Baal on the Rebound by dinkydow

Chapter Four

Baal turned from the surveillance view screen. The Tau'ri Carter had just left the building, seemingly none the wiser for her impertinent questions to the blonde woman that stood beside him. He favored her with a smile and she returned it. Her smile held a hint of pleasures to come.

"The Tau'ri did not suspect?"

"She does not. Your masking drug conceals my true nature to all, even those with the ability to sense it," she replied.

"Excellent. Our plan will continue on its course, my love."

Her fingertips traced the outline of his jaw. "Yes, it will."

His eyes strayed around the room, emptied of all others. Together, they'd determined that her true nature should be concealed from all until her safety was ensured, for she was too valuable to be risked. The blonde Tau'ri, Charlotte Mayfield, - formerly of The Trust - was the host to his queen, Anat, and was the method by which his seed would cause the downfall of the Tau'ri home world.

Her host had been the ideal choice for Anat - its own yen for the darker pleasures and power no matter the cost melded together to form the perfect fit for his plans for this planet, which had spawned the irksome Tau'ri. His queen's need had been great as her previous host's body had been mortally injured beyond the ability of her own power to heal it - even beyond the rejuvenating power of the sarcophagus.

For too long his fellow System Lords had scoffed at this race's puny efforts to thwart their god's will - and had paid for their scorn when those they scorned - one by one, killed them. He had learned from his former rival's mistakes and resolved not to repeat them. He'd played the game of seeming servitude to Anubis - and bided his time until his former Master was gone.

The Trust had played right into his hands, had provided the vehicle for their downfall as well as that of their world. When he'd uncovered their plot to subjugate his worlds, it had been a simple matter to turn their strategy to his own advantage by manipulating which symbiotes were chosen as guinea pigs for their laboratory tests. The Trust, along with its vast network of spies and the skills and knowledge they possessed, was his for the taking - and take them he had with all the customary elegant deadliness that was his trademark.

It was time to set the rest of his plan in motion. "What news of the Tau'ri O'Neill from our spy at Stargate Command?"

"You must be patient, O'Neill will be delivered into your hands," she reassured him. "Our spy reports the Tau'ri Carter has made inquiries to many of her friends about his whereabouts. When he contacts her, we shall know of it. The Tau'ri Hammond was seen leaving their White House and our spies at the Pentagon report O'Neill's office is being moved. Have no fear, my love; they will lead us to him whom you seek."

"Then he will pay for his impudence and I will kill him - ONE - LAST - TIME - as I promised before," he smiled grimly and returned her caress with interest.

***

Ida Grayson batted away the hands of the somber soldier when he reached for the schedule book. "Watch it, soldier. No one touches the general's schedule book without the proper clearance." She favored him with disdain. "And I don't think you have what's required."

He seemed to know when he was outmatched and backed down. "Is there anything else you'll need, ma'am?"

Ida eyed the cardboard boxes that had been packed under her supervision. "No, I don't think so." She tapped her chin in thought. "Did you get his personal pictures off his desk?"

"Yes, ma'am. They were wrapped up, just like you requested."

"Exactly where is his new office?"

"I'm not at liberty to say, ma'am." He gestured with his hand and then picked up a box. "If you'll follow me."

She wanted to tell him where to stick his orders, but refrained. After all, he was just following orders and she'd have done - had done - the same in his shoes. Ida would have to do the same for now. Later, she'd get some answers.

Although Ida had only been General O'Neill's secretary for a few months, she hadn't been all that surprised when she'd gotten the phone call from General Jumper. She'd come to realize that her boss, O'Neill, was a man of action, one of those people who seemed to gravitate toward trouble - and those who made it - a problem-solver. With this realization, came her resolution to guard him like a pit-bull, whether he liked it or not.

When he'd turned up missing that morning, she'd blamed herself for not being vigilant enough; after all, one of her unofficial duties was to keep an eye on the new Chief of Homeworld Security. She'd promised her former boss, General Hammond, that she'd keep him out of trouble and on track and failure was not an option in her book.

If O'Neill had been within arms reach when Jumper assured her that he was safe, Ida would've tried to strangle him for giving her such a scare. The rest of the day had seemed to drag on forever as she'd prepared for the move - and made decisions of what to take and what to leave behind as non-essential.

