When A Hero Falls by lesleyp
Author's Notes: Keep your faith.
Setting is Season 9 - No spoilers
Warning: Suggestiveadult themes applicable in this chapter. Mild language
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Flashback, mid 80s, Guierra Mansion, near Putumayo Colombia
Major Jack O'Neill held his weapon at the ready and stared down at the still infant. He had been warned that he might have to face something like this one day and thought he had been prepared, but never had he imagined it would affect him quite like this. He looked skyward as though seeking answers from a higher being. Despite all his training he could not keep his hand from shaking as he re holstered his side arm. He returned his M4 from his back to his front, never taking his eyes from the little form.
It hadn't been the little guy's fault that his parents were the world's nastiest people. He hadn't been asked to be born into this. But left alive what chance did the kid have? They were going to blow this place anyways once their mission was completed. A million thoughts went racing through the Major's head all at once.
From downstairs came the shrill scream of a woman. Mary Ashton. The screaming was accompanied by the sound of objects crashing to the floor. Jack raced from the nursery and headed downstairs toward the commotion, still on alert for any unexpected guards.
Mary Ashton careened past the stairwell Jack was quickly descending. Her dress was torn, exposing her voluptuous front, and her face was wild with rage. She held a large kitchen knife clenched in her hand and gave no sign of even noticing Jack as she ran and headed into the large living room.
Jack noticed the Colonel was bent over Major Riley's still form and he knew by the Colonel's demeanour that Riley was dead, likely of a fatal knife wound. Mary's known specialty.
"Primary target acquired and taken out, Sir!" Jack informed his superior.
"Get that bitch!" Colonel Makey, United States Marines, ordered the Air Force Major.
Jack heard the other team members coming down the hall toward the Colonel.
"Area secured, staff neutralized," he heard from one; that was Tony, Navy Seals.
"Set the charges," the Colonel responded. "Maximum spread. This place is coming down boys."
His M4 aimed in front, Jack hedged around the corner and stepped into the living room. Not ten feet in front of him was Mary Ashton. Skilled former CIA operative, highly trained hand to hand combatant, and here she was laying spread eagle on the living room floor; having tripped over an ottoman. Her knife had fallen from her hand and was now somewhere under a sofa.
"Nice!" Jack couldn't help but goad. "Hey Mary, you trained to do that? I must've missed that class."
"Bastard! He'll make you pay for this. You'll regret the day you were born," she responded through clenched teeth as she quickly jumped from the floor and pressed her back against a wall. Her breathing coming in gasps from her recent surprise and exertion. She glared at him, her eyes wild, egging him on.
"He who?" Jack enquired innocently. "Oh! You mean that drug dealing, gun running, politician buying, evil pimp you call a husband? Can't help you. Just killed him."
Mary's mouth dropped open in shock.
Jack continued using his most charming tone of voice, "You know Mary, we can either do this the easy way...or the hard way."
He knew she would know what he meant.
"Your choice?" he gently offered again.
Mary Ashton let out an ear popping shriek and made to move. It was the wrong answer.
He saw her eye another exit from the room that he'd entirely missed. It hadn't been on the house plans they'd studied. Crap! She made her move, and he went after her.
They struggled briefly but Jack got the upper hand. Damn she was strong, and quick. She'd almost managed to knee him where he'd be disabled'. He caught her by the hair and flung her back, almost toppling her over the backside of the sofa. But not before she got a hold of his mask and ripped it from him.
Jack was breathing hard from the exertion and the excitement of the fight. Man, she's good,' he thought to himself. He pushed down on her back and tried pinning her by placing one of his legs between hers, bringing the full weight of his lower torso against her.
That's when he felt it.
She was still flailing, using her hands on the sofa seat to try and balance and push herself off, but he caught on before she could manage it. First he got one arm, then the other, and brought them both behind her back where he held them with one hand. With his other hand he reached down and pulled up her dress.
"You not done with her yet Major!" he heard the Colonel bark from the hallway.
"Not yet, Sir. Any minute now," Jack managed to grind out, breathing heavily as Ashton squirmed beneath him.
