A month later, Jack's house, Colorado Springs:
Tonight they'd talk and God willing, not argue—again. Sam had been at the SGC a month longer than agreed. Bad enough she'd secretly moved back into her lab. Were it not for Daniel's drunken blabbing last weekend over the phone, Jack wouldn't have even known that much. Well, there'd been Teal'c's heavy-handed suggestion he make a surprised visit to the SGC, very soon, and stop by Sam's lab.
And then there was Landry's broken recorded litany of how great it was with Sam back at the mountain, not to mention, Colonel Mitchell's overt attitude that reminded him way too much of one annoying, smiley faced, Jonas Quinn. One more phone call of, "With all due respect, General O'Neill, sir, I request you assign Colonel Carter to the SGC, sir? Please? You've no idea what a priceless asset she is and might I say that without her brilliant mind, we'd never have kicked Baal's multiple asses blah, blah."
Yeah, Jack had no grand delusions of what his wife had yet to discuss, her going fulltime at the SGC, primarily rejoining SG-1. After all, she'd been through she missed the action. Heck, so did he, but things were different now. They were married. They wanted kids and normalcy. He could even handle her replacing Doctor Lee and leading the SGC Physics Department, just as long as she stayed on this side of the gate.
The doorbell chimed. Having taken a break from the cooking supper, Jack glanced at his watch and yawned. Sam wasn't to arrive for another hour. Maybe Landry left her out early on good behavior. Then again, she had a key. Figuring she'd misplaced it, he hit the TV's mute button and swung his bare legs off the sofa and then strolled to the door. The buzzer rang again.
"Hold your undomesticated equines, Carter." He glanced through the foyer's curtained window and blinked at a familiar face, then hurried to the door.
"Agent Barrett?" Jack cracked the door ajar just far enough to peer at the man.
"General O'Neill, we need talk?"
"Can't this wait until Monday at my office, at the Pentagon, where we both work?" He saw more of Barrett lately than he did of Sam.
Barrett frowned and opened his mouth, but another voice interrupted.
"Sir."
"Reynolds?" He gawked as another man stepped into view. Jack's previous and now Landry's 2IC of the SGC glanced over Barrett's shoulder and smiled sheepishly. Not good.
"Yes, it's me, sir, and no, this can't wait. It's about Pete Shanahan."
A curse warmed Jack's lips. He'd assumed anything pertaining to the Irish cop was long behind them, obviously not. "Fine. Just give me a few." He shut the door. As appreciative as Sam would be with Jack's red satin jocks, these guys might not be so receptive. He quickly donned jeans and a canary yellow, long-sleeved polo shirt and then slipped on sandals. Two minutes later he swung open the wooden door, and motioned the men to take a seat. They did, but their gazes tracked the newly furnished house with its defined feminine decorative touch. Barrett's gaze settled on a framed picture of Jack and Sam taken in a mini mall's portable photo stall where you sit on each other's lap. Her arms draped over his shoulders, Sam sat on his lap while the sappy look on his mug with Sam crossing her eyes spoke volumes.
Jack maintained a sober expression as he met Reynolds' shrewd wink. Reynolds had long ago supported Sam and Jack's wannabe love affair and knew they were married. Lately, Jack honestly wondered who didn't know. Well, Barrett for one.
Speak of the devil, Barrett looked green around the gills. Jack grit his teeth when the younger man's gaze drifted to the dining room table set for two and the single white rose on one plate, Sam's. Jack knew Barrett was aware of her biweekly Pentagon visits but the man had yet to brave a discussion with Jack as to how serious he and Sam were. Now he knew. Besides, after Sam had temporarily rejoined SG-1 last month, Jack gave TPTB the middle finger and so far, there'd been no repercussions. So far.
He'd told Sam, "The Joint Chiefs of Staff be hanged, we're not hiding anymore."
Samantha, on the other hand, hadn't told a living soul, not even Colonel Mitchell. While Daniel, Teal'c and Hank played along. Jack highly suspected she got a buzz keeping their marriage a secret. One problem, they wanted a baby, and that would be one thing she couldn't hide when the time came.
