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 Title: Jack Gets His Man Author: Su Freund Email: su_freund@ficwithfins.com Category: Angst/Romance/Drama Content Level: Age 13+ Content Warnings: Mild language and references to sexual situations and violence Pairings: Jack/other (Catherine), Sam/Pete Season: 8 Spoilers: Anything up to and including Season 8 Chapter summary: Peter Rodgers was afraid. Very alone and afraid. Sequel/Series Info: Sequel to Part 18 of Jack/Catherine series: Jack's Disquiet Status: Continuing Series Author's Note: Many thanks to Lynette (Flatkatsi) who beta read this chapter for me. Her corrections and comments always give me food for thought and make me strive to do better, which is a wonderful thing. Jack Gets His Man Peter Rodgers was afraid. Very alone and afraid. The big menacing man had been gone for what seemed like a long time. This was kind of a relief because his abductor was a very scary, very muscular, very ominous type. Conversely, Rodgers didn't know whether to be more frightened of the man himself or that he'd left him on his own in this place with no idea what was going on. For all he knew, his kidnapper might never return. He might rot and die in the dank cold. No food, no water, tied up with no hope of escape. Maybe this was the man's intention. Rodgers had tried to get free but the bonds merely tightened further as he struggled with them. The man knew what he was doing when he tied him up. Not only was he bound and gagged so he could barely move, his abductor had screwed his increasingly uncomfortable chair to the floor. Hence, he couldn't budge it, or himself. He had no real notion of how long he'd been a prisoner in this small dark place. No windows, only one door and the man had locked that up tight when he'd left. The only furnishing was the chair the kidnapper had tied him to and a couple of others stacked in a corner close by. The walls were bare although he couldn't be sure of anything. It was dark in there. Rodgers didn't know where he was or what this place was. He was totally freaked. It wasn't like he even had any real idea of why the man had taken him. Although he suspected it was something to do with O'Neill. Not because the bear of a man had told him so but because he had located him through Shaw. Who else but someone linked to O'Neill might know about Shaw and their connection with each other? The bastard must have found Shaw and used the man to get to him. Christ, he'd hired idiots. When Shaw had called threatening to tell all to the cops and trying to squeeze more money from him, Rodgers had felt there was little choice but to arrange a meeting. He'd already paid the man more than enough. He'd paid good lawyers to represent him once the cops had got him and arranged the vastly inflated bail money too. He was even going to pay the man to disappear. He'd paid through the nose and for nothing, or so it seemed. O'Neill was okay and still had Catherine. Apparently, the cops had a witness, although Rodgers couldn't imagine who it was or what they had seen. Result, bad. They had picked up his hired thugs and Shaw knew who Rodgers was; could identify him, get to him. The venture was an unmitigated disaster already and now this. His whole life was starting to go to hell in a hand basket. Rodgers figured the menacing man had threatened Shaw, forced him to call for the meeting. That's when the guy had grabbed him. To be honest, he couldn't really blame Shaw. The big man was quite terrifying. This was all speculation, of course, and Rodgers' mind was running riot with scenarios and potential outcomes. His abductor had said nothing. He'd hardly even touched him. All Rodgers could remember was going to meet Shaw, the unexpected appearance of the big man and then a strange noise, bright light, pain and unconsciousness. He'd woken up feeling like he'd suffered a gigantic electric shock, already gagged and bound up tight in the back of a car. Then the man had bundled him out of the vehicle and tied him to this chair. He hadn't seen their destination, had hardly been aware of getting there. After that, his kidnapper had stared at him silently for what seemed like hours, pacing threateningly around his chair numerous times and looking like he might lay into him any moment. But he didn't. Instead, after what felt like an eternity of silent intimidation, he had left. Rodgers would almost have preferred the man to have hit him. At least he'd have known where he stood, known what he was dealing with. The uncommunicativeness in itself was probably worse than any words or actions might have been - the sense of menace, the acute danger, the abject terror. Yes, Peter Rodgers was afraid. Very alone and afraid. 