Jack and Ida were
escorted into the Oval Office by the Secret Service. The room looked
familiar to Jack, not because he'd spent a lot of time there, but
because it was so often the backdrop for news headliners and
photo-ops.
He flashed back to
pictures that showed a toddling John Junior playing with his Dad,
President Kennedy. Jack had been a youngster then too, full of himself
and the dreams of what he would do - now, he was much older and jaded -
with the weight of the world quite literally on his shoulders.
He tensed at the thought
of microphones and flashing cameras thrust into his face and was
relieved when he didn't see anyone except President Hayes and George
Hammond waiting for them.
Come to think of it,
though - the press were the last people who'd be invited to this little
soiree. No photo ops here - the things they were about to talk about
wouldn't see the light of day for some time - if ever.
It was just as well; he
wasn't in the mood to make nice for the cameras. On their way to the
White House, he'd only been allowed enough time to grab his Class A's.
So no, the press would not be a good idea at this high-level
meet-and-greet. If he were lucky, he'd keep his cool and not unload a
truckload of pent-up whoop-ass on his Commander in Chief.
As for his private life,
after he'd been medically cleared by the new Doc in the SGC Infirmary
he'd visited with Sam - briefly, very briefly. That in no way made up
for the fact that the plans they'd made had been ruined - or that Cassie
and Sam had been worried sick when he'd dropped out of sight so
suddenly.
Come to think of it,
maybe he'd luck out after all, because if he did just happen to lose it
- right there in the Oval Office in front of witnesses - he might get
canned or even forced into early retirement. Now, wouldn't that just
break his heart - NOT!
Jack paused a moment to
take in the view - out of habit, his brown eyes cataloged every detail.
He'd been in this office before, back when he'd accepted the position of
Chief of Home World Security and old habits died hard - especially if
they'd saved his ass in the past.
No lush gardens showed
through the bay windows behind the famous desk that dominated the room
because it was dark outside. The only thing seen through those windows
was the back of the agent on the porch - a guard against any
interruptions.
As they entered the room,
Hayes smiled in greeting and stood, as did Hammond. Jack and Ida
saluted, their bodies held at attention. Even with her left arm in a
sling, the sight of Ida's salute in her civilian clothes did not seem
out of place, her conduct merely confirmed her service to her
country.
"Mister President," said Jack and Ida as one voice.
Hayes returned the
salute. Only then did Jack and Ida's hands drop back to their sides.
"Jack, Ida, please have a
seat," Hayes waved them to the unoccupied color-coordinated couch lined
with comfy pillows that were embroidered with the Presidential Seal.
"I suppose you're
wondering why I brought you here," said Hayes as he took his seat in the
chair facing them.
Jack sat ramrod straight
on the soft couch and resisted the soft pillows that urged him to relax.
He said nothing, and quirked an eyebrow upward as he'd already decided
to let Hayes show his cards before he spoke. It wasn't that he didn't
have plenty to say, but it could wait - until later. While it was true
that he was upset - to put it mildly - it would do him no good if he
flew off the handle prematurely.
One thing he'd learned
from his time in special ops and dealing with aliens - never let them
get inside your head to the point where your anger prevented you from
thinking clearly. Angry men made fatal mistakes and he wasn't about to
treat the man that sat in front of him as anything but his adversary.
Just because they were on the same side didn't mean he could - or should
- trust him.
When Hayes exchanged a
glance with Hammond, Jack smirked and mentally chalked up a point for
his side. He noted that Ida, too, was silent; that made two points for
his side.
He watched as Hammond smiled as if at a private joke.
Hayes shrugged and then
spoke. "You aren't going to make this any easier for me, are you,
Jack?"
He decided to throw him a
bone - a small one. He looked him square in the eye, his brown eyes
bored into the eyes of the man that spoke to him. "Mister President?"
Hayes sighed and wiped
his hands on his pants. "The reason I asked both of you here tonight was
to apologize for the inconvenience you've been through this past
week."
Hayes extended his hands
and smiled; the one Jack knew he used to disarm his opponents and win
them over. It worked too - on politicians - he was no politician.
"Inconvenience?" Jack's
words came out soft with a hint of outraged disbelief.
"Maybe that wasn't the
right word . . ." temporized the President.
"Ya think?"
Then Hayes shrugged and
straightened in his chair, like a man who had nothing to lose. "Why
don't you tell me about it, Jack?"
Jack compressed his lips
and chanced a look at Hammond, his former CO, who nodded.
