Sam had to admit, as she ascended the stairs with the creepy guy trailing closely behind, the luxury plane was a sleek piece of engineering. The pilot in her was curious how it handled and she couldn't help the twinge of disappointment when they turned near the closed cockpit door.
She also couldn't help her eyes bulging a bit as they passed the forward restroom and small galley and entered the main cabin. It looked like a swanky lounge, adorned with high-gloss wood paneling, chic carpeting and chrome wall sconces. Oversized cream leather chairs were arranged in groups of four on one side of the aisle; while a long matching couch and accompanying glass table graced the other.
Only one man occupied the space. He looked relaxed, sitting angled and cross-legged on the plush leather couch with an arm draped over the back cushion as he gazed at the laptop in front of him; his other hand cradling a tumbler of dark amber liquid in front of his chest.
The moment he turned his head and spotted them, his eyes widened and the tumbler was forgotten as he slid it onto the table and rose. "Ah Ian! Finally!"
Ian. So, the creepy guy had a name.
Ian barely acknowledged him as he shoved her into the first cushioned chair. "Dennis."
Sam took a good look as he approached them. So, this was the man they'd been running from. The man who had hunted them down.
Knight was younger than she thought he'd be, late thirties, light blue eyes, tapered dirty blond hair; looking far from intimidating wearing light grey khaki slacks and a charcoal polo. He was a couple of inches taller than Sam, just under six foot. And based on his exposed forearms and how the clothes clung to his frame, she guessed he spent a lot of time in a pool to maintain his lean and toned build.
He was sporting a big toothy grin as he clapped and rubbed his hands together.
It reminded her of an old black and white vampire movie she had seen growing up. So eager to sink his teeth into her.
Ian's voice pulled her out of the trance. "There's been a development."
Knight glanced towards him, eyebrows knitting in confusion as Ian retrieved the laptop from the glass table and thrusted it into her lap. "You have three minutes."
"All I need is one," she muttered as she focused on the keys, minimizing the displayed spreadsheet and opening the search engine. She squinted against the targeted pain behind her eyes as she found the site she was looking for and entered the information.
Meanwhile, Ian was filling Knight in on the newest details of their arrangement. Needless to say, the joy of finally having her in his grasp was quickly overshadowed by anger.
Her fingers rattled over the keys as Knight turned his head back towards her and glared. "The FBI? How?"
She'd just stopped the email and had opened a second browsing window to log into the Knight's bank account when Ian leaned over her shoulder. Damn. Closing the second window quickly, she prayed he hadn't noticed and angled the laptop towards him. "Done."
Ian looked at his watch and smirked. "With two minutes to spare, how precise." The palm of his hand shoved the laptop closed and he tossed it in the seat across from her like a weighted Frisbee.
"I asked you a question. How?" Knight repeated roughly, crossing his arms over his chest.
The sharp and loud delivery of the final word made her wince, and she instinctively reached a hand around to the back her head to the source of the throb, finding the lumped patch of crusted blood with her fingertips. At least she wasn't still bleeding.
Her eyes flicked up angrily to meet his gaze. If he expected her to make things easy for him, he had another thing coming.
"How what? How did I get the list? How did I decipher it? How did I set up the email to send that list to the FBI at exactly nine this morning? You'll have to be more precise Dennis."
He stepped forward angrily and Ian put a hand out to stop him. Dennis looked at him incredulously, turning his fury on him instead. "Are you defending her?!"
Ian sneered and attempted a laugh, his eyes darkening as he towered over Knight. "Of course not Dennis." The placation of his velvety reply seemed well practiced. "I'm merely saving you the aggravation. This is my specialty after all. Allow me."
Spinning quickly, he grabbed Sam's upper arm and yanked her up, walking her a couple of steps back before throwing a hard swift punch to her stomach. He let go of her and she dropped to the ground on all fours in front of him, gasping for air as Knight's chuckle filtered through the cabin; little blacks dots dancing in her vision.
Ian bent down to her and used his fingers to lift her chin as she wheezed. "What did I tell you about your mouth woman?"
When she glared at him, he smirked slyly and brought his voice down low so only she could hear. "Knight's wife often needed stitches to close the wounds on her face. Remember that before you test his patience again."