0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0 O'Neill listened to Teal'c's story in disbelief, inserting comments as he related it and looking appropriately stunned. He'd had no idea Teal'c knew so much about computers and he was definitely going to have to check out security at the SGC. Sneaking zats or any other weaponry out of the mountain was a big no-no. It wasn't that he was ungrateful for the thought behind Teal'c's actions. Threatening members of the public to extract information about personal issues, however, was not something to be encouraged. If it was SGC/alien related, sure. Almost anything goes, or at least that was O'Neill's opinion even if the IOC might disagree. His attack, though, was totally unrelated to their work. What Teal'c had done simply wasn't right. On the other hand, he did not have many issues about the outcome. Rodgers' capture was a good thing even if the methods left something to be desired. He had to admit he had a sneaking admiration for Teal'c's actions. And he was pleased at what the thoughts behind those actions meant in terms of their friendship. He was a little bit flattered that Teal'c thought highly enough of him to go all Jaffa revenge like for him. O'Neill had always admired and trusted the big guy but at times had been less certain as to whether Teal'c felt the same way about him. After all, to the very much older Jaffa following the lead of a young stripling like him, and a Tauri, must have been difficult sometimes. Probably often. He followed, usually without demur, but there had been times when O'Neill had sensed Teal'c's doubt around his choices. There had even been times when the old warrior had simply rebelled and done his own thing. O'Neill liked to think of Teal'c as a friend, not just a colleague who had been one of his team members. He figured this kind of proved the point once and for all. "Did anyone see the zat?" he asked even before he started probing his friend about the welfare of Rodgers or Shaw. The security of his command took precedence over everything. He couldn't countenance a breach and waving a zat around in public was definitely one of those. "I do not believe so." "You get why I'm asking, right?" "I too am aware that SGC security is paramount, O'Neill," Teal'c replied feeling slightly put out that his friend might believe he would think otherwise. "Yet you borrowed a zat?" Jack retorted, gesturing quotes around the word borrowed. "For Christ's sake, Teal'c...!" His ex-team mate regarded him coolly. "I hid it well, O'Neill. Shaw was unconscious when I fired the weapon. I do not believe Rodgers saw it before I made use of it. I was careful." Recognizing Teal'c was offended, Jack became conciliatory. "It's not that I'm ungrateful, T. I am, I swear! You got Rodgers. You did good..." "I understand," Teal'c said, interrupting. Jack wondered if he really did but let it lie. SGC security was going to get an obviously well needed overhaul. Perhaps he should be thankful his friend had pointed him in the direction of a potential issue. He'd take Teal'c at his word that no one had seen the zat. Besides, would people believe such a thing was an alien weapon? A space gun - yeahsureyabetchya!e'd take They'd more likely think it was some kind of Taser. O'Neill realized he was probably worrying over nothing. "You say Shaw was unconscious? Not zatted then, eh?" Teal'c shook his head. "So what did you do with him?" O'Neill asked swiftly moving away from one thorny subject to another. Teal'c smirked in an animalistic manner. "He is of no consequence." O'Neill hitched a breath apprehensively, the notion of Teal'c leaving a trail of bodies scattered around the Springs popping into mind. "He is still alive, isn't he?" Teal'c nodded. "Indeed," he replied. "Teal'c, for cryin' out loud..." O'Neill exclaimed irritably. "Do not concern yourself, O'Neill. He is well. Uncomfortable, perhaps, but unharmed." Jack thought maybe the guy was lucky but couldn't be sure. "And... so...?" he pressed. "I forced him to remove his clothing." Jack's eyebrows shot skyward. "You mean you dumped him buck naked somewhere in the city?" "Outside of the city." Chuckling with both amusement and relief, Jack pictured the man having a long, cold and embarrassing walk to contend with. "Did you hurt him?" "Only his feelings, O'Neill. As I said, he is of no consequence. He is merely a hireling." "So Rodgers was your main goal." Teal'c inclined his head in agreement. "What about him?" "If by that you are asking if I harmed him the answer is I did not. That, I believe, is your prerogative O'Neill." Jack stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Right." He