As Carter delved into the intricate details of the toxin and the findings she and Dr. Bill Lee had uncovered, Jack found his attention waning. He respected Carter's brilliance—hell, he depended on it—but when she switched into lecture mode, rattling off chemical compounds and scientific jargon, he felt his brain glaze over. As usual, he was bored to his toes, trying to keep his eyes from wandering to the clock on the wall.
He drummed his fingers lightly on the table, waiting momentarily to steer the conversation back to something he could grasp. When he saw an opening, he didn't hesitate.
"So, okay, Carter," he interrupted, his tone casual but firm. "We get that the toxin is hazardous, and they used just a tiny bit on my person. Lucky me. But you mentioned a Major Montague at your lab, and Teal'c also said he asked questions about him. Very well. I want to know about that. Leave the science stuff away for a while."
Sam stopped mid-sentence, her cheeks flushing as the shift in topic caught her off guard. She swallowed, forcing herself to stay composed.
"Right, Sir," she replied, straightening her seat. "Yes, I asked Major Marcus Montague from SG-13 to answer some questions. He was part of the original team that discovered the toxin when he was with SG-16. He's the only member of that team who remains at the SGC. All the others have been reassigned or retired under unusual circumstances. They're no longer here. I found that...odd."
The room grew quiet, and all eyes now focused on her. Even Daniel, half-distracted by his notes, looked up with renewed interest.
"But he isn't a scientist, is he?" Daniel asked, his curiosity piqued.
Sam shook her head. "No, his expertise is in explosives."
Vala's lips curled into a mischievous smile.
"So he likes to blow things up," she said, her tone laced with amusement.
"Yes," Sam replied, a bit more tersely than intended. "That's his specialty."
Jack leaned forward, intrigued.
"Go on, Carter. Tell me more about this Major."
Sam cleared her throat, trying to maintain her composure.
"He didn't provide any useful information, Sir. He gave textbook answers, stating that the mission went according to protocol. They found the toxin, secured it, and delivered it to the SGC. He claimed he never heard about it again and then transferred to a different team."
Jack raised an eyebrow, his interest deepening.
"Why did he change teams?"
Standing at the head of the table, Hank Landry nodded in agreement.
"That's a good question, especially considering that all the other members of SG-16 moved away from the SGC, and yet he was the only one who stayed, according to you, Colonel," Landry said.
Sam bit her lip, a small tell of her underlying tension.
"That's what set off alarm bells for me, Sir. SG-13 needed an explosives expert at the time; at least, that was the official reason in his transfer report. He could be the mole we've been searching for, but I haven't had a chance to dig into the SGC's communication logs yet fully."
Teal'c, listening in silence, placed his large hands on the table, his deep voice commanding attention as he spoke.
"I made discreet inquiries about Major Montague. He is reserved and does not socialize with the rest of the staff, not even with his team. However, he moves with great ease within the SGC. He appears to know everyone."
Jack turned to Teal'c, his brow furrowed.
"So you think he could be involved in some shady deals here at the SGC? Why did we never suspect him? He was around during Hammond's time, during my time, and I honestly don't recall ever hearing his name."
Sam took a deep breath, knowing that this next part would be difficult to articulate without revealing more than she intended.
"He blends in, Sir," she said carefully. "And he knows how to please when he has to. You've probably spoken with him without realizing it or remembering. It's..." Her voice faltered, the words catching in her throat.
Jack noticed the hesitation and leaned in slightly, his expression softening with concern.
"It's what, Carter? What are you trying to say?"
The room fell into a tense silence, everyone waiting for her to continue. Sam could feel the discomfort rising in her, a tight knot in her chest. She had wanted to keep this strictly professional, to present the facts without bringing her personal history into it. But the more she spoke about Montague, the more the memories of Jonas Hanson began to resurface, unbidden and unwanted.
Finally, she couldn't hold it in any longer.
"He's like Jonas Hanson, Sir," she exclaimed, the words spilling out faster than she could control.
The reaction in the room was immediate. Jack's eyes widened slightly in surprise, his expression shifting from curiosity to something darker, more protective. Daniel's face softened with understanding, and Teal'c seemed taken aback.
Jack stared at Carter, the total weight of her words sinking in. Oh, he knew about Jonas Hanson, knew what she had gone through with him—how he had manipulated and controlled her until she had finally been forced to confront the reality of who he was. The thought that Montague might share even a fraction of those traits made Jack's blood run cold.
