murder your business partner after all. The thought must have appeared on her face because Edward stepped forward and to her shame she stepped back on reflex; hating the instinct that had her doing that as she tried to straighten her back. She wasn't some victim! She was a God damn solider. Hell, she'd reduced a dozen men like Edward to a series of bruises and broken bones for trying less. And yet, her hands were shaking and her heart was pounding as her stomach twisted into a knot of fear and loathing, for herself and him.

Edward's black eyes bore into her as he leant in close. She closed her eyes, not wanting to see his face; the smell of him was bad enough. "I won't tell him." he promised, rasping it into her ear. "About what you gave me." he qualified. Sam felt bile rise. He was making it sound like a gift, like she'd given something of herself that she hadn't intended; twisting it all up to make her feel as complicit as she did. Of course there was self preservation in that, if Jack found out… she swallowed hard. She didn't want that, but she suspected nor would Edward.

Then the ghoul's hand rose and his index finger touched her chin featherlight. She was so surprised that she all but froze. Jack was feet away; she didn't want him to see, to know for sure. Suddenly all her combat instincts quailed in front of this rotten man who she should have put on his ass but somehow didn't dare. He lifted her chin to force her eyes onto his. She opened them, hoping her glare was strong enough, but the brief contact of their skin made her remember vividly the last time and she felt a tremor start in 'that' hand. Fuck. She'd kill him if he touched her again. Jack would never need to know anything more than he'd threatened her… it was almost the easiest solution. Only her hands were trembling and her heart was pounding, the feel of his skin touching her chin seemed to have rooted her to the spot in horror and shame almost so debilitating that she'd let herself get into this situation.

"You made me feel alive yesterday. Alive and worth a damn." Edward confessed and she felt a flicker of pity, that was quickly swallowed by her almost impotent rage at herself that she'd sympathise with him at all. His fingers lightened their touch on her chin as if considering tracing a path down her jaw, drifting towards her mouth and she flicked her chin out of his grasp sharply, taking a step back with a repulsed sneer on her face. He stood there hand raised, fingers outstretched towards her, his black hollowed out eyes staring longingly at her. But perhaps he'd finally picked up on her rage, and she thought she saw a flicker of shame in the grimace he made of his lips. Perhaps realising that her 'gift' as he'd called it hadn't been freely given; she knew he couldn't misinterpret the tenseness of her body and the murderous look in her eyes.

"I think you overpaid for the favour you owed." he admitted, sounding almost guilty which she supposed was something as she took in his twisted features. Her fist clenched and she realised she'd adopted an ingrained combat stance, her body in fight or flight mode fully. Edward's eyes dropped to her fist for a moment as if realising she was fighting the instinct to rip him apart.

Sam shook her head looking at him firmly, steadying her breath so not to sound like some wounded animal, but rather the calm collected and lethal solider she could be. "The price was Jack's life. I'd have paid anything." He gave her a look then and she saw his shame clearly. They both knew that was why he'd asked. It was also the reason she never intended to let Jack know just how far she'd had to go to keep him safe, he'd take that blame onto himself, make it part of his own tormented psyche. But she could make her position quite clear to this bastard, after all she wasn't in the same vulnerable position she was only 24hours ago and Edward had lost his leverage.

"Don't ever touch me again!" she snapped low enough not to be overheard by Jack only a room and that hated shower away, but she meant every inch of the unspoken threat in those words. She didn't need to elaborate on why, her eyes clearly expressing the rage she'd kept contained since he'd dared it the first time. Edward nodded with a weary sigh, like somehow she was asking the impossible, but eyes were practically dancing over her form and she wanted to extend her threat to taking his eyes if he looked at her like that again, except she knew she wouldn't be able to do it.