wasn't sure what to make of all this. A few weeks beforehand, he had set out to find Rodgers and warn him off. Perhaps he had even intended to hurt him a little. Probably. He'd been blinded by anger about his treatment of Catherine. Now, despite what Rodgers had done to both of them, his ire had diminished. Sure, he wasn't happy about Catherine's beating, or that Rodgers had left him for dead, but the Jaffa revenge like thing was not necessarily O'Neill's style. He had his moments, but... He wanted the guy out of their lives, for Catherine to have some peace of mind. Good old American justice might do very well indeed to serve that purpose. He figured Catherine herself would be happier that way. She probably would not be pleased if he took the law into his own hands, however satisfying it might be. Catherine had been mad with him about tearing off after her ex in the first place. On the other hand, justice is not always served in a court of law, particularly when the defendant has large pots of money to play with. It shouldn't be that way but it sometimes seemed to be. Rodgers was manipulative and could appear charming, or so Catherine assured him. O'Neill didn't see it but why would he? Who knew what a jury would think or decide? There was always an outside chance Rodgers would get off. Although he thought Pete Shanahan might have a good body of evidence against him, O'Neill couldn't be certain. The internal debate gave him a headache and Jack massaged his temples hoping to ward it off. He so hated having a conscience. Sometimes it simply got in the way. He'd been trained to kill and his work in special ops had included some dubious missions. He'd killed a lot of enemy combatants in his time. Torture or murder, however, were different; not his usual way. Rodgers was an ordinary citizen, not an enemy combatant or a terrorist, however warped and nasty the man might be. "Okay, I guess I need to come with you then, right?" he declared eventually. "As I said," agreed Teal'c. Asking Teal'c to wait, he quietly returned to the bedroom to throw on some clothes. He didn't wish to disturb Catherine but she woke up anyway. "What you doing?" she asked sleepily, stretching her limbs and eyeing him through droopy lids. Fully dressed now, O'Neill sat on the edge of the bed and bent to kiss her forehead. "It's okay. Go back to sleep. I'm going out for a while," he whispered. "Going out? What time is it?" "Too early to be getting up. Sleep baby." He moved to get up and she grabbed his arm. "What's going on Jack?" "Everything's fine I promise. Teal'c's here. He needs me for something." "I guess if I ask what he needs you for at such a ridiculous time in the morning you aren't telling, right?" she said perceptively. "If I were you, I wouldn't ask. Don't worry, baby. I'm betting I'll be lying there right next to you when you wake up later." She stared up at him silently for a few moments wondering whether she should press the point but decided against it. Jack had secrets. She knew that and had to learn to accept it. Nevertheless, Catherine was concerned. He should be convalescing not gadding around town doing heaven knows what. It was all right for him to suggest she go back to sleep but she wasn't sure she would be able to until he was safely back home again. Sighing she said, "Okay, Jack, I won't ask. This doesn't mean I'm happy about you going off somewhere in the middle of the night when you should be resting, by the way." "So sue me," he replied slightly tartly, immediately regretting the sharp retort. Instead of apologizing, he leaned over her again - at the cost of a shooting pain in his gut that he carefully avoided showing on his face. Then he kissed her briefly on the lips. An apology of sorts and Catherine accepted it as such. "Teal'c will take good care of me. That's guaranteed," he said reassuringly. "Back soon." Catherine watched him exit the room, heard the two men leave the house and then got up. She couldn't help but fret even more when she noticed the dresser drawer was open, no gun in sight. Swearing to herself, she padded along to the kitchen to make some coffee. If she was going to be wide awake and worrying for who knew how long, she might as well do it properly, she thought. Then she decided to occupy herself by clearing up the mess left by his barbeque. It was one thing less for Jack to think about when he got home and the act of doing it would calm her edgy nerves. Setting about her chosen task, she prepared herself for a potentially long and anxious wait. 0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0 The two friends remained silent while Teal'c drove. O'Neill was preoccupied with