"Carter," Jack said quietly, his voice now laced with concern rather than curiosity. "Are you saying he's...dangerous?"
Sam hesitated, her mind racing as she tried to find the right words.
"I'm saying that he has the same...skill set. The ability to manipulate, get inside people's heads, and blend in until you don't even realize he's there is too late. I can't prove anything yet, but my instincts tell me there's something off about him. And if he's anything like Jonas, he could be dangerous. Yes."
Jack nodded slowly, the pieces beginning to fall into place in his mind. He had seen the toll Jonas Hanson had taken on Carter and had watched her rebuild herself after that ordeal. The idea that someone like Montague might be lurking within the SGC, using those same tactics, made Jack's protective instincts flare up. He wouldn't let anything like that happen to Carter again—not on his watch.
"We'll dig into this," Jack said firmly, his tone leaving no room for doubt. "And Carter...you're not alone in this. We'll figure it out together."
Sam nodded, feeling a small measure of relief at Jack's words.
"Yeah, Sam. We've got your back as always," Daniel added with a reassuring smile.
Although she had never met Hanson, Vala had heard enough about him to recognize the distress etched into Sam's expression despite her best efforts to conceal it. Leaning closer, she offered a sly smile.
"Just say the word, darling, and I'll have a very private chat with Major Montague. Teal'c and I will make sure he never troubles anyone again… ever," she said slowly, her eyes glinting mischievously as they flicked to Teal'c.
Teal'c inclined his head in silent agreement, his expression unyielding.
Sam cleared her throat, trying to suppress a smile.
"I…I appreciate the offer, but there's no need. We need him alive for questioning, and so far, I have no concrete evidence of any wrongdoing," she replied, glancing between Vala and Teal'c.
But the unease and the shadow of her past loomed over the present. She had faced down her demons before, and she would do it again if she had to. But as she looked around the table at her teammates, she realized she didn't have to do it alone. They were in this together, and whatever secrets Major Montague was hiding, they would uncover them.
As the briefing continued, the team began discussing their next steps. The situation was complex—dealing with a potential mole within the SGC, a dangerous toxin, and the looming shadow of Major Marcus Montague. Jack listened intently, though his mind was partially elsewhere, trying to reconcile the unease he felt after Carter's revelation. When the conversation reached a lull, he decided to speak up.
"All right, listen up," Jack said, his tone commanding but with a touch of the familiar warmth his former team knew well. "I've been authorized to stay here for three days. After that, I'm due back in D.C.. So, following Carter's lead, let's make the most of it."
There were nods of agreement around the table. The situation's urgency was palpable, and everyone knew they had to act quickly. They mapped out their immediate tasks—Teal'c and Daniel would delve deeper into Montague's background, combing through old mission reports and speaking discreetly with personnel who might have insight. Cameron would oversee security measures to ensure no information about the toxin or the investigation leaked. Vala, ever the wildcard, was tasked with using her unique talents to gather intel from more unconventional sources.
As the meeting adjourned, everyone gathered their files and prepared to leave the room. But as Sam rose from her seat, Jack gently caught her arm, his grip firm but not forceful.
"Carter," he said quietly, "hang back a minute."
Sam looked up at him, reading the concern in his eyes. She nodded, sinking back into her chair as the others filed out. Landry gave them both a knowing glance before leaving the room, shutting the door behind him.
Jack waited until they were alone before he spoke.
"Carter, look," he began, his voice low and earnest, "I didn't like what you said about this Montague. Maybe it isn't a good idea for you to stay here."
Sam shook her head immediately, her resolve clear in the set of her jaw.
"No, Sir. I won't be intimidated by him. I refuse to allow him that power over me. I... need to straighten some things out in my head, and I'll be able to deal with him like I..." Her voice faltered as she struggled to finish the sentence.
Jack's gaze softened, and he gave her a pointed look, his voice tinged with gentle concern.
"Like you dealt with Hanson, Carter? That almost ended very badly, remember?"
The words hit her like a punch to the gut. Sam swallowed hard, the memory of Jonas Hanson flaring to life in her mind, raw and painful. She didn't need Jack to remind her of how disastrously that situation had unfolded—how close she had come to losing herself and how narrowly she had escaped, how Jack had escaped.
But she wasn't that young, naive Captain anymore. She had grown, hardened in some ways, and learned from her past mistakes.
"A lot has happened since those days, Sir," she replied, determination steeling her voice. "I'm not that Captain anymore."
Jack nodded, acknowledging the truth of her words.