"Why don't you take your newly young man those?" he suggested indicating the clothes in her arms. "And maybe go in there and remind yourself why you wanted him to live." He gave her a wry, slightly pained smile and walked away. Sam hesitated, breathing sharply, trying to decide if she was going to cry or not. Feeling pity for him again wasn't something she'd expected and yet there it was, right next to the fury, shame and the inexplicable terror. She wasn't used to being afraid. She tended to tackle the things that scared her head on, but something about this, about her reaction to him and what she'd done, terrified her. Like somehow she'd just woken up from a delusion. Maybe she wasn't as immune to the evils of this big bad world as she had thought; maybe she wasn't as tough as she liked to pretend.

She blinked a few times to compose herself and quickly shoved open the door, pulling it closed tight behind her and locking it for good measure. Jack glanced up through the glass and she took in the sight of him naked and glistening. His hands scrubbed through his hair and then traced a deliberate path down his ravaged chest, his eyes inviting her. That serum had been more than good to him. Not that the Wasteland hadn't done wonders to tone him but she felt her gut clench seeing him there like that. She'd never expected that she might gain more time with him in the Wasteland. If he'd really just had a fifteen to twenty year reset then Edward was wrong; she hadn't overpaid at all. In fact, she'd got a hell of a lot more than she'd bargained for. Perhaps it was the need to rid herself of the feelings running rampant but she felt the almost desperate need to touch him; to replace the horror with something else. She swallowed thickly and Jack smirked, knowing or thinking he knew where her head was at.

Jack's heated gaze followed her as she patted the clothes in her arms before placing them gently on the counter. He frowned and summoned her with a crook of his finger. "You're wearing too many clothes beautiful, and I have a whole new lease on life right now!" he told her, stepping out of the shower dripping wet and getting footprints all over the wooden floor, which he didn't seem to care less about. He gripped her waist and slid his hand to her cheek capturing her and pressing his lips to hers, still warm from the water that clung to him. It was a uniquely Jack O'Neill kiss, even if his face made her doubt for a moment. No-one would ever be able to make her feel like this from a simple touch of their lips. She clung to him; her hands tracing the wet contours of his hardened body, noting the changes, the differences from only a day ago. He was perfect. He'd always been perfect in her eyes, even when he'd started to get that little desk gut. His golden skin glistened under her fingers as she traced the path of the water and he let her, sensing in her a resolve to remap him.

"I'm not going to vanish." he rasped finally, reaching for her hands that had begun stroking his torso absently. Her fingers brushing over the horrid scar that now marred half his chest. Guilt, shame and fear push at her and she blinked away the urge to scream. It wasn't Jack's fault; he'd gotten hurt because of her. Then again, he hadn't trusted her to have her own back. She'd heard the creature behind her. In seconds she'd have had it dead to rights with a bullet in its skull. If Jack hadn't intervened. If he'd kept his eyes on his own damn ass. Sam blinked, that line of thought was dangerous. She took a shaky breath as Jack's hands caressed hers and subtly shifted the one she felt was contaminated out, placing it on his waist instead.

"You're angry." he guessed; his expression grim.

"You nearly died." she snapped. "Yes I'm angry!" she told him hotly, staring up into his younger face, realising that without some of the careworn lines she was finding him difficult to read. "I was scared to death and desperate. I don't ever want to feel like that again and yet … I know I will. The very next time you decide to put my life ahead of yours!" She slapped him hard on his bare chest and winced at the cracking sound it made, her palm leaving a red imprint there opposite his scar. She stared at it blankly for a moment feeling tears bubble up that she shoved down with ruthless resentment – she didn't want to resent him for this, for any of it, it wasn't his fault it was hers.

"Aren't you angry?" she asked calmer now as she lifted her eyes from the ruin she'd made of his chest and stared up at him. "You nearly died. You got stuck full of a serum that's changed your body in ways you didn't agree too. Left at the mercy of some lunatic from the eighteen hundreds?" she probed, wanting just this once to understand what he was thinking.

