AUTHOR'S NOTES: My genfic 'Hostage Situation' is a prequel to this story. It is not necessary to have read 'HS', however it will help with some minor references, particularly in this part of the story. In timeline, we went AU before the Season 8 episode 'New Order' and everything that has happened since then is not included in these pages. Characterisation of Pete Shanahan is taken from his depiction in 'Chimera' and nowhere else.

Please note, this story contains very strong Sam/Jack UST; if that is not your cup of tea, then pleased don't read the story and then whinge about it containing S/J.

Secrets and Shadows: Taking Sides

Part One

Teal'c was not sure why the movement caught his eye. Perhaps it was the colour of the scrubs she wore, or merely a lingering remnant of the sensitivity they'd once had to each other with naquadah in their blood.

He was not the only one to notice her, of course. Even amidst O'Neill's anger, guilt, and concern as Daniel Jackson was wheeled into the infirmary, his head turned towards her as she stood in the door of the room.

O'Neill later blamed himself for her collapse. It was typical of O'Neill to assume responsibility for something that he could not have helped. Upon hearing that her former team-mates were returned from a mission and that two of them required medical care, nothing could have stopped Samantha Carter from coming to check on them. And O'Neill's own concern for his team-mates, even one so new as Captain Peyton, would mean his bloodstained garb was the last thing on his mind.

It was, unfortunately, the first thing Samantha saw as she walked into the infirmary.

The shock, combined with her state of pregnancy, was enough to cause her to faint, for the first time independent of the application of drugs or alien influence.

"Carter!" O'Neill's cry rang through the room, cutting through even the orders of Dr. Brightman as she and her staff saw to Daniel Jackson. He was just in time to catch her before she hit her head.

A moment later, Samantha was being laid out on one of the infirmary beds, her unconscious pose mirroring that of her former team-mate. No sooner had she been laid supine than her eyes opened and blinked very fast as she took in her position and her state of body. "Sir?"

"Carter," he said. "Gave us a bit of a shock there."

Her gaze raked him from head to waist, noting the blood, questioning it. "You're not injured."

He grimaced, "It's mostly Daniel's."

"Daniel?" She turned her head towards the activity at the other end of the room. "What happened? How bad is it?"

There was no lying to her in the seriousness of the situation. Even if they could have brought their tongues to tell her that everything was all right, their faces would have belied their words. Samantha knew them.

"An ambush. It was bad." O'Neill forbore to elaborate. Instead, he indicated the mint green infirmary pyjamas she wore. "What's with the clothes?"

Samantha winced and her hand touched her stomach. "I was having an ultrasound when..." Her expression changed abruptly, a frown fled across her mobile features. "I left Pete back in the ultrasound room..."

Both O'Neill and Teal'c glanced back at the doorway which lead to the section of the infirmary where much of the specialised equipment was to be found. There was no sign of Detective Shanahan.

"Maybe he got lost," O'Neill said lightly.

There was no missing the look that passed between O'Neill and Samantha. Exasperation, affection, and wry amusement crossed both faces, and Teal'c felt both excluded and yet honoured by the unconscious intimacy they had no qualms showing before him.

In the week since O'Neill's determination that Samantha Carter would not face her pregnancy without the support of her former team, Teal'c had witnessed his friend's attempts to support the Major in her decisions regarding the baby and her desires for it. Including her wishes regarding Detective Shanahan's involvement in the child's future.

He was proud of both his friends for the strength of character and purpose they showed in their decisions. They were not easy decisions to live by, and yet they were the right decisions.

"I shall determine what has become of him," he said. He could do nothing here but stand and wait for the verdict on Daniel Jackson's health; his presence here would make little difference to anything that the infirmary personnel were doing. And his absence might afford his friends a little space for themselves and each other. Teal'c was nothing if not considerate.

As he walked through the infirmary rooms, Teal'c intercepted the glances of surprise and speculation at the blood-encrusted edges of his fatigues. His own clothing, although nowhere near as dramatically discoloured as O'Neill's, was still quite clearly muddied and stained and should be disposed of at the first available opportunity.

