DISCLAIMER: Don't own…wouldn't want to pay the taxes if I did…
AN: Thanks for all the wonderful reviews – I really appreciate them!! This story is going in a slightly different direction than I intended, but, hey, doesn't everything in life? Let me know if you like it…
FYI…all mistakes are my own, as I don't have a beta – (*sigh*)…;0)
Brace yourself…
"Pete," Sam said opening the door. "I'm really glad that you could come over. I need to talk to you about something."
Pete stood on the doorstep for a second, his heart plummeting to his feet as he began to see the writing on the wall. "Ok, Sam," he said entering the house, trying to keep a happy face on.
Sam shut the front door and followed Pete into the living room. His file lay on the coffee table next to a partially full cup of coffee. "Is that my file?" he asked, walking towards the table.
"Yes," she said, leaning against the doorframe. "That's part of what I wanted to talk to you about."
"Oh," he said, sinking down onto the sofa, picking up the file. "I guess you saw what was inside, then."
Sam sighed and sat down in one of the armchairs next to the sofa. "Yeah. I did. Pete, why? Please, be honest?"
Pete sighed, and dropped the file on the table in front of him. "It's kind of, well, really...I was just…I wanted to…well, can I say, first, that I'm really sorry? I didn't want you to find out like this – I wanted to tell you, but I didn't really know how. I was just going to destroy the file; that's why I had it with me, but, my dumb luck, it would have to be the one file that would fall out of my briefcase and you find." He shook his head, sadly. "Sam, have I ruined everything? Please tell me that I haven't." His eyes pleaded with her to tell him that he still had a chance.
Sam shook her head slowly. "Pete, you still haven't told me why you did this." Sam chewed on her lip, thoughtfully. Jack was right; this man was probably not NID.
Pete stood up and began to pace the room. "It all started about a year ago. I was working in the San Diego Police Department then as a deep undercover operative infiltrating a local arms dealer's group. One night, we received a bunch of crates from Conrad International. Yes," he said, seeing Sam's reaction to the name, "that's who you think it is. I opened one of the crates, but didn't get a good look at what was inside before a military group called the NID busted in on us. Their agents were swarming the place like ants at a garden picnic." Pete sighed and braced his hands on the french doors that led to the garden. "Sam, they killed just about everyone there. I only got away because I was washing my hands in the restroom. I crawled through a ventilation duct to get out." He shuddered at the memory and turned to face her. Sam's face had gone pale and she was beginning to question Jack's plan to confront Pete. This went much deeper than they had bargained for.
"I called my Sergeant and told him what happened. He told me to come in for debriefing. When I got to the station, they put me in one of the holding rooms. This man came in, said his name was Colonel Aimes. He was with the NID and had two options for me. One, forget what I had seen and continue to breathe, or two, well, you get the picture. Obviously, I chose one." Pete sighed deeply, running his hands through his hair. He crossed back to the sofa and sank down onto it. "He told me that he knew everything about me – my parents, where they lived, friends – things like that. Said that if I ever said anything about what had happened, that my family would be the ones to suffer. I could tell he meant it." Pete buried his face in his hands.
"Sam, he threatened my mom and dad! I had never been so scared before. So, in the end, I did what he asked and said nothing. I wrote my report about some bogus rival group coming in and shooting the place up and filed it. Then, I went out and got really drunk."
Taking a breath, Pete continued with his story. "Two days later, I got promoted to Lieutenant in the detective division and was transferred to the Denver Police Department. That was two months ago. About six weeks ago, I received a call in the middle of the night. I recognized the caller as Colonel Aimes. He told me to meet him at the bar in the Oxford Hotel. I was curious, so I went. Colonel Aimes said that due to my exemplary fieldwork, I had been chosen for a special reconnaissance task. He gave me your picture and address and said to find out as much about you as I could. I asked, "Why me?" He said that this was a military operation and it was classified – top secret. I was doing a great service for my country and I would be compensated accordingly. I was just supposed to watch you, find out what your daily routine was and keep tabs on where you went and who you talked to." Pete scrubbed at his face with his hands.
"I contacted an old friend at the FBI – he sent me the bio that is in the folder – told me to stay out of your business as you were "well-connected" and probably out of my league. I hired a local PI to take the pictures. That day that I met you at the coffee shop – I was just setting up; you were early. I wasn't supposed to meet you, but when you tripped over my bag and spilled your coffee on me – well, it was kismet. I already knew a lot about you, so it was easy to find a common ground at first. Then, I really got to know you – outside this," he said, gesturing to the file that lay abandoned on the table. "You're so beautiful and amazing – I fell in love with you. You confused me though; I couldn't understand why Aimes would want you followed – that is until I learned about what you really do and the Stargate Program. I reported to Aimes that I was finished with this and was going to destroy the file. I haven't heard from them since and that was a few weeks ago." Pete stopped talking and looked at Sam, who had not said a word since he had started his story. "You're really quiet. Please say you forgive me?"
Sam picked up her coffee cup and drained it in one go. "I need a refill," she said as she stood and walked into the kitchen. She set her cup down and walked over to the refrigerator. Rattling things around inside, she made a big show if looking for something. She went back into the living room. "I'm going down to the basement to get some ice cream out of the freezer. Want some?" Pete shook his head. "I'll be right back, then." Pete stared down at the table and nodded, but said nothing.
Sam walked down the basement stairs and after making sure that the door was firmly shut behind her, pulled her earpiece from where it had been resting inside her shirt and stuck it in her ear. She walked over to the furthest corner of the basement before speaking into the hidden microphone clipped inside her shirt. "Jack?" she said, settling the piece more comfortably. "Did you get all that?"
TBC…Sorry, couldn't make Pete the bad guy…or is he??? Why didn't he destroy the file before while he had the chance??? Oh well, I like him…just not with Sam…I have re-edited this story about 9 times now – I am just going to stop and post it so you can enjoy – I hope!!