I have to log in early for work tomorrow, so I'm posting Ch. 9 tonight in case I can't in the morning. This is for anyone wondering what Jack & Sam have been up to...
Colorado Springs, Four days ago...

Sam sat in their living room, patiently waiting for Jack to get back from dropping off Sammi. She was failing miserably. Every fiber of her being wanted to be there with them, to possibly get a glimpse at John, to make sure he was okay. She hated that he'd been isolated from them for so long. Jack didn't do well alone and she'd bet the farm John hadn't either.

The drive to and from Trinidad was approximately four hours round trip; and while she desperately wanted to go, being in the third trimester and road trips didn't exactly mix. Glancing at the clock, she sighed heavily. It was a minimum of three more hours before Jack returned. She was getting up to fix her a glass of decaffeinated tea when there was a pounding on the front door.

On instant alert, she moved to the coat closet and pulled her Beretta out of their safe before shuffling as quickly as possible to the door.

"Come on, Samantha, let me in," a voice called through the reinforced steel door.

"Maybourne?" She replied in shock.

"Yes, now let me in before I bleed to death," he sounded pained.

Unlocking the door, she cracked it open to see him holding his stomach, blood oozing through his fingers.

"My god, Maybourne, what happened to you?" She let him inside, checked to see if anyone was watching, and rebolted the door.

"I pissed off the wrong people," he tried to say nonchalantly, but his grimace ruined the devil may care effect.

"I'd say so," she grabbed the first aid kit out of the kitchen and handed it to him.

"What? Not willing to patch me up?" He asked in a mock-hurt tone.

"That would mean I'd have to touch you," she replied cooly.

"Touché," he inclined his head, then went to work stemming the blood flow. "I'm here against my better judgement, but I honestly don't want anything to happen to the kid," he said with a pair of surgical scissors in his mouth.

"What kid?" Sam asked, dread descending over her.

"The Kid," Maybourne rolled his eyes, "who do you think as been sending you photos of Jack's mini-me."

"What have you done?" Sam growled standing up and racking her gun.

"No need for theatrics," he breathed heavily, as he pressed a wound dressing against his side. "John's safe. For now."

"You better start talking," Sam ordered.

"The kid's been working with me," Maybourne told her as he finished his task. "I'd infiltrated the Trust, but needed an inside person I could trust." He grimaced at his own pun. "Given the kid's obvious talents with Ancient tech, it was easy to convince the Trust to bring him on."

"You orchestrated the whole thing!" Sam growled. "You're the one who kept him hidden the last two years."

"And I'm the one who gave him back to you," Maybourne snapped back. "I didn't have to do that."

"Why did you?" Sam asked, suppressing the desire to shoot the weasel.

"I knew my cover story was crumbling," he sighed and leaned back. "Contrary to what you think of me, I do have a heart," he eyed her thoughtfully. "I can't get him out, but you can."

Sam started laughing, "this is unbelievable! If you had only told me this when you sent us his photos a week ago!"

"Don't worry, you've got time," Maybourne coughed up a bit of blood. "John has at least 24 hours before they come for him." He eyed her suspiciously, "unless of course you've gone and done something stupid. Where's Jack?"

"Get out," Sam ordered.

"Hey," he protested, "you wouldn't kick a dying man out, would you?"

"Goodbye Harry," she opened the door.

"Here," he thrust a USB drive into her hands as he left. "Everything the kid and I have gathered on the Trust is on there, along with who helped me set this all up," he coughed again, then left.

Sam closed the door hard behind him, then pulled out her phone as she plugged the drive into her laptop. She called Jack's cell but there was no answer. Cursing, she dialed the only other people currently on the planet that she trusted with all their lives.


Sycamore St., Washington DC, Three days ago...

Daniel Jackson and Vala stood outside an impressive estate just outside of Washington.

"Yowza," Vala whistled, "You never told me General O'Neill came from moold money," she eyed the home's adornments speculatively.

"It's not something Jack likes to talk about," Daniel said uneasily. "Something happened between his grandfather and his parents when he was about fifteen-years-old. All I know is he went to live with his grandfather in Minnesota and never came back here."

"And yet he wants the kiddos to live here," Vala arched a regal eyebrow, "with his eldest sister who he hasn't seen in how many years?"

"Thirty," Daniel sighed loudly, "give or take."

"Right," Vala turned to leave. "Well good luck with this."

"Hey," Daniel chuckled at her antics as he caught her arm, knowing she was trying to help him relax.