He stepped back and cleared his throat before raising his voice like an actor projecting to the back row. "Get up!"
Rolling her eyes at the obvious exaggeration, she pushed herself back on her heels and gritted through the pain as she stood, catching her breath through her teeth.
Before her back had a chance to straighten completely, he had her by the arm again and was shoving her back into the chair.
Knight's cocky grin was waiting for her when she lifted her eyes. "Now, tell me everything."
There was an immediate disgust for him. So potent she could taste it, bitter and gritty, lingering on the back of her tongue. Maybe it was the shit-eating grin or the look in his eyes, or how he reeked of entitlement. Or maybe it was because she'd only known him for five minutes and could already sense how spoiled, self-righteous, abusive and power-hungry he was.
In that moment, if his eyes had glowed and his voice had turned deep and robotic, it wouldn't have surprised her one bit.
But no, his wasn't a Goa'uld, just an asshole.
She swallowed, her throat feeling dry as she eyed his tumbler sitting on the table behind him. "I hacked the IRS. Then the FBI. Downloaded what I needed to and remotely accessed your computer. Deciphering was easy."
He puffed air in disbelief. "You? You did all of that?"
Her eyes slid up to meet his. "Yes. Me." She jutted her chin out confidently. "And I can do it again. Hack into accounts…steal money."
His eyes flashed lustily and she knew she had him. Greed. Sometimes a deadly sin was a wonderful thing.
Then his eyebrows furrowed as a moment of doubt entered his mind. She could see the wheels turning. Too good to be true.
In a sense it was since she'd be tracking every keystroke, but he didn't need to know that. She upped the ante and motioned to the laptop. "I'll show you."
His hands came up and he rubbed them together...again. It was a tell, she realized. He couldn't seem to hide his excitement and a fleeting thought had her wondering how much money he'd lost at casinos over the years.
He picked up the laptop and put it in her hands, taking the seat next to her.
She opened it up and paused.
"What?"
This was going to be risky, and it would probably hurt, but she needed information. Needed to make sense of it all.
"First, I need something from you."
He scoffed and his face twisted. "You're in no position to demand anything, you're lucky you're still alive."
"And yet." She tapped on keys, reopening the login screen for his bank in the Cayman's. He noticed. "I have millions to offer in return."
He was quick and she grunted as he grabbed a handful of her hair and twisted, forcing her to face Ian who was sitting on the couch across the aisle, his expression unreadable. Stars danced in her vision. "Or he can just torture you. Believe me, he's extremely good at convincing people to do what I want."
His pinky was pulling on the strands caught in the dried blood and she choked back the rising nausea, forcing the strained words out of her throat. "I assume you've read my file. Torture and I go way back."
Ian's head tilted and he smirked, a hint of admiration on his pursed lips.
Knight growled, letting her go. "And what do you need from me?"
Closing her eyes for a moment, she gave him a side-glance. "Answers."
He seemed relieved, as though she had asked him for something he had planned on providing anyway. "Ask."
"Why? Why come after us?"
He turned in his chair to get a better view of her. "You were engaged to Shanahan."
It was a statement, not a question. And it confused her even more.
"Yes, I was. What does that have to do with anything? I didn't even know he was undercover."
"You didn't know." A statement again. He didn't believe her.
She pushed past the pain and let the anger flare. "No! I didn't! He was a detective who worked long hours on cases. He didn't even live with me."
He saw her anger and matched it, leaning forward…fists clenched. "You expect me to believe you were engaged to a man who was living an entirely different life inside someone's else's home for months and you didn't know anything about it!?"
Well, when you put it like that.
The self-loathing and doubt she'd been harboring since she'd found out, rose to the surface. How could she have been so blind, so naïve? If she'd been more attentive, more involved in their relationship, she would have noticed and convinced him not to be so reckless.
She felt the heat of embarrassment blaze up her neck and around her ears as she dropped her head. "Yes." She admitted with disdain. "You know about my job. I was on missions that had me out for days at a time…obligated to respond to the mountain at a moment's notice."
Closing her eyes, she was suddenly aware that she was making excuses and exhaled, mentally berating herself. "I should've known."
