Hostage Situation

Part Eight

"Major Carter?" The voice was mature and smooth, hesitant to interrupt, as though aware that she didn't belong here.

Sam looked up from the despatch form she was reading and met the steady blue gaze of the Colonel's ex-wife. "Mrs. O'Neill. How are you doing?"

The woman winced, smiling, "I go by Ms. Mulholland these days, but 'Sara' is fine. I'm okay." She glanced back towards the community centre. "A little shocked, but they've done the first round of counselling already..." Sara trailed off. "How's Jack?"

Sam had known the question would come up sooner or later and had an answer ready-prepared. "He's been taken to a medical facility to have his wound seen to," she said. "It's just a basic wound."

Sara O'Neill neƩ Mulholland smiled, ruefully. "The definition of a gunshot wound as 'basic' is one that still takes some getting used to," she admitted, "Even after being married to him for years..." She sighed, and her stance shifted subtly. "Is there any chance I...I could get in contact with him? We haven't spoken in years and I thought..."

Especially after today, Sam thought to herself. "Ms. Mulholland, I can't guarantee that you'll be able to get in and see the Colonel while he's healing..."

The older woman was nodding. "I understand that. But if I leave you with my card, can you at least make sure Jack gets it? Tell him I just want to catch up, make sure he's okay." She slipped a small white rectangle out of the handbag that hung from her shoulder. "Will you do that?"

Sam took the business card. "I can give it to him. What he does with it..."

"Oh, I know," Sara assured her. "You just have to give it to him." She paused. "Thank you for coming in to help, Major. I gather you were the one who dealt with Mike?"

Somehow, she managed not to flinch. "Yes."

"Well... Thank you." Sara glanced over her shoulder. "I should be getting home. Please don't forget to give Jack the card?"

"I won't."

Sam watched the older woman walk away, then tucked the business card in one of her vest pockets. The conversation with Sara had disturbed her a little, on more than one level. It was hard to accept the gratitude of the woman when things had so nearly gone all wrong.

Picking up the black biro from the clipboard, Sam scrawled her signature at the bottom of the despatch form, authorising the removal of the shield technology to Area 51. She hailed one of the airmen packing the truck, and with a quick nod and a muttered thanks, he took the clipboard with the form and was gone.

The cold metal body of the communications van made her acutely aware of the throbbing headache that had just begun in her skull. It was something she definitely didn't need on top of the aches and pains of her body and her mental state.

She'd refused to be taken to the SGC infirmary when the medical team turned up, citing that there was nothing physically wrong with her. Doc Warner had given her a suspicious look but left it and Teal'c had raised an eyebrow but not pushed the point.

Sam was grateful for that, anyway; when Teal'c got an idea in his head, he was well-nigh immoveable. There was too much to do for her to be carted away to be checked over.

Besides, she didn't want to think about what she'd done in the building, and she didn't want to think about the Colonel.

Sam pushed away the memory of the rage that had flooded her system when she saw the Colonel being tortured. She put away the recollection of the awful vengefulness that had swept over her as she realised she was invulnerable. She blocked out the knowledge that she had killed a man who, if not precisely innocent, hadn't been entirely at fault for what happened.

The world was fading to the blues, purples and greys of twilight around her, and another SGC truck was packing up to drive by her. Somewhere around, Daniel was on his cell phone and calling the infirmary to see how the Colonel's surgery was going.

Against her back, the metal of the van cooled her blood and eased the headache a little. It was the first moment of quiet she'd had since she'd settled down to work in her lab this morning.

It seemed like it had been days ago, so far distant was the memory of the tests she'd been running this morning when the call came through; the Colonel's voice simply saying, "We've got a situation. Briefing in ten minutes."

Where Stambaugh had got his Goa'uld was still not known, but, with the body to dissect, the SGC might be able to work out an answer, or at least theorise one. Why the Goa'uld had claimed a personal resentment towards her was also not known, and it was something that a dissection wouldn't reveal. Not all the answers were given to questions asked.

Still thinking, Carter? Sam almost smiled at the Colonel's voice in her mind. Almost. She was tired and a little heartsick. The adrenaline had long since faded, and if she could find a nice, dark hidey hole in which to lie down and sleep for a while...

The door of the community centre opened, and voices filled the cooling night. Sam heard the familiar gruff tones of the SWAT commander and the various timbres of the men who'd gone into the building to take down Stambaugh and found themselves facing off an Air Force Major instead.

There was no point in avoiding them; it wasn't as though she had anywhere to hide.

It wasn't as though she had anything to hide.