"You aren't," he agreed. "I know you can handle yourself, Carter. But it's okay to accept help. If you don't want mine, at least accept SG-1's help."
There was a quiet plea in his words, a vulnerability that Sam rarely saw in him. It wasn't just about the mission—this was personal for Jack, and she could see the pain in his eyes as he offered his support, knowing she might push him away.
Sam steeled herself, trying to keep her emotions in check.
"Please don't mix things, Sir. This isn't the place or the time for that. I'm here to find the mole and deal with the toxin. Everything else takes a back seat."
Jack's face tightened at her words, and he shoved his hands into his pockets, a defensive gesture she knew all too well.
"Fine, Colonel," he said, his voice suddenly more formal, the warmth draining away. "Do as you please, and I'll do the same. Like you said in my kitchen, let's keep it business. As such, the President is expecting you to report. Don't forget that."
With that, he turned and left the briefing room, leaving Sam alone, her emotions swirling in a chaotic storm. She had pushed him away and kept the conversation strictly professional, just as she had to. But it didn't make the sting of his departure any easier to bear.
She sat there for a few moments longer, trying to collect herself. The duty she had sworn to uphold was clear, and it demanded her full attention. Her feelings and her complicated history with Jack would have to wait. Again. There was too much at stake right now.
Taking a deep breath, Sam gathered her things and stood up, her focus narrowing back to the mission at hand. She didn't notice how her hands trembled slightly as she packed up her files, nor did she see the shadowy figure lurking in the corner of the corridor as she left the briefing room.
Major Marcus Montague stood silently, watching her pass by. His blue eyes were cold, calculating as he observed her retreating form. He had also seen General Jack O'Neill leave moments earlier, his expression tense, his stride purposeful. Montague's lips curled into a faint, almost imperceptible smile as he continued to watch Samantha Carter disappear down the hallway. He was paying close attention to whatever was unfolding within the SGC, and that thought alone should have been enough to send a shiver down anyone's spine.
Sam, however, was too lost in her thoughts to notice. She walked briskly back to her lab, her mind a whirlwind of strategies and emotions, unaware of the watchful eyes tracking her every move.
She had a report to deliver to the President, and her mind was already shaping a concise summary of her findings. She needed to convey to Hayes that, while her investigation had yet to yield substantial results, there was undeniably something amiss at the SGC. Despite the limited progress, she was determined to uncover the truth and resolve the situation.
In addition to reporting to the President, she knew she needed to call Dr. Torremolinos to inquire about Jack's condition quickly. He had shown up at the SGC without regard for his health, and someone had to keep an eye on him since he clearly wouldn't do it himself.
As Jack entered the VIP room to change out of his dress blues and into his beloved BDUs, his mind kept replaying the events from the briefing room. What he had seen and heard circled in his head, refusing to settle. Carter had encountered another weirdo like Jonas Hanson. The thought alone made his jaw tighten. Hanson had been a nightmare, a dangerous man with a God complex, and now there was this Montague character who might be cut from the same twisted cloth.
Jack knew he had to tread carefully in this situation. Things had gone badly with Hanson and his delusions of grandeur. Hanson was nothing more than a power-hungry, controlling, and ruthless man—a true psychopath. And now, if this Montague guy was anything like Hanson, there was no way Jack would let Carter deal with him alone.
Even if she insisted she could handle it, Jack wasn't convinced. He knew she was more than capable, but that didn't mean he wanted her to face off against someone potentially as dangerous as Montague on her own. Especially not if Montague was the mole they were searching for, a man who might have already sold himself to some rogue intelligence agency, putting Earth's security at risk. That kind of betrayal wasn't something you took lightly, and it wasn't something you handled solo.
His resolve solidified as Jack pulled the comfortable, well-worn BDU jacket over his shoulders. He wasn't about to let Carter shoulder this burden alone, no matter how much she insisted she could. She might think she was okay, that she could separate the past from the present, but Jack knew better. The scars from Hanson's betrayal were still there, and he wouldn't let her face that kind of threat again without backup.
Jack paused momentarily, staring at his reflection in the mirror as he adjusted his collar. The man looking back at him had seen much over the years—more than most could ever imagine. He'd fought aliens, seen worlds destroyed, and lost people he cared about. But nothing had ever entirely prepared him for the quiet terror of watching someone you care about suffer at the hands of a manipulative bastard like Jonas Hanson. And now, it looked like history might be trying to repeat itself.
Not on his watch.
