Sam dipped the chamomile tea bag into the hot water, yawning despite the insomnia plaguing her. Ever since Walter had stopped by to let them know the FBI had gotten a hit for Pete on facial recognition, she hadn't been able to relax. She'd assumed he'd fled to Denver then went to ground, but now she knew he'd remained close. This wasn't over and she was the one who needed to end it.
"Carter?" She heard her name, followed by a quiet tap on the front door. "Carter, I see your light on. Open up."
Sam crossed to the door and listened. She knew Jack was in bed, she'd left him there just a few minutes ago, but he was the only person who ever called her Carter.
"Carter," a voice grumbled, "I can hear you breathing on the other side of the door. Let me in."
Peeking through the peephole, Sam immediately unlocked the door and jerked it open.
"John?" She gasped at his appearance. Jack's sixteen-year-old clone looked like hell. His hair was sticking every which way, which wasn't that unusual, but the black eye and busted lip certainly meant something had happened to him.
"Carter, why the hell is some asshat attacking me and accusing 'my father' of messing with your head?" John ground out as he stalked into her living room. "And where is good ole 'dad' anyway?" John used air quotes as he flopped down onto her couch. "He wasn't at his place, which isn't like him. It's," he glanced at his watch, "0130. Old fogeys like him should be asleep, not gallivanting around doing who knows what."
"Carter," Jack grumbled as he shuffled out of her bedroom and into the living room, "what's with all the noise? What the heck happened to you?" He asked, staring incredulously at John.
John's mouth hung open as his eyes darted between Jack and Sam. He couldn't believe it. He simply couldn't. But by the blush covering Sam's face, he knew it was true.
"Are you sleeping with him?" John asked incredulously. "Again?"
"Hey!" Jack barked. "How do you—"
"I was you," John rolled his eyes. "So ya know, memories," he side-eyed Sam, trying not to remember a time long ago.
"Enough of that," Jack warned, waggling a finger at John. "Get your mind off of my wife."
"Wife?" John gulped. "As in," his hand rotated back and forth between them.
"Married," Sam supplied softly, not wanting to make this any harder on John than it already was. The kid was technically Jack, therefore, he shared the same memories and feelings until a few months ago.
"You knocked her up?!" John exclaimed, jumping to the wrong conclusion. He surged to his feet. "You son of a bitch!" He turned on Jack, the sixteen-year-old hormones getting the better of him. "How could you!?"
"Outside. Now." Jack snapped at John, cutting off the kid's words before he could say something he'd regret and ushered him out the back door.
Sam wanted to follow, to tell Jack to go easy on himself, but she didn't. This was something best left between the two Jack O'Neill's.
A few minutes later the backdoor opened. John stalked in, a dark look in his eyes. He crossed the floor, walking right up to Sam and wrapped his arms around her waist. He was just a tad shorter than her, his chin hitting her shoulder, as he held her tight.
Sam's arms immediately went around his shoulders, sensing this mini-Jack desperately needed her comfort.
Sam's eyes found her Jack's face, silently asking him what had happened.
"I told him everything," Jack answered gruffly.
John continued hugging her tightly for several more heartbeats before finally stepping back. "In case you don't already know, the old guy loves you more than life itself," John told her. "I'm not sure what you see in him, though."
Sam chuckled and shook her head at the self-deprecating humor.
"So tell me, how are we going to catch this asshat?"
"We?" Sam arched an eyebrow at John. She wasn't surprised by the abrupt change in topic but she was by the venom in his tone.
"This Shanahan guy must have been the clown who tried to abduct me last night," John gestured to his face. "He fights dirty, but if I wasn't stuck in this body, I could have kicked his ass more. As it were," John sighed, "I only managed to dislocate one of his shoulders. I laid low throughout today, but when I finally realized who the clown was talking about," he looked at Jack, "I came looking for you."
"Are you alright?" Sam grabbed John's chin with a thumb and forefinger and turned his face so she could inspect his eye and busted lip.
"Carter's gotten a little handsy," John bristled nervously.
"I know," Jack grinned at him, making John bark out a laugh.
"Enough of that," Sam chastised both of them. "Where were you when you got attacked?"
"Um," John shifted uncomfortably at the question, "I was coming back from the Loaf 'n Jug. It's a 24/7 gas station in Woodland Park. You know…where the Air Force unceremoniously dumped me."
Jack rolled his eyes. "Woodland Park was chosen because of its proximity to Cheyenne Mountain, its size, and relatively isolated location."
"Yah, sure, in other words, the middle of BFE," John retorted.