The SWATs had been told that Stambaugh had gotten hold of classified experimental technology, and that Sam's knowledge of the technology had made her able to defend against it and take the attack back to Stambaugh. Daniel had been the one to elaborate on the explanation Sam gave Commander Andrews and Chief Geraldton several hours ago, and he'd done a good enough job that if the SWATs didn't believe the explanation, at least they weren't openly sceptical of it.

The Commander's eyes slid right over her; she hadn't expected much else. Several of the SWATs avoided her gaze, keeping their sights firmly on where they were going. Most glanced at her, nodded once, brief and curt, and walked on. One regarded her, paused, and came over. She watched him walk towards her and kept her expression impassive.

"Major Carter."

He had dark eyes and hair and she judged him to be about her age. There was no insignia by which to judge his rank, so she settled for a generic honorific. "Sir."

"What you did in there..." He paused, searching for the words.

Sam felt her insides squirming. This was one of the men who'd been sent in after SG-1. He'd witnessed her lose it. Her team-mates were one thing; she had enough history with them to know that they understood her position, even if they didn't always endorse it. This man had none of the history she had with her team-mates; she had no idea of what he might do or say.

He was still watching her, eyes slightly narrowed, when his mouth quirked a little in a smile that was part-admiration, part-ruefulness. "Remind me never to make you mad, Major." He tipped her a little mock-salute and a one-eyed wink, then walked after his colleagues without looking back.

Sam stared after him. The comment was something she'd have expected from the Colonel, or maybe Daniel when he was in one of his wryly humourous moods. She'd be despondent over some matter or another, and one or the other would come in and get her out of it. The Colonel was more effective at the technique than Daniel, but they were both pretty good.

This man's comment worked in exactly the same way that something coming from them would have worked; it lifted her spirits out of the darkness and gave her a little bit of encouragement. Just a little bit, but enough.

The respect and the light teasing that came with it... It meant a lot, even coming from a stranger. Especially coming from a stranger.

She shook her head and glanced around, wondering where Daniel and Teal'c were. She wondered where Pete was.

"Sam?" As if her thoughts had summoned him, he appeared around the side of the van.

"Pete." She regarded him remotely. It was safer to be distant right now, especially after today. "How are you?"

He shrugged casually, "A bit sore."

Sam winced. "Sorry." She'd been so caught up in her anger against Stambaugh, so involved in her own invulnerability, she'd hardly noticed the men she'd thrown away from her with the ribbon device. Only the Colonel's intervention had stopped her from becoming a monster.

"Bit of a flat apology," he said, regarding her with something she'd never seen in his eyes before: wariness.

"You aren't exactly giving me a warm welcome," she retorted, then bit her lip for the outburst. Now was not the time to confront Pete about this; not when she was already tired and short-tempered from the stresses of the day. Especially not when he was the source and cause of more than one of her stresses of the day. "Look, I'm tired. I'll speak to you later, Pete."

"Later, when?" Pete asked. "Later as in tomorrow, later as in next week, later as in never?"

She stared at him in disbelief. "If you're going to be like that, it'll be later as in never," she snapped back.

Now he looked contrite. "Sam... It's been a stressful day. You've been so busy with that job of yours..."

"I have responsibilities, Pete. Just like you do." And all day long, you've been trying to persuade me out of them...

Briefly, her memory flashed a scene and setting at her. She was in a coffee shop, early in the morning, and Pete was suggesting she call in sick and run off with him for the day. She hadn't then. She wouldn't now.

There were some things that were stronger than desire or lust or even love.

"Then maybe you should take a break from it," he said, stepping a little closer. "You're always working with this job... I never know when I'm going to see you. And it's dangerous."

"And yours isn't?" Sam pointed out, already suspecting she knew what the answer was.

"That's different."

"Pete, my job is dangerous. It's always been dangerous. It always will be dangerous..."

"Then maybe you should find something else to do, Sam!"

Not this again! She gritted her teeth. It was the end of a long day, and there were many things between them; too many to bring up now. "This isn't the time to talk about this," she said, aware that the night carried their arguing voices further than she liked.

"No," he agreed, surprising her with his acquiescence. "But you're due for some vacation time - you said as much a month ago..." He looked hopefully at her as his voice turned persuasive. "We could go away for a couple of days, just you and me. Maybe out to Vegas, get one of the honeymoon suites...?"