All the while, she wondered about her boss, and his reaction to 'protective custody'. From what she knew of him, she figured he would hate being protected and would do everything within his power to take matters into his own hands. Her job would be to ensure his plans weren't successful.

It'd been especially hard for her to hide her knowledge of her boss's whereabouts to his lady friend, Colonel Carter, but she'd had no choice. Orders were orders, and no matter how long she'd been retired from active duty, some habits never died. First Sergeant Ida Grayson, retired, took her job and orders seriously - after all, she'd gotten her rank in the Army by working hard for a living - not by going to college and becoming an officer. And she was damned proud of it.

She'd give Jumper an earful when next she spoke to him though. What could he do to her if she did? Bend her dog tags? Make her retire? Even the thought of it made her snort. She didn't think so.

It was her opinion that General O'Neill deserved some happiness and his relationship with Carter seemed to be a good match. The way O'Neill's eyes sparkled when he talked of her gave Ida a deep sense of satisfaction and heaven help whoever or whatever tried to break up that match.

As Ida walked down the familiar hallways of the Pentagon, she looked around her, aware that she might not see them for a while. After all, if her boss was in protective custody, she would soon join him there - for there was no other way she could do her job.

The halls had been cleared and all doors closed. Another covert operation and she was smack dab in the middle of it. Her lips curved into a grim smile as the adrenaline surged through her veins. It had been far too long since she'd felt that rush. It was good to be in the thick of the action again.

Her palm shaded her eyes as she stepped out one of the many side doors of the Pentagon. Surrounded by black uniformed SF's as she was, she barely had time to note the black SUV they directed her to before she was chivied into a back seat and her motorcade was on the road to her new office - wherever that might be.

Two hours later, her desk was setup and so was General O'Neill's. She moved one of his pictures to one side on his desktop. She knew from previous experience that it would get bumped by his coffee cup if it stayed where it was.

The picture itself showed O'Neill with three others - SG-1 presumably. They were dressed in olive drab field uniforms and looked happy. A large dark ring stood in the background - the Stargate - if her own intel was correct, and it usually was. O'Neill had a ball cap pulled low over his eyes and non-regulation sunglasses dangled from a string around his neck. Hair with just a hint of gray spilled from under the confines of the cap and his hand rested on the butt of his P-90 with a casualness that spoke volumes to her. He obviously knew how to use it.

She took a moment to study the others that stood with him. The blonde female looked competent in a brainy sort of way and had eyes only for her CO. That was Carter back when she was a Major, Ida decided.

The mini-mountain with the gold tattoo on his forehead was Teal'c. Despite his smile, he looked even more lethal than O'Neill. She wished she'd been able to worm more info from her boss about him, but when he'd caught her grilling him, O'Neill had smirked and told her not to bullshit a bullshitter - she knew she'd been caught then and had laid off. That hadn't stopped her though and she read all the mission reports that crossed her desk in an effort to know more about her boss and what he did for a living before their paths had crossed. O'Neill seemed to know what she was doing and just shook his head after that but left her alone to do her research.

That left the egghead, Dr. Jackson. She'd had the chance to meet his in passing when he'd visited her boss's office at the Pentagon. He'd seemed friendly enough and had reminded her of some of the wimp recruits she'd badgered through Basic Training - after they'd graduated, and escaped her clutches. Those same wimps had come to her, ignorant and helpless, but left competent soldiers, willing and able to follow orders and act as a team.

A voice interrupted her thoughts. "General O'Neill is waiting for you, ma'am."

She set the picture down and turned. "Good, at the rate he's going, he'll never empty that inbox of his." She picked up the schedule book and cradled it to her chest. "After you, Major."

She followed her guide dutifully through several halls lined with doors that were closed. His ID tag dangled from a chain around his neck and identified him as Major John Smith. Yeah right. She shook her head and wondered who'd been the fool who'd thought that name up? Obviously someone with no imagination, she smothered a smile and said nothing.

A door was finally opened and her guide gestured her inside. "The General is waiting for you, ma'am."

She gave him a curt nod. "Of course he is, son."

He closed the door after her and she looked around. She skirted the desk in the first room when the sound of a television broadcast drew her into the second one, a briefing room from the looks of it. General Hammond and O'Neill sat on chairs in front of the TV and were watching a program. From their expressions, it wasn't good news.