"So either of ya care for a beer?" he motioned toward the kitchen. "Mal?" he glanced at the NID agent.
"Sorry. Official business, Jack." Malcolm Barrett answered. Yeah, they'd long gotten past the formal protocol issue.
"Thanks. But I'm on duty, sir." Josh Reynolds' looked like he wished he weren't.
"You're in civvies, Josh. So chill." Jack waggled his brows and grinned.
"Trying to be less obvious, sir. I'm here per General Landry's request."
"Ah." He nodded but wasn't sure why. "Haven't talked to Hank all week. Some reason he didn't come himself?"
"Just said he wanted me to have more latitude dealing with such matters. I've been in contact with Agent Barrett since he contacted General Landry on Tuesday. First off, sir, I want to explain that I understand Colonel Carter hasn't been privy to Pete Shanahan's involvement in the Nirrti abduction incident, correct?"
"No, she hasn't." Jack blanched and sent a deadly glint at Barrett who cleared his throat and then looked away.
"Well, sir," Reynolds continued. "I'm concerned, now that the cat is out of the bag, so to speak."
"Excuse me?" Something was rotten in Denmark and it wasn't cheese. He dropped into his recliner and glanced at his watch. "Okay, let's cut the bull. What'sup?" he addressed Barrett.
Barrett nodded and opened his briefcase, while Reynolds' looked more uncomfortable. Jack noted how he repeatedly rubbed his palms across his thighs. A nervous habit that meant things were not peachy.
"Wait." Jack shot out of his chair and entered the kitchen. He grabbed three cold beers and popped the tops in the dining room corner. Returning to the living room, he handed one to each men, who stared dumfounded at their bottles. "You guys know how much I hate formality and the yes, sir, address. So let's just talk about whatever this is about as friends. On a first name basis."
"Sir?" Colonel Reynolds coughed. "This is official business."
"That an order, Colonel. I'm Jack, you're Josh, and this here's Malcolm, who hates his first name so we call him, Mal."
"Mal?" Josh looked confused at the agent. "I thought your first name was Max?"
"I, um go by that too. Anything but Malcolm." He blushed.
"Ah, guys." Jack verbally poked them and then waved his beer at Barrett's opened briefcase and stake of folders. Jack had long ago learned to read upside down. The folder titled Coroner's Report caught his attention.
The younger men exchanged looks and Mal proceeded. "Well, Jack." He grinned then sobered. "Four days ago the remains of one John Doe were discovered in an abandoned meat packing freezer in the Denver warehouse district."
"How's that?" he wondered what this had to do with Shanahan.
"The building was being prepped for demolition. They were shutting down the electricity and found a freezer room still operational. Upon further inspection, they discovered several slabs of beef and between them a fully dressed male body that had been stabbed through the chest with the meat hook it hung from, although that wasn't the cause of death. He was killed by a Zat'ni'katel, Jack."
"Ah and that's relevant, how?" he glanced from one man to the other.
"The body has been identified as one Detective Pete Shanahan of the Denver Police Department." Barrett proceeded to hand over the forensic photos taken on the scene and later in the morgue.
"Holy crap!" Jack stared at the white pasty face of Petty with freezer burn.
"Well, that's sort of what General Landry said." Reynolds took a swig of beer and did a backhand wipe of his mouth. "This guy's been dead almost as long as he'd been . . ." Josh glanced at the stone fireplace.
"Spit it out." Jack insisted.
"Dating Colonel Carter."
Jack scrubbed his hands over his face and into his hair. "Okay, I confuse easily." His hands directed traffic and he looked from one man to the other for more Intel.
"What Josh means," Mal leaped in, "Is that, we've cross-referenced the DNA samples Doctor Fraiser took from Shanahan after he'd been shot at Doctor Jackson's stakeout two years back. They're identical matches, except . . ."
"What?" Jack looked back at the man in the photo.
"Except there's a slight variance. Just like when the Asgard Loki cloned you, Jack," Reynolds explained.