It did not take long to locate Detective Shanahan. He was still in the specialist equipment section of the infirmary, being guarded by an SF who had been assigned to his person while on the base. The grizzled old veteran fighter was well-known to Teal'c, and tendered him a terse nod of acknowledgement as Teal'c entered the room.

"Teal'c? What's going on? Sam just left in the middle of the ultrasound, and this guy won't let me go anywhere..." His eyes took in Teal'c's bloodstained clothing and he gaped. "Jesus, what the hell happened to you?"

"A mission." He made the statement as if it were of no moment. "The infirmary personnel are working on Daniel Jackson even now."

Detective Shanahan winced. "I'm sorry."

Teal'c inclined his head in acceptance of the condolences. As an officer of the law, the detective would have seen friends injured, perhaps even to death. He would understand the situation in which Teal'c found himself, even if he was not to be privy to the specific circumstances of it. "I believe Samantha is presently concerned with the state of our team-mate. Until she returns, it would be best if you would wait here."

"Wait! Why can't I go in there? I mean, it's not as though it's anything I haven't seen or don't already know about..."

"It would be best if you remain here," Teal'c said. Then he paused. Further away, more distantly, he could hear the timbre of familiar voices drawing closer. "Samantha is on her way."

Indeed, a few moments later, Samantha and O'Neill entered, side by side. Their faces were solemn but without any anguish that might have indicated a negative outcome for Daniel Jackson's health. "He's stabilised enough for them to start operating," she said, answering the question Teal'c had not yet asked.

"Daniel's tough stuff," O'Neill said lightly. "He'll be out of this in no time, like a rough wormhole trip. They'll keep Peyton in overnight to monitor him for concussion, but nothing to worry about on that score. The Captain has a hard head." As he spoke, his eyes had taken stock of the room and its occupants, and now he paused. "Shanahan."

"Colonel." Detective Shanahan was civil, but evidently not best pleased to see O'Neill. He immediately turned his attention to Sam. "Why'd you run off like that?"

He did not see the flicker of anger in O'Neill's eyes at the somewhat peremptory demand.

"I had to see what was happening," she said, her mouth set in a firm, stubborn line. "And Nurse Brennan was needed to check Captain Peyton anyway, so we'd have just sat there and done nothing." Certainly, doing nothing was not her style. "She'll be back in a minute, so we can go back and try the ultrasound again..." She took a deep breath and headed for the guerney. "I need to sit down."

She climbed onto the guerney, refusing Detective Shanahan's assistance in the process. Her eyes flickered beyond him to O'Neill and a look passed between them, although of what nature, Teal'c could not have said.

However, O'Neill seemed to understand what she wished to say. "Well, Teal'c and I had better clean up and go report to the General," he muttered.

"Will you be around later, sir?"

He arched a brow at her, "Probably. Why?"

Although Samantha's voice was even, she seemed almost as though she were holding her breath as she asked, "Would you like to come and see the ultrasound pictures when you're done? You and Teal'c?"

He tensed for a split second, nothing more than the slightest set of the shoulders. Then, in a voice that was carefully gentle, he answered her. "Okay. Your lab?"

"Where else?"

The slightest of smiles touched his lips, curving them for one brief instant, and then it faded, although the gentleness didn't leave his features. "Later, Carter."

"Later, sir. Teal'c."

It did not escape Teal'c's notice that his name was tacked on at the end, secondary to her need for O'Neill's approval in this matter.

It also did not escape his notice that Shanahan's expression had contracted in brief anger. It was a shadow that was brief and unfamiliar enough that he did not recognise the aspect until the other man smoothed away his displeasure.

But although the symptoms were gone, the canker at the heart of the problem would remain. Teal'c understood the nature of bitterness. The anger at his rejection by Samantha Carter would remain in the soul of Pete Shanahan long after the ultrasounds were displayed and exclaimed over, long after the child was birthed and its parentage proclaimed. He might forget it for a little while, but forgiving would be a considerably more difficult exercise to one not accustomed to it and without any reason to attempt it.

And in that knowledge, with that realisation, Teal'c was on his guard against Pete Shanahan. The man would bear watching; and Teal'c would watch him. He did not know what moves could be made against Detective Shanahan if the man chose to act on his bitterness, but he would watch for such signs and find out what could be done.