Should've known he'd only pretended to be nice and kind. Only pretended to love her.
He canted his head. "It seems we have something in common." She could hear the acrimony in his words and turned to meet his gaze.
"I should've known he was sleeping with my wife. It seems we were both deceived." His tongue pressed against the back of his teeth. "But my anger got the best of me before I had a chance to ask her how much she had told him."
So, he'd killed her. Great. "So, they admitted it?"
"No." Ian answered from across the aisle. Of course, he would've been the one dishing out the torture.
"But I heard them at the house," Knight sneered, "whispering behind my back…planning. He was trying to take her away from me."
Sam's internal red flags waved frantically. Since the moment she'd been told about Pete cheating on her, she had believed it; had shoved aside any rational part of her that insisted he wasn't that kind of person. It had been so easy to clump all of his transgressions together without a second thought.
But now, as Knight's words blended with the type of person she had known Pete to be, the pieces began to slide into place.
Being undercover was one thing. She knew from experience with Jack that Pete would have been sworn to secrecy for his safety and hers. But to cheat on her…she knew in her heart, that just wasn't him.
Knight leaned back and grunted. "We tried to make him talk but I'll be honest, your fiancée was tougher than I gave him credit for."
No, he wasn't, she wanted to answer. Angry at herself for not seeing it sooner. He wasn't tough. He didn't join the department for the power trip, he joined to help people. He probably saw the cuts and bruises on her face and was trying to save her from you. He had been telling the truth when you tortured him; that they hadn't slept together. That I didn't know anything.
She fought the urge to defend him, knowing for a fact it wouldn't do any good, it was obvious Knight's mind was made up.
The bastard sighed, as though he had tied everything up in a neat little bow for her. "Well, that should answer your question of why. Now…" he waved to the laptop, "…show me these skills of yours."
She toed the line a bit further as all of her thoughts went to Jack. Knowing now what Knight was capable of had her heart aching for him. And fear that Ian might've gone back on his word dug into her like claws.
"I want proof of life."
Knight's anger flared so quickly, she barely had time to react. Being seated, there wasn't much power behind the solid jab, but the impact it had against her cheek sent her eyes fluttering back as the throbbing in her head made its way to her ears. The pounding muddling all of her senses as she struggled to maintain consciousness.
Her limp body swung towards the aisle and he grabbed her shoulder, pulling her back. "Not so tough after all it seems."
When she didn't answer, he brought his face closer. "You want proof of life? Fine."
"Bring the Colonel here!" He barked at Ian before turning his attention back to her. "And then, we'll see what you're willing to do when he's tortured in front of you."
Ian stood and her head tilted up at him, noticing a look of concern on his face through the blur. Like he wanted to say something. Seemingly deciding against it, he pulled the phone from his pocket instead and headed toward the door.
She leaned back against the cushion and closed her eyes to keep the room from spinning. Then she felt Knight's fingers feathering through the hair at her temple, his words cold and terse. "Ian likes you. I can see why. You're very pretty."
She'd never heard the word 'pretty' spoken with such scorn. In her mind she was swatting his hand away, but in actuality her arms felt trapped, anchored by gravity.
Ian's heavy stride came to a stop next to her, the angry strain in his voice making her open her eyes to slits. "I don't know what's going on. There's no answer. I sent a few guys back to find out why."
The distinct rubbing of leather sounded before hands gripped her t-shirt and yanked her to her feet. She felt Knight's breath on her face and forced her eyes open the rest of the way. His face was flushed red. "What the fuck is going on?!"
As if on cue, yelling and gunfire shattered the silence, erupting around them and blending with other sounds she knew all too well.
Ian pulled out his weapon and ran to the front of the plane while Knight yanked her to the back. She stumbled in his grasp and smiled as a warm wave of relief cascaded over her. Zats meant Daniel and Teal'c…and Jack. He was alive. He was okay. He was there. And a part of her didn't care what happened next.
Knight leaned over and fumbled with the briefcase sitting in the chair next to him, placing a hand on her sternum and pressing her back against the paneled wall to hold her still. He must've sensed that she was barely holding on to consciousness.
She tried to struggle against him, her arms feeling like weighted logs as her punches landed flat and sloppy against his chest.
