Sam gave a great yawn as she let herself into the house, flipping the light switch so she didn't trip over anything in the dark. She was both physically and emotionally drained. Trying to figure out what that twice—no thrice—be-damned object did and also keeping herself from staring every time MacGyver walked into same room took its toll. She walked over to the couch, tossing her keys onto the table beside the door as she passed it, and dropped down.
After what seemed like only minutes, she was startled out of a light snooze by the annoying sound of her doorbell; she really needed to get a new one put in, having it play the Star Trek theme just didn't amuse her as it once did. Grumbling, she walked over to the door and pulled back the curtain to reveal Mark, looking like a lost little puppy that had been kicked around by people. Fighting back a grin, and her guilty conscience, she opened to door to admit him.
"Sam, I…"
"Mark, I…"
They smiled at each other for a second, before Sam waved her brother to go ahead. He hesitated, then continued.
"I just wanted to apologize for the other day," he said sheepishly, "And for waiting so long to do it. Can you ever forgive me?"
Sam shook her head, her face showing her own shame, and smiled. "There's nothing to forgive." She shrugged. "I mean, I said some pretty nasty things too, you know. And I didn't mean any of them. I…"
"Yes you did," Mark interrupted gently, "And you're right. I am a selfish SOB. I don't know, I guess it took you pointing that out to make me see it. Even Karen's tried to tell me without much luck. Guess I'm not much different than Dad, either, huh? Stubborn as an ass."
Sam grinned, her exhaustion lifting as if a great weight had been raised from her shoulders. She pulled her brother into a big bear hug, then stepped back to look at him. He had gained a little weight since the last time she'd visited, and that brought another question to her mind.
"I know you didn't come all the way to Colorado Springs just to apologize," she teased, "That would make me selfish and egotistical. Are you, Karen and the kids here on vacation?"
If that were the case, then she could take some time off to visit with them. SG-1 wasn't slotted for any off-world missions for another two-days—bar any emergencies, of which there could be plenty—since Daniel was still intent upon translating the alien text and her own research simply could not be continued any further without it.
Unfortunately, that was not to be. "Actually," Mark answered, concern showing in his eyes, "I'm here on business for the Phoenix Foundation."
Sam frowned. "I thought you worked for a computer networking company in San Diego…"
Mark let loose a long sigh. "I do. Peter Thornton, the head of Phoenix Foundation is a good friend of mind; he disappeared over a week ago," he explained, "Now, mind you, the records state that he went on vacation to Annapolis. However," he paused and cleared his throat, "Right before he left, his secretary Helen heard him speaking on the phone with one of his best employees, telling him to keep in touch. He didn't leave a phone number where he could be reached, and he didn't take a cell phone with him…"
"That doesn't mean anything," Sam interrupted quickly, "His man might know how to contact him once he knows where he's gone."
Mark nodded impatiently. "I thought of that Sam, and when Helen called me, I told her that. Now, if you'd just let me finish?"
"Sorry," Sam apologized, "Why don't we go sit down?" She indicated the recently vacated sofa.
"No," Mark shook his head, "I prefer to stand."
"That bad huh?"
"Yeah. Okay, where was I?" he glanced around for a second, obviously trying to buy a little more time. Sam had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach that she wasn't going to like what she was about to hear.
"You were saying something about why you finally realized something was wrong?"
"Oh yeah. Anyway, I told Helen not to worry, that Pete was a big boy and could take care of himself. Helen, by the way, is your typical old dragon-lady secretary. She didn't take too kindly to my tone, and told me so in no uncertain words," Mark grinned at the memory before sobering up again, "So, to keep my head on its shoulders, I told her I'd look into the matter, make sure Pete really had gone to Annapolis.
"The flight records—don't ask how I checked 'em, you probably don't want to know—checked out just fine. However, when I questioned airport employees at both terminals—the one at LAX and at Annapolis—no one had seen or even heard of Peter Thornton. So I checked it out further and found out that while a round-trip ticket had been bought, it hadn't been used.