Jack's eyebrows rose at that. "He's from when now?" then he shook his head. "Ah! …" he waved his hand grasping her wrists and trying to draw her in close, "… not important. None of that's important. I'm alive. I'm alive and from what the Doc said I may have more life left than I came in with. I'm not sure angry is the right emotion to describe how I'm feeling right now." he sighed. "Confused maybe. A little nervous about what other side effects might pop up … like I don't know … growing a tail or something." He grinned and she realised he was trying to make a joke, thinking this was just her fear of losing him talking. Because how could he know what was really bothering her? Why she was so damn angry.

"What is it?" He kissed her again, tracing a path down her neck, picking up on the undercurrents of tension in her. She needed to get out of here she realised; away from that damn shower or she'd crumble. "Tell me what it is Sam?" he murmured, her name the only term of endearment he needed between them as his hands started to trace the contours of her body, rounding her ass and she flinched away slightly, she really wasn't in the mood, especially not in this damn bathroom with her latest encounter with Edward bringing it all back with horrifying clarity, her emotions were in utter turmoil. Jack's head shot up and he looked at her intently, his eyes darkening. He pulled back and gripped her face in a gentle hold, his fingers brushing her cheek as if he could hold her together. He didn't say another word, just looked at her with fathomless eyes and she prayed to God, just this once, he wouldn't read her right.

"You realise that it's still me under this facelift right?" he asked looking terrified that somehow she'd want him less or not recognise the man she'd married in this younger face. He clearly feared that was the reason she'd flinched at his touch, the touch of a stranger. Her heart ached. Only Jack could possibly think she'd want him any less or not 'see him'.

"Please, tell me you don't look at me now and not see me?" he asked hesitantly, clearly anxious for her answer.

Sam couldn't let him think that; it was too cruel, squashing the tsunami of her own emotions for the time being she focussed on being the woman he needed for a moment, the woman that loved him. It wasn't as hard as she imagined seeing the slightly terrified look in his dark brown eyes that he'd somehow broken them. "No … it's not that Jack. I don't care about the face or anything else. You're Jack. You're always Jack to me no matter how you look." She reassured him as she reached up and stroked his cheek, pressing a kiss to one then the other. "I'm fine, it's just been an emotional few days." she told him softly, "It's not you. I just saw something I wish I hadn't." She didn't mention that it was in here or that it was in herself, or in the eyes of a desperate ghoul. She let him draw his own conclusions, hoping he assumed it was from her little 'milk run' to the Cult that she hadn't wanted to elaborate on.

"I'm sorry. I just … I can't do this right now." She slipped out of his arms and pressed a kiss to his lips before putting distance between her and the damn shower. He reached out and grabbed her hand, holding it tight as he forced her to look back at him, his expression twisted into one of desperate concern.

"Sam, you know you can tell me anything. Whatever you saw or however you're feeling right now … it's probably just shock. I feel it too. I mean, I think the serum did a pretty fine job of fixing me up but I can still feel the way the damn axe-thing went into my chest. The way it felt to try and breathe and fail. To see the blood, my blood covering you and the fear in your eyes." He brushed his thumb over her knuckles, as if recalling the last sight of them soaked in his blood.

"Sam, I'm sorry I …" screw her own issues, Jack looked on the verge of breaking down and she lurched forward, wrapping her hands around his face as he buried it in her chest and took in sharp panting breaths. She didn't want to put distance between them, not ever and right now he needed her support.

"Hey, hey … I've got you Jack." He held her tightly to him as she buried her head in his neck; she felt the dampness there and let herself pretend it was because of the shower.

"I broke our promise didn't I? I left you alone out here." he admitted, his voice as rough as sandpaper and she wondered how much he was holding back, even as he held her closer than she'd ever imagined he could; until their bodies felt like one. Her head lifted and she traced her finger across the terrible scar once more.

"But you didn't. It wasn't your fault. This is my fault." she confessed, feeling the guilt of sending them out there in the first place, from having not watched her own damn six; forcing him to save her and leave himself vulnerable. She was so tired of having to sacrifice each other. She felt like her heart was going to shatter. This was her husband and there was a good chance she was going to watch him die for her out here.

