Jack's OTC Instructor once said, "Adrenaline is the only superpower human beings have."
He learned early on how true that was. That there was more to adrenaline than the fight or flight nonsense he had learned about in grade school. That if you could learn how to tap into it…harness it for a short period of time, it could provide increased strength and stamina, sharpen mental focus and decrease the body's ability to feel pain.
The hardest part was learning how to activate it at a moment's notice. Everyone had their own tactic, their own trigger. A memory, a feeling, a thought. Jack didn't discover his until their first mission, when they were ambushed and his buddy Frank got shot right in front of him.
They'd been bullshitting about the card game from the night before when the gunfire erupted and he saw Frank drop. After the threat was eliminated, Jack ran back and saw that he was still alive. He gave him the last shot of morphine and tried to put pressure on the wound, but they both knew the gaping hole in his chest was a death sentence.
Frank asked him to look after Beth and the kids, tell them that he loved them. Jack told him he would and not knowing what else to say, held his hand and waited for the inevitable. But the morphine wore off quickly and the inevitable was on its own timeline that day.
It took an hour. An hour of watching Frank scream and writhe and plead and cry and finally…finally gurgle his last agonizing breath.
It wasn't the first time war had claimed a friend. After all it was unavoidable; it was what war was all about. Pain, suffering and death rationalized by patriotic obligation and promised glory.
But he'd never lost someone like that…so excruciatingly slow. He had gone from praying he would live to praying he would die, and every minute that passed, every plea from Frank begging him to end it sooner, ripped him to shreds.
Hate and rage oozed into the jagged gashes left in its wake, and it was then, in that very moment, as the scream through Jack's clenched teeth cut through the silence following Frank's death, that he let the anger and the darkness consume him.
It was disturbing how well it worked to fuel the adrenaline. How calm and focused he was as he took apart the next wave of enemy soldiers, piece by piece…literally.
It became the key to his survival. And after making it through countless missions, after being captured, raped and tortured across enemy lines, he finally made it home; only to discover that the darkness was still there. It had become a part of him.
When he took command of SG-1, he learned to stifle it, camouflage it behind layers of sarcasm and self-deprecating humor. Proud that there had only been a few times when he had lost control. A few distinct times when Sam had seen how easy it was for him to take a life in order to keep the people he cared about safe.
It scared her then…
…and it scared her now as they stood in front of the train doors with the other passengers, waiting for it to roll to a stop.
He could see the worry tugging at the corners of her eyes in his peripheral. It was so palpable he could feel it, tinged with fear and prickling his skin as she gripped his waist just a little tighter.
He ignored it. He had to. It was too late for that now.
She had refused to let him handle it himself. Refused to meet him at the garage and keep herself safe even when he'd begged. And he hadn't been prepared for the panic and dread that twisted his gut inside out when she said she wouldn't leave him; realizing he wouldn't be able to protect her.
He'd hoped that being able to wash her, feeling her soft pliant skin under his fingertips, would ease the crushing possibility of losing her, but it didn't…it only made it worse, threatening to bring him to his knees.
So he let some of the darkness through, and when she started washing him, it took every ounce of willpower not to allow the swirling of emotions churning inside of him to turn the moment into something hard and desperate.
He'd been a hair's breath away from picking her up and sliding her down onto his length. From pinning her against the wall, thrusting and grinding hard into her wet warmth until she cried out. Until he felt her clench around him, shudder and come apart in his arms.
But he wouldn't have been able to stop. They'd still be there. Maybe with her bent over the table as he drove into her relentlessly from behind, or on the bed with his head between her thighs and his tongue buried inside of her…but they'd still be there.
He closed his eyes, flexing his neck side to side slowly as he pictured Frank in his mind; letting the warm rage wash over him. A calming came with it as the pulse in his neck thumped like a war drum; the surrounding sounds becoming muffled and distorted. When his eyes opened, he saw the familiar red hue creeping into the edges of his vision as his nose flared; his deep breaths saturating his lungs with oxygen.