She drew closer and studied the face of the man speaking. He was dressed in an expensive suit, the kind that would cost her a year's salary - darkly handsome with a goatee and fairly oozed confidence. She figured him for a snake oil salesman from the get-go.

O'Neill turned and gestured for her to join them, so she drew up a chair and copped a squat at the briefing room table.

"Although it is a far cry from some of the better worlds I've conquered in my day, this planet is not without its charm. In retrospect, it makes me glad we never succeeded in destroying it."

Ida's eyes widened. "Is he . . .?"

Hammond nodded and whispered. "Yes, he's an alien - a Goa'uld to be specific."

She said nothing, only nodded and listened. She had much to learn about whatever he - or it - was - and what danger it presented to her charge, General Jack O'Neill.

The alien on the screen smiled and continued, "That said, Earth is not without its drawbacks. The foremost being an alarming lack of privacy. My ships have been seized, my armies vanquished. I no longer present a threat to this galaxy. All I ask is to be left alone without having to worry about you, the Jaffa, or any of my former enemies coming after me. So . . . I'd like to offer the following deal: Allow me to live out the rest of my days, here on Earth, in peace, without interference. In exchange for my, ah, freedom; I will follow your laws."

He paused, "You will never have cause to fear me again. I hope that we can put the past behind us."

"That'll be the day," O'Neill muttered.

Ida watched Hammond's reaction, he sat stoic with arms folded across his chest and it reminded her of a poker player who didn't want to give away his straight flush.

"I certainly have no desire to harm you or anyone else on this world. That said; you should know that I have placed a naquadah bomb, somewhere in the United States. Consider it a precautionary measure. If another attempt is made to capture me, I promise you the consequences will be most dire."

O'Neill's reaction was immediate. "Get Landry on the phone, pronto."

"Yes, sir," Ida answered as she turned and left the room.

Half an hour later, she was called into her boss' office. Both Hammond and O'Neill looked angry - and something else. Hammond looked a mixture of seriously pissed off and concerned. She stood speechless in the doorway, unwilling to interrupt such an intense discussion.

"So you see, Jack, the threat against you is very real."

"Then let me do my job, George."

Hammond sighed and leaned in close. "In all conscience, I can't do that - not with the history you have with that snake in the grass."

"You think I couldn't handle meeting up with ol' Bocce Ball? That I'll freeze - or go berserk? Is that it?" Jack's hands wind-milled in frustration.

"What do you think, Jack? Because if anyone knows how bad it was when he had you, you do." He paused. "What would you do?"

Jack's eyes burned dark and his face turned to stone, his voice low and hoarse, but all the more lethal for it. "I'd kick his snaky ass, that's what I'd do," he spat. "And dance on his grave afterwards - if there was enough left to bury, that is."

"It's not up to me, and you know it, Jack." He laid a hand on O'Neill's shoulder. "Let SG-1 do their job." He continued despite Jack's thinned lips. "Let them do the job you trained them for."

The phone rang, startling them all. Ida recovered first. "I'll get that, sir."

As she turned away, she noticed her boss hardly seemed to hear her, so deep was he in thought - or was he lost in memories? She'd seen that same look on soldiers who'd returned from the front lines - they called it the thousand-yard stare.

Unfortunately, she could all too readily identify with his current mood as she had a closet-full of evil memories of her own. Her hand automatically reached for the phone in the next room and was grateful for the distraction it offered.

"Hello, General O'Neill's office." She paused. "Oh yes, Colonel Carter. The General has been expecting your call. Let me put you on hold while I get him."

She punched a button and laid the phone down. Then she went to the door. "Sir, Colonel Carter is on the phone for you." Those words seemed to awaken O'Neill from wherever his dark thoughts had taken him.

"Carter? She called?" His face split into a shit-eating grin as he jumped to his feet and spoke to Hammond. "Sam's on the phone, sir."

"As promised, Jack." Hammond grinned and stood to leave. "Why don't I leave you to your phone call?" He flashed a grin. "We'll talk more later," he assured him as he closed the door behind him.

"I don't know about you, Ida, but I think Jack could use a little privacy."