"Fine," Jack ground out. When he'd picked out the town, he may have forgotten that at sixteen, nature and astronomy weren't his two favorite hobbies. "But that doesn't explain what you were doing out so late."
"I went to buy beer, alright. Jeesh," John scoffed. "The night clerk is a pushover and will let me buy a six-pack if I slip him twenty bucks."
"John," Jack growled, "you're only sixteen. If you get arrested—"
"What?" John growled back in the exact same tone. "It'll ruin my future?" He made air quotes. "I have no future. I'm an ancient Air Force Colonel stuck in a child's body."
"That's enough, both of you," Sam ordered, stepping in between them. It was obvious to her John was hurting. Not just physically, but emotionally. He was clearly having a hard time adjusting. She could also tell that Jack cared about the kid. But it was also clear, in true Jack O'Neill fashion, that neither wanted to actually admit what was going on inside their heads.
"He started it," they both replied simultaneously, making Sam bite back a smile.
"And I'm ending it," she told them. "John," she turned to the kid, "as much as I value your help, I can't ask you to put yourself at risk."
"He came at me, Carter," John growled, "spouting off some crap about showing you what kind of person my old man is. He called me Jack's bastard son."
"How would he even know about you?" Sam asked.
"And more importantly, who's feeding him the information because no one should even connect the two of us," John added.
"That's not exactly true," Jack rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "I may have asked Hammond to list me as your biological father in case you ever ran into any problems," he added at John's look of astonishment. "It was simply a safeguard."
"Who would have access to that information?" Sam asked, ignoring the two men staring at each other.
"John's school has a fake birth certificate on file," Jack answered her. "The real one is classified."
"We've had data breaches before," Sam offered, her mind whirling with a possibility that made her sick to her stomach.
"The asshat doesn't seem adept enough to engage in government espionage," John scoffed.
Jack shared a long look with Sam. "No, but someone could be feeding him information."
"The Trust," Sam squeezed her eyes shut.
"Don't go there, Carter," Jack ordered her.
"But it would make so much sense," Sam growled.
"What?" John asked, looking between them. For the first time ever, he couldn't tell what Sam was thinking.
"Carter is thinking Shanahan may have been working with the Trust from the beginning," Jack told him. "He wasn't."
"How can you be so sure?" Sam shook her head, panic rising in her eyes. "He romanced me quickly. Even though Mark introduced us, he knew just what to say and do to make me—" She bit off her words.
"Because he ran a background check on you," Jack sighed.
"What?" Sam and John asked at the exact same time.
"Shanahan ran a background check on you right after you started seeing him," Jack sighed. "Hammond found out and told me."
"And neither of you thought to tell me?!" Sam exclaimed.
"He was your brother's friend," Jack shrugged, "and I—"
"You what?" Sam glared at him.
"He didn't want to look like the jealous ex," John said softly.
"That was part of it," Jack nodded, "but Hammond had him checked out before granting him a security clearance and there weren't any red flags."
"Wait," John held up a hand and pinched the bridge of his nose. "This guy knows about the Stargate? Walter's wife doesn't even know about the Stargate!"
Sam wilted before Jack's eyes.
"It was my call, Sam," Jack told her.
"But you apparently made it because of me," she looked stricken. "If Pete had just been some random guy injured that day, would you have read him into the program?"
"Maybe," Jack hedged, but they all knew he was lying. "Hammond only gave him limited access to information about the program, not any of the details."
"I wouldn't have even asked for that if I'd known he was already stalking me," Sam bit out. "Ya know what, forget it," she held up a hand when Jack started to speak. "It doesn't matter. This is my mess and I intend to clean it up but right now, I'm going to bed. John," she turned towards the clone, "there's clean towels in the bathroom and the guest room is already made up. I'll see you in the morning."
Without saying another word, Sam stomped back into her bedroom and shut the door.
"Jeesh, I'd hate to be you right now," John said, turning to Jack with a wry grin.
"Shut up, mini-me," Jack grumbled and ran his hands over his face. "Some honeymoon this is turning out to be."
"Honeymoon?" John's eyes bugged, his voice suddenly an octave higher.
"Technically, it's our wedding night," Jack grumbled again, pausing to look at his younger self who had gone eerily still. "What?"
"For cryin' out loud," John rolled his eyes heavenward and stalked into the bathroom without another word.
About half an hour after John finished the longest shower in the history of showers and went to bed, Jack heard Sam's bedroom door gently creek open. Her soft footsteps padded down the hall, stopping as she reached the living room. The lights were off, allowing the moon to cast a soft beam across the room, bathing her in a pale glow.