pondering what he was going to do now he'd got his man. Besides, the pair was all talked out for now. One of the reasons Jack enjoyed Teal'c's company was the very lack of talking. No expectations of long cozy chats, jovial banter or secret revelations. Simple companionable silence. Bliss. Teal'c's earlier story had probably contained more words than the general had ever heard from his lips in such a short space of time before. He was still reeling. Just as he was beginning to believe he'd got a grip on the whole inscrutable Teal'cness thing he always seemed to discover something else about the guy. Daniel was right about their friend having hidden depths and evidently he hadn't plumbed them all yet. O'Neill kind of liked that about Teal'c. His friend was an enigma within a riddle. His story went something like this. He'd been keeping a watchful eye on Shaw's for a while, mostly online of all places, figuring he was a possible key to finding Rodgers. Who'd have thought Teal'c knew more than he did about computers? Or so it seemed. Actually, O'Neill knew a lot more about all that kind of stuff than he let on too but he wasn't telling anyone. Jack liked to pretend he was a lot dumber than he really was. It came in handy sometimes. Apparently, Teal'c had hidden his talents as well. Something else they had in common. When Teal'c learned Shaw made bail, he snuck a zat out of the SGC and hung around the man's neighborhood until he spotted him. It was easy after that. Teal'c's great line in menacing impersonations gave him an edge even over a man like Shaw, who prided himself on being hired muscle. Jack figured those kinds of men were probably cowards at heart, not something that could be said for his good friend Teal'c. So, to save his own butt, Shaw ratted Rodgers out. It wasn't like he had any real loyalty to the man who had hired him, after all. Shaw called Rodgers, persuaded him to meet up and Teal'c zatted Rodgers. Simple almost beyond belief. Now Teal'c had O'Neill's adversary locked up tight. Apparently, he had prepared for this eventually in advance and rented a little place to stash the man in. This was where they were going now. As they drove, Jack's curiosity increased. They'd moved to an area on the outskirts of the city that wasn't exactly known for its residential properties but was mostly filled with industrial units. Had Teal'c rented one of those, he wondered, but didn't ask. O'Neill wasn't in the mood for talk and he'd find out soon enough. Shortly, Teal'c pulled the car over outside a large locked gate and got out, indicating O'Neill should stay put. Striding to the gate, he removed a key from his pocket, detached the padlock and pushed it open. Then he got back into the car and drove into the yard. Jack looked at the sign on the property's sturdy fence. "A storage depot?" he queried but Teal'c said nothing. Getting out of the car again, this time he indicated O'Neill should follow, locking the gate behind them as they moved inside. 0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0 Peter Rodgers was getting cold. Cold and pissed. His emotional state had been vacillating between furious and terrified for a while now. He had been mentally ranting at O'Neill too. Blaming him for everything that had gone wrong in his life even before Rodgers had known of the man's existence. If it was bad for Rodgers, it was O'Neill's fault. Convoluted logic perhaps but Rodgers did not see it that way. He'd kill O'Neill. He swore he would. With his own bare hands after he made the man suffer a variety of increasingly painful and soul destroying torments. Rodgers had a vividly violent imagination. In fact, thinking about it gave him a hard on and was way more thought provoking than his own dilemma. He'd get out of this. Of course he would because he'd always managed to get out of anything before hadn't he? He pictured capturing O'Neill and gradually torturing him to death - very slowly and excruciatingly. Rodgers wished to witness the man thrashing and screaming in agony for an extremely long time before giving him the comfort of release. In fact, he figured he could keep it going for months and imagined every nuance of every unbearably torturous thing he would do to his enemy. Rodgers would derive great pleasure from each agonized squeal; watch O'Neill convulse in paroxysms of pain; make the man repeatedly beg for mercy. He would so like that. He could keep himself gratified for months by hurting the guy in skillfully horrendous ways. He thought about the equipment he could buy to do the deed. Leg and arm irons; hooks and chains; whips. He was fairly certain one could get things like medieval racks and the like