When the doors finally opened, she shifted her weight forward, and he dug his fingers into her hip, pulling her back against him, his voice low and stern. "Not yet."
He waited until half of the sea of passengers descended the stairs before sliding his arm up around her waist and guiding her into the center of the crowd. As a third of the people split off to collect their luggage, Jack kept them paced with the others as they headed across the cement walkway and through the double doors.
The building didn't look like much on the outside. A large rectangular monstrosity with dreary grey siding, looking more like an oversized trailer than a train station. But when they crossed the threshold, the drastic shift was jaw dropping. Marble slab walls gave way to intricate vaulted ceilings while ornate cherry wood benches lined up back to back on either side of the elongated room, leaving a long wide pathway in the center heading to two sets of double doors on both ends.
Jack's head was on a swivel, using the full advantage of his height to see over the heads of the crowd as it thinned; most of the passengers splitting in the center of the room as they turned towards their preferred exit.
He didn't notice anyone standing out. No masses of men milling about. Nobody sitting on one of the benches, attempting to look inconspicuous while peeking around a spread-out newspaper like some old Bogart flick.
Sam gripped his thigh, and when he glanced at her, she looked up to the right and he followed her gaze, noticing the signs for the restrooms in the far corner of the big room. He changed their trajectory, and within moments they were nearing the entrance, mens room on the right and womens on the left. When he spoke, his hushed tone was gruff, leaving no room for interpretation. "Move off to the side and keep your back to the wall. If you see anything…anything, you come inside."
He didn't wait for acknowledgement nor break stride as he dropped his hand from her waist and headed inside. His heart was thrumming hard as he pushed through the door and slipped inside, fists clenched and half expecting to meet a small army head on. But he passed the only other occupant as they caught the door and headed out, leaving him alone in the bright, spacious, subway tiled room. A row of urinals ran half the length of the wall on the left side, married up against five stalls at the far end; while the right was lined with sinks, complete with accompanied soap containers and brown paper towel dispensers.
Jack made quick strides to the first stall and pushed open the lacquered wooden door. The base of the toilet was attached to the wall, making hiding anything behind it impossible. There was no tank either, just a seat and a large metal push button for flushing. Jack cursed under his breath as his head tilted around the edges of the seat; it wasn't supposed to be this difficult.
He looked at the only other thing in the stall, a typical wheel toilet paper dispenser. Not noticing a lock on it, he dug his fingernails into the lip of the plastic cover and pulled. There was a clang as it opened and he slid the flash drive into the center of the cardboard roll before popping the cover back into place; jingling it to make sure it stayed.
As he stepped out, the door to the restroom opened and he closed the distance quickly as Sam ran in, eyes wide, panting. "Jack..."
It was the only warning he got before the closing door slammed back open and the first guy ran in behind her. Jack's eyes narrowed as he jogged the last two steps towards her at an angle, reaching out and grabbing her forearm as the guy's hands came within inches of her waist. Jack tugged her past him and out of reach, as he wound up his right fist and swung with the full weight of his body. There was a resounding crack as the haymaker hit its target, feeling the jaw bone snap under the heavy weight of his fist as the guy's body was propelled sideways into the wall before sliding down into an unconscious heap.
Jack barely registered the sound of the door as it smacked open again, this time sending in a blur of running bodies. He had just enough time to get rid of the duffel, tossing it aside as the first guy came straight for him. The second guy split off to the right towards Sam as she took up a fighting stance next to him.
Jack pivoted, reading the twist of the hips as the guy jump kicked at his chest. The kick met air as Jack sidestepped, swinging his left leg wide and his right arm out. The guy's head snapped back from the clothesline to his neck, his body taking flight as his legs came up high into the air, the back of his head hitting first as gravity and momentum sent him to the ground hard.
Jack risked a glance over to Sam as he stepped back from the body. There was fire in her eyes as she dispatched her guy easily, slipping the right cross, and landing a palm heel strike to his solar plexus. When he doubled over, she wrapped her hands around the back of his neck, forcing his head down as her knee came up, the hard impact to his face laying him out cold.