"What's wrong?" Jack whispered, sitting up instantly.
"What's wrong is my husband hasn't come to bed," she whispered back, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth.
"He assumed you were mad and wanted him to sleep on the couch," he offered with a speculative half-smile.
"He assumed wrong," Sam sank down onto the cushions next to him.
"Whenever Sara and I would fight, she wanted me out of the bedroom," he shrugged.
"I'm not Sara," Sam told him quietly but firmly.
"No, you're not," he agreed, brushing a stray lock of short hair behind Sam's ear. "You understand me in a way she never did. In some ways, you two are a lot alike, but in others you're very different."
"You have a type, Jack O'Neill," Sam chuckled, bumping her shoulder against his. Sam knew how devoted Jack had been to his first wife, but also how their relationship had fallen apart after the death of their son. Sam didn't blame Sara for her actions after Charlie's death because she could only imagine the amount of grief the woman faced and she knew firsthand how it could tear a family apart. But she did often wonder why Sara had never spoken to Jack about his guilt over the tragic accident. She'd made him carry the burden of blame by himself for far too long in Sam's opinion.
They sat silently next to each other for a few moments until Sam finally spoke again. "What happened with Pete wasn't your fault, Jack."
"You've said that before," he murmured so low she almost didn't hear him.
"I meant it then and I mean it now," Sam replied.
"I should have told you about the background check," Jack hedged with a shake of his head.
"Yes, you should have," Sam confirmed, hating the flash of hurt across Jack's face. "But I understand why you didn't."
"Sam I–"
"No, let me finish," she ordered and his lips snapped shut. "I don't know how I would have reacted if you'd told me. We weren't exactly on the best of terms. We'd already started pulling away from each other. But if this," she gestured between them, "is going to work, we have to agree, no more secrets. Alright?"
"Alright," Jack nodded, a hopeful look finally relaxing his features.
"Come to bed," Sam leaned forward and nipped his lips. "I don't want to spend my wedding night alone."
"Yes ma'am," Jack stood up and followed Sam to the bedroom. "Hey Carter?" Jack asked, when she tugged him over the threshold.
"Hmm?" She answered, her lips already nibbling his jaw.
"You said no secrets, right?"
"I did," she pulled back abruptly to stare at him warily. "Why?"
"Nothing really," he grinned. "Just that I should probably tell you about a couple of the time loops from a few years back," he smirked at the memories and closed the bedroom door.
Sam jolted awake at 0500, the dream still fresh in her mind. Pete had gotten to her, but this time Jack hadn't been with her. She'd been tied down and she'd been helpless to stop him as—Sam shook the dream away. No sense dwelling, except something kept bugging her. As horrible as the dream had been, her brain kept trying to tell her to pay attention.
Glancing to make sure Jack was still asleep, Sam swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood up. She stretched, taking a second to relish her mobility one more time, before pulling a robe out of the closet. She'd learned her lesson about surprising Jack, she chuckled inwardly. Besides, John was in the house.
John.
Sam's brain paused. The dream…ugh coffee…she groaned internally. She needed caffeine to think clearly.
After brewing some coffee, she sat down at the table and pulled out the photos Walter had brought over. She'd been so focused on Pete's image and the idea that he was close by that she hadn't really studied the photos.
Laying them out, she carefully looked at each one. In one of the photos, Pete had something around his neck. A white bandage and there was a dark shadow under his left eye. John had said he dislocated Pete's shoulder and the guy clearly had been the recipient of a right hook. Jack had a mean right hook when he was pissed, so she assumed John did too.
Looking at the time stamp confirmed her suspicions. Based on John's account, the photo was clearly taken after their altercation. Sam looked at the location marker. It wasn't anywhere near Colorado Springs. This photo had been taken at Frisco Bay Marina. That put Pete up north by Swan Mountain.
Sam quickly arranged the pictures by timestamp. Pete had been at Green Mountain Falls lodge two days ago, but he hadn't come after Sam; he'd gone after John in Woodland Park that night. Then Pete had travelled west along route 24 before heading north. A photo at the Badger Basin Country Store confirmed that. But why?
Picking up the last picture, Sam's heart stopped as she looked at the location. The photo had been taken in Winter Park just before Walter had downloaded the photos and brought them over. Winter Park. There was only one reason Sam could think of that Pete would go to Winter Park. John had said that Pete kept yelling about showing Sam what kind of man Jack was. Everything suddenly clicked.
What better way than to go after the man's ex-wife and make her confess all of his sins. Sam's blood ran cold.
Pete was going after Sara.