Perhaps Daniel Jackson had the right of it, and this attempt to share the child with Detective Shanahan would come to no good end.

Teal'c kept his thoughts to himself. They were not for sharing with O'Neill or Samantha Carter, and Daniel Jackson was in no position to consider them at present - nor gloat that Teal'c was taking his point of view.

However, he did observe one thing as the elevator doors closed behind them, sealing them into the small space. "You are not comfortable with his involvement in Samantha's pregnancy."

"No shit, Sherlock," O'Neill snapped.

Too late, Teal'c comprehended that his question had been badly phrased. And badly timed. It was, in fact, an error more customary of Daniel Jackson than of himself. But the statement was made, and O'Neill was in high dudgeon.

"My intention was not to anger you, O'Neill."

"Congratulations," his friend snapped. "You got a bonus deal. Make one really stupid statement, get one pissed-off Colonel free!"

Teal'c did not bridle at O'Neill's snarking. His statement had indeed been stupid, phrased as it was, and Teal'c was responsible for O'Neill's bad humour - at least in some wise.

"Please accept my apologies..."

O'Neill huffed, exhaling explosively as the elevator doors opened and he stormed out, past a quartet of surprised men. Such was his irritation that he had barely a nod of the head for Colonel Dixon and his team as SG-13 climbed into the elevator behind Teal'c.

They were in the locker room, O'Neill stripping and dumping his jacket with an excess of motion that spoke eloquently of frustration and anger at the situation, before anything more was said.

"How did you feel when we went back to Chulak and found out your wife had remarried in order to bring up your son?"

Unbidden, the memory of rage and resentment and a deep, deep pain came back to Teal'c. He had no need of answer. O'Neill had been watching him.

"How do you think I feel about his 'involvement' in Carter's pregnancy, Teal'c?"

"I understand, O'Neill," he said. "My words were spoken without consideration."

"Damn straight," O'Neill muttered as he collected towel, washcloth, and gel with which to shower himself.

Afterwards, as the drip-drip-drip of water into the drain slowly faded in frequency, O'Neill sat on the bench and stared at his bare feet beneath the hems of his blue fatigues. "If I'm being a bastard about all this, you're free to tell me, you know, Teal'c."

Teal'c considered the honesty of the statement, then responded, "You are being a bastard about some things, O'Neill. However, my question was indeed out of order, and your response was commensurate with that."

Laughter echoed momentarily around the walls, a harsh bark that O'Neill gave in dark humour. "Thanks, T."

They dressed silently and swiftly, both military men who were accustomed to neat presentation, but not excessive personal care. As O'Neill pulled on his boots, the locker room phone rang, shattering the stillness.

Teal'c answered it since his friend was otherwise engrossed with footwear. "This is Teal'c."

"Teal'c, it's Carter here. Is the Colonel still there?"

"He is."

There was a pause. "You'd better come down to the infirmary immediately."

They moved with rapid detemination through the corridors of the SGC. O'Neill's impatience extended to drumming the fingers of one hand on the knuckles of the other, which Teal'c abhorred, but on which he made no comment.

In the infirmary, they found Major Carter once again dressed in her fatigues. Her shoulders appeared tense as she stood at the window of the viewing room. Detective Shanahan was also tense as he sat in one of the chairs lined up against the wall, his expression set in carefully neutral lines. Teal'c wondered what air they would have seen in the face of the detective, had they caught him unawares. He nodded briefly at Sergeant Morrow then turned to the viewing window.

Beyond Samantha, clearly seen through the glass below, the infirmary staff worked on Daniel Jackson.

"Carter?"

"It's not going well, sir."

"Why not?"

"They don't know." She indicated the monitors which displayed some of the vitals statistics of their team-mate. "His blood pressure started dropping nearly twenty minutes ago. He's got internal bleeding, but they don't know where - and if they don't stop it..."

O'Neill strode to the edge of the room and looked out and down over the scene below. "How long do they have?"

There was a hopeless quality about her shrug. She turned away from the window, her eyes going first to Teal'c, then to Detective Shanahan, who patted the seat beside him. For a moment, it looked as though she would go and sit down beside him, taking the comfort he offered. Instead, she turned back to the glass window of the observation room and received a glance from O'Neill.