Then she saw the silver handgun in his left hand as he straightened in front of her and looked into her eyes. "I'll shoot you…right in front of him."
Her lips quivered with effort when she smirked. "I die. You die."
There was an animalistic roar, a loud bang and sounds of struggling. The plane shook and Knight spun around, pressing his back against the wall and pulling Sam tight against his chest.
He wrapped his right hand around her throat, jabbing the barrel of the handgun into her spine. The pain was barely noticeable as she focused on clearing the blur of movement at the front of the plane.
In hand to hand, they had taught her ways to escape a gun pointed at her head. Whether from the front, back, or side…she had learned how to counterattack and disarm with tried and true, well-practiced maneuvers.
There was a reason why they didn't teach a scenario like this, with a gun against the spine, because there was no real defense against it. A head was a small target, easy to move. A body…not so much. Not when the enemy had leverage of your neck to avoid a headbutt. Not when any movement at all would leave you paralyzed or dead. Even if she was in perfect health, and sheer will wasn't the only reason why she hadn't passed out yet, she'd still wouldn't have had a way out. Not by herself. Not without a distraction.
There were glimpses of limbs from two people peeking out of the forward galley as they fought, and from the flashes of arms and legs, it looked like it was Jack and Ian; their grunts and heavy breathing echoing in the small plane.
It was a brawl. And seconds turned into minutes as the bangs and hard thuds against the interior walls rocked the plane.
Then there was a hoarse scream. A painful scream. Ian.
Then another, short and succinct as though the air had been knocked from his lungs halfway through. Knight must've recognized who it was too, because the grip around her throat tightened.
That's when she saw him. Jack.
Her heart skipped a beat as he stepped out into the open; feet shoulder width apart, face tilted down, eyes hooded and shoulders hunched. Every exposed inch of him glistened with sweat, his arms and hands mottled with blood. His black t-shirt was wet, clinging to him in sections, while tears and cuts throughout the fabric indicated what she guessed was a multitude of the injuries underneath. His chest was heaving and she could see his hand flexing hard around the hilt of the bloody knife as he huffed deep sharp breaths through his nose and mouth.
He looked dangerous and unstoppable, and her stomach fluttered as a deep and primal need tugged hard at her core.
She waited for him to meet her eyes, but he didn't. Staring only at Knight.
Knight's nervous swallow was loud in her ear. "I'll kill her."
Jack didn't respond as she held her breath and waited.
Then he moved. Leaning down to his left, he grabbed something hidden by the wall of the galley and grunted through his teeth with effort as he pulled it out into the open next to him. Ian.
The tall man was on his knees. His body limp as Jack dragged him up the aisle by the collar of his torn suit jacket…closer to them.
Ian looked dead, there was no heavy breathing or contraction of muscles indicating otherwise. His jacket was spread wide, pulled taught under his armpits. The shirt underneath was torn and bloody revealing a large knife wound between his ribs, still leaking rivulets of blood. His greasy hair hung in his beaten face, littered with scrapes and bruises that seemed to darken by the second.
Suddenly, his body came to life with a hard jerk and there was a garbled inhale before he went limp again. He was dying...slowly. His distanced breathing was a sign that he was already gone; the small sudden movements were just his organs shutting down.
Jack stopped and bent over slightly, letting go of the jacket collar and cupping Ian's chin to keep him upright.
When he looked back up at Knight, his eyes were cold and distant. His stare unwavering, his lips pressed into a thin line.
Sam felt a frigid chill slide up the back of her neck. Through all of the years she had fought by his side, she thought she had seen him at his angriest. But this. This was so much more than anger.
Knight dug the muzzle even harder into the edge of her spine and she winced.
There was a twitch in the muscle underneath Jack's right eye.
Then the knife was moving. And she watched in morbid fascination as he sliced Ian's neck open from ear to ear. Heard the tearing of the skin as the serrated edge jogged through the flesh and cartilage underneath. Watched as Ian's head opened up, tilting back like a tin can lid as crimson blood gushed down the front of his body.