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Present day
It had been hours since their visit from Guierra. Mitchell had already had to embarrass himself, and Guierra had been right. It was uncomfortable.
Teal'c had made him feel a little better by relaying a story of a time he and O'Neill had been stranded after test flying a new jet'. O'Neill had taken a leak' then as well during a tense moment. Sam added by retelling of the then Colonel's embarrassment after having been rescued by her father. Having pee stained pants in front of his Second in Command and a former Major General had not been in keeping with the cool image he liked to portray. No mention was given as to the details of the mission, i.e.: the test flight of the hybrid death glider. They couldn't be sure Guierra wasn't listening in.
Despite their situation the recollection made them all laugh, including the General. They had to keep their spirits up if they hoped to get out of this mad man's cell alive. Everyone knew Jack would be looking for them and wouldn't give up until he found them.
Without warning the door to their cell opened and, once again, in stepped Emilio Guierra with his two goons.
"My apology my friends," Guierra bellowed happily. "Forgive me for being such a poor host. But I had to be sure my friend Jack got my message."
The team stared in unison at the man.
Guierra walked to the desk where the computer equipment was set up and turned the monitor to face the captives. He was whistling tunelessly while he set about his tasks.
"So," he finally said with flair, "who in this room thinks that your General Jack is a hero."
No one answered.
Guierra hesitated. Then continued, "Oh come on now, don't be shy. Let's have a show of hands."
Then laughing he put his hands to his mouth in mock embarrassment and said, "Oops, silly me. I forgot. You are all tied up at the moment. My mistake. Ok, I ask you to tell me out loud, who in this room thinks that murdering slime bag is a hero?"
The group remained quiet.
"Oh come on now, no one?" the mad man looked them over with mischievous doubt.
"I do not believe you," he said almost musically.
"Especially you," Guierra commented with a wink to Sam. "I have heard you two. Naughty, naughty," he chided with a full grin, waggling his finger at her.
Sam couldn't keep the flush from rising to her face at the taunt, however she willed herself to keep her unimpassioned gaze fixed on him.
"So much like my Mary," Guierra sighed sadly. "Except her hair was light brown, and long. She was so beautiful, and strong, and brave. So much like you Colonel Samantha. Now I know why my good buddy Jack could not help himself really."
Looking at the wall behind his prisoners, The Panther's face glazed over in memory.
"Perhaps, you know, perhaps, I could forgive him for Mary. She was irresistible after all. But it's what he did to my son. My little baby. Only three months old. That! That I cannot forgive! And that is why you will die tonight. As I let him know, he stole from me, now I steal from him."
"You do know we have no idea what the hell you're talking about!" barked General Landry.
"Jack wouldn't hurt a baby, he might do many things, but he could never harm a child. At least not intentionally," Sam softly defended.
"He would not," agreed Teal'c, but Guierra paid no attention to him.
"Ah such blind faith is love, no?" Guierra answered softly toward Sam. "You will see what your hero is capable of my love. I will show you. My own movie, from the security tapes of my old home. My beautiful old home, that I once shared with my beautiful wife and child."
Emilio Guierra's face became suddenly hardened, any evidence of the mock friendliness now completely gone.
His accent now thick with controlled anger, "Then after I will give you some time to realize how stupido you all are. Let it sink in as you would say. Then you will all die. I will then tell your hero where to find your bodies, and I will watch from a safe distance how he likes to have stolen from him. I will let him live with it for awhile. With the knowledge that his friends and his love died knowing the truth about him. Then, like a thief in the night, I will end his misery. A far kinder fate than the one he gave to me, no? You will see."
Guierra began to boot up the computer and entered a password. Checking to make sure the disk was loaded; he adjusted the monitor again to ensure his prisoners could all see.
His friendly manner back, he insincerely apologized, "I am sorry I have none of your popcorn. You wouldn't be able to eat it any way."
He waved his hand to indicate their tied up state and let out a chuckle.