He pressed her hand over his chest where his heartbeat was thudding loudly. "You know I don't think that. I'm only alive because of you." he replied. "And I am very much alive. I don't care about a God damn scar. I've got loads of scars. But there's only one heart and it's still beating for you." He lifted his head, those red rimmed eyes shining, his expression fierce and intent on her, loving her in that impossible way of his.

Sam blinked, feeling a smile tug at her lips. Jack often needed humour to deflect when it all got too much. She felt the need to take a page out of his book and restore balance for him. "Jack O'Neill … that was almost poetic. Don't tell me almost dying has made you sentimental this time?" she teased reaching up to stroke his chin with her index finger, because it was easier to joke about how many times she'd almost lost this man.

"Just you Sam." he whispered into her hair, holding her tightly; apparently, he wasn't quite yet at the deflecting stage. She sighed into him and just let him hold her. She didn't care in that moment that she was in this God forsaken bathroom, that Edward was probably pressed against the door listening or even that Doc Cabot was probably downstairs working out a way to get them to join the little trip up North that he'd been advertising all over for. No, all that mattered right then was the steady beat of Jack's heart against her ear.

00000000000000000000

[Jack's POV]

Jack gave himself a quick once over in the honest to God pristine floor length mirror and pointedly looked himself in the eye. He wasn't ashamed to say what had happened to him had shaken him. Not so much the 'Forever Young' Mel Gibson thing he had going on because frankly weirder things had happened to him. But, he'd pretty much made his peace out there in Sam's arms, knowing that he wasn't coming back from that wound and regretting it like a son-of-a-bitch. He'd fought, clung on, done everything in his power and it hadn't been enough. He'd thought when his eyes had closed that last time, staring up at Sam as she banged on the door of this damn house, that he'd die not even looking into her eyes.

So he figured maybe he was overdue a breakdown. For the first time in a long-time, this had been a death he hadn't met with some sort of peace. He'd raged internally against this one because it had been so goddamn unfair. Every other time he'd hit rock bottom he usually didn't have anyone to cling to … other than a bottle that is. It was actually sort of liberating he thought, to know Sam could be his pillar if he needed it, that she wouldn't think any less of him for it. She was a soldier; she'd been there, knew what it was to be smacked with your own mortality in the middle of a battlefield. To feel the guilt for failing your team like that … for leaving her.

He swallowed hard and patted his newly shaven cheeks, staring at a face he didn't think he'd see quite like this again. He looked young enough that it was less jarring when Sam stood beside him now; he looked like they might belong together. Whilst that gave him some measure of thrill, it also made him unmistakably uneasy. People weren't supposed to get a clock reset, that was usually 'deal with the devil' stuff. He glanced at Sam in the mirror. She was busying herself with her Pip-Boy and studiously avoiding talking to him. He'd tried several tacks and so far she'd not been able to hold up her end. Whilst he could be forgiven for thinking she was just adapting to what had happened to him and their very near miss, somehow he didn't quite buy that.

Something had happened here. Something more than a milk run. She was … off. Of course he'd nearly died and that had to have rocked her to her core but hell, out here that was pretty much just an average Tuesday. Maybe not usually quite so gnarly or imminent as this, or in her arms, but still … the part of his brain trained to read people hadn't missed the tension in the room downstairs. Though, unless she talked to him about it there wasn't much he could do. He was good at getting things out of people; secrets, truths, lies. He just didn't especially want to use that skill set on his wife. Of course it was entirely possible he was just overthinking it. He had a body full of magical healing juice; God knows what that had done to his senses. It could really all be a reaction to what had happened to him, which would be perfectly understandable. Had he been in her position he knew he'd have gone out of his mind with worry, and he doubted he would have had the brilliance to be able to find someone with a miracle cure which they were willing to trade. The thought left him cold. Had it been Sam hit out there, she'd have died. But it wasn't and she'd dragged his body here. He knew only too well the terror she must have felt, the hollow feeling in the pit of your stomach, your chest aching like it had been split wide and your heart torn out. That type of impotent rage and sheer panic only came when you looked at the body of the person you loved most, broken and bleeding, watching them slip away.