There was a certain attraction to his suggestion, but something in Sam held back. "I don't know, Pete. I'd rather..." She just wanted to stay home and not move a muscle. Sit back on the couch and watch something mindless, read through some of the latest astrophysics publications. Something quiet and low-key. Down-time. No glitz and glitter, excitement, thrills and spills, just the peace and quiet of gardening in her backyard, or sitting back with a book by a river in the middle of woodlands.

"Oh, come on, Sam," he cajoled. "It'll be fun..."

The thing was, it would be fun, at least while they were there. But then she'd go back to the mountain and feel as though she'd spent two weeks at work without a day off, unrested. In Vegas, the space around her wouldn't be her own and she couldn't make it her own. And even if she stayed home, as long as Pete was around, her space wouldn't be her own either - it would belong to him and the things he wanted them to do.

"I don't think... Not this time, Pete," she muttered, uncomfortably aware that he was moving into her mental space, and just as aware that she was mentally backing away. Was this the way this relationship had always worked or was this a recent thing?

Perhaps she'd just been alone so long she'd grown accustomed to being accountable to nobody and no-one but herself and her team. Perhaps she should just give him what he wanted and make things easier on herself than arguing about it with him.

Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps.

Behind Pete, the door of the centre opened and Daniel strode out, clearly agitated. Teal'c was half a stride behind him. "Sam! There's been a complication in Jack's surgery. We're headed in now. Paul is willing to give us a ride to the airbase. He's calling in a chopper now to take us back to the mountain..."

Everything else suddenly seemed secondary.

Complications in surgery were never good. And the Colonel wasn't a young man anymore... Sam took one step towards Daniel, and stopped as Pete's hand landed on her arm. "Look, Sam, I'll give you a ride there and we'll talk on the way. How's that?"

And suddenly, Sam found herself in a quandary.

On one hand, she wasn't up to dealing with Pete Shanahan at this particular moment. After today and everything that had happened, she didn't want to talk to him at this moment. Except that she also wasn't used to denying him his requests; more for the sake of peace than anything else. Giving an outright 'no' to his pleas was out of the question, because he'd be hurt and she'd have to tiptoe around him for days. She'd learned that much in the four months they'd been dating.

A little part of her observed that he had her trained very well. Who knows what hoops you'll be jumping through in another few months, Sam!

She banished the little voice before it could send any more poison her way.

God, she was tired!

"You won't have access to the airbase," Daniel said, neatly stepping into the conversation after giving her a single penetrating glance. "And it'll take too much time to explain to the guards. We'll get Paul to drive us."

"Sam?" Pete looked at her with his best puppy-dog eyes.

She shook her head, fortified by her team-mate's decision. "I'll... He's right. I'll go with them," she said as Daniel and Teal'c jogged towards Davis' SUV.

Sam paused, uncomfortable with him even after the crisis, with no eyes on them. Hurt gleamed in his eyes, and in apology, she leaned in and gave him a brief kiss, but pulled away as he tried to deepen it. "I've got to go," she said, hurriedly. "I'll call you later."

Pete was still standing there as they drove off, a hurt expression on his face.

----

Dr. Daniel Jackson was not always considered one of the most tactful people in the SGC. When he was on a burn about a favoured topic, it was hard to get him off it. As Jack had pointed out, more than once, Daniel was a stubborn sonovabitch when he put his mind to it.

Of course, Jack was one to be talking about stubborn sons of bitches.

They were in the back of the chopper before Daniel broached the subject that had been bothering him all day. "Are you happy with him, Sam?"

He'd wanted to ask the question as they drove out to the airbase, but didn't want to approach the topic with Paul in the car. Major Davis had been a good friend and ally to SG-1 through the years, but this was family stuff and private.

Daniel did use discretion when it suited him. It just wasn't the type of discretion people always wanted him to use at that exact moment.

"What?" She turned, looking at him as though he'd sprouted feelers and tentacles.

"Are you happy with him, Sam?"

"Yes." The answer was defensive and automatic, and Teal'c's eyebrow rose as he looked at Daniel.

Daniel didn't need a translation for that one. Samantha Carter will not appreciate your interference, Daniel Jackson. And he knew quite well that Sam wouldn't appreciate his interference. Except that it wasn't about 'interference' as far as Daniel was concerned. It was about his friend and how this relationship was affecting her personally.

Jack wouldn't say a word. In a way, Jack said nothing because he couldn't afford to say anything. When it came to Detective Pete Shanahan, Jack generally kept his mouth firmly shut, whatever he might have liked to say. Sour grapes were never a nice thing.

