Chapter 9

Police

Daniel blinked at the police officers. His mind felt shattered and confused. Part of him wanted to just be an eight year old little boy and scream at the men until they went away, or to close in on himself and not say a word. It didn't help that a good part of his older self wanted the same thing. He didn't want to talk about what happened. Unfortunately, his older self understood why he had to speak. Jack had managed to get that much through to him on his last visit, even if Daniel had been feeling sleepy and drugged at the time. Jack wasn't there now.

"Mr. Peterson said I was sick. He called my school and said I couldn't go," Daniel whispered, making the policemen work at hearing him. One of them was writing down everything he said.

"Were you sick?" the other asked. Daniel glanced towards them. It still seemed strange how big everyone was. He knew it was just because he was small, but their size made him nervous anyway. The child part of himself was scared of them, every sudden movement of those large, strong hands making him cringe. His older self was merely wary, knowing the real trouble they could cause for Jack. He knew he had to convince them that the story Jack had given earlier was true.

"I…I didn't feel good," Daniel answered, not needing to fake his nervousness. He did not want to talk about this, but he knew he had to, so he continued, saying, "So I was there, and Mr. Peterson and his brother. And then a strange man came, and he hurt Mr. Peterson's brother and shouted a lot, and I was afraid and tried to run away. I don't remember anything else!" Then he was quiet.

"Can you tell us what this stranger looked like?" a policeman prompted.

"He was really big and strong, and he had a beard. His eyes were scary, and he had wrinkly lines across his forehead."

"What color was his hair?" the other policeman asked.

"It was brown and gray," Daniel answered. Then he stopped talking. He hoped the men would go away soon, but they kept wanting to know more about his foster father, more about the intruder, asking leading questions. They seemed most interested in how Daniel had gotten hurt. He said he didn't remember. They wanted to know if he had been hurt before the accident. They seemed very interested in knowing this. Daniel knew that he had a lot of bruises, some of them much older than from a few days ago. Then they mentioned Jack. Daniel brightened slightly, without even meaning to.

"He is like my big brother, even though we aren't really family," Daniel explained, "Like Mr. Peterson is my pretend dad, except me and Jack chose each other. He's my friend."

"How do you know him?" the officer asked.

"We met in the museum," Daniel answered, "And then he went back home, but we wrote each other lots and lots. Mr. Peterson doesn't like him though." The questioning went on. If he and Jack played it right, they'd give the impression that, although Jack lied about being Mr. Peterson's nephew, everything else they claimed about the intruder was true.

Jack had already given his own version of the story, using as much of the truth as possible, though he had to make a lot of it up. He had to fake a trip to New York that coincided with a time Daniel was there, and he had to fake some letters in Daniel's handwriting because for the most part Daniel was too out of it to write anything, at least anything legible. Reading between the lines in the letters, Jack claimed he was convinced Mr. Peterson was hurting Daniel. When he couldn't get his social worker to act, he decided to come to New York himself. There were, of course, holes in his story.

He called himself Jack Carter because Carter was the first name that popped into his head and would be easy to remember. Unfortunately, it was also information that could prove false if anyone delved too deeply. So far, however, despite the murders none of the police seemed to have seriously considered that Jack had been involved. It was a case were his youth worked for him, as well as the fact that he had stayed at the scene of the crime. The cab driver confirmed that he heard nothing like the struggle that must have happened when the two men were killed after Jack entered the building, just Daniel screaming. The cab driver even swore he saw a glimpse of the intruder running away. So far, Jack hadn't been arrested.

"We already stole the license plate, why do we have to change it up?" Mark demanded. Sam ignored him as she carefully applied paint to change an L into an 8. The number 1 had already become a 4 and she thought the 1 on the end could easily become an H. Mark had been annoying them all morning, not happy with Sam and Teal'c insisting he dye his hair black.

"Because if they catch the car we traded with, they'll start looking for that car's license plate," Sam answered.

"So?" Mark said, "You already switched plates around between about five cars, going in all different directions. It'll take ages for them to track them all down to us. And anyway, I already told you it won't work. They'll be looking for this type of car."

"I don't see you coming up with anything," Sam answered.

"Samantha Carter," Teal'c said, approaching them, "I have obtained supplies."

"Don't call me that," Sam answered, "I'm a little boy, remember?" She ran her hand through her now short black hair. She had finished the 4 and started on the H.

"You have not yet decided upon a name for me to call you, Samantha Carter," Teal'c reminded her.

"Oh, right," Sam answered, frowning slightly, "Well I was going to go with Sam, but that's too close to my real name; someone might see through it." Teal'c considered her.

"I will call you George and Jacob Hammond," Teal'c decided. Sam wrinkled her nose in distaste. Part of the reason she had taken so long to come up with a name was because she wanted something cool.

"They are the names of great warriors," Teal'c reminded her, sensing her aversion.

"Fine, fine," Sam answered at last, "Just don't tell anyone back home."

"Wait, I don't want to be called Jacob," Mark insisted, "That's Dad's name. What's wrong with Mark?"

"I thought we explained the whole super spy thing to you," Sam answered. Now that she knew Mark didn't like his fake name either, Sam found she suddenly loved them. After all, she supposed Teal'c could have chosen worse. She didn't know what she would have done if Teal'c had suggested something like Kinsey. Grinning happily while Mark complained she finished up with the paint. Hopefully, they'd make it all the way to find Jack and Daniel without getting arrested.

Jacob Carter was not a happy man. In fact, despite his outwardly harsh expression, he was a man who was desperately scared out of his wits. His children were missing. They had been missing for over a day, and all signs pointed towards kidnapping, stealing them away in their own car. Jacob wanted to find the bastard responsible and tear them limb from limb. He wanted to hold his children in his arms and never let go again. He wanting anything but this heart wrenching waiting, not knowing what is going on, who has his children or why.

There was only one witness, who claimed he had seen Samantha and Mark early in the morning being dragged off by a giant black man. According to the witness, he had tried to save them but the large man overpowered him. No one else had seen anything. His children left for school and disappeared. So far, the police had discovered nothing of any real use, though after some searching they discovered another case of a disappearance. A woman claimed her son had been on his way to Colorado but had never made it there. Mrs. O'Neill had been frantic, insisting something must have happened to him, but so far the police had not been convinced it was anything more than a runaway. Now, considering the locality and timing, Jacob wondered if the cases were connected. Whether they were or not, Jacob was certain of only one thing. He would find his children, and he would hurt the person responsible. From the way Mrs. O'Neill had spoken to him, he suspected she felt the same thing. The kidnappers would pay.