"Kidding Dear," she smiled and patted his cheek. Without anymore fanfare, she knocked on the door.


Pentagon, Washington DC, Two days ago...

"You could have told me, George," Jack tried to hold his anger in check out of respect as he sat across from General Hammond. After all they'd been through, he owed his former commanding officer a chance to explain.

"I know, Jack, and I'm sorry," Hammond said sincerely. "I saw an opportunity and I took it."

"I understand that part," Jack said truthfully, "but why not read me in. Especially after I became base commander or took over Homeworld Security?"

"It was complicated," Hammond explained. "I knew it would be impossible for you to look at the situation objectively, so I made the call."

"Alright," Jack reluctantly accepting his reasoning, "but why not tell Sam once she was promoted?"

"Because I was trying to avoid this exact scenario," Hammond admonished him. "When it comes to you, and by extension John, I know Sam can be a bit--overprotective."

Jack barked out a laugh at that. Hammond may have a point.

"Maybourne was supposed to relocate John with a new identity once I transferred to Washington. The deal was to let John live his life as he chose," Hammond explained. "It was my fault for trusting Maybourne."

"Been there," Jack exhaled loudly. "I get it, I do. I just wish Sam and I had all the information before we chose to go rogue."

"Well, it certainly isn't the first time either of you have bucked the system, so to speak," Hammond chuckled. "Let's just be glad your sister came through and convinced the new President in the wisdom of keeping John and Sammi on our side."

"I definitely owe her," Jack admitted begrudgingly.

"I didn't even know you had a sister, to be honest," Hammond prodded gently. "Care to elaborate on why you've kept that a secret all these years?"

"It never came up," Jack dodged.

"Right," Hammond let the issue drop. "You're comfortable betting John and Sammi will choose to get on that bus tomorrow."

"Yeah," Jack smiled, "I know they'll make the right decision. Duty and honor sort of run in the family."

"Speaking of," Hammond handed Jack a large manilla envelope. "The President wants to know your plan for bringing down the Trust."

"Fishing."

"Fishing? I don't follow."

"You see George, fishing is a piece of cake if you just use the right bait."


Washington, Present Day, 1100 hours...

Sam crossed the threshold, keeping her apprehension in check. It wasn't the first time she'd been to the Oval Office, but it was the first time she'd been summoned by the new President. Alone.

"Madam President," Sam said as the porter closed the door behind her.

"Welcome, General Carter or is it Carter-O'Neill?" She asked in a friendly tone.

"I answer to either, ma'am," Sam replied truthfully.

"No need to be so formal, please call me Helen," she smiled warmly, "may I call you Samantha?"

"Of course...Helen," Sam replied, the informal name rolling stiffly off her tongue.

"Come, sit," Helen indicated the couch across from her. "I remember my third trimester. Jack and George should be demoted for making you fly across the country at what, seven months?"

"Eight," Sam's lips quirked, not mentioning she was here at Helen's request. "But I insisted. General O'Neill can sometimes be a tad overprotective."

Helen's lips twitched. "Husbands can be like that. Let's get down to business," Helen's tone shifted from friendly to decisive, "when Katherine called me about your little—situation—I was surprised to say the least."

"I imagine you were, ma'am—Helen," Sam responded remorsefully. "It was never our intention—"

"To get caught?" Helen laughed at the sudden neutral look on Sam's face. "Don't worry, any anger I might have had at your subterfuge is long gone. I prefer to look at this as an opportunity."

"Thank you," Sam replied.

"Don't thank me yet," Helen chuckled. "You've put me in a rather delicate position. I expect to see results, because if your little secret is uncovered before you and General O'Neill can deliver on your promise," she paused and gave Sam a hard look, "let's just say I will exercise plausible deniability."

"Understood, ma'am," Sam gave her a curt nod, the slight reprimand and ultimatum received.

"Good," Helen leaned back into her seat, "now tell me about your plan to bring the Trust to its knees."


Sycamore St., Washington, Present day, 1800 hours...

"So are you going to tell us how Jack and Sam pulled all of this off in less than four days?" Sammi asked as she and John followed Aunt Katie down the stairs and to the dining room.

"From what I overheard, you two seemed to have most of it worked out," she replied, taking her seat at the head of the table.

"I guess," Sammi hesitantly said as she sat down. "Are you expecting company?" The table was set for five.

"Only family," Katherine answered, a secret smile tugging at her lips as the doorbell rang.