They'd fought death before but it was much more immediate here. Live or die; 'seconds count' kind of feel. A constant state of alertness and combat readiness. The idea of a slow decline, fading away in a hospital bed, was something from their past. An old worry not meant for here. Perhaps it had been too sharp a reminder for her, or a come down from their marital bliss. Their wedding vows, spoken only a few months ago, already being tested.

He wouldn't press for now. She'd talk to him about it eventually. That was one of the many things that had changed about their relationship; they could be honest with one another. Jack stared at his reflection one last time. It was like looking at a ghost he realised grimly, that's what unnerved him so much about this. He shook his head, trying to shake away his recent near miss. It had been close. He should be dead, he knew that. But yet again, Jack O'Neill walks away … banged and bruised but still kicking. One day his luck was going to run out. Problem was, it was going to run out on Sam and that just didn't seem right.

The voices downstairs were getting louder. The family were having a right row it seemed. His ears perked as Sam opened the door to listen. Some sort of Daddy issues; the fact that their serum was gone and how much of a threat someone named Lorenzo was now. Jack assumed that was the father they'd been talking about. Huh, they were actually discussing a good old lynching for the guy. Nice family dynamic. He glanced again, his worry for what might have happened to Sam, stuck with these nut jobs and dependent on their charity for the last twenty-four hours; having to run off on some mission to save his ass for a miracle cure leaving him vulnerable in their 'tender' care. No wonder she was a little jittery.

He traced the wound on his chest one more time as he took what was left of his combat armour and strapped it around himself. The chest plate was ruined; he'd need a new one he realised. He stared at the bloody twisted metal ruin and hastily took it off. It felt like he was wearing a dead man's clothes and he couldn't deal with that right now. He'd see if that soldier boy ghoul they had downstairs had something they could trade in. Particularly as it sounded like they might need some help.

"We should go break up whatever that is." he muttered, not particularly wanting to leave this wonderfully clean and safe bathroom to brave the big bad world outside, but he supposed they couldn't hide in here forever.

"No." Sam snapped with finality, shaking her head. "We should leave the hell alone. We got what we came for." she added with surprising venom and he felt his eyebrows hit his hairline as he stared at her. Okay … his bullshit-o-meter went off again and it got harder to ignore. Sam pursed her lips and he saw genuine worry there.

"Let's just go Jack." she pleaded and he frowned. It was very unlike her to want to walk away from a mystery like this serum or a group that had so clearly helped them when they had a need.

"Sam, they saved my life." he sighed, "If we can help them we should."

"Jack our debt is settled." she snapped rounding on him, her eyes sparking with the kind of fury he hadn't seen in a while. "For God sake!" she hissed. "Let's just get the hell out of here before they try and drag us into something else that will get us both killed." She wrenched the door open and Jack startled as she stalked from the room. Discussion over.

"O…kay…." he managed, feeling like he'd thoroughly missed something as he hurried to catch up with her; tucking his shirt into his pants as he went which despite being borrowed seemed to fit pretty well, and resitting his hat which had mercifully survived and he was fairly sure been laundered. He threw on his leather jacket which seemed to have come out of the laundry pretty well; at least it hadn't been done up or that would have been a goner too.

Sam hadn't gotten far. She'd been accosted by the Doc who was gesticulating after his retreating sister and what he assumed was his rather well-preserved mother, who looked both furious and non-plussed.

"Surely you of all people can understand the importance here Dr Carter. What is at stake!" he implored Sam. "We simply must stop him. Please … help me to put a stop to this, once and for all. Before he comes back here to slaughter us all in our beds!" the good Doc implored. Sam stood, hand on her hip, looking like she'd rather spit nails than stay another second.