"Well, spank me, Rosy! You're telling me that the man who abducted us was a clone like Fraiser, Klorel and Zipacna?"
"Yes. At least, that's how it appears. The FBI got the local judge to exhume the second body for a more detailed autopsy." Barrett jumped in. "The time of death for the body we found has been estimated to be approximately one week before Colonel Carter and Pete met at Mark Carter's house."
"So, she never knew the real Peter Shanahan?" Jack cocked his head in astonishment at Barrett.
"No." Barrett continued, "From what his ex-wife, Joy Shanahan told the police and then myself, they were in the midst of reconciliation, when unbeknownst to her, the real Pete got murdered. They'd started divorce proceedings, but never stopped seeing each other. Mrs. Shanahan swears her husband loved her and she loved him. It seems their marital problems were due to his gambling addiction that had led to huge debts. They had to sell their house to pay off debtors and filed chapter seven.
"Shanahan was trying to overcome his addiction. Mrs. Shanahan said he'd been going to therapy for over a year and hadn't gambled in six months. He'd never been possessive or abusive to her. Which is why she became hurt and confused when he showed up one day and told her there was another woman and he wanted a divorce." Barrett took a long breath. "Of course, she doesn't know any of this."
"Then the story he told Sam about his wife wanting out of the marriage because of his job was a lie." Jack stated.
"Apparently so." Josh Reynolds shrugged.
Nasty, Jack mused, feeling sorry for the widow. "I assume there's more?"
"Yeah." Reynolds stepped in. "Shanahan was a close friend of Mark Carter, but they'd lost track of each other since college."
"Yeah, Sam told me. So I assume Mark didn't know Mrs. Shanahan?" Jack added.
"Right. The clone made contact with Mark and said he'd just finished a messy divorce, swore his wife had walked out on him and cleaned him out financially. He needed a place to crash until he got his act together. And well, that worked out just fine, because his plan was to infiltrate the SGC."
"And who better than a member of SG-1." Jack surmised with a frown and felt relief that Sam wasn't present. No. She'd been through enough and to top it off, he still wasn't pleased about her return to the SGC. Matters were a bit shaky right now.
"Yes. Whoever created the clone had imprinted certain information into the clone's mind. Brainwashed it, I assume," Reynolds commented.
"Him." Jack corrected remembering Jonathon and Samantha mini-me were no less human than him or Sam.
"You're right, Jack. We assume the TRUST murdered the original Shanahan. After which, they programmed the clone to date the colonel and well, you know the rest." He reddened and looked away.
"Yeah." Jack blew out between his lips and shut his eyes with regret. When Sam learned the truth, she would be pissed. To think an innocent man died so another could steal his identity in order to get to his wife. He supposed he'd have to tell her now. Maybe this newest development would make it easier.
"Whoever was behind the sham, knew the Intel that went beyond the TRUST." Barrette inserted.
"Nirrti." Jack shook his head with the reality of how dark and deceptive that creature had been. "With the Goa'uld Klorel and Baal's assistance."
"Yeah, but which Baal?" Reynolds tossed out.
"Damned if I know." Jack set his unfinished beer on the coffee table.
His cell-phone rang and he pressed it to his ear. "What?"
"Jack, Hank here. I'll make it brief. Sam knows everything and she's—"
The front door opened. Crap! He looked up. Sam stepped inside with her briefcase. She'd not been smiling to begin with, and as she took in the powwow in their living room, the frown turned to a scowl aimed at Jack. Oy!
"Um, thanks for the late warning, Hank. Later." He hung up.
"Hi." He stood with a starched smile for his wife. The high color in her fair cheeks warned this wouldn't be pretty. She ignored him but smiled at Barrett and Reynolds who'd politely stood upon her entrance.
"Agent Barrett." She nodded.
"Colonel Carter," he said with a clotted voice then seemed to find his shoes fascinating. Yeah, Jack knew that awkward scenario.
Sam gave a clipped but respectful salute to the full Colonel Reynolds.
"Colonel Reynolds."