If Montague was anything like Hanson, Jack needed to size him up. And he wasn't going to do that from the shadows. He needed to get close, to observe Montague in a more relaxed setting, where the man might let his guard down. Jack had always believed that you learned much about people when they thought no one was watching.
And the best place to do that?
The SGC cafeteria. It was dinner time, and the cafeteria was the perfect place to blend in and observe without drawing too much attention. Montague wouldn't expect anything out of the ordinary there, and Jack could get a read on the guy and see if there were any tells—any signs of the same darkness that had lived in Hanson.
As Jack finished lacing up his boots, his mind was already on the next steps. He would head to the cafeteria, grab a tray, and keep an eye out for Montague. He didn't need to engage immediately—just being in the same space and watching how Montague interacted with others could tell him a lot. And if there were anything off that hinted at the same kind of manipulation and control that Hanson had wielded, Jack would pick up on it.
He wasn't just doing this for the mission. He was doing it for Carter. She might think she could handle this alone, but Jack wouldn't let her walk that road alone. Not this time. Not ever.
With a final glance at the mirror, Jack left the VIP room and headed towards the cafeteria. It was time to see what Major Marcus Montague was made of.
The SGC cafeteria was bustling with activity, and the clatter of trays and the hum of conversations created a familiar backdrop. Jack went to the usual SG-1 table, his eyes casually scanning the room. He appeared calm and relaxed, but everyone at the table knew better. They knew exactly what he was doing—his sharp gaze discreetly assessing the room, searching for Major Marcus Montague.
As Jack approached, Sam couldn't help but feel a knot tighten in her stomach. Her leg bounced nervously under the table, subconsciously reacting to the tension she was trying to suppress. Sitting beside her, Vala noticed the movement and quietly placed a hand over Sam's knee to still it.
"Relax, darling, or you'll pull a nerve," Vala whispered with a slight smirk, her voice low and teasing.
Sam blushed, embarrassed that her anxiety was so obvious. She gave Vala a grateful nod, then forced herself to focus on the plate before her, though the food suddenly seemed unappetizing. She pushed the mashed potatoes around with her fork, her mind far away. The little appetite she had vanished entirely the moment Jack sat down. She knew he would come and wouldn't let this go; as usual, he didn't disappoint.
Sam had already spotted Montague the moment she entered the cafeteria. He was sitting in the far corner with his teammates from SG-13. Their eyes had briefly met when she was at the register paying for her meal, and that fleeting connection sent a chill down her spine. Montague had quickly looked away, but not before she caught the subtle tension in his gaze. Now, even as she pretended to eat, she could feel his presence like a weight in the room.
As Jack settled into his seat with his tray, Daniel tried to break the tension with a casual question.
"So, Jack, which is better?" he asked, nodding towards the food on Jack's tray.
Jack looked at him, momentarily confused. "What?"
Daniel pointed with his fork to the unappetizing food in front of them.
"Ours or the Pentagon's?"
Jack let out a short laugh, his eyes flicking briefly in Montague's direction before returning to Daniel.
"They're equally bad," he quipped, stabbing at his meatloaf and taking another bite.
Cameron chuckled, shaking his head.
"Figures," he said. "I've heard the Pentagon has gourmet chefs for the brass, but I guess even them can't make mystery meat taste good."
As the conversation continued, Jack kept his outward demeanor light and easy, but his attention was divided. He had already spotted Marcus Montague sitting at the far end of the cafeteria, eating slowly, his eyes focused on his plate. Despite being surrounded by his teammates, Montague wasn't engaging with anyone. The rest of the table was filled with playful conversation, laughter, and joking, but Montague remained detached and isolated in his world. That behavior wasn't unusual for someone deep in thought, but it was a red flag for Jack, especially considering the situation.
Jack's instincts were on high alert. He observed Montague's posture, how he held his fork, and the lack of eye contact with anyone around him. It was like watching a man wearing a mask, trying to blend in but not succeeding. Jack couldn't shake the feeling that Montague was aware of the scrutiny, that he knew Jack was watching him, and that he was trying to stay under the radar.
Meanwhile, Sam's discomfort was palpable. She tried to focus on the conversation at their table, but her eyes were on Jack and, more precisely, on what he was really doing there. Whom he was watching, Jack could see it—her nervousness. It wasn't just about the mission anymore. Old wounds were resurfacing, and Jack hated seeing her like this.
As the minutes ticked by, Jack made a decision. He wasn't going to let this situation drag on without intervening. Montague might be a mole or a guy with issues—but either way, Jack needed to get close enough to figure it out. And he wasn't going to let Carter deal with him alone.
