A/N: This chapter has a TW for violence.
"Sam?" Sara called to the younger woman who was just standing in the middle of the backyard, her back straight with hands clenched into tight fists at her sides. "I might be a little more hurt than I told Jack," she panted, then waved away Sam's concern. "But I'll be fine."
"I'm really sorry you got dragged into this," Sam said, her face scrunched up. "It's all my fault."
Sara cocked her head and really studied the younger woman for the first time. She'd only met Jack's 2IC a handful of times and really hadn't given her much thought past noticing Jack's reactions around her.
"Did you tell that guy to barge into my house and hurt me?" Sara asked her.
"Of course not."
"Then nothing he did was your fault. From what I've been able to piece together, you've been through hell," she tentatively placed a hand on Sam's shoulder when the woman nodded. "Right, so let's not give that man another thought. Let Jack deal with him. He's really good at it."
Sam smiled warmly, not correcting Sara's assumption that she had needed Jack to deal with Pete. Truthfully, she walked away because she knew she'd kill her ex if given the chance. She already relished the idea that she'd likely broken his nose, along with a few ribs. No, it was better if she wasn't involved with this next part.
"Can I ask you something?" Sara removed her hand from Sam's shoulder and started walking toward the bench by the creek.
Sam looked at the older woman carefully, trying to read her face. "Sure," Sam replied, following her and sitting down.
"Are you in love with Jack?"
Sam opened her mouth, then closed it, not quite sure what to say.
"I see the way he looks at you," Sara smiled sadly. "He never looked at me with quite the same intensity but I recognize the look."
"Sara."
"Don't hurt him, okay?"
Sam pressed her lips together into a thin line. The woman before her was clearly being genuine and she knew Jack still maintained some sort of friendship with her. They hadn't really talked much about it, but she never wanted to come between that, knowing Jack needed the connection to Charlie that only he and Sara could share.
"I won't," Sam said, making a decision and pulling her dog tags out from under her shirt to show Sara her wedding ring. "I promise."
Icy water jolted Pete into consciousness. Frigid electric-like pain screamed through his body and wrenched a shout from his chest. His breathing was a bit labored, the result of the two broken ribs he'd received when Sam had knocked him unconscious.
"Welcome back," an unfamiliar voice said, the chipper tone at odds with the turmoil rolling through Pete's body.
"What—where am I?" Pete squinted against the bright lights. He could feel his arms and legs were bound, zip-tied to the chair he was seated upon. Cold droplets of water blurred his vision, making it impossible to see where he was. But a familiar, despised face suddenly came into view. "O'Neill," he bit out. "You son of a bitch!"
"Our reputation really does proceed you," John quipped, drawing Pete's attention.
"Shut up, John," Jack growled, no longer in the mood for his own antics.
"Jeesh, fine," John raised his hands in mock defense. "I'm just trying to add a little humor to an otherwise macabre situation. I mean, exactly how long has it been since we tortured someone?"
"T-Torture?" Pete whimpered, his eyes going wide as he struggled violently to free himself; the perilousness of his situation finally sinking in.
"Now see what you made me do," John threw his hands up in mock exasperation. "We've lost the element of surprise. Now the idiot knows what we're going to do to him." He sighed dramatically. "You're out of practice, old man."
Pete finally looked at John, his eyes widening. "You brought your son to what?" He sputtered, "learn how to torture someone?!"
"I'm not his son, asshat," John rolled his eyes dramatically.
"Look, I don't know what he's told you," Pete attempted to plead with Jack. "But he's lying. I didn't mean to hurt the kid—-"
Pete's words were cut off as Jack landed a sharp right jab to the side of his head, snapping it sideways. Jack waited until Pete's eyes refocused once again, then raised a zat, aiming at his chest.
"P-please!" Pete wailed. "Wait! Wait!!" He begged.
Ignoring his pleas, Jack pulled the trigger and sent white-hot fire spiraling through Pete's body, making him jerk upward, bucking against his bonds.
"Damn," John winced at the sight of someone being zatted at point blank range. From the corner of his eye, he saw Jack turn to a kitchen drawer and jerk it open, pulling out a sharp carving knife.
"Leave, John," Jack growled, nodding toward the back door.