quite easily online. The Spanish Inquisition would have nothing on him. Then there was the more modern day stuff like electric currents to contemplate. He'd teach a thing or two to professional torturers the world over. The possibilities were endless and his furtive creativity when it came to considering inflicting pain was bottomless. Rodgers was positively salivating. Normally, he was quite hands on and picked on people who couldn't defend themselves that easily. With women, he liked the feel of fist crunching into flesh, feet thudding into soft tissue and bone. His most recent encounter with the hooker had been one of his more violent and gratifying forays into progressively sicker madness. When it came to O'Neill, he could visualize way worse than anything he had ever actually inflicted with his fists on anyone. Thus, he would make an exception by investing in some good old fashioned torture aids. Notions of potential hands on activity nevertheless gave him a wet dream to die for. Scared witless he might have been but Rodgers distracted himself very well with these imaginings. He kept going at O'Neill with everything he'd got, leaving him on the brink, bringing him back for more. The man simply wouldn't die - very rewarding. He was picturing a small very sharp knife, paring O'Neill's skin off piece by piece. Flaying alive, wasn't that what they called it? His victim was screeching, the wail of a man in the direst of anguish. He couldn't take anymore, was pleading for his tormentor to stop. He'd do anything, anything... become Rodgers' willing vassal. The idea made Rodgers shiver excitedly and then he heard the key in the lock and the door opened. Looking up, he was almost happy to see the man he now considered his arch enemy entering the door. O'Neill. The big man followed and closed the door behind him. Man, he'd love to be free and get at both of these guys. Mainly O'Neill but hurting the other man might prove diverting too. His foe's appearance certainly proved some of his guess work had been correct, but it also filled him with fear. The terror came back to him in a rush, the contentment derived from his daydreaming quickly evaporating. O'Neill stared at him wordlessly for a while, arms folded across his chest, an emotionless expression on his face. The man's detachment was frightening and far from what Rodgers had anticipated. However, he thought he detected something in his rival's eyes. Something even more alarming. The look of a coldblooded killer. He wanted to run from that look but could not. Even if he could have moved, his eyes were fixed onto O'Neill's as if riveted to the spot. His enemy demanded attention. He was that kind of man. For the first time Rodgers realized he had probably made a colossal mistake in trying to take on O'Neill. He was dangerous, probably lethal. Way more deadly than Rodgers himself was. Rodgers could not imagine why he had not realized this before. He should have seen it during their encounter in New York. O'Neill had terrified him then he recalled, thinking about their confrontation in the men's room. "Okay, I'm only saying this once, so listen up," Jack said, tightening his grip. The expression on his face was a study of thunderous pure menace. "You don't want me as an enemy. I can maim and kill in more ways than the fevered imagination of your worst nightmare, and never leave a trace that it was me. No one would ever know. "If I hear you've even looked at Catherine the wrong way, I will hurt you so bad you won't be spitting teeth, you'll be shitting them. If you harm her in any way, you'll be in hospital for a month and singing soprano." He loosed his arm from around Rodger's throat, grasping his testicles and squeezing them hard. Rodgers squealed. "Is that clear?" Not having picked up on the danger earlier that evening, Rodgers realized this man was totally terrifying. He could barely open his mouth to speak. O'Neill squeezed his testicles again, even harder this time, and the man screeched. "I asked you a question. Is that clear?" "Crystal," Rodgers replied with a croak. When O'Neill let him go, Rodgers swung for him defiantly, but his adversary was too quick. Ducking the move, Jack punched him forcefully in the solar plexus, leaving him gasping and eyes watering. "Seems you weren't really listening. You listening now, Rodgers?" "I heard you. Loud and clear." "Good, because I don't like wife-beaters. Men who bully and beat women are nothing but cowards, and their stench sickens me. I don't want to get this close to you again if I can avoid it. Avoiding it is entirely in your hands." He should have listened but he'd got mad and jealous instead, seeking revenge and to