"I couldn't agree with you more, sir," Ida replied with a smile.

"Then how's about we find someplace to get a cup of coffee? I'm buying."

"After you, sir. That way you can fill me in on what the heck is going on and ID that used car salesman in the fancy suit on the TV."

"I had the feeling you'd ask me that, and once again, you've lived up to all my expectations."

***

Jack settled into the chair and cradled the phone against his ear. "Sam?"

"Jack? It's really you?"

"Ya think?" He smirked.

He heard a gusty sigh. "Oh, thank God! I didn't know what to think when you didn't call."

"I know, hon, and I'm sorry. I got - all tied up - literally."

"What?" She paused. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah, I am now, but I'm afraid our weekend is off. I'm sorry, Sam, I know you were looking forward to it."

"But . . . where are you? Aren't you at work?"

"Yeah, but my office was - moved. To tell you the truth, I don't know where I am - thanks to the head guy upstairs."

"I - I mean - Cassie, she was so worried. We thought maybe you'd changed your mind - about us. Either that or my infamous 'Black Widow' rep had struck again." She laughed nervously.

"Cassie?" he gasped. "Oh crap, this must be putting that kid through hell." He paused to get his thoughts in order. "Tell her I'm okay - that I'd be there with her if I could right now. For that matter, I'd be with you both, for crying out loud."

"I'll tell her. It's just that she could tell I was worried when you didn't call - I didn't want to tell her, but she wormed it out of me." Sam sighed. "She's still not over Janet's death - she of all people knows exactly how dangerous our job can be."

"Just tell her that I'm safe, whether I want to be or not, - and there is no way in hell I'll change my mind about us," he grimaced and raked fingers through his hair and decided to change the subject to a safer one. "You saw the video?"

"Yes, I did. When I realized that Baal was here - oh, my god, Jack - he's here because of you, isn't he?"

"That's what the powers-that-be seem to think. I can't even wipe my ass right now without them watching. You'd think they didn't trust me not to go off on my own after that bastard."

A moment of silence, when Sam's voice returned, she sounded scared. "Would you? Because, right now, I'm scared for you." He heard the sound of nibbling and figured her cuticles were catching hell." Please, Jack. Don't put yourself in danger."

"I can take care of myself, Sam," he soothed. "You should know that by now. It's you I'm worried about - you and Daniel and Teal'c. You're targets out there while I'm here - wherever that is - sitting on my ass twiddling my thumbs."

"You trained us well. We'll get that slime ball."

Jack sighed, he suddenly felt old. When had that happened? "Yeah, you do that, Sam. Just be careful. He's slick."

He squeezed his eyes shut as a memory invaded his mind. "Believe me, I know."

Her voice turned soft and comforting. "I believe you, honey. I know you do."

A masculine voice sounded in the background.

"Is that the T man?"

"Yeah. Listen, I gotta go."

"I understand. I'll be here, waiting for your call." He sighed. "I love you, Sam. Never doubt that, okay?"

"I love you too, Jack. And - I'm sorry for doubting you," she whispered.

"I'll talk to you later - say hi to the gang for me."

"I will - bye, Jack." The phone clicked and nothing was left but a dial tone.

O'Neill hung up the phone and slumped in his seat. As he sat for a moment mulling over the recent events, he knew he had to do something. To sit there and do nothing would be a living death for him, for he was a man of action - trained to make split-second decisions that could mean life or death for millions.

His subsequent actions would affect the rest of his life - and those he loved - especially Sam. Much as it rankled, he would work within the constraints that had been placed on him, if it would make her happy. From his own experience, he knew she couldn't perform her job up to her usual standard if she was worried that he might go off half-cocked and do something reckless.

The whole upshot of the situation was this - as much as the idea of 'protective custody' stuck in his craw, he couldn't see a way out of it. But there was nothing wrong with adding a few of his own 'modifications'. There was more than one way to skin a cat and if you couldn't baffle them with brilliance . . .

He smirked, his Commander-in Chief, Hammond, as well as Baal, would never know what hit them.

Hadn't George said he had an office around here someplace? It was time he earned his keep - even if it meant flying a desk.

***

At the SGC deep within Cheyenne Mountain, an anonymous clerk made a phone call.

"I have the information you wanted."

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