"What?" John arched an eyebrow, the situation suddenly taking a dark turn. All joking died. John knew better than to leave Jack alone in a room with this clown.
"The coward carved his name into her with acid," Jack spat out. "He tied her down and mutilated her. Didn't you?" He grabbed the back of Pete's chair and shoved it backward, sending him crashing to the floor with a semi-conscious grunt of pain. "Didn't you!"
"Whoa!" John put his body between Jack and his vengeance. "Let's take it down a notch, hmm?"
"You don't know," Jack growled at John, his eyes haunted. "You weren't there."
"Maybe not," John said, calmly, "but I do know." He waited for Jack's eyes to focus on him. "I know that look in your eyes. Step back from the ledge, Jack. He's not worth it."
" John, don't," Jack shook his head. The weight of the world rested on his shoulders; a weariness John hadn't felt since Charlie marred Jack's features.
"Carter is outside. She's beautiful and whole. And she's waiting on you to do the right thing," John played his trump card. "She trusts you because she doesn't trust herself not to kill him. You know that."
Jack pinned John with a sharp stare, and John knew he'd gotten through to him. Slowly Jack knelt down, placing a knee on Pete's chest, compressing his ribs painfully and keeping him immobile. Looming over to look at Pete, Jack waited until the man was able to look up at him coherently before pressing the blade of the knife against Pete's neck, making the coward's eyes widen. He whimpered in fear, as he futilely tried to wiggle away.
"If you ever even think about Sam again," Jack told Pete in a deadly calm voice, pulling the knife slowly across his throat with just enough force to draw a thin line of blood. "I will kill you."
"Jack! O'Neill!" Daniel's and Teal'c's voices called as they ran into the house.
Jack stood up and threw the knife into the sink, leaving a jagged cut across Pete's throat that would result in a significant scar and a permanent reminder that, from this moment on, his life was forfeit.
Jack curled his hand into a tight fist, his body still coiled and ready to unleash its fury on the man sniveling pathetically at their feet.
"Daniel," John ordered, "take Jack out back and stay with him. Do not let him out of your sight. Do you understand me?"
"Yah," Daniel nodded, looking confused, but followed a silent Jack out the backdoor.
"P-please," Pete's broken voice carried quietly across the silence as he looked at Teal'c. "Help me," he sobbed. "It's not my fault. S-she made me do it."
Two pairs of eyes turned to look at him in disbelief.
"What happened here, Jonathan O'Neill?" Teal'c asked, casting a dark look down at Pete, but otherwise ignoring him.
"Retribution," John replied, his calm facade dropping as he glared at Pete with utter hatred.
"Please, I just w-want to go home," Pete cried. "Please let me go home. Please."
Teal'c shook his head at the sorry excuse for a human being. In his estimation, O'Neill had let the man off easy considering he was still breathing.
"Come on, big guy," John said, "let's call the authorities to come take out the trash."
Jack made a beeline for Sam as soon as he exited the house, oblivious to Daniel's presence. He saw Sam look up and start toward him. He didn't hesitate; didn't stop to consider who was watching, he simply jerked her against him and buried his face in her neck.
"It's over," Sam said, responding to his need immediately. Her arms wrapped around his waist as she whispered in his ear then placed a kiss against his neck. She felt him tremble slightly once, then pull back as if finally remembering himself and where they were.
"Sorry," Jack murmured, a lopsided smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I just needed—"
"I know," Sam murmured back.
Sara knew Sam and Jack needed a few minutes, so she covertly observed them, smiling at her ex-husband's open display of affection. When the couple finally leaned apart, Sara walked up to them and lightly cleared her throat to draw their attention.
"Sara, I should explain," Jack stepped away from Sam, but kept a hand pressed to the small of her back, still needing the connection.
Sara held up a hand, interrupting him. "Your wife told me everything." She smiled as the tops of Jack's ears turned red. "And for the record, I'm happy for you. You deserve happiness, Jack," Sara leaned forward and gave him a small peck on the cheek.
"Thank you," Jack said gruffly, noticing the unshed tears in her eyes. He never meant to hurt her, but knew seeing him moving on couldn't be easy. "You do, too," he reminded her, reaching with his free hand to squeeze one of hers.
"Make sure you bring Sam along the next time you come visit," Sara sniffed once then smiled at Sam and winked. "I really like her."