Knight made a slight gagging noise behind her and dipped his face into her temple as if in an attempt to hide himself from the gore. His body was shaking as Jack let go of Ian's forehead, the body dropping with a heavy thud as he took a step forward.
She wondered if this was why Ian had called Knight weak.
It was obvious to her now that Knight had always been on the side dishing out the punishment or death sentence. Always in a controlled environment, with no real threat of being injured or killed. Had never experienced the chaos and brutality of combat. Never had his life on the line.
Well, it was now. On the line. She knew it and he knew it.
There was an annoying twinge in the back of her mind as a memory forced its way through the gritty haze. Harry's voice.
"…even if you were able to get to this guy and take him out, every gang member and criminal associate he's involved with, wouldn't stop coming until both of you and anyone close to you, were dead."
A rope of fear tightened around her chest as Knight yelled his final warning. "Get out! I'll kill her. I swear to God I will."
Jack's lips parted slightly and then he did the last thing she would have expected.
He listened. Turning on his heel, he took slow strides towards the front of the plane.
A surge of fear speared through her, clenching her stomach.
He had just broken one of his cardinal rules. A rule he had pounded in her head since day one of his advanced hand to hand training.
You never turn your back on the threat Carter. Never.
In the back of her mind, she knew he was doing it for her, distracting Knight by tempting him with an open shot. But all she could feel was panic when the pressure of the muzzle against her spine evaporated. Suddenly everything seemed to slow down as she twisted her torso to intercept, seeing the shiny metal of the barrel appearing from behind her waist as Knight brought it around to take the shot.
Muscle memory kicked in and she used every ounce of strength she could muster, throwing a quick elbow strike to Knight's solar plexus and reaching urgently for the gun. But just as she felt the cold steel on her fingertips, there was a distant sound and her body jolted.
As usual when zatted, it hurt. Both her and Knight went down like a ton of bricks and her eyes closed as she writhed in pain, the residual electrical current continuing to spark her nerve endings as blackness edged in.
She heard a hard thud, then Jack's voice as he knelt next to her. It was rough and desperate, barely above a whisper as she felt his strong arms wrap around her back and pull her up against his chest, cradling her. "Sam…" He tucked his face into her neck and she could hear the relieved groan in her ear as his stubble rubbed lightly against her cheek. "Never again…please Sam, never do that to me again."
When he pulled his face back from her, the heat and stubble gone, she mourned the loss immediately.
Then she felt a distinct change in his body. His quickened pulse thumping against her side. His chest and arms flexing hard around her. She cringed as she opened her eyes to slits to see him.
There was rage and something else in his eyes as they shifted from her neck to her face, cataloguing her injuries.
It hadn't occurred to her what she must look like, but based on the pain she was feeling, she could imagine the swelling and bruises on her cheek, neck and jaw were probably noticeable by now.
His fingertips followed his gaze, ghosting lightly over her skin. And when he finally met her eyes, she knew what that something else was. Anguish. He huffed an exhale, his jaw clenching as his eyes watered. "What did they do to you?"
A spark of worry bloomed in her chest as she curled her fingers into his shirt, trying to manage a comforting smile and failing miserably; her adrenaline dissipating. She licked her dry lips and struggled with the words as her limited vision tunneled. "No, I'm…I'm fine. It's just….my head."
It wasn't a lie, the pain in her head made everything else seem minor in comparison. But now she could feel herself slipping. And suddenly her eyelids became too heavy and the effort to speak too difficult. She forced her final words out, praying he could still understand them through the slur. "Jack, he can't die. Remember…remember what Harry said…"
Her mouth stopped cooperating and she fell silent, letting her head slump against his shoulder as he shushed her gently.
She felt him adjust his arms underneath her, then she was weightless, her body swept up and curled tightly against his chest. He turned quickly and she could hear his long strides along the carpet, and the tension in his voice he tried so hard to hide as he muttered his response.
"I'll take care of it. Dad's here and he's gonna fix you right up okay? Just hang on…"
She didn't see Teal'c standing at the doorway, tucking away the zat before stretching out his arms to take her. But she knew it was him when she felt the transfer of her weight, his bulky arms wrapping underneath her and the soft timber of his voice as he greeted her with care.
It was comforting and safe, and it was the last she remembered before she passed out.