rid himself of his rival. If that had worked, this wouldn't be happening, thought Rodgers, but he had failed to achieve his objective. Too late, he realized a man couldn't afford to fail when pitted against a person like O'Neill. Although he might have appeared unaffected on the outside, beneath his frosty exterior O'Neill burned as fiercely as the coals on his earlier barbeque. He'd got his man, the person responsible for dishing out years of misery to Catherine and the architect of her more recent distress. His instinct was to do the guy some serious harm. Rodgers had tried to kill him, or at the very least severely hurt him. Jack wasn't certain he should let the man get away with that. He got where Teal'c was coming from with his notion of revenge, he really did. Catherine's ex sickened him to the pit of his stomach and made his skin crawl. He could easily persuade himself that the man's actions merited retribution of a highly disagreeable kind - just as he had threatened in New York. Equally, O'Neill had many doubts about damaging his captive. For starters, Rodgers was pathetic and, he suspected, more than a little bit nuts. He probably needed a psychiatrist, a straightjacket and a padded cell rather than a beating. Then there was the justice thing he'd been contemplating earlier. Jack wasn't certain that, as a rule, he was a big fan of vigilante justice. Okay, so he had reacted to Catherine's plight by trying to seek out her attacker. However, he wasn't sure how far he had been willing to go back then. He guessed he would never know now. He realized, however, that it hadn't really been the right thing to do. No man should take justice into their own hands and two wrongs do not make a right. A couple of cliches but there was no avoiding the truth of them. He'd had a long time to think about it in a hospital bed. By responding to Rodgers in kind, he was playing the man's own game. Not only was he sinking to the same lower than low level but it gave the guy way more credit than he deserved. It would probably play right into his exceedingly perverted hands. Right now, O'Neill wasn't sure what to do. It was irksome. Rodgers wasn't certain how to play the situation either. Fear paralyzed him. When his rival walked over and quickly removed his gag, however, he decided that showing his fear might not a wise move. Not realizing how much of his terror he had already displayed for his captors to see, he figured defiance might be the better tactic. He'd play it by ear and change his game plan to whatever he thought might work on his enemy once he'd assessed his full measure. He was good at that - manipulation. If you could take an exam in it, he would achieve a triple A score. "I guessed this was your doing, O'Neill," he snarled. 'Actually, this wasn't my idea,' Jack thought but he didn't voice it, instead eyeing Rodgers with a calm callousness. His captive considered the expression something akin to how a butcher might regard a large slab of meat before hacking it into smaller pieces with a big cleaver. He blanched and tried to gulp back his nausea. "Now you've got me, what are you going to do with me?" he asked, his tone less insolent now. He thought he appeared bold but in fact sounded weak and apprehensive. Jack's qualms deepened and his silence lengthened. Teal'c said nothing either, waiting for a cue from O'Neill. "I could scream this place down," Rodgers said and the corners of O'Neill's mouth turned upward into a grimacing smile. 'Knock yourself out,' Jack thought with wry amusement, contemplating the almost total isolation of the spot his friend had picked to hold Rodgers captive. However, he remained silent. Moving toward Rodgers, he noticed the man flinch visibly and attempt to pull away, which of course he could not. Although O'Neill grinned inside about his obvious alarm, the earlier scowling smile had disappeared, replaced by a venomous looking expression that exacerbated Rodgers' dread. Unexpectedly, his foe did not lift a finger to hurt Rodgers but walked around him silently, testing the knots of his bonds. Returning to his previous position, he nodded an acknowledgement of a job well done at his accomplice and simply viewed his prisoner with startlingly eerie stillness again. Every nerve in Rodgers' body tensed up as if awaiting its fate. He was almost too terrified to look into O'Neill's eyes and when he plucked up that courage, he regretted it almost immediately. He anticipated hatred, any kind of emotion, but he found nothing - nothing to give him any clue. It was more ominous than any amount of emotion might have been. The frigidness in that gaze made Rodgers shudder. "Aren't you going to gloat, O'Neill?" he