"Did you get the ultrasound done?"

Did she realise the cost of that question to O'Neill?

Teal'c was forced to conclude she did as her eyes widened in momentary surprise before she nodded. "All limbs present and accounted for."

One corner of his mouth twitched a little. "Any idea if it's a boy or girl?"

"I didn't want to know," she said simply. Her hand crept up over her stomach, probably without conscious thought as she automatically sought to protect the child that grew under her heart.

His eyes dipped down to note the placement of her hand, and he raised his eyes to hers and nodded. "Well, it's healthy at least. That's something."

It would be wrong for Teal'c to allow them to continue their unwitting intimacy, especially when Detective Shanahan looked much like a man whose resentment was on the verge of surpassing his better judgement. "It appears that Dr. Brightman wishes to gain our attention."

They turned to the viewing window in time to hear the doctor ask, "Colonel O'Neill, where exactly was Dr. Jackson injured? Did you see? Was he bumped anywhere that you might have thought was insignificant?" Her agitation was palpable; no practitioner wished to lose her patient to something as simple as internal bleeding. No practitioner wished to lose her patient at all.

"Not that I can remember, Doc," O'Neill spoke into the viewing room microphone. "Teal'c?"

"I recall nothing either, O'Neill."

"Well, would you tell me everything you recall from the moment you realised there was a problem until you returned through the gate?"

O'Neill glanced from Teal'c to Samantha, before his eye rested on Detective Shanahan. "I'm going to have to ask you to leave the room, Detective."

"I've got clearance..."

"Not enough to know about current missions," O'Neill said inexorably. "And we've been through this argument before, if I recall." The pointed reminder of the hostage-taking in downtown Denver over three months ago brought a flush to the detective's face. Detective Shanahan had repeatedly disobeyed requests to remain out of the conflict, and his presence had caused extra injury to O'Neill in the process.

"Sam..."

"You don't have clearance, Pete," she said, her own voice steady. "The ultrasound is done and you've got the pictures..."

"I thought I could wait around until you finish work. Take you home. Have dinner together..."

There was a split-second in which Samantha's expression was torn. Then she shook her head, "We'll talk about this later, Pete. Not while Daniel's life hangs in the balance. Go."

Bitterness briefly controlled the heavy features, but he went without too much hesitation. The SF followed after, as softly ubiquitous as snow in the Colorado winter.

As O'Neill began relating the circumstances of Daniel Jackson's injury, Teal'c pondered the brief emotion he had seen only too clearly seen in the detective's face.

That the detective resented his exclusion from Samantha's work was clear enough. However, the source of that resentment would not be lanced as long as Samantha Carter chose to include him in the child's life, but not her own. To have the one but not the other would be intolerable to Detective Shanahan, he would fight Samantha every step of the way in that matter.

Truly, Major Carter had locked herself into an invidious situation.

"...Teal'c dialled the gate, I scattered cover fire, the gate opened, we picked up Daniel and Peyton and ran through..."

"We've removed the shrapnel from his body," Dr. Brightman said. "Using the travois-style thing was a good idea. It minimised internal damage enough that we can stitch him up..."

"But you don't know where he's bleeding."

"Well, we're assuming there's bleeding because of the declining blood pressure, but it could just as easily be something else that we haven't looked at..." Even though the intercom, she sounded resigned. Below them, the hand that pushed back the edge of the surgical cap she wore, trembled a little.

"Sir," Samantha Carter said, and in both her voice and her face were an apprehension she could not hide. "I could use the Goa'uld healing device."

O'Neill turned on her, "What?

In spite of his growl, Samantha held her position. She repeated her statement, elaborating on the details, "I could use the Goa'uld healing device to determine where Daniel is bleeding."

"Carter, are you nuts? Do you remember when was the last time you tried to use the healing device?"

Her eyes went diamond-hard, "Yes, sir," she stated, just as harshly as he had queried. "It was when Daniel was dying of radiation poisoning."

"You're willing to risk that happening again?"

Samantha's mouth set, "Colonel, the circumstances were different." Even to Teal'c, it sounded as though she were trying to convince herself. "I was trying to use the instrument to heal him, and I didn't have the concentration to do so. This time, I won't be trying to heal him - just to work out where the problem is so Dr. Brightman can go ahead and operate..."

