AN: I feel weird not having any good work stories. No crazy people. No weirdos. Nothing. My kids are behaving, hubby has been fine. Not sure which goddess I annoyed here but how am I supposed to be inspired by the absurdity of life if there is none? Oh well. I guess I'll just have to call upon my vast recollection of the weirdness that I've already experienced.

Chapter 14

They ditched the van a few blocks from where the cop had pulled them over. Sam and Gibbs wiped down everything for prints and they left their unwilling participants bound in the back of the van. An anonymous tip about an abandoned work van would be called in to the police in about an hour. With luck the cleaning crew would come out of this with a story to tell and little else. Officially not one of them had left the base after all. At least not according to the log.

Sam scrubbed at her eyes. She felt like she was missing something important but couldn't put a finger on it. She was probably just worried about Jack and chalked it up to knowing that he'd witnessed a murder while under the influence of questionable substances as it was the 60s after all. Frankly, she'd be more shocked if he'd only been drinking beer. Jack wasn't exactly a toe the line kind of guy. He'd not wanted to compromise her career knowing how hard she'd worked to get where she was but breaking other rules hadn't been something he'd worried about even a little.

Gibb's phone buzzed in his pocket. He fished it out and flipped it open in one fluid motion. "Gibbs." He said, his voice sharp with professionalism. "Got it." He said, his eyes cutting to Sam for a split second. He closed the phone and dropped it into the center cup holder. "There's been an incident. Sam."

Sam looked at him. But if it was Jack they would have called her unless… "No…" It came out a moan of dread.

"She's fine… Gracie is fine, Sam. She's safe."

Sam's heart which had stopped dead now pounded in her chest. "What happened?"

"The Trust went after her instead of you. Why?" Gibbs said, possibly a bit more sharply then he meant to but kidnapping a baby didn't make much sense in this instance. Especially not the baby of people trained to murder you for doing so.

"Because she's Jack's," Sam said hollowly.

"Okay… Why does that matter?" Gibbs pushed.

"Jack's genetics are… unusual. They probably would have tried for Charlie if he were still alive." Daniel interrupted.

Sam gave him a sharp look but the damage was done. It's not like Gibbs didn't know but neither had any idea how much Jack had opened up in those confidential sessions.

"Charlie?"

"Jack's son with his first wife. He died several years ago in an accident and Daniel is probably right but they might want Gracie because she's specifically the child of a former host with Jack's genetics." She pointed out to Daniel.

"Still struggling with the little green men thing." Gibbs muttered.

"Grey." Sam and Daniel said together equally absently.

"What?"

"Not important. I need to see my daughter." Sam said in a clipped voice, a professional veneer glossing over her fear.

Gibbs nodded and sped up a little, getting them back to the hotel in record time.

It was still crawling with police and investigators when they pulled in.

"Ma'am, you can't go in-" An officer tried to tell her as Sam shoved past the man.

"Where's my daughter?" Sam demanded of the room in general, not caring about the evidence. Everything was covered in splattered blood anyway. Pools of it were drying on the floor where the Trust members had bleed out. The bodies were gone but it hardly mattered. Sam had seen her share of death.

"Major Carter?" A tall thin blond man asked her.

"Yes?"

"If you would come with me, please." He said in a solicitous tone.

"And you are?" She demanded.

"Agent Michael Blakewood. CIA. Your daughter is safe. We have her."

"What about her caretaker?"

"Agent Canfield is injured but will survive."

"Agent?" Sam said sharply.

"We thought it best if you were unaware that you had a security detail, ma'am. I apologize for the deception."

"We?" Sam's voice was not becoming less clipped.

"General Hammond as well as a CIA consultant. To my knowledge, Colonel O'Neill was unaware of the insertion. Though Colonel Maybourne is."

"Of course he was." Sam says with a weary sigh.

"Ma'am, a Blackhawk will be here shortly to take you to base. Your daughter is being cared for."

Daniel interrupted. "Gibbs and I will stay here and collect any of our stuff that's salvageable."

"I need to call this in anyway." Gibbs admitted.

Sam sighed. "All right. Let's go, Agent Blakewood." She told the CIA operative who looked like someone's geeky dad.

Ten minutes later, the chopper touched down in the field again and Sam was loaded up and taken away.

"All right, Mike, what can you tell me about what happened here tonight." Gibbs said to the other man.

Blakewood raised an eyebrow at being addressed informally but told Jethro the events of the evening after they had left to handle their information retrieval.

Sam all but ran through the corridors of the private medical care facility the CIA had set up for injured operatives just outside of DC. From the street, it looked like nothing more than an old high rise but its defining feature was a helipad on the roof, away from prying eyes.

"Ma'am… please slow down." The co-pilot of the Blackhawk said as she stalked down the hallway after the elevator opened.

Sam favored the man with a baleful look and he gulped. Do not anger the Major, he decided and rushed to lead her to the room her child was assigned to. "In here, Ma'am." He finally said and used a slide key to open the secured door.

Sam pushed past him and found Lonnie sitting up in bed, Gracie snuggled against her chest sound asleep. Sam let out a pent up sigh of relief. "Thank you. You may go now." She told the pilot, in no mood to have her orders questioned.

"Yes Ma'am." He said, saluted her and closed the door behind him.

"She's fine." Lonnie said in a groggy voice. "Cover's blown. M… sorry, Sam."

Sam shook her head. "It's all right. You kept her safe." Sam said as she crossed the room and looked down at her sleeping daughter. Unable to resist, she stroked the soft down on her crown. "Thank you."

"S… been an honor to serve…"

"Gave you the good stuff, huh?" Sam said as she toed a chair over to sit at the side of the medical bed. She all but flopped in it though as the adrenalin wore off.

"Fugger shot me. I scrambled his brains for it." Lonnie said groggily.

Sam chuckled weakly. "Your handler said you'd be all right. How many did you take out?"

"Five. Screwed up… four got past me when five breached… Boiled his face." She slurred sleepily.

"Get some rest, Agent Canfield." She said softly. She owed this woman everything. Her daughter was safe. They hadn't gone after her, but they had struck out at her daughter. Kinsey would pay for that. Lonnie, or whatever her real name was, had dozed off. Sam gently lifted Gracie off her chest and cuddled her against herself, desperate tears rolling down her cheeks. How am I supposed to keep you safe, Nugget? She asked herself, using Jack's pet name for their daughter.