Early Monday morning dressed in her uniform, Sam leaned against the doorway of her husband's home office and sipped at the coffee in the mug she held. They had a good hour before Jack's driver would arrive to chauffeur them to the Pentagon, but Jack had been hard at work since waking up, using every minute of the weekend tying up Gold and Mackay who had been further tied to their four close friends: Wilson, McAllister, Robertson, and Sharpe.
The traces for first Gold and Mackay and then their club friends had quickly established familial relationship with six former members of the Committee organization. Searching into all six had revealed various interesting social and political activities and financial transactions. It appeared those six pampered young men were attempting to follow in their fathers' footsteps by engaging in various shadowy antics.
Most evidence also pointed to the fact that they were only on the fringes of their fathers' former activities—otherwise why would they have engaged in the colossally stupid activity of attempting to blackmail the director of the world's most powerful and secret military department by using his wife?
Well, that was the consensus the analysts had come up with and would stand until evidence supporting or disproving the theory was found. Evidence that would be secured with direct questioning following the six men's arrests and in the searches of their homes, private club, and other owned or frequented locations.
Various other individuals that were either co-conspirators or blackmail victims themselves, like those that had allowed Gold and Mackay to enter the highly restricted area housing Jack's office were suspended from their duties and were under investigation. The links to other, non-Stargate Program military activities, but regular US military activities, also meant this was a very national investigation officially under the auspices of Homeland Security Department—which was really Homeworld Security. And unlike the military officers, the Department had to walk a little more softly with identified civilian victims but Jack hoped that with the threat of their blackmailers removed they would be able to provide more information to him.
The photographic studio responsible for the fabrication of the photographs had also been located—via the financial transactions. While the proprietor initially claimed client confidentiality, he had become very cooperative when the entire Department started breathing down his neck to explain that Wilson had given him the photographs with the man and woman having sex, a remarkable look-alike, for the woman of the photographs that Gold had supplied to him.
Considering the woman's remarkable resemblance to his wife and that it actually was Cameron Mitchell in the photographs had Jack very interested in locating the look-alike and learning the results of the Lt. Colonel's questioning; who Landry had informed him a phone call ago, was sweating buckets in one of the SGC's interrogation cells. Jack could well believe it. Even if Mitchell was entirely innocent of the situation, there was still the fact that he had had sex with a woman that looked like Sam and all that could imply.
Ending his latest phone call, Jack hung up the receiver and looked over the six dossiers on his desk that been compiled over the weekend of the young men to his wife. Like her, he was already dressed in most of his uniform and their jackets—his freshly ironed—were waiting in the entrance way for when they departed for the Pentagon.
"I made eggs if you are interested in more breakfast," Sam offered softly, knowing that as Jack had been up hours before she had, he had already served himself a bowl of cereal.
"I would like that," Jack pushed away from his desk and set his briefcase onto the polished surface. He neatly stacked the six dossiers into the case and shut the latches. The five by seven envelope with the manipulated pornographic photographs was already sitting in the bottom of the briefcase.
With briefcase in one hand, Jack picked up his forgotten mug with its cold coffee, and after dropping the case in the entrance way, made his way into the kitchen to find Sam had poured him a fresh cup of coffee. Seating himself at the table he patted the chair beside him and once Sam had taken a seat beside him, twined their fingers together and showed off his dexterity by eating the eggs on the plate before him with his other hand.
Holding hands was just one such demonstration of affection that they had both showed, and needed, this past weekend as they investigated the blackmailing scheme against themselves. Those manipulated photographs had struck a solid blow, but already they were rebuilding the foundations stronger.
. . .
Exchanging smirks of accomplishment Harvey and Donald entered the section in the Pentagon that housed presidential advisor General O'Neill's set of offices again and were pleased when they were shown promptly into the general's office by his aid Davis.
As formally dressed as he was during their previous visit, the grey haired man once again looked up at them over his reading glasses only now he sat slumped in his chair and a defeated aura hung about him.
Hastily, and almost clumsily, O'Neill hurried to his feet at the sight of them being ushered into his office. "Mr Gold, Mr Mackay," he grovelled.
Harvey waved back the general dismissingly and he and Donald confidently took seats. "I see that the weekend to think things over has been good for you."
"Yes, it would be most unfortunate if decisions made in haste were to damage the career of yourself, your wife, or the president's term in office," Donald added pointedly.
"Yes, yes," O'Neill agreed with a cringe before asking with timid hopefulness as he picked up and began worrying a pen. "But certainly we can come to some… mutually beneficial agreement?"
"I am sure you can help us," Harvey said superciliously.
O'Neill looked anxiously at them as he worried the pen harder. "Help you? How?"
"Certainly a man who has the president's ear would know how to help us."