"Sadly there is no sound either, but who needs that eh? Better to be alone with your own thoughts while you watch your hero fall. I know you will try to think I have, what is the word?...doctored? But I assure you, it is all real. All that has been cut is the boring parts. The action is very real. Maybe I will call him just before I kill you and have him tell you himself."
Guierra stopped and eyed each of them, a large smile on his deformed lips.
"Then again, no. His President has by now already seen this. Maybe he is in trouble. That would be sad. In any case, I know you think he will come and save you. But it is long way from Washington to here. He would never make it in time. Even if he knew where here is." Guierra began to laugh uncontrollably.
Still laughing he pushed the enter' command on the computer and walked back to the door. Striding through his goons he waved cheerfully and without looking back said, "Enjoy."
The goons closed the door and the overhead light went out. The only light in the room came from the computer monitor now in play, trapping their attention.
The picture was in full color and the quality surprisingly excellent. First it showed mostly clips. Of masked men dressed in black combat gear, carrying assault weapons, breaking off and sneaking through a beautifully furnished mansion. Clearly the men were aware that there were surveillance cameras and were making little effort to avoid them. Almost as if they were using them to try and goad their quarry into coming after them.
Whoever they were, their movements spoke of intensive training. They seemed so in control and aware of everything they did.
One of the men headed into a room and immediately fired upon two apparently unarmed men sitting in comfortable looking chairs. Then flashed a clip of another surveying an empty room and shooting out the camera with a silencer equipped side arm, almost as a taunt.
Another two approached a closed door cautiously.
"Special Forces," opined Colonel Mitchell.
"Not just any Special Forces," whispered Landry. "An elite black ops team. Code named the Black Eagles. No one knew for sure who belonged. Only the President, Joint Chiefs and the actual members knew who they were."
The clip switched to yet another of the men making his way slowly down a hall way, weapon moving back and forth in a slow sweep. The clip stayed with this man, although you could tell camera sequences had been spliced. He moved into a door way and silently slung his weapon to his back, pulled out a side arm, and took aim.
Sam, Daniel and Teal'c all recognized the movements, so familiar had they become with the man. Right down to the cautious way he walked and cocked his head. There was no doubt. They were watching a masked Jack.
The camera cut to another angle. That of another man. It was Emilio Guierra. He was dressed in a white cotton suit standing by a crib in what was obviously a nursery. Gone were any traces of disfigurement and he was indeed handsome.
Emilio began to bend over, and then suddenly he fell from sight.
The one that they were coming to identify as Jack walked slowly over to the crib, sweeping his gun to ensure there would be no surprises. They watched as he pointed his gun into the crib. The camera was not at the proper angle to see into the crib, but what they could see made them all gasp in disbelief.
The man looked into the crib, then briefly turned his attention skyward. You couldn't really tell what he was thinking as he was still masked. His arm gave a little jerk before he slowly replaced his gun.
He stood there, with his head cast down as though he was looking at what he had just done, he slung his assault weapon back into position. After a moment he turned and left the camera's view.
Sam felt her stomach lurch, but willed herself to keep watching, saying nothing.
"I don't believe it," whispered Daniel. "I don't care what that nut says, this I do not believe."
"Picture sorta says it all," Mitchell said quietly.
"Shut up. All of you," quietly ordered Landry. "I have no doubt that our host is listening in on us right now. The less said the better."
The next scene was of what appeared to be a very frightened yet angry woman, her back and hands braced against a wall. She was remarkably beautiful with soft light brown hair flowing down to her chest. Her dress was torn down the front but her soft flesh was covered mostly by her hair. Her eyes were wild and fixed upon something or someone just out of site of the camera. Despite no sound the team could see she was speaking, her face showing her hatred toward whomever she was addressing.
Her eyes began to dart around the room and then with a flash she was out of sight. Seconds later a camera cut to show the woman being half tossed over a sofa. The camera's angle faced the woman so only her upper body showed, her hands balancing her on the seat portion to keep herself from toppling right over.
And then from behind her they saw him. It was Jack, unmasked. Much younger looking with still only soft short brown hair, but unmistakeably Jack. He was breathing heavy and his face appeared flushed.