queried, starting to get increasingly desperate to discern his enemy's intentions. He hated that anyone should disregard him like this. He was important, a somebody. After what he had done, he deserved more. Jack, however, believed he had got the measure of his man. He seethed inside, wanting to break his neck for what he had done to Catherine, but he controlled those impulses, appearing impassive. He knew this tactic was getting to Rodgers. He could see the man sweating with fear and his trepidation was growing by the minute. The longer he spent doing nothing, the more frightened Rodgers was going to get. Scaring him half to death appealed to O'Neill. "I enjoyed my little diversion with Catherine," Rodgers sneered, wanting to provoke a reaction. "It was a real pleasure, a bit of a turn on actually, but I wanted you." O'Neill bit back anger at the comment. He wanted to hit the guy who took delight in hurting Catherine, but he didn't. Instead, his composure remained steely and detached. If Rodgers thought he was going to goad him into action, he was sorely mistaken. He realized his assessment of the man was right. If they hurt him, it would fulfill his expectations, play into his hands. It was what he wanted and would bolster Rodgers' sick ego. Revenge was something the man understood. Justice, however, was not. He got violence too, but he didn't comprehend the power of self-controlled, silent intimidation. It was a neat trick. Teal'c had it down to a fine art and O'Neill believed his prisoner to be a perfect candidate for the technique. The last thing he expected. When his provocative words didn't work, Rodgers said, "I should have made sure you were dead." 'Yes, you should,' thought O'Neill, knowing he could make a bad enemy, but maybe not today. Today he would probably make a good enemy instead, although he didn't think the man sitting in front of him would agree. Taking the moral high ground sprang to mind. That would really piss Rodgers off. The thought made him feel satisfyingly smug. Jack knew Catherine's ex longed for him to fall into a trap. If he cracked and did what his instinct drove him to do, he would be as bad as Rodgers himself, if not worse. Worse because he knew better. He was a sane man and, in his wholly layman's opinion, Rodgers was not. He wanted O'Neill to stoop to his level. Perversely, it would gratify him. Jack did not wish to give the man what he wanted. Rodgers had got the upper hand before and now it was his turn. Jack wanted to take advantage of it but knew there was more than one way to skin a cat. He wondered what his prisoner would think if he knew even half of what he was thinking. Relieved? Self satisfied? Fortunately, O'Neill didn't believe that, if his prisoner had any qualities at all, mindreading was one of them. "If you'd left me alone in New York we might not be here now," said Rodgers. 'So it's my fault you're a nasty slime ball with a crazy streak, huh?' Jack asked himself. Tired, he grabbed one the spare chairs and sat down, regarding Rodgers with a feral smirk. Teal'c remained standing and both men stayed as equally mute as they had since they'd entered. It was driving Rodgers nuts. "Do your worst, O'Neill. Get it over with," Rodgers urged and it was on the tip of Jack's tongue to retort "I think not" but he didn't. Instead he laughed, although Catherine's ex detected no mirth in the man's eyes. Rodgers was stunned. The silent treatment and then this, he thought. It was too much. His adversary's laughter unnerved him. He tried not to show it but without success. When he wet his pants with fear, it was a clincher. He felt totally humiliated and surmised from O'Neill's cold smile that he was getting a great deal of pleasure from his degradation. He was right about O'Neill. Jack was thinking his approach was probably better than beating up on the guy. He was kind of enjoying himself. 0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0 The SGC: "The cupboard is bare," Dixon told Sam. "Mister nosy neighbor told us Shaw left a few hours back with a large African American guy." "Doesn't mean it was Teal'c I suppose." "This was a large man wearing a hat who bowed his head politely at the nosy neighbor when they passed in the entrance to the apartment block. Sure sounds like Teal'c." "Damn. So a dead end for now, huh?" "We've got nothing. Found anything at your end?" "Not much of anything useful. Only one thing that sticks out. It seems Teal'c rented a storage unit a few weeks ago. Paid online." She was still marveling at the activities Teal'c got up to on the laptop in his spare time. "A storage unit? That's all you've found? Weird. Teal'c hasn't got anything to put