"I mean look at this." Doc shoved a bunch of papers in her hand, gesticulating wildly at her as she tried to hold onto them, looking more and more uneasy to Jack's eyes. "These are the crimes he was incarcerated for … at least the ones they know of!" he pointed sharply at a page and Sam stared down, her eyes widening in clear horror at what was displayed there. "You have no idea what my father has done, the depravity in the monstrous acts he had planned." Jack glanced down over Sam's shoulder and his eyes shuttered on the scenes in some of the pictures as he hastily shoved them into the little black box in his brain marked 'not for review'.

"So let me get this straight. You want our help with dear ole Dad?" Jack cut in, stepping up and imposing his significant height difference against the Doc. "Tell us what the hell is really going on. What's in the secret sauce huh? 'Cause I'm thinking there's a connection here between that lunatic and this serum … right?" He paused, considering if he really wanted to know. God, what if he turned into some sort of monster capable of those things too?

Another thought hit him and he blanched. "Although if it turns out to be what was in the potted meat … I don't … I don't want to know," he muttered, shaking his head and his hands. "Because I already expressed my displeasure to the cook about that one!" Jack half threatened, having still not gotten over the fact that the little weasel at the factory supplying food through the Commonwealth had been mixing in minced ghoul rather than prime cuts. He'd eaten several of the damn things. Sam still hadn't managed to convince him that he wouldn't turn into a ghoul himself one day. 'You have a lead belly.' she'd told him affectionately. 'Now if Daniel was here … I'd definitely have been worried about it. He could get sick off a Twinkie'.

"Very well. But you may find it difficult to understand." Cabot intoned looking at him like he might be a simpleton and Jack quirked an eyebrow. 'Dick'.

"Hey, I find most things that come out of my wife's mouth difficult to understand but I persevere. So why don't you try us?" he snipped, not appreciating the patronising tone.

Cabot clasped his hands behind his back, standing taller, as if he was going to recite something from memory. Jack started to regret asking. "In 1884 my father Professor Lorenzo Cabot was a renowned archaeologist and scholar, he went on a dig to find a rare artifact said to be the origin of the 'fountain of youth' myths."

"I'd say he hit the jackpot." Jack muttered running his hand over his unlined cheeks and waved him to continue, sensing he wasn't going to like the punchline here one bit. Fountain of Youth adventures for ancient lost artifacts never did end well. Where was Daniel when he needed him?

"Indeed. My father found an artifact but when he came into contact with it something happened. It fused itself to him in some way. After that he was profoundly different. He had …" Doctor Cabot paused, looking at them as if trying to decide how much to lie about.

"Abilities?" Sam prompted and Doctor Cabot's eyes shot to her. Jack looked between them seeing something pass and he didn't know what. That uneasy feeling doubled.

"Quite so. But I'm afraid it also seemed to affect his mental state." Doc admitted sadly, shaking his head with clear regret. "He became deranged and power mad. Nothing short of world domination was enough. Out of fear for his and our safety, we locked him away somewhere he could be contained. Parson's Insane Asylum. The entire estate is owned by my family. We had the basement specially renovated to contain him, behind a series of complicated traps and a fail-safe device." he admitted.

"Why all the security?" Jack queried, confused. He was their father after all.

"Because whatever monster is in that Asylum ceased to be my father some time ago. I merely keep it there now to study it and the artifact. The serum you have experienced was one such development from my research, created from studying my father's blood. He, it seemed, had already been well aware of its properties and was using it to control those in his thrall. In time I hope to learn all of its secrets, much as he did. To finish his work as it were and to find some way of freeing him."

"And when you say monster …?" Jack trailed off, wondering if he was about to start sporting horns and a tail, or if he'd simply go bat-shit crazy as he'd feared when they'd started down this line. Sam though seemed to be on an entirely different tangent and he was mostly ignored.

"So you've kept him locked up as a guinea pig for … over four hundred years?" Sam replied quietly, the accusation clear. "My God! He must be insane by now if he wasn't before." she exclaimed, looking faintly horrified.