O'Neill's mouth twisted, before he shook his head. "I can't authorise that, Major. Have you even considered what using the device would do to your child?"

"I have. I think it's negligible compared to the risk of losing Daniel, sir."

"And if I don't think it is?"

"Then we spend the next ten minutes of Daniel's life - if he has ten minutes - arguing it until you see it my way and authorise it."

Her black levity was unappreciated, particularly at this moment. "Not funny, Carter."

"Sir..."

"If the price of Daniel's life is the life of your child? How do you think he'd like that?" O'Neill asked, harshly.

"It won't be. I used the ribbon device in Denver, remember?" Suddenly, Samantha took one step forward and depressed the button to activate the microphone. "Dr. Brightman," she called, suddenly drawing the attention of the personnel to the scenario taking place above them, "What is the likelihood of locating what's wrong with Daniel before his time runs out?"

If the doctor had any idea of what was happening overhead, she only replied, "Not very good, I'm afraid, Major. Our options are limited..." The woman had gone back to working over Daniel Jackson, her bloody gloves moving over the opening in the sheet, through which Daniel Jackson's insides could be seen. Another one of her nurses was delicately working on suturing the torn flesh, while others were gently probing for miscellaneous shrapnel.

"Thank you," Samantha said, and pulled her hand back from the intercom. "Colonel, it might be Daniel's best hope."

It was clear that O'Neill was torn. On one hand, Daniel Jackson's life hung in the balance; on the other, Samantha Carter's safety was in question. "Okay," he said at last. "But Teal'c's going to get the device while I call Hammond and clear it with him."

"Thank you, sir," Samantha murmured. "I'll be careful."

"You'd better," O'Neill muttered beneath his breath as he lifted the nearby wall phone piece from its cradle and dialled various numbers. "Teal'c, get to the armoury; I'll call you there when we have clearance."

Teal'c nodded and went.

The use of the healing device was authorised, and Teal'c returned to the infirmary bearing the box in which the device was stored. It was not an item that was commonly used; Samantha generally refused to acknowledge that she was capable of using the Goa'uld items that were activated through the naquadah in her blood.

Teal'c did not know her reasons and he did not question her about them. Samantha chose to fight in her own way; that was enough.

At the door to the infirmary, he found O'Neill and Samantha in discourse with Dr. Brightman. Beyond them, out of the circle of conversation, Detective Shanahan stood, not included in the dialogue but neither lurking in the shadows.

"...will allow this only if you're sure that the technology is safe for you to use," Dr. Brightman was saying to Samantha. Her surgical mask was pulled down around her neck, and the scrubs she wore were bloodied. "I don't want you trying to save Dr. Jackson at the expense of your own health."

"This won't hurt me or the child."

"Can you be sure of that?"

"Sure enough." She turned to Teal'c and held out her hands for the box.

A hand landed over hers. "Sam, don't do this."

It appeared that Detective Shanahan had not left the building after all. How he had persuaded Sergeant Morrow not to escort him up to the surface was a mystery, but he had evidently managed it.

She looked, not at him, but up at Teal'c, who merely opened the box for her. Detective Shanahan closed the box again. "Sam..."

Teal'c opened the box for her, and she took out the healing device without looking at her former boyfriend. "You can't tell me what I can and can't do at work, Pete. That's not even your right in my personal life anymore, either."

"And you don't know that this is safe," he said, putting one hand over hers. His voice was pleading. "What about our child?"

Now, she looked at him, and there was regret and determination both in her expression. "The child will be fine," she told him, choosing not to use the possessive pronoun he had. "I used the ribbon device on you and four other people three months ago, and the child is developing normally." Detective Shanahan didn't like the reminder of that affair; his grimace made his feelings evident. "If I don't use this now, Daniel will probably die." Her voice rang quiet and determined in the grey of the corridor. "And that's unacceptable."

Without a further word, she nodded at the doctor, and stepped past Detective Shanahan to enter the operating room.

Shanahan looked at Teal'c's impassive expression and O'Neill's even detachment, then turned on his heel and stalked off down the corridor.

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