"I was at a stump then. I had no idea what could have happened to him. Then, I got a call from Pete Shanahan," he paused again, but Sam just shrugged. They had already apologized and forgiven each other; she wasn't going to hold it against him just because he mentioned the name. "I got a call from him," Mark continued, "and he told me that you broke up with him, saying you couldn't go with him because he was getting in the way of your career. He also told me that he'd be in the Colorado Springs area for a little while longer, just to see if he could change your mind.
"I shouldn't have believed him, but at that time I was a little angry at Dad for not coming to visit or even calling in nearly a year that I let that overwhelm my better judgment. I did some deep down soul-searching after you hung up on me that day, and realized that I had taken my anger out on you. When I had calmed down sufficiently, I began to wonder how Pete had been able to get out of that much work. He hadn't been with the Denver Police long enough to warrant so much vacation time, and I wondered if maybe he wasn't involved in Thornton's case."
Mark laughed mirthlessly, "Imagine me, thinking that it was some kind of serial stalker going after guys named 'Pete'. I'm certainly no detective; but I was right about Peter Shanahan being involved—through sheer dumb-luck. When I started going through his records, I found out that Pete Shanahan didn't even exist."
"What do you mean," Sam demanded, wishing her gut feeling had been wrong this time—she really didn't want to hear this, "Pete didn't even exist?"
"I'm getting to that," Mark said, clearly annoyed, "I mean that he was a fictional character. So, I took the liberty of taking all the pictures of enemies Thornton ever had and matching them up with Shanahan's face. Only one matched, and it had to be manipulated. Considering the fact that that man is a master of disguise, I realized he had to be the one. He's an assassin working for HIT, an organization that hires out…hit-men. He's had a lot of run-ins with Thornton and that employee I was telling you about and has on more than one occasion shown a psychotic tendency towards revenge."
"But you don't know that for certain?" Sam questioned, "You're only guessing at this point. Don't you think we should give the guy a chance to answer to these accusations? Even if he did doctor his records and lie to me—which I'm not sure I'll ever be able to forgive—that doesn't make him some evil, psychopathic killer."
Mark shrugged. "Will you stop interrupting me? Thank you. Now, that employee is MacGyver, and when I found out that he was working here at NORAD, it all came together. Pete Shanahan—aka Murdoc—is probably going to use Pete Thornton as bait in order to lure MacGyver to his death. Yeah, I don't know this for certain, but…"
Before he could continue, and before Sam could vehemently denounce him as delusional, her cell-phone rang. "Carter," she snapped with a little more force than was probably warranted. There was silence on the other line, then MacGyver spoke hesitantly.
"Uh, MacGyver here. There's something we need you to look at here, Jonas Quinn asked for you especially."
Sam calmed herself, but continued to glare at her brother. "Jonas is there?" She asked, "That's great. I'm on my way as soon as I can get out the door." So much for asking about vacation time.
"Sorry, Mark," she told her brother, "But there's an emergency and I've got to attend to it. When you've got substantial evidence, let me know. Otherwise, just leave me alone."
"Sammy," Mark called after her, "Will you at least promise not to go anywhere near Shanahan until I get you that proof?"
She stopped. "Considering he broke up with me, I don't think there'll be a problem with that." She turned her back on him then and marched back out the door.
Daniel looked up from his research to find MacGyver once again standing over him. Only this time Teal'c and Jonas Quinn—who kept staring at MacGyver like he had an extra head--accompanied him. MacGyver, for his part, ignored the Kelownan's interest quite well.
"And you're sure he's not Jack?" Jonas asked, "Because the resemblance is uncanny. I mean, if you hadn't told me he was dead I would never have believed it. Actually I still don't believe it. Are you sure Jack's really dead and this isn't him? Maybe he's a clone."
This was said super-fast, as though Jonas were afraid he'd be interrupted. Judging by the annoyed expression on MacGyver's face, that was a very likely possibility. It took a super-human effort for Daniel to keep from sniggering. In a way, Jonas was right. Even the annoyance was so much like Jack it was scary. No, bad Daniel he admonished himself, Jack is dead. Repeat after me. Jack is dead. MacGyver is not Jack. MacGyver is not Jack.