They watched as he rammed his lower body into the woman's and struggled to bring her arms to pin them behind her back. He appeared to be yelling, and she screaming, the whole time.
His facial expression suddenly changed and they watched him reach down behind the woman, well out of the camera's view. The terrified woman's left arm came free and she tried to bring it underneath in what seemed a self protective gesture.
Jack bent lower bringing his full lower body down upon her. They struggled like this for a few moments, Jack continuing to yell at the woman, and she screaming back at him. He appeared to be gyrating into her back side as the woman put up quite a struggle. They could all tell Jack's breathing was becoming jagged.
Suddenly, a horrified expression crossed the woman's features as Jack's face contorted in what could have either been pleasure or pain. Then it was over. The woman went limp, appearing lifeless. Jack moved back, hauling her by the back of her dress, then flipped her over. He checked her throat with his hand, and then let her slip behind the sofa, out of sight of the camera. They watched as he took in a deep breath then release it slowly. His trade mark. Turning, he left the vision of the camera.
The next shot had Jack back in the hallway in front of the stairwell they'd seen earlier. He was arguing with one of his masked comrades, with yet another standing quietly off to the side. Although they couldn't hear the words, they knew by the look on Jack's face that he was immoveable on whatever his position was.
Another masked SF came carefully down the stairway, carrying a black pack that they all knew had likely carried explosive charges. This new man appeared to say something while looking at Jack and then handed him the bag. Jack looked back to the one he'd been arguing with and said something.
"Looks like he said I'll look after it," Mitchell said as he squinted at the screen.
The masked men all left the camera's scope. The picture kept running for about five minutes. It escaped no one's notice the lone masked black figure left slumped further down the hall. The picture began to shake briefly and then there was nothing but a snowy screen. The charges having likely detonated.
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Jack waited impatiently at the designated meeting spot. A seedy motel on the outskirts of Miami. They were already eight hours into this, and he still had to brief these guys and get them all into position in Putumayo Colombia. It would have been a hell of a lot faster if he'd had their identities and originating locations ahead of time.
Jack had arrived quickly to the meeting site, thanks to the Daedalus, still in orbit, and help from the Asgard transport beam installed therein. Man he loved those little grey guys. Bet Guierra was counting on a much slower response then the one he was going to get,' Jack thought to himself.
He avoided thinking about what Guierra was doing with his friends. He avoided wondering if they were even still alive. He especially avoided wondering if Guierra had followed through on the threat of having his friends, his love, watch that video recording. He came close only once to allowing the thought to slip through.
He could probably never explain himself to them, to her. That mission still being classified, and probably would be till long after he was gone. Even if he could explain, would they even understand? Would she believe him? It had almost cracked his defences to wonder what they would think of him now. Instead of dwelling on these thoughts, Jack did what he did best and focused on the extraction.
It had come to him in a flash, after listening to Emilio's message and watching the video. Guierra had watched...everything. So if Jack hadn't killed him, and he had not been found anywhere else in the house, he had to have been hidden somewhere. Their intel at the time advised he had been in the mansion and had not left. A full and thorough sweep of the home had been conducted. The only logical explanation would be underground bunkers. Of course, just like the baby, they hadn't been advised of that either.
Jack had been sloppy. His entire elite team had been sloppy. And one of them never came home from that mission because of it. They hadn't been told of bunkers but should've looked anyways. The only reason they didn't was because he had been so sure he'd taken out the primary target, and then later, the secondary one. He hadn't even stopped to wonder where the security cameras fed to. Nor did it seem had any of the others.
It made perfect sense that Guierra would take Jack's friends to the scene of the crime'. That bastard had been known for his psychological terror tactics. Took great pleasure in it in fact. And once The Panther got the reaction he wanted from his victims, he was very quick in dispatching' them. It was said that he bored quickly. This time though, Jack was Guierra's intended victim and Jack's friends only the means to achieve his revenge.
Within an hour Jack's borrowed team filtered in, each carrying a gear bag. He had two Navy Seals, one Army, one Marine, and one Air Force. Their names and ranks immaterial as they would only be taking orders from him. However, Jack was mildly surprised to see that one of the Seals was female. How times have changed. But thanks to a certain Air Force Colonel he had been taught that change was sometimes for the better.