"He is." The ghoul Edward answered for him gruffly. "And mean as all hell." He crossed his arms, "Besides you saw what he was capable of before they locked him down there. It doesn't bare thinking about what he'd do now if he got out." He pointed to the papers and the frankly disturbing images Jack didn't want to dwell on and Jack grimaced, the guy was making the Goa'uld seem like choir boys. They might have been power mad assholes but most of them weren't sadistic – except Ba'al of course but then he had his own special box that he'd put Ba'al into in his head.

"Look." Edward snapped, staring hard at Sam and she pointedly ignored his gaze, her eyes on Jack instead he noted curiously. "The Doc and the family need the serum or they'll die. They got dependent on it you see. Without it, they age and die … rapidly. You've seen that yourself Samantha."

"That's Colonel Carter." she corrected him with real bite, her narrowed eyes snapping with sudden intensity onto the ghoul which had him shifting uncomfortably. "And you might have mentioned all this before you stuck my husband with it!" Sam accused and Jack nodded, not that beggars could be choosers mind. He'd rather be alive than dead. Consequences or not.

"Okay, not that I don't appreciate being alive. I'm still not seeing the issue here with Daddy Dearest?" Jack queried, "Other than the man being locked up and being used as a lab rat indefinitely, I mean." He thought it was barbaric personally. Anyone that tried to keep him in a cage, to experiment on him, for four hundred years had better be ready for retribution. He hoped this guy wasn't the same or this nice creepy little mother, brother, sister, absent father family, was going to meet a sticky end.

"The issue, as you so aptly put it General, is that we have more than a passing concern that he is planning an escape." Doctor Cabot replied looking entirely uncomfortable with that scenario. "Letting a creature like my father, with his abilities out … it is unconscionable."

Sam's eyes had that dangerous interested glint to them as she looked at the Doctor now. "What abilities are we talking about here exactly?", which had been Jack's next line.

Edward grunted. "He's damn mouthy for one. Gets right into your head, like he can read your thoughts or put a thought in at any rate. We used to have people down there watching outside his cage. We stopped that when they kept going nuts. Plus, he has this knack of making things move without touching them, things that shouldn't move."

"What type of things?" Jack queried.

"Like the ground." Edward muttered and Jack winced, 'oh so not good'.

"Where do you think it came from … this artifact he found?" Sam cut in, "You think this is the source of his power, so what is it?" Apparently, it was the right thing to ask because Doctor-boy's eyes lit up.

"Now my Dear Doctor Carter, I do believe that is the very question. Though you may mock me for it, I believe it is of extra-terrestrial origin." he exclaimed, sounding thrilled and slightly nuts, his eyes wide and bulging as if expecting them to suddenly declare him mad or a fraud, or both.

Jack gave Sam a sideways look and he could practically hear the cogs in her head and her plea that he go gently on this one. "So you think aliens gave your Dad a fancy hat?" Jack rocked forward onto the balls of his feet, starting to regret letting the son of a psychopathic lunatic stick him with a mystery serum.

Sam gave him a warning look. After all, they knew full well little grey men existed. "Please ignore my husband. Tell me about these theories of yours." And off she went, enabling the Doc's ramblings. Although, if the Doc was correct, he supposed he was also rather keen to see this headgear that had made his father deranged and powerful.

"There are also these writings." Doc was saying as he laid out pages before Sam, having retrieved them from a safe where apparently he kept all his 'whacko' stuff, not for public consumption. Jack peeped his head over and quite clearly saw what was obviously Ancient writing, as in the species not the time. Oh. He kept his expression carefully neutral. So they had an Ancient bit of tech on a madman. Sam's expression was as bland as his. Damn her poker face had improved he noted, wanting to kiss her, but then he often wanted that. His heart was pounding; Ancient tech on a madman that gave him all sorts of powers. Oh, that was ringing all the bad kind of bells for him as his heart rate went up a few notches.

