Disclaimer: I do not own 'Stargate: SG-1', 'The 4400' or any of the characters associated with either show.
Author's Note: For those who don't watch 'The 4400' and who are curious, the "Knox guy" Makepeace refers to is a 4400 named Oliver Knox, aka. The Friday Harbor Killer. He killed eight people before he was abducted on August 22nd, 1983. His ability is telepathic suggestion via speech, which he used to "persuade" other people to kill his victims for him and confess to the murders when they were captured. The brothers of one of the victims firebombed the homes and vehicles of several 4400s, killing one.
Chapter Twelve
"When I agreed to help, I was told that all I needed to do was to keep an eye on Carter and report her movements and any developments with her ability," Mitchell's anger was making it difficult for him to keep his voice low, "I never agreed to hurt her or to kidnapping!"
"There have been some bad feelings towards the 4400 lately, especially since that Knox guy," Makepeace began, trying to pacify the other man before the SFs guarding the base could hear him, "so the Senator thought that Carter should be taken into protective custody, for her own safety."
Mitchell snorted in derision. "So you're saying that blowing up her house was for her own protection? You're going to have to explain that one to me."
"You and I both saw what she can do, and this is only the beginning – her ability" he spat out the word as though it left a bad taste in his mouth, "could end up growing more and more powerful until she can't be controlled. Hammond and O'Neill have actually been encouraging her to practice it! She's dangerous and she can't be left at the SGC, or on the loose. She has to be contained."
"And if you can't contain her? What then?" Mitchell challenged, correctly reading the answer in Makepeace's eyes. "I'm not going to help you kill her!" Makepeace grabbed his arm before he could move away. "Get your hands off me!"
"It's too late for you to turn coward, Major," Makepeace stressed the other man's rank, "there's no turning back now." Seeing the mutinous expression on Mitchell's face, he changed his tack slightly. "What do you think will happen if O'Neill finds out that you spied on Carter for us? Or General Hammond? She's got them both wrapped around her little finger; you'll be off SG-1, out of the SGC, even the Air Force before you can blink. She's not worth throwing your career away over, is she?" Seeing the other man's resolve falter, he pressed on. "And if Carter finds out herself… she could probably break your neck just by thinking about it."
Mitchell was silent, his expression sombre as he contemplated this.
"I'm not thrilled about this either, Cameron," Makepeace told him quietly, "Carter was a fine officer and she could have gone on to do great things if whoever took her had just left her alone but they've changed her, you can't deny that. She's not the same person she was before. She's a threat now and if it comes down to a choice between her and the safety of this planet… it's not a choice at all, is it?"
"Do you ever see any of the other 4400s, Captain?"
"Every week." Sam responded shortly, surprised that Maybourne would even need to ask. He seemed to have access to a lot of information and it wasn't as if the restrictions placed on the 4400s since their release from Quarantine were a secret, far from it.
"No, not at your NTAC check-ins, I mean socially," he clarified, frowning slightly when she shook her head. "That's a shame, from what I hear quite a few of your fellow returnees are clubbing together in Seattle. And you're not the only one to develop a special gift either. There are some very interesting abilities cropping up. Makes you wonder what whoever took you guys had in mind."
She didn't answer; she had been asking herself that question for months, even before her ability had manifested and so far she hadn't come up with any answers – at least none that she wanted to consider.
Jack touched her shoulder to get her attention. "I'm going to call General Hammond to let him know that you're safe." He glanced at Maybourne. "He's probably right that you shouldn't go back to the SGC until we know for sure whether someone's feeding information to the NID and who that person is."
"I've gotta say, whoever it is, I'm impressed." Maybourne remarked. "Someone was able to spy on the SGC and report back for years without any of you being any the wiser. You guys really need to tighten your security."
The other man had a point, but Jack wasn't about to say so. "We can head to my place if that's alright with you – looks like your moving back in," he added with a wry smile, "your house has definitely looked better." He patted her shoulder gently before moving away and dialling a number on his cellphone.