"By your order I was
drugged and shanghaied from my office in the Pentagon. When I woke up I
didn't know where the hell I was. I was treated like a prisoner with no
say-so in where I lived or where I could go. My friends were worried
sick when they couldn't contact me." His voice started out soft, but
gained in volume as he continued. "Mister President, the last time I
checked, this was a country where such things were against the law. So
yes, you could say I was inconvenienced." With two fingers, he hooked
quotes around the last word.
Jack watched in disbelief
as Hayes turned to George who was wearing a smirk. "You were right; it's
about a ten or eleven."
"Am I missing something?"
Jack huffed, his face twisted with irony. "Because you seem to think
this is all one big joke."
He stood, too angry to
sit any longer. His hands were fisted at his sides as he shook with
suppressed rage. "And if it is. . .," he shook his head and turned away
from them, too angry to speak. "I think I'd better leave now."
His jaw was clenched so hard it hurt, and he ground his teeth.
"No, I want to hear what you have to say," Hayes said.
Jack turned to face him,
still shaking with rage. "No, Mister President," he spat and made the
title sound like an obscenity, "I don't think you do."
"Why not? Do you really
think being called a son of a bitch will hurt my feelings? I've been
called a lot worse," he paused. "Let's face it, you're pissed off at me,
and have every right to be. I was pretty high-handed where you were
concerned."
"Ya think?" Jack gaped,
"How would you like it if you were shot by your own people? Huh?"
"I wouldn't like it."
"Then can the pretty
speeches and let me and Ida go home. Quiet frankly, I've had it up to
here," his hand measured forehead-high, "with pretty speeches and all I
want to do is sleep in my own bed for a change."
Hayes and George exchanged glances before his former CO spoke. "This
is your show, Mister President."
Hayes sighed. "Yes, it
is, and thanks for reminding me, George." Then he turned to O'Neill and
raised his hands. "It seems we got off on the wrong foot for a minute
there." When Jack opened his mouth to speak, Henry waved him down. "Now,
wait a minute, hear me out."
Jack's mouth snapped shut and he shrugged. "You're the boss."
"That I am," Hayes
admitted. "I'll admit you have plenty to be mad about, and I want you to
believe me when I tell you that the decision to have you placed in
protective custody was not an easy one to make. As I'm sure George
already told you, Thor himself initiated the whole process when he
beamed down to tell me that Baal was in the area and looking for
you."
"I'll bet the Secret
Service loved that visit. They didn't hurt him, did they?"
The thought of the havoc
that Thor must've caused when he'd beamed down to talk to the President
brought a grin to his face. Now that he would've loved to see. Thoughts
of his Asgard friend calmed him and he sat down, his arms propped on his
knees.
"No, I called them off."
"So, how is my little gray buddy?"
"Worried about you, Jack."
"Yeah, well, he worries too much if you ask me - which you didn't."
"You're right, we didn't.
But put yourself in my shoes. What would you have done if you were told
by a reliable source that - say Colonel Samantha Carter - was being
targeted by an enemy?"
Jack's lips thinned as he
shook his head. "That's different; Carter is one of our world's greatest
treasures. Me? I'm just a flyboy who got lucky a few times."
"That's where you're
wrong, Jack. Between your abilities with the Ancient hardware and your
invaluable experience, you're a person we can't afford to lose. Heck,
Baal knows it too. Why else do you suppose he was so eager to get his
mitts on you?"
Jack's hands sat
white-knuckled on his knees as he listened to his Commander in Chief.
The atmosphere was charged with tension and he knew Hayes hadn't picked
this particular room for their meeting by accident.
The Oval Office was the
symbol of the authority of The President - his Commander - Head of his
country's armed forces, 'The Buck Stops Here' Guy.
He'd been surprised to
see George there, and for a moment, he'd wondered if he had nothing to
fear - that things would work out okay. But now . . .?
The meeting wasn't going
well for him, and he could already see the writing on the wall. They
were making a heck of a case for themselves. By the time they finished
with him tonight, he'd be locked away for the foreseeable future.
"Baal and I have . . . history; he wants a re-match, that's all."
"Cut the bull, Jack. It's
more than that and you know it," Hammond said with an edge to his voice.
"Baal knows your importance and what's more, he's still around."
O'Neill leaned forward,
his eyes dangerous. "So, now what? Are you gonna lock me up for the rest
of my life and throw away the key?"
"I could," Hayes acknowledged.