"So, what is it exactly that you want us to do Doc?" he barked out. The Doctor startled from regaling Sam with his theories about aliens and their human experimentation, even ancient gods at his sudden exclamation. Jack's interest was well and truly piqued now.

Edward responded for him. "There is a supply issue up at Parson's. The last two shipments of serum failed to get back through to us. I think a damn Raider party has set-up camp in the supply line." Jack assessed the old ghoul, noting the way he stood to attention like he had some military training. Maybe he did; it depends on when he was born he supposed. Edward groused. "Last two men I sent up there to check it out; one didn't come back, the other … well he came back spouting off about a voice in his head and jacked up Raiders that wouldn't die."

Sam and Jack shared a look. "Oy vey." he muttered and rubbed his temples. "So let me take a wild stab in the dark here. You want to go take a look see if Daddy Dearest is out?" he assumed.

"No. I want you to help me end this by killing my father!" Cabot replied shortly.

"Kill him?" Jack asked confused. "I thought he was the golden goose for your aging serum. He dies you die, right?"

"My father is insane. Whatever perverse affliction has hold of his senses, it has malicious intent. It cannot be allowed to be set free. I believe that these Raiders are being influenced by him somehow. No doubt they lack the ability to get into the lower levels or he would be free by now, but it will only be a matter of time. Particularly if his ability to control their minds is expanding several floors above ground." Cabot shook his head and started pacing, clearly a nervous gesture. "No, I think it is too late now. He is too far gone. We must kill him before they let him out or he will kill everyone in my family and everyone that has ever taken his serum." He looked pointedly at Jack then. Right. Making it personal; excellent motivational strategy.

"Terrific." Jack muttered. He looked at Sam but she had that 'scheming thoughtful' face on again. She wanted that artifact and she probably wanted to talk to dear old 'nuts' Dad to find out what other 'alien' artifacts he had lying around. Particularly if one was big and ring shaped. He should have done what she'd wanted and gotten out the house before he let Cabot open his damn mouth, he realised darkly. Well he couldn't say she hadn't warned him but there was about zero chance of that happening now. Whatever had bothered Sam about staying here with this lot was blown out the water with her getting a fresh sniff of something that might help them get the hell out of here. And Ancient tech … oh boy! … that might be the ticket.

Jack watched as Cabot blithered on about the 'inevitable' and 'wasted research' and 'dutiful son' crap but Jack was more interested in the ghoul. He'd met a fair few of these poor bastards out and around the Commonwealth now; more so after they'd started turning up at the Castle for Sam's pre-ghoul cure. He and Preston had even taken a delightful trip into 'ghoultown', or Goodneighbor as they preferred to call it. He'd kind of liked it if he was honest; it had a definite Old West kind of feel to it with justice dispensed in a muzzle flash. That Mayor Hancock was a peach though. He'd wanted to meet the new Minutemen making such a ruckus around the settlements. They'd compared hats of course, concluding with Jack telling Hancock he thought he looked like a damn pirate with that hat and long red and gold coat on. That had made the grizzled gnarly bastard laugh so hard, he'd clapped him on the shoulder and told him he was 'alright' but to keep his nose clean in his town. They hadn't stayed long after that but Jack was left with an impression nonetheless. The sentient ghouls were clever and Nature's ultimate survivalists; most of them were damn long lived with plenty of experience.

The man in front of him now had that look about him too. Too cunning and too damn old for this world and it hadn't escaped Jack's notice that his gaze was intent on Sam, albeit now it was somewhat pinched in concern … for her. It seemed Edward could read his wife's intent as clearly as Jack could; she wanted that damn artifact. Edward looked up suddenly and Jack let him catch his scrutiny. They shared a wordless communication that whatever happened Daddy Lorenzo needed killing; he was too dangerous to be let out if he wasn't already. Jack nodded. He could get that done. If Sam wanted the damn artifact to examine then she could do it without needing to talk to the whack job locked up in the bowls of the Insane Asylum.