Josh returned the salute. "Colonel Carter, at ease."
She nodded. "Gentlemen, if you'll excuse us a moment." She acknowledged and then held Barrett's culpable expression. Jack felt for the man. It was clear Sam knew the NID agent had set her up with his, 'How's Pete and so you seeing anyone,' interrogation two weeks before. The cat was not only out of the bag but Sam's, 'Not exactly,' answer had just bitten Barrett in the assets and would be clawing Jack's eyes out in a few moments.
Thankfully, she remained polite then said to Jack, "A word, General O'Neill." She set her briefcase on the hallway's table and marched into the kitchen, her military heels clicking hard against the hardwood floor as if a foreboding of what was to come.
"This won't take a moment, kids," Jack said to them maintaining an air of dignified control as he reminded himself he was Major General Jack O'Neill head of HW Security and she was Lieutenant Colonel Carter, his subordinate—his really pissed off wife. After all, he'd been in similar situations like this before, right? As he entered the kitchen to face his irate mate, he realized nope, this was their first serious blowout since living together as husband and wife.
"Look, Sam, before you say anything I can explain—"
"Don't!" She held up a trembling hand and then glanced to where Barrett and Reynolds stood talking softly. "How dare you keep this from me, Jack! If I hadn't walked in on Landry telling Teal'c and Daniel, – Oh!" She was livid.
"Telling them what?" he asked, feigning stupidity.
"That Pete was a clone that's what, General Jonathon J. O'Neill." Her voice shook with anger.
"Oh, that." He tried to stay calm. One of them had to be. "Can we not discuss this now?" He gestured to the living room. "I was in the middle of—,"
"Keeping me in the dark?" she stepped within a few inches of him, her heart shaped face glowing with condemnation. Even in her righteous anger he couldn't help but love her.
"Not exactly." He'd no idea how corny that remark sounded.
"I'll not have it, Jack! Just because we're married doesn't give you a right to keep pertinent mission Intel from me, not to mention letting me make a fool out of myself in front of Agent Barrett."
"For crying out loud, Sam, we weren't on a mission. We were kidnapped and you almost died!"
"Screw your excuses. You lied to me."
"I didn't lie," he defended.
"No. Worse, you withheld the facts!" With that she stormed out of the kitchen down the hallway and into their bedroom slamming the door.
"Well, this is another fine mess, you've gotten yourself into," he muttered and rummaged a hand through his messed hair, which Sam loved—messed, just so she could finger comb it into place. Crap, the stupid stuff he thought about when they were at odds.
Drawing himself up, he returned to the living room to find Barrett and Reynolds acting as nonchalant as possible, considering they'd no doubt heard word for word.
"I don't think we're going to resolve anything else today." Jack had put on his General's façade.
"We understand, sir." Reynolds nodded soberly. "I'm sorry that she found out this way."
"Hey." Jack sniffed and jammed his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. "It's not the first time I've bucked heads with Carter and won't be the last." He walked them to the door then said to Barrett, "Thanks for the update. And, do me a favor?"
"Anything, Jack."
"Work your magic with the Denver DA. Then have Shanahan's real remains returned to Mrs. Shanahan. I want you to personally tell her that he'd gone undercover for the CIA or FBI, gotten into some nasty crap, and had divorced her in order to protect her. You make him a hero, Barrett, and then see that she gets a generous settlement that'll care for her needs the rest of her life and won't end even if she remarries."
"For life?" he gulped and turned green.
"Yes. There an echo in here?"
"No, sir."
"And if you hit resistance let me know. I'll take care of it."
"Okay." He smiled.
His mind on the storm in his bedroom, Jack bid both men goodbye.
Barrett held back. "I owe Colonel Carter an apology, sir. I should never have baited her like that about Pete or dating."
"Water under the dam, Mal. And it's my problem not yours. I promise next time you see her, she'll be fine." He hoped. Jack shut the front door, took a long breath, muttered a prayer and walked toward the war zone. Man, what he would give to have a zat . . .for—self-defense, of course.