Maybourne thankfully had the sense to stay quiet while Jack spoke to General Hammond. Although they had collaborated once or twice since his operation had been unmasked, he was still a fugitive and it was best not to advertise his involvement.
"… yes, sir. I'll tell her." Jack said, waiting for Hammond to hang up before returning his attention to Sam. "Hammond said to stay put," he reported. "NTAC sent a couple of agents out to investigate when we reported that you were missing. He's going to let them know that you're back. No sense leaving them on their wild goose chase. He said that they'll probably want to talk to you," he warned, "have you decided whether or not you want to tell them about your ability? Hammond told me to tell you that it's completely up to you. If you don't want to, we'll all swear that we've never seen you do anything unusual."
"Okay." There was no mistaking the relief in her voice.
"Well, now that that's settled, I should get going," Maybourne said cheerfully, "don't want to overstay my welcome after all – and Captain, if you if you ever get bored at the SGC, I could always use someone like you on my side." He glanced at Jack, raising three fingers to his forehead in a mock salute. "Be seeing you, Jack."
Jack scowled as the other man sauntered out of the room, as though he hadn't a care in the world. "One of these days, I really am going to shoot that guy." He muttered. "You ready to get out of here?"
"Yes, sir," her response was quiet.
"Sam, are you sure that you're okay?" Jack asked gently, concerned.
"Fine, sir." She responded automatically.
"So why don't I believe you?" He studied her expression for a moment. "Do you want to tell me how you were able to get away from the goons who grabbed you?"
"I think you can guess."
"You used your power." It wasn't a question. "Good." She looked up, startled. "I mean it – you were given it for a reason, even if we don't know what that reason is yet and if you can use it to protect yourself, you should."
"But I can't control it!"
"You'll learn to," he counselled, "just give yourself some time. Keep practicing."
"And while I'm learning, I'm dangerous – I didn't want to hurt them, I just wanted to stop the van, push it off the road into the grass but it just went flying."
"It wasn't your fault."
"I did it." She countered. "How is it not my fault?"
"These guys blew up your house, kidnapped you, and when that didn't work they tried to run you over. A lot of people would happily have killed them. You don't owe any apologies for shoving them a little harder than you meant to."
Mitchell was with Makepeace, in the tiny office the Marine colonel had been assigned but that he used even more infrequently than Jack used his when his cellphone began to vibrate in his pocket, his ring tone playing softly at first, then growing progressively louder as he took it out of his pocket and held it in one hand, debating whether or not to answer it with Makepeace standing three feet away.
"Who is it?" Makepeace demanded.
"It's General Hammond." Mitchell responded reluctantly.
"Then answer him." The order was curt.
His conversation with Hammond was brief but even though he tried to keep his responses as vague and general as possible, he knew when he hung up that Makepeace knew exactly what had been said.
"Carter got away from our guys, didn't she? Where is she? Cameron, I need to know. It's important that we find her before she hurts someone with that ability of hers."
"She's with Colonel O'Neill, they're going back to his house."
Makepeace nodded, a slight, approving smile on his face. "Let's go."
Nobody questioned them as they made their way out of the base; why would they? Mitchell was a member of SG-1 and Makepeace had been one of the first officers assigned to an SG team. They were trusted, above suspicion.
Mitchell hadn't been sure what to expect when Makepeace had shepherded him off the base and led him down a track away from Cheyenne Mountain towards the road but he definitely had not expected to find a sleek, black limousine waiting for them any more than he had expected Senator Kinsey to be there in person but he was wrong on both counts.
Kinsey's expression was dark and dour, a far cry from the friendlier demeanour he had adopted when he had come to visit Mitchell at his apartment. His tone was cold when he ordered them to get into the car, and then barked the address at his chauffeur when Makepeace filled him in on Sam's destination.
He didn't say a word as he passed them both guns, slipping a third into the inside pocket of his jacket.
"Sir, is this really necessary?" Mitchell protested, alarmed. "If we talk to her…"
"Talk?!" Kinsey spat the word out, glowering. "Son, the time for talking has been and gone. I tried to take her into custody, for her protection and everyone else's and she put two of my best people in the hospital with about twenty broken bones between them. I'm not going to wait for her to come after me!"