"So, what's the plan for tomorrow?" Jack asked, steering the conversation away from the food and towards something more tactical yet light enough not to raise suspicions.
As the team started discussing their tasks for the next day, Jack's mind continued to work, mapping out his next move. He would pay a visit to Montague—one way or another.
Across the room, Montague finally lifted his head, his eyes scanning the cafeteria. For a brief moment, his gaze locked onto Jack's, and though his expression remained neutral, Jack could sense the tension in the air. Montague quickly looked away, resuming his silent meal, but Jack knew their little game of cat and mouse had just begun.
As the conversation at the table continued, Jack casually scanned the room again, his mind already working on the next steps.
Jack wasn't one to let things fester. The situation with Montague was like a splinter under his skin—irritating, persistent, and not something he could ignore. He'd spent the night turning it over in his mind, and now, as he walked through the dimly lit corridors of the SGC, his decision was made. He needed to confront Montague directly before the unease escalated, and he had to return to D.C.
As Jack had hoped, Montague was heading out of the gym when Jack saw him alone. Jack quickened his pace, intercepting him halfway down the corridor. The look on Montague's face was carefully neutral, but there was a flicker of recognition in his blue eyes as Jack stepped before him.
"Major Montague," Jack said, his voice even but carrying an edge that couldn't be missed.
"General O'Neill," Montague replied with a nod, his tone respectful but guarded.
Jack didn't waste time.
"We need to talk."
Montague's brow furrowed slightly, but he nodded.
"Of course, Sir. About what?"
"About why you're really here," Jack said, his eyes narrowing slightly. "And don't give me the textbook answers you gave Colonel Carter. I want the truth."
Montague stiffened, but his expression didn't change.
"I'm not sure what you're implying, General."
"I'm not implying anything, Major," Jack said, stepping closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "I'm telling you. So, let's skip the dance and get to the point. What's your angle?"
For a moment, there was silence between them. Montague held Jack's gaze, his eyes calm, calculating.
"My angle, General?" he echoed, his voice almost too calm. "I'm here to do my job. Nothing more."
"See, that's the problem," Jack said, his tone growing sharper. "You've been around the SGC long enough to know how things work here. But you're not acting like someone just here to do a job. You're too... detached. Too disconnected. And when someone like you keeps to the shadows, it raises red flags."
Montague's lips thinned, and he took a small step back, creating more distance between them.
"With all due respect, General, I don't think you're seeing the full picture."
"Then show it to me," Jack demanded, his patience thinning. "Because right now, I see a guy hiding or planning something. And if there's one thing I can't stand, it's being kept in the dark."
Montague stared at him, his body very still, his emotion in check. Finally, he spoke, his voice measured.
"I know there is an investigation related to a mission I participated in. So I understand why you'd be suspicious. But I'm not the enemy here."
"Then prove it," Jack countered. "Tell me what you know about the toxin, why the rest of your old team is gone, and why you're still here."
Montague's gaze flickered, a brief moment of uncertainty flashing in his eyes. He opened his mouth as if to respond but closed it again as if reconsidering his words. When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter, almost reflective.
"There are things in this job that you can't always explain. Sometimes, you're left with decisions that others won't understand. But I assure you, everything I've done has been for the good of this program."
"That's not good enough," Jack said flatly. "Not for me, and certainly not for Carter. You're out of your mind if you expect us to trust you blindly."
Montague's jaw tightened, and he straightened his posture.
"I'm not asking for blind trust, General. I'm just asking for the benefit of the doubt."
Jack stared at him for a long moment, weighing his options. Montague was slippery, no doubt about it. But something in his tone made Jack pause. Maybe Montague wasn't the villain here, but Jack wasn't ready to let him off the hook.
"Here's the deal, Montague," Jack said, his voice cold. "You stay under my radar and don't make a move without me knowing about it. One wrong step, and I'll be all over you like white on rice. Are we clear?"
Montague nodded, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly.
"Crystal clear, Sir."
"Good," Jack said, turning away. "Now, get back to work. And remember, I'm watching."
As Jack walked away, he could feel Montague's eyes on his back, but he didn't look back. This wasn't over—not by a long shot. But for now, the confrontation was enough to put Montague on notice. Jack would keep digging and get the answers he needed when the time was right. But until then, he'd keep a close watch on the Major—and make damn sure that Carter stayed out of his crosshairs.