Jack had thought of using an SG team, but they were all needed doing their jobs. Not to mention that SG units had expertise in dealing with alien threats. Killing other humans without giving options first were not their thing. This team however was trained to take out earthly threats. Without question, without thought, and without guilt. And even though Guierra no longer held the title of being the Earth's most evil human, he still had to be ranked up there. He was to be given no options. His death sentence long overdue in being carried out. That's what black ops did, it's who they were. Assassins for their government.
Pleasantries were not exchanged and not required. As the five operatives began to gear up in full black combat gear, Major General O'Neill, already in his black combats, briefed them all on their mission.
"Target: Emilio Guierra," Jack threw an old file picture on one of the beds.
"He may now be disfigured," Jack continued. "Target to be neutralized, permanently. There are five, I repeat five, of my people being held hostage. They are to be secured and extracted alive."
"At any cost," he added with a warning tone.
"Our drop gentlemen...and lady...will be one click east of an old mansion. Now destroyed. That is our destination. There are underground bunkers, layout and entry unknown. There will be perimeter guards of an unknown number and watch for traps. Emilio was always partial to the old fish line attached to a grenade gig, so watch your step," Jack instructed them.
"Now, for our mode of transportation and delivery," Jack grinned at the now masked and fully armed figures before him.
"What I'm about to tell and show you is highly classified. It is not to be discussed ever, not even amongst yourselves after this little field trip. I won't bother to threaten you with the repercussions as I'm sure you smart folks already have that figured out. So...do I make myself clear?" Jack asked.
The other five looked at each other. If their expressions could have been read, they would've shown flashes of confusion. Each wondering if the old General had lost a few marbles. They'd heard he had been one of them at one time so this whole classified speech was a tad unnecessary.
"Well...?" Jack asked again.
"Yes...Sir," one of them answered hesitantly.
"Good. Any questions?" Jack offered.
"No Sir," responded the woman. "Well, maybe one Sir. What is our mode of transportation?"
She had thought it odd, them gearing up so far from their strike site. And, well, being a covert unit this seemed very strange.
Jack faced the speaker and gave her his widest boyish grin as he took a small silver device from his discarded uniform pocket.
A bright white flash enveloped the group and they were instantly standing on the bridge of the Daedalus. The masked group were stunned, P-90s brought up quickly in defensive positions.
"Stand down," the General ordered, then with a chuckle, "Guess I should've said that before we left. Doh!"
The group in unison lowered their guns and stared out the bridge's window. They were all looking down at their own little planet. Wish I could see their faces,' Jack laughed inwardly.
"Colonel, do you have the drop co-ordinates locked," the General turned and spoke to an officer who was sitting in a chair. None from the black ops team recognized him. He was wearing a blue flight suit they each observed, as were other crew' working at various stations.
"Yes Sir! We'll be at the ready to get you back out on your signal," came the smiling response. "Good luck, sir. Bring them home."
Jack nodded and donned his mask then turned to regard his group.
"The old General hasn't lost it after all," he observed wryly. He knew what they had been thinking.
Continuing he softly said, "Get over it people and fast. We're live. And now for something I love to say..."
Jack turned to the bridge master, and with a finger waved he quipped, "Engage."
Another bright flash of white light and the elite black ops unit stood in a small clearing within a rainforest, along with a General who apparently commanded something right out of a science fiction movie.
"Cool," one of the men slowly muttered.
"What the hell was that?" from another.
"I said get over it. Now let's move people," Jack whispered, now all business.
After checking his compass, he headed into the forest. "And remember, watch your step."
The others followed in a tight fan out, their training quickly kicking in.
TBC
DISCLAIMER: "Stargate SG-1," "Stargate Atlantis," and its characters are the property of MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, Gekko Film Corp., Showtime/Viacom and USA Networks, Inc. This story is for entertainment purposes only and no money has exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations and story are the property of the author(s), and may not be republished or archived elsewhere without the author's permission.