"Well, that won't work,
because in case you hadn't figured it out yet, with the Asgard
transporter technology, there is no place on earth - or anywhere else
for that matter - that he can't get to me. Last week's fiasco proved my
point. And now Baal and his clowns just doubled and tripled the fun."
"What do you suggest?"
Hayes shot back, his voice deceptively mild.
Jack tensed, suspecting a trap, and then decided what the hell, what
did he have to lose at this point?
"Let me do my job, Mister
President," Jack ground out between clenched teeth.
"You yourself admit that
you're a target, Jack. How can we protect you if you're out in the open?
You'd be a sitting duck," Hayes retorted.
"I can take care of
myself." Jack lifted his chin, his eyes blazing.
His inner voice urged
caution, no need to let 'the man' get you excited. Think this out, Jack,
he thought.
The President paused
before he spoke again. "No, it's too risky. If he caught you, he'd have
access to everything that you know."
"Your only other option
is to lock me up, Mister President and I'm warning you now, I won't go
willingly."
"I could make it an order, Jack."
"Orders are made to be
broken, and to put it quite frankly, what would you do if I said no?
Bend my dog-tags? Make me retire?" Jack smirked. "Oh, please, Mister
Fox, don't throw me in the briar patch; anything but that," he
sing-songed.
"He's got you there,
Mister President," Ida grinned. Jack smiled at her. It was good to know
that she had his back.
Hayes turned his
attention to Ida. "You know him . . . and what's at stake here. What's
your take on this, Ida?"
"Oh, no, don't ask me.
I'm just the loyal secretary. I know nothing, I see nothing," she
mimicked.
George glared at Ida and
Jack knew she was about to get a lecture. He'd been on the receiving end
of that look often enough to know.
"That's one thing you're
not and you know it, Ida. You're a brilliant tactician in your own
right, I've seen your record and you're no 'just' anything."
She licked her lips as if
in thought, "I think you're all too closely involved to see the problem
for what it really is." Ida paused. "Let's break this down - what does
Baal want from General O'Neill - I mean, besides revenge?"
"His knowledge?" Hayes tapped the side of his head.
Ida shook her head. "I
don't think so, it just doesn't make sense. If that's all Baal wanted,
he's wasting his time; he knows from experience that the general won't
talk. He didn't before."
"How . . .?" Jack's mouth
hung open and then he closed it with an audible snap.
"I can read, and I did my
research." Ida glared at the men assembled in front of her. "I wanted to
know what kind of boss I was getting."
Jack looked surprised but
George just nodded as if she'd confirmed what he already suspected.
"I'll put it simply. What
does the general have that no one else does?" Ida asked.
"The Ancient gene?" Hayes
answered. "But what good would that do him? Even if he had Jack, he
couldn't force him to do what he wanted."
Jack was silent and
watched her - Ida's deductive skills were top-notch - though, he didn't
like where this was headed.
"Does Baal have the
technology to extract this gene and implant it in someone else?"
They all stared at Ida,
dumfounded. Jack's eyes widened and he fell silent. Ida was right, the
truth had been right in front of them and they - no he - hadn't seen it.
Crap, this was so not a good thing.
"Oh, my god," breathed Hammond. "She's right."
"Baal with the Ancient
gene? Can he do that?" Jack swallowed so hard it seemed to echo around
the room.
Hammond shrugged. "We
don't know, but just because our experiments in that area hit a dead
end, doesn't mean that his won't. I doubt very much that his people will
follow the guidelines that ours did."
Jack stood, his face
twisted in horror as he shook his head in vehement denial. His mind
screamed as he envisioned the ramifications of what Ida had just
said.
"That's it, get it out of
me. I never wanted it in the first place, so just get it the hell out of
me - now!"
"That won't work, Jack.
Even if we could - which we can't - can we?" Hayes looked at Hammond and
Jack for confirmation. The Texan shook his head.
Jack scrubbed his fingers
through his hair, which left tufts stood at attention. He took a deep
breath to calm himself and chanted his mantra - never let them piss you
off, Jack.
Like his life depended on
it, he forced himself to sit and forced his attention on Ida, the woman
who seemed to have all the answers tonight. Come to think of it, his
life probably did depend on it. Crap, this was not going well - not well
at all.
Ida continued. "What I'm
trying to say, is that Baal knows Jack has the Ancient gene and will
stop at nothing to get it. Am I right?"
"He endangered his whole
organization on this planet to get it. No way is he going to stop now,"
Hammond confirmed.
Calmer now, Jack searched
for the loophole in her reasoning that had to be there and brightened
when he found it. "But, what good would it do for Baal to have the gene?