"B-but… I… I can't, what I do is highly classified and…"
"Come now O'Neill," Harvey pressed with a glint in his eye, "we wouldn't want any tabloids to get those pictures would we?"
"Surely what you do isn't worth the scandal—in fact it would certainly be impinged by such a scandal wouldn't it?" Donald added. "I think we'll start by reviewing your current projects."
The fingers worrying the pen in his grip stilled and with the defeated air of a man walking to his own execution, O'Neill reached forward to press the talk button of his office telecom. "Bring in this weekend's project files Carter."
Harvey noted that O'Neill had attempted to stall them and made a mental note to exert a suitable punishment for it a little further into their dealings.
The door behind them opened again and the brisk sound of heels against wood echoed loudly in the enclosed space. The initially dismissing glance at the entry of O'Neill's secretary turned to stares as both young men suddenly realized that it was not the man that had shown them into the office, but a blonde woman. A blonde woman who was intimately familiar to them because of the pornographic photographs they'd had made up. Her unexpected presence and current glacial expression sent a trickle of worry down their spines.
Her heels clicking together as she stood at attention beside the general's desk and formally presented the clipboard to O'Neill. "The warrants as requested Sir."
Harvey and Donald exchanged surprised looks—warrants? What was this old man playing at now?
"Thank you Colonel," the general accepted the board and flipped through the handful of pages clipped to its surface. After assuring that the last signatures were all in their proper places the general set the clipboard down. He then methodically took off his reading glasses, and with measured deliberateness folded them, and placed them on top of the search and arrest warrants.
Harvey and Donald stiffened in their seats at the icy shudder that clawed down their spines as General O'Neill suddenly seemed to change. Gone was the defeated oldness, in its place was a lethal readiness as dark brown eyes pinned them with brutal hardness to their seats.
They were unable to look away from his hard gaze as more uniformed bodies began to enter from the open office door. Only they were not the uniforms of officers, but uniforms of the military police.
"You are under arrest for blackmail, attempted blackmail, slander, and treason," Jack enumerated in a glacial voice that had broken the will of alien warriors and had no problem breaking the wills of Harvey and Donald and nearly had them pissing their pants.
"I want—I want my lawyer," Donald managed to whimper as he became aware of the MP hands closing around his arms.
"I don't think Mackay gets it, does he Colonel?" Jack asked rhetorically.
"No Sir," the blonde at his elbow replied crisply.
"Listen up boys. I am only going to say this once. What I do does not officially exist. If you can figure out how to get daddy's lawyers to defend you against something that does not exist, let me know. Until then, enjoy your cells."
As the MPs dragged the now whimpering and blubbering young men from his office, Jack made a sound of disgust in the back of his throat. Disgusted at their antics and the fact that those weak young men had caused him and Sam so much pain.
Harvey Gold, Donald Mackay, Marcus Wilson, James McAllister, Colton Robertson, and Lucas Sharpe—the latter four were also in the process of being arrested once located—were about to discover that they were guppies pretending to be sharks and like any little fish that went swimming with the big boys, they would get eaten.
Sam moved from her position stiffly at attention beside her husband to close the door. Once the wooden panel was shut she made her way back to her husband and took a seat in the chair Gold had just been removed from.
Not liking that she had put his desk between them, Jack got up from his chair and rounded his desk to take a seat in the chair Mackay had been in. When he reached out between the space that separated the two chairs and grasped her hand, he was reassured when she twined their fingers together. Her free hand came up to rub at the wedding ring on his hand that was laced with hers.
"So, that's the beginning of the end of that?" Sam asked softly as she looked at the polished band. She knew that while the investigation would continue and the trials occur months down the line, the outcome considering the secret nature of the program and Jack's international authority would ensure that it was dealt with quickly, quietly, and severely.
"It is," Jack affirmed as he lifted up his other hand to cup her cheek. Sam gave a half-hearted and lopsided smile and leaned her face against his touch.
"Just, no more getting yourself blackmailed okay?" she joked feebly.
"I can't promise you anything beyond the fact that no matter what is shown to me, I will always believe in you."
Seeing the loving reassurance in his dark eyes Sam gave him one of her true, light up the room smiles, and in that moment of suspended time they knew that whatever else was thrown at them they were strong enough to stand against it as long as they had each other, and believed in each other's love.
-FINISHED
AN (Which really should have gone in the first chapter): The purpose of this short story does not really do justice to the Byzantine potential of the plot thread. The purpose was to prove to myself that I was capable of writing to a self-imposed short story limit – five chapters with each chapter not exceeding three typed pages in length. So, if writers reading this feel they can write a far more satisfactory story of the Byzantine plot I barely touched upon, please do so and tell me about the story because I would love to read it!
Thanks for reading and to Jack O'Neill – Happy Birthday!
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