A/N: Generic TW for this chapter for violence.
Sam took a deep breath to steady her nerves as Jack parked the truck four houses away from Sara's to avoid alerting Pete to their presence. She, Jack, and John exited the vehicle silently, all knowing their roles.
Jack pulled out three zats, handing one to her and one to John, before tucking his own in the holster he'd strapped to his leg. His movements were methodical, non-rushed. It's one of the things she admired most about Jack even when she thought he was a sexist jerk in the beginning. He hardly ever acted rashly during an op. He understood the importance of remaining calm.
"Give me a three minute head start," John told her, breaking the silence around them, then took off in a jog. Sam knew he had all of Jack's black ops knowledge and training, but it was still a little jarring to see a sixteen-year-old move with such stealthy grace.
"Carter," Jack said, drawing her attention. "Be careful. If it comes down to—"
"I know," she cut him off, not wanting him to feel guilty about telling her to choose saving herself over his ex-wife if it came to it. Not that she wouldn't do it anyway; sacrificing their lives for others was a character trait they shared in common.
Jack nodded, holding her gaze a second longer before following the same path John had taken.
Squaring her shoulders, Sam took another steadying breath and started toward the house. Her long legs ate up the sidewalk, making her feel strong.
In less than a minute, she was climbing the stairs onto Sara's back porch and knocking on the door. She saw the window curtains part, but didn't move, knowing her presence would shock Pete more than anything.
"Sam!" Pete's voice showed his surprise at her presence as the idiot simply opened the door wide.
All the trepidation she had about coming face-to-face with Pete again evaporated. In its place a jagged mass of rage formed. Balling her right hand into a fist, she nailed Pete square in the nose, knocking him backwards.
"You fucking son of a bitch!" Sam roared, following him inside. Bringing her booted foot up, she kicked him hard in the stomach and when he bent forward, she jammed her knee into his forehead. Pete Shanahan hit the ground hard, knocked out cold.
"Remind me never to piss you off," Sara gasped from beside the dining table in awe. She was tied to a chair but could see everything that had just happened in the kitchen.
"Sara!" Sam called, rushing past Pete's unconscious form to kneel in front of Jack's ex-wife. "Are you okay?" She asked, taking in the woman's haggard appearance.
"I am now," Sara managed a smile, then winced in pain. "The asshole landed one good kick to my stomach, but he was mostly all bark." She rubbed her wrists once Sam had freed her.
John and Jack burst into the room from their respective angles. They both took in the scene, the same look of pride slowly forming on their faces before holstering their zats.
"Damn, Carter," John smirked at her.
"So much for the plan," Jack grumbled as he walked over to Sam and Sara. He gave Sam a quick once over, catching her quick nod before she stepped away to give him and Sara a moment.
"How yah doing?" Jack asked Sara in a quiet voice, knowing she did not like being the center of attention.
"Truthfully, I've been better," she sighed, running a hand through her messy hair, making Jack chuckle. She always had been the resilient one in their relationship.
"I'm sorry about all of this," Jack gestured around him. "I should have figured out Shanahan would come after you."
"Because you're sleeping with his girlfriend?" Sara arched an eyebrow. "Who also happens to be your second-in-command?"
Jack swallowed hard.
"Look, Jack," Sara placed a hand on his forearm, "it's none of my business, and it's obvious that man," she nodded to Pete's still unconscious body, "is an imbecile. But if anything he said was true," she cut her eyes meaningfully to Sam, "please be careful."
Jack nodded, knowing this was not the time or place to inform Sara about his change in marital status. It wasn't fair to her or Sam.
"Now," Sara raised her voice as she changed the subject, "would you mind explaining to me how there are two of you standing in my house right now?" She eyeballed John warily.
"Um," John shifted nervously, looking like a deer caught in the headlights.
"Don't 'um' me," Sara put her hands on her hips and stared at him. "I'd recognize a young Jack O'Neill anywhere. I'm not blind." She tapped her foot impatiently on the floor, waiting on a reply.
"Aw, hell," Jack grumbled, casting his eyes heavenward. "Carter?" He motioned for her to explain.
"You see, Sara, it all happened like this…" Sam walked up to Sara and patiently led her away to where they could talk.
"So what are we going to do with the asshat?" John asked Jack as Sam filled Sara in on his existence.
"Kill him?" Jack suggested with a shrug.
"Huh," John scratched his head, "I figured you'd be more inclined to torture him until he told us who gave him wrong information about me."
"It's an option," Jack frowned. "Help me will ya?" He reached down and grabbed one of Pete's arms while John grabbed the other. Together they dragged him to the chair Sara had been tied to and secured him with zip ties.
When John stood back, he almost bumped into Sara. "Sorry," he said, hastily retreating, but she gripped his hand, not allowing him to escape.
"Jack?" She asked in a near whisper.
"Yah," John replied with a sigh, "but I really try to forget it most days."
"I know I said I knew it was you, but, to actually know," a tear ran down her cheek. "You look just like him."
"I know," he said back in a near whisper. She didn't have to say who she meant. John was reminded of Charlie every time he looked in the mirror.
Sara pulled him into a tight hug, a soft sob escaping before she pulled back. "You, young man, are welcome to stop by anytime. Alright?" She straightened his t-shirt as she stepped back, smoothing the wrinkles she'd caused.
John nodded, not quite for sure what to say.
"Sa-am?" Pete's groggy voice mumbled, drawing everyone's attention.
"Aw, hell, sleeping beauty is waking up," John groaned. "Carter, can you knock him back out again?"
"I absolutely have no desire to deal with that," she looked at Pete with utter disdain. "He isn't worth my time."
"That's my girl," Jack murmured almost under his breath, drawing a strange look from Sara, who stood next to him. Jack cleared his throat. "Would you like me to deal with him?" Jack asked Sam. He'd like nothing more than to have free reign to do as he saw fit with the man, but he remembered the conversation with Jacob. There was no way he was getting in Sam's way without her permission.
"If you would be so kind," she nodded, a look passing between them before she headed toward the back door.
Sara watched the exchange between Sam and Jack carefully. "There's more to this than you're telling me," she pinned Jack with a hard look, his eyes still lingering on the door Sam had just exited.
Jack, misunderstanding the question, replied tersely, "He beat her and carved his name into her skin with acid."
Sara inhaled sharply, not expecting that reply. Damn. She looked at the man zip-tied to her kitchen chair with even more disdain. Then she looked back at Jack. She knew her ex-husband well enough to know he wasn't going to let Pete's actions go without retribution.
"Whatever you do," she looked Jack square in the eyes and warned before leaving to join Sam, "don't ruin my decor. Bloodstains are impossible to get out."