"Are you sure about this, sir?"
"Morgan really wants this kid."
The driver of the Suburban turned and looked at his passenger.
"But Kinsey told us not to go anywhere near him. He said-"
"Kinsey's an old woman, Jason," the man sitting in the passenger seat said, shrugging. "He's lost his nerve since that accident and I don't know why the rest of the-"
"He's the Vice President."
"Not for long. It's not public knowledge, but the impeachment process is already in the works."
The third man – who was sitting in one of the back seats – gestured, interrupting the conversation.
"He's turning."
"I'm not blind."
"Tell me again what's so important about this kid that we're willing to cross Kinsey?"
"Because Admiral Leaf says so."
Which was good enough for some people, but not everyone. Especially not the man driving.
"I'm not in the Navy – and for that matter, neither is the Admiral anymore. I'd like a little more than just 'because'."
"Leaf knows the kid's father. Says that if Ian Brooks is anything like his old man, he's an asset that we don't want to miss a chance at."
"Provided he's interested."
The man in the back smiled.
"I've read his file from the Air Force Academy. It's pretty obvious from what I saw that he hates the military – probably only joined because of the old man – I'll bet he'd love a chance to make a difference and not have to put up with the shit the military dishes out."
That was why he was there, after all.
"So we just walk up and ask him?"
"Something like that."
"What about O'Neill?"
"What about him?"
"What if the kid goes to O'Neill?"
"He won't."
"And if he does…?"
"We'll make sure he doesn't," he snapped. "You let me worry about that."
The driver shrugged.
"Do we do it tonight?"
"No." They all watched as the convertible pulled into the parking garage of a fairly nice apartment building, and the driver pulled the suburban over to the side of the road, parking in a place that they'd be able to watch the main entrance, but the big vehicle was blocked from the view of the apartment they knew Brooks lived in. "We'll wait until an opportunity presents itself."
"When will that be?"
"How the hell should I know?"
The driver sighed, and turned off the engine, leaning back into the leather seat. Might as well get comfortable. He was pretty sure that the opportunity wasn't going to come up and bite them on the ass any time soon.
OOOOOOOOO
The next morning, a ringing phone woke Ian from what had been the best night's sleep he'd had all week. He sat up, startled, and looked at the alarm clock – which he'd forgotten to set the night before. All he'd done was shower and go to bed. It was well after 8AM, and Ian never slept in that late. He was going to be late getting to the base.
"Shit."
The phone rang again, and he rolled over, tangled in the sheet and blanket but managing to reach for the handset, which was on the stand by his bed.
"Hello?"
"Good morning!"
Ian scowled, wiping his face tiredly.
"Hey, Jack… shouldn't you be… getting a shot or a sponge bath or something?"
O'Neill's voice was amused, telling Ian that he'd been awakelong enough to be wide awake.
"Just for that, smart ass, I'm not going to tell you the big news."
"What big news?"
"I'm not telling."
"Is Sam there, Jack?"
"She's not going to tell you, either, so don't bother asking…"
Ian snorted. Someone was in a good mood.
"Fine. I don't want to know what the big news is, anyways."
"Liar. I know- hey!"
There was a faint sound of scuffling, and a moment later the voice on the other line was decidedly female.
"Good morning, Ian."
"Hi, Sam, how's Jake?"
"Fat and stubborn."
"No… I said Jake, Sam. Not Jack."
She chuckled.
"He's fine, Ian. Hammond's giving SG-1 the day off – since Jack's supposed to stay in bed today, so don't come in if you don't want to, okay?"
Ian hesitated. A day off sounded like a treat he could really appreciate, but he had other concerns besides just SG-1's business.
"Are you still working on that naquida regulator?"
"I am, but not today. Take the day off."
Ian smiled. He was pretty sure Sam had intended to work on the regulator – right up until he'd mentioned it.
"You're sure?"
"Yes."
"Okay. Call me if you change your mind."
He knew she wouldn't. He wouldn't have, either.
"Have fun."
"Yes, ma'am."
She laughed and hung up and Ian dropped the phone back onto the stand by the bed and stretched out, debating whether or not to go back to bed, or to get up and start his day. Unfortunately, habit won out, and only five minutes or so after he'd finished talking to Sam he was already dragging himself out of his bed. He needed to go running and wake up – besides, he hadn't had a chance to do any running the last few days, either, and amazingly enough, he'd missed it.
Fifteen minutes later, dressed in sweats, a sweatshirt and running shoes, he was coming out the front door and heading for his car.
OOOOOOO
"It's about time."
"No doubt."
They'd spent the night in an uncomfortable silence – broken only occasionally by the snores of the two who weren't keeping watch. All of them were awake by the time the sun had risen, though, fairly certain that the boy would be up and about early and getting antsy when he hadn't made an appearance. By the time the front door of the apartment building had opened, they were all short-tempered and feeling belligerent, and eager to be done with their assignment.
"Do we go now?"
"No. He's dressed for jogging – and there's no running track at the SGC. Follow him and see where he goes. We'll intercept him there."
"You're the boss."
As if he'd ever let them forget it.