Don't the Ancient devices have some kind of built-in failsafe thingy
that keeps the Goa'uld from activating them? The first Ancient library
we found wouldn't activate for Teal'c." Another thought occurred to him.
"And we also know that Thor put some kind of marker in my DNA so Loki
couldn't clone me - successfully that is."
Ida shrugged, "If Baal
was able to insert the Ancient DNA into someone he controlled, a device
could be activated. And he might not care how long the clone lived. Baal
doesn't strike me as the type who would worry about things like
that."
Jack snorted, "You could say that again."
"I figured as much."
The talk about Thor gave
him an idea. "What about Thor? He messed with my DNA before; maybe he
could extract this gene thingy? Get it out of me once and for all."
"No, Jack. I don't think
he can." Hammond shook his head but looked apologetic.
"Or won't?" Jack was
angry again and took a deep breath, and pinched the bridge of his nose.
He was getting a headache.
"Regardless, you have the
Ancient gene, whether you like it or not." Hammond wouldn't let up -
damn the man.
"Well, I sure as hell don't like it."
"I don't blame you, Jack.
But think about it, even if we could somehow remove the gene, Baal
wouldn't believe it for a second. No, he wants you - or rather the
Ancient gene - and will stop at nothing to get it."
"Crap." Jack scrubbed his
face with both hands as his headache spiked.
"That's one way to put it," Hayes grunted.
"It still leaves me with
a huge honkin' bulls-eye on my ass," Jack said, "And no way to stop him
from getting at me if he really wants to."
Everyone looked worried,
and that wasn't good - so much for retirement and having a life.
"I don't suppose the
Slime-Baal would settle for a cheek swab to get a DNA sample?" Jack
looked hopeful but no one seemed ready to take him up on it. "No, I
didn't think so, but it doesn't hurt to ask."
"Correct me if I'm wrong,
but we're left with only one viable option," Hayes said.
"And that is?" Jack's eyebrows rose to his silvery hairline.
"Like Jack said, let him
do his job. And in the meantime implant him with a miniaturized tracking
device that will allow us to keep track of him. If and when Baal grabs
Jack, we move in and eliminate the threat, once and for all."
Jack pinched the bridge
of his nose. "Yeah, that's a plan. A sucky one if you ask me."
"Can you think of a better one?" Hammond challenged. "We're asking
for your input this time."
Jack shook his head and
buried his face in his hands as old memories threatened to engulf him.
He could almost feel the rough brown cloth rasp against his skin and
smell the smoke as it wafted from the acid-burned hole in his chest. His
heart lurched as he remembered what it had felt like to die - over and
over again.
Bile rose in his throat
and he swallowed convulsively to keep it from spewing out of his mouth
and onto the expensive rug under his feet. His hand wiped at the sweat
that suddenly beaded his forehead.
No, he wouldn't -
couldn't go there. He'd be prepared this time and he'd kick some serious
snake butt. Plus he'd have backup that knew where he was at all times
and could be depended on to pull his ass out of the fire.
He sighed and stared at
the rug under his feet - anywhere but at the faces of the people with
him in this room. He knew what he'd see in their eyes - pity - and he
couldn't stand that. As hard as he tried, he couldn't see any way out of
what they proposed. He'd have to go through with it.
"I want to ask a huge favor," he murmured.
He was surprised how soft
the words were once they were out of his mouth and harbored a hope that
no one had heard them. The plea sounded heart-wrenching - even to
him.
"What is it, Jack? You
know if it's possible . . ." Hayes seemed serious. Maybe the shrub -
Hayes - realized what this meant - what they were asking him to do.
Jack wet his lips and
leveled his gaze at Hayes. "If for some reason . . ." he stopped and
swallowed his mouth suddenly devoid of all moisture. "When Baal is doing
his thing and if for some reason you can't get me out of there. . ." He
paused as his voice cracked. "Listen, he's had me by the short hairs
before, and believe me when I say this, it was no picnic."
"We'll do everything
possible to get you out of there, Jack. You have my word on that."
"I know you will, Mister
President," he laughed nervously and wiped his hands on his pants.
No one said anything so
Jack continued, serious once again. "As I was saying, make sure he
doesn't get away this time, sir because you can bet the real Baal will
be there; I doubt he would trust something like this to one of his
clones. In his place I know I wouldn't." Jack's eyes grew hard as flint.
"Do whatever you have to do to get that bastard."
"Whatever we have to do .
. . I understand, Jack - and I will, I promise."
"Thank you, sir."
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