Teal'c wouldn't say anything. At least, he wouldn't until it got to the point where Sam asked him to step in - which was about as likely as a cold day in Netu. Teal'c was a firm believer in letting people make their own mistakes as much as possible and having them learn from the experience. Sam was a firm believer in keeping her team-mates and friends out of her love life.

Daniel was a firm believer in learning from experience - both your own and others', so you didn't end up making the same mistakes and complicating everything.

And, if today had been any indication, Shanahan simply didn't have a clue when it came to Major Sam Carter and not Samantha Carter.

Sam was looking at him with raised eyebrows and an expression of exasperation. He met it with his most defenceless look. "Okay," Daniel told her simply. "I just want you to be happy, Sam."

"And you don't think that I know what makes me happy?" Yes, she considered that he was interfering in her business. Daniel considered that he was making her think about this relationship - something that she didn't seem to be doing much.

"I think there are things you haven't dealt with in your relationship," he said gently. "Including your job and how much your professional standing means to you."

That was the core of the matter after all. He and Sarah Gardiner had originally split over that painful point. He'd been more interested in his career than in her and, in the end, she'd decided it wasn't worth waiting around for a man who preferred studying the dead to living with the living.

"I can't tell him what we do, Daniel," Sam protested. "He doesn't have the authorisation..."

"If you did tell him, would he still understand that you need to do what you do?"

Sam looked away and didn't answer the question. Maybe she didn't even know the answer.

Daniel wasn't blind. He'd seen Shanahan's glances and frowns all day. He'd looked up from the notes on Michael Stambaugh and found Sam and her boyfriend in the middle of a terse disagreement. And he'd heard the whispers and mutters from the SWATs and the Denver Police. It was amazing what you heard when you stood still and listened.

Shanahan had started off possessive, and gone from there to demanding, especially when the SWATs and Police started goading him with comments about Jack and Sam.

Daniel could understand possessive. Sam was a beautiful woman and there was no doubt about that. But there was a difference between being possessive and acting possessive, and Daniel rather thought Shanahan had crossed the line with his demands to go on the insertion team, and his requests for Sam to stay behind.

As for the comments about Jack and Sam...

Daniel knew how the relationship between his friends looked. It looked pretty damning on the surface. But Daniel was willing to bet every archaeological find he had studied on the SGC project - including the Stargate - that nothing had actually happened between his friends. Ever.

He just knew.

Shanahan had no worries on that score. His jealous reaction was understandable, though. Jack and Sam had a rapport that Daniel had envied himself, at times. It wasn't entirely an emotional link, but in operational situations, one would look at the other and they'd just know what the other was thinking. Daniel had always figured it was a military thing.

As far as emotions and feelings went... Well, Sam was dating Shanahan, right? That had to count for something, surely!

But Shanahan's apparent inability to accept that Sam could handle herself and such circumstances - an inability that both the SWAT and, to a lesser extent, the Denver Police had shown in today's hostage situation - was troubling. Like his interference in the Osiris stakeout, when it came to Sam's professional capabilities, the man had no faith in her. And that had to hurt. No, Shanahan hadn't witnessed Sam in action, but surely he'd seen enough of the character of Sam Carter to know that Major Carter was a formidable force?

Maybe not.

Daniel suspected Sam hid that part of herself from her boyfriend, keeping it tamed down, showing him the woman Shanahan wanted to see, not the woman she was.

Living a lie was a terrible thing to do to yourself and someone else. Just look at Jack.

Daniel watched Sam as she stared out the window at the twinkling lights of the city they were leaving. No, her love life wasn't his business, but as one of her friends, her happiness was. And Sam, while enjoying some of the advantages of a significant other, was not enjoying other aspects of the relationship.

He wasn't above interference where he saw it as necessary.

As he watched, she turned and met his gaze and diverted the topic. "Did they say what went wrong with the Colonel's surgery?"

He accepted the change in topic; he'd pushed her far enough for the night. "No. Just that they went into surgery for the bullet and came out, and then discovered some complications that required them to go back in."

"It might be internal bleeding," Sam said as her expression grew troubled. "I think the Goa'uld was using him as a punching bag..."

Daniel winced. Punching bag would do it, and internal bleeding was a tricky one to find. They didn't always know where the bleeding was happening and it could be happening anywhere... "We'll find out soon enough."

He stared out at the world beneath him, at all the twinkling lights and the people and houses and shops and cars they represented. Up high in the darkness, he could see nothing but the twinkle of lights in the sweeping black velvet night. So many people living out their lives with no concept of the Goa'uld or the work SG-1 had done or would ever do.

So much darkness in the world and only a few candles to light the way.

They flew on, through the night.

End of Part Eight