"Why would she…"
"O'Neill's been encouraging her to practice; he'll put her up to it." Kinsey ranted; seemingly unaware that he had an audience. "I'm not going to let that happen!"
"Sir, we're approaching the address." The chauffeur reported dutifully. His eyes were shielded from the glare of the sun by dark glasses that concealed his eyes and made his whole face look blank and expressionless. If his heavy, muscular build was any indication, he was a bodyguard as well as a chauffeur.
"Good. Find a quiet spot where we can wait for them. You boys better get ready."
"Yes, sir." Makepeace responded.
"What about Colonel O'Neill, Senator?" Mitchell asked.
Kinsey snorted. "Major, if he's protecting that abomination, he's already a lost cause. You are not to hesitate to use deadly force, am I making myself clear?" The car pulled up a discreet distance away from Jack's house, parking in a shady spot.
"So, what, we just walk right up and shoot 'em both?!"
Whatever outburst Kinsey was about to unleash was cut off by Makepeace. "Anything else gives Carter an opportunity to attack. We can't afford to give her any opening." As he said this he was screwing a suppressor onto his pistol. He opened the window and held the weapon at arms length, testing the sight alignment using Jack's mailbox across the street. "Carter goes first," he ordered. "Soon as they show up we get right up behind them. Back of the head."
"We're hitting them from two feet away," Mitchell commented as the colonel drew his gun back inside, apparently satisfied that it was properly aligned, "and you're still afraid you're gonna miss?" The major's anger had not dissipated in the slightest since his argument with Makepeace at the base, and with the situation having grown so much worse since then, he couldn't resist baiting the other man.
"It's called 'attention to detail', smart-ass." Makepeace produced another suppressor and handed it to Mitchell.
They didn't have long to wait before a car approached, pulling into Jack's driveway.
"Let's go," Makepeace ordered, easing the door open and stepping out. Taking one last glance at the senator and deciding there was no way around this, Mitchell hesitantly followed.
Despite the heavy military issue boots they wore, neither man made a sound as they crept across the street and up the driveway. The only warning Jack and Sam got was a reflection in the small window by the front door when the porch light clicked on automatically. Both Jack and Sam turned and saw the two shooters. Neither of them had a chance to react.
Two rapid spits from the silenced weapons were followed by the sound of Makepeace howling like a wounded animal. He was writhing on the ground with a river of blood spurting from his ruined leg. His kneecap had been blown to pieces. His own shot had whizzed by Sam's ear close enough for her to feel it pass, impacting the door with a dull thump. His gun lay forgotten on the ground beside him until Jack dashed forward and picked it up. Mitchell, his weapon trained at Makepeace's face, had not seen Kinsey's driver move to exit the car, drawing up an MP-5K. Before he had chance to set foot on the ground or even take aim, Jack fired twice, and the driver crumpled back into his seat.
Kinsey, who had sat frozen while this happened, seemed to come to his senses and attempted to exit the limo, apparently hoping to escape on foot. Amusing as Jack would have found it to see Kinsey trying to outrun him, he never got the chance. As if an invisible fist had punched him in the gut, Kinsey grunted in pain and surprise and stumbled, then squeaked, terrified, when he found himself being tossed back into the car. All the doors slammed shut and locked, and they could all hear the senators cries of horror as the limo was lifted off the ground, coming to a halt a good ten feet in the air, where it hung steadily on invisible strings.
"Nice!" Jack commented, and Sam allowed herself a satisfied smile at how easily she was able to hold the car. "You're getting a lot better at this." He complimented.
"Thanks, sir." She winced slightly as the vehicle came to Earth with a heavy crash. The windows shattered, revealing an unconscious Kinsey slumped against the far door. "Landings could still use some work."
Makepeace's agonised howling subsided for him enough for him to register his surprise at what had just happened. "You shot me!" he yelped at Mitchell, who still stood over him with his pistol aimed straight at the older man's right eye.
"Yeah," he shrugged, smirking. "I feel bad about that."
TBC.