Jack got a good look at the third guy as he side-stepped kick-boy's body and headed his way. Big and clunky. A mass of a man, Jack pegged him at 6'6", and close to 300lbs. Definitely bouncer material. Jack saw his big right shoulder moving, telegraphing the huge punch from a mile awhile. Then noticed the guy's left leg straightening as he overextended in his eagerness to land the strike. Rookie mistake.
Jack only needed to be faster. He threw his weight into his kick, thrusting it forward into the guy's left kneecap and watched as the leg folded in on itself. The guy's eyes went wide, his punch forgotten as he roared in pain and dropped, writhing and clutching the deformed joint as the next eager participant tried to step over him.
Jack took advantage of the big obstacle, stepping up fast and meeting the guy as his second leg was coming down. There was a surprised look on his face as Jack grabbed handfuls of his shirt and jerked him forward. Dipping and thrusting the crown of his head, the vicious headbutt shattered the guy's nose in an instant. There was a muffled yell as he cupped his hands over his face and stumbled. Jack pushed him hard towards the wall and the guy's ribs met the edge of one of the sinks before he crumbled to his knees.
Huffing from the exertion, Jack looked up and realized he was losing real estate; being forced closer and closer to the back of the room. He swore under his breath as another five guys walked inside, slowed by the writhing bodies littering the bathroom floor.
He risked another glance at Sam, turning his head in time to see a big guy picking her off of the ground and slamming her against the wall by her neck. Her eyes were fluttering, rolling back from the hard impact.
Jack saw red, and in three running strides he let out a guttural yell, throwing his shoulder into the guy's locked out elbow; ignoring the blood curdling scream as the arm snapped in half, releasing the hold on Sam at the same time. Jack grabbed Sam around her waist, pressing his body against hers as she dropped; stabilizing her against the wall as her feet touched the ground and she gasped for air.
He felt the concern for her cut through the adrenaline as he cupped her cheek; suddenly aware of the loud groans and whimpers in the room. He could hear her struggling for air as his thumb swept across her sweaty pale skin. "Okay?" Sam looked like she was struggling to keep her eyes open and his chest tightened when he saw a streak of blood down the wall behind her as she managed a small nod.
Jack didn't see the guy with the broken arm pull the hunting knife out of the sheath behind him. He didn't need to. When Sam's eyes widened, he spun as the guy lunged forward.
Swinging his forearm, Jack made contact with the back of the guy's hand, deflecting the stabbing strike and wrapping his fingers around his wrist as he delivered a crushing right cross behind the guy's ear. Jack snatched the knife out of his limp hand, as the body slid down his leg and onto the floor.
He flipped the knife from his left hand to his right, spinning the hilt in his palm as he kept his eyes forward and slowly backed up to Sam. She hadn't moved, still standing with her back and palms pressed against the tile, as if she didn't trust herself to keep her balance just yet.
He eyed up the wave of men heading their way as they unsheathed their knives and slowly fanned out in a half circle around them. Jack hefted the knife, gauging the weight before twisting the handle in his right hand so the flat edge pressed against his forearm; ready for close quarters combat.
Reaching back with his left hand, he found and gripped Sam's hip protectively, wishing he could turn around and determine exactly how bad her injuries were. Her hand landed on his shoulder and he huffed a relieved breath as she squeezed, telling him she was okay.
They were far from out of the woods, in fact some would say they had just stumbled into the middle of it. But her strong squeeze quelled his worry enough for him to focus.
Jack stepped forward enough to give himself room to maneuver while keeping Sam within a reachable distance. He kept his knees bent and bladed his stance, the serrated edge cutting smoothly through the air as he made small preparatory sweeps in front of him. He brought his left hand up and cupped it, waving them on.
He'd always wanted to do that.
"Get on with it." He snarled.
The guys inched forward hesitantly.
Suddenly a loud metal scraping and resounding clack filled the room. The distinct sound of a slide of a handgun chambering a round had Jack looking up and the other heads turning towards the door as a deep commanding voice barked. "Enough!"