Author's Note: No, the chapters are getting shorter... although usually I try to make them about the same length, sometimes the best place to stop just comes a little sooner. Hopefully it's just you wrapped up in the story.

OOOOOOOOOO

"We weren't supposed to take anyone but the Adams kid," Major Clay said, stepping slightly to the left and placing himself between that Beretta in the stranger's hand and Captain Payne. "The other two were an accident. Our intel was wrong."

There was a movement behind Jack, and he turned to see Ian had returned, and was carrying a Glock 20 – which was a 10mm German made pistol. The cadet stopped when he saw the Captain on the floor, his leg a bloody mess from the bullet wound, but he didn't turn green or pale – which was good, since Jack didn't want the men in the cell to think that someone here felt sorry for them. He motioned for Ian to stay there, and then turned back to the Major.

"What were you supposed to do with Adams?"

Clay hesitated, and Jack cocked Sam's Beretta once more, although now that Ian was in the area he was a bit more concerned about actually firing the weapon – since he didn't want to run the risk of a ricochet striking the cadet. Obviously Clay didn't realize that.

"We were just suppose to hold him until we checked in – I don't know what we were going to be told to do."

"Who sent you?"

"I can't tell you that."

"Sure you can." Jack moved the gun, sighting it at the Captain once more, and Payne tried to duck out of the way.

"It was Kinsey!" The Captain cried out. "Kinsey sent us!"

"Vice President Kinsey?" Ian asked, speaking up for the first time, shocked.

Jack scowled.

"He's not the Vice President, yet."

Kinsey. That sonofabitch. Jack couldn't even be surprised – although he didn't know how Kinsey knew that Shawn was related to him. Probably some NID connection or something – or maybe an informant in the SGC who overheard something or saw something and had no trouble putting the two together. Whatever it was, Jack was certain now that Shawn wasn't going to have made it out of this house in one piece.

Fury welled up inside him, and the Beretta that had lowered when his question was being answered came up once more. These men were going to do something – he didn't know what, but something – to his son! His son. They didn't know who the target was, obviously, or that he was related to Jack, and they didn't care that he was just a boy. But they'd care, now. He'd make sure they knew the penalty for hurting – or threatening – one of Jack's own. The finger on the trigger tightened.

"Colonel!"

Ian had read the fury on O'Neill's face just as plainly as if he'd read his mind, and it was a scary thing to see. He hadn't reacted to it, though, until he saw that Jack was going to shoot them. Maybe all of them. Then he'd spoken up. Not because he didn't want them to pay – because he did. Or maybe he couldn't handle the thought of watching someone get shot – already there was a lot of blood on the floor from the gunshot in the other guy's leg – maybe Ian just hadn't wanted to add to it. He didn't know – and never would.

Jack turned to him, the voice breaking through the rising tide of anger and bringing him back to his senses. He needed these men alive – at least for now. He looked at Ian, who was just a little pale now – and then turned back to Clay, who was very pale. He'd seen the Killer rise up in the stranger's expression, and had known in that instant that he was going to die. Right up until the kid spoke up.

"How were you going to contact Kinsey?"

There was no hesitation from Clay this time.

"I was supposed to call him and check in with him once we made the extraction."

Jack considered his options for just a moment. He had the foot soldiers, but he wanted the General on this one. Kinsey would pay.

"Ian, look through the pockets of those uniforms and see if you can find a key to this cell." He pointed the gun at Clay once more, "Step back from the door."

The Major did as he was told, even as Brooks started rifling through the pockets of the discarded clothing. It wasn't hard to find the keys; he just listened for the jingle. But it took a little longer to find one that looked like it might have fit the odd-looking lock on the cell door. Finally, though, he chose one that was probably the right one.

"I think I have it."

Jack nodded, watching the men intently, with absolutely no expression on his face. They, in turn, watched him with fear.

"This is what's going to happen," O'Neill said. "You're going to come with me and make a phone call." He told Clay. "You other two are going to stay here under the guard of young Ian here and hope to hell that he doesn't decide that you should pay for roughing him and his buddies up – he's got quite the temper, you know."

Jack gestured for Ian to open the door, and the cadet tucked his Glock into his waistband with the other gun he'd taken, and went forward to open the door, making sure to stay out of the line of fire so the three men couldn't use him as a shield from Jack's gun.

He needn't have worried; Payne had no intention of doing anything – he hurt way too bad to do much more than clutch his shattered knee – and the other two had correctly read O'Neill as someone not to fuck with. When Jack gestured Major Clay out of the cell, he went carefully, making sure he didn't make any sudden moves that might trigger something that he would regret.

Ian closed the door behind him, giving it a hard tug to make sure it was locked. Then he looked at Jack.

"The Major and I are going to go find a phone," O'Neill told the cadet. "You guard these guys. If they do anything – and I mean anything – to make you think they're trying something stupid, I want you to shoot them. Do you understand?"

Ian nodded, pulling the Glock once more. Jack wasn't done, yet. He wanted to make sure the men were going to behave.

"If you are forced to shoot them, no one will ever know. I won't tell anyone, and obviously if you actually kill them, they won't either. So don't let them tell you otherwise. And don't listen to anything they might try to tell you."

"I won't."

Ian stepped over the pile of clothes, his Glock not actually pointed at the men in the cell but in a position where it could be in an instant.

"You got them?" Jack asked, this time to make sure Ian really wasn't afraid to be left alone in such a situation.

The cadet nodded, and Jack was reassured to see that there wasn't any fear in his dark eyes, just determination.

"Go ahead and do what you're going to do, Colonel. I'm fine."

"You shoot them if you have to."

"I will."

Jack nodded, and turned to Clay.

"Let's go."