"Colonel Carter witnessed the body in the medical examiner's office," Teal'c stated neutrally, causing Daniel to give him an odd look. The Jaffa's expression remained as stoic as usual, but Daniel wondered if maybe the same thoughts weren't going through his mind.
"I am not Jack O'Neill," MacGyver enunciated, "Jack was my uncle and he is dead and buried. And no, I'm not a clone that the Asgard cooked up either."
Daniel grinned at the crestfallen expression on Jonas' face that brightened almost immediately. He knew how the poor alien felt. "So, what can I do for you guys?"
"You know that text you've been beating yourself up over?" MacGyver asked with a twinkle in his eye. Daniel nodded warily. "Well, Jonas here found an almost identical set, with an identical cylindrical object. The situation they were found in are nearly the same as well."
"You're kidding? Where did you find them at?"
"Well," Jonas began, "I didn't really find them, one of our archaeologists did. It was on a remote island of the Kelownan mainland."
"Do you have any idea what it is, or what it means?" Daniel asked excitedly.
"Actually, I was kinda hoping you might be able to help with the translation," Jonas responded, "When I saw that it had similarities to both Asgard and Ancient writing I figured you might know where to begin."
Daniel sighed, deflated. "Unfortunately, no. I'm just as stuck as you are."
"Perhaps we should contact the Asgard," Teal'c suggested, "They may be able to provide us with an answer."
"Why don't we wait until Sam gets here," MacGyver said quickly, almost too quickly—Daniel brushed that thought from his mind, "With her, Jonas and myself working on the devices, we might be able to come up with a viable solution."
"That still doesn't help us translate these runes, MacGyver," Daniel insisted, "I think contacting the Asgard is a good idea. Besides, judging by past experiences, it'll probably take forever for them to respond anyway. Maybe by the time they do, you'll have the devices figured out."
Before MacGyver could respond, Sam walked in looking like she was ready to destroy a dozen Goa'uld fleets with just her glare. Daniel swallowed, wondering what had upset her, and at the same time not wanting to know at all. He certainly wasn't going to ask, that was for sure. He'd been on the receiving end of her temper once and only once. He hadn't been able to hear for a week. Okay, that was an exaggeration, but Sam p.o.'d was a scary thing indeed.
MacGyver didn't seem to have the same sense of self-preservation—and Daniel had already known that Jonas didn't, because they both asked at the same time, "What's wrong?"
Sam's mouth worked for a minute, then she visibly calmed herself and shook her head. "MacGyver, have you ever heard of someone called…Murdoc?"
Daniel was confused, and judging by Jonas' expression and Teal'c's raised eyebrow, they weren't any clearer. However, the question had the effect of causing MacGyver's face to go completely white and there was a fear in his eyes that Daniel had only seen in the eyes of a Goa'uld host once. A fear he had never seen in Jack O'Neill ever before, further helping his subconscious to keep from confusing the two men.
"Why? You haven't met him have you? Because if you have, you are very luck to be alive…"
Sam stared hard at the man, then shrugged. "My brother thinks he may have kidnapped Peter Thornton…"
"What!?" MacGyver yelled, his face going impossibly whiter. He pulled out his cell-phone and began dialing frantically.
Sam held out her hands in supplication, "Easy, I said 'he thinks'. There's no proof."
"Pete?" MacGyver questioned, and Daniel felt a bit of relief when the color returned to the man's face. "Yeah, I was…just checking in like you asked me to is all. Yeah, yeah. It's going great. Uh huh. Yeah…bye." MacGyver hung up the phone, then an odd expression crossed his face. It cleared up almost immediately however, so Daniel didn't question him.
"Pete's just fine," MacGyver told Sam, "But your brother has to have some reason for suspecting Murdoc of kidnapping him."
Sam rolled her eyes, amusement and relief warring with each other on her features. "Oh yeah. But now I can tell him he was just grasping at smoke. Thank goodness. So, what exactly did you call me in here for?"