into storage, has he?" "Exactly." "We're on it. Dixon out." Carter stared at the dead phone for a while wishing she was out there with them. If it was a useful lead then at least she wouldn't have wasted her time. If not, she'd be pissed. What Teal'c was doing renting a storage locker she could not imagine, nor could she figure what it had to do with her team mate's hunt for Rodgers. However, almost anything out of the ordinary was a clue and almost any clue was a good clue. Or at least Carter certainly hoped so. 0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0 "For Christ's sakes talk to me!" Rodgers exclaimed with frustration but, despite many such similar pleas and protestations, O'Neill's taciturn, implacable manner persisted for quite some time. His prisoner rapidly unraveled, visibly falling apart and speaking almost incessantly - trying to provoke, trying to plead, trying to find some way into O'Neill. Jack was unassailable. He was also quickly becoming bored with the charade. Rodgers jumped with surprise when, after what seemed like a long period of ominously calm and mute composure, O'Neill abruptly stood up. When he approached, the man cringed. Once again, though, his antagonist did nothing to hurt him. Instead, he placed the gag back on his mouth and whispered in his ear. "You aren't worth the trouble," he said, the only words that came from his kidnappers' lips the whole time they were there. Then O'Neill coolly replaced his chair where he had found it and, with a slight movement of head and hand, indicated to his accomplice that they were leaving. When O'Neill turned back from the doorway to face him, his wintery expression chilled Rodgers to the bone. He was panicking at the notion of the two men abandoning him again. The idea of not knowing what would happen, whether they would ever return, was way more daunting than the thought of suffering physical damage. Hurting people he understood but this was beyond comprehension. Taking pleasure from the horrified expression in his opponent's eyes, Jack winked cheekily at the man, immediately turning on his heel and exiting. Leaving the guy to rot for a while longer would be far better than anything else he could do by way of punishment, he realized, or at least for now. The thought gave him a supreme sense of contentment, overriding his instinct to knock the guy's lights out. Although puzzled by the turn of events, Teal'c followed O'Neill's lead without objection. He didn't speak until they locked the storage unit door behind them. "I do not understand, O'Neill," he said. "I believed you would wish to injure Rodgers. After which you could use the zat'nik'tel to kill him and make him disappear from your life forever." "You think I should rough him up a little? What's the point?" "A deep sense of pleasure." O'Neill grinned with amusement but then shook his head. "I can't, T. Sure it would be satisfying on many levels, but I can't. It's just not the right thing to do. I can't exactly say that makes me happy but, well..." He shrugged, not sure what else to say and Teal'c looked thoughtful and perturbed. "Why give him the satisfaction of getting what he wants?" Jack continued after a long pause, knowing Teal'c didn't get it. His friend regarded him with a curious expression. "He might not want to die but he sure is trying to maneuver me into hurting him. It's what he wants." Teal'c's perplexity seemed to increase. "Don't ask me about the psychology of it, Teal'c, I just know that if we hurt him it will somehow feed his overly inflated ego. Give him too much recognition. So we do the opposite, right? The last thing he wants is to be ignored." "So it appeared." "Believe me; he'll feel like a big fat zero. His ego won't handle it." Teal'c nodded thoughtfully. "Your tactic was no doubt sound," he said, "but now... the zat'nik'tel..." He still believed getting rid of the man altogether was the best thing to do. Disagreeing, O'Neill shook his head. "No. If I zat him out of existence, how will Catherine ever see justice done?" he countered. "She'd be looking over her shoulder waiting for him to appear for the rest of her life." Jack had also been ruminating about someone tracing Rodgers' disappearance back to Teal'c, or putting two and two together and coming up with the name Jack O'Neill. Probably both. The cops were looking for the guy, after all, and weren't stupid - especially one particular cop by the name of Pete Shanahan who happened to be closely involved with the case. Shanahan knew both of them and probably understood at least some of what they were capable of too. It wouldn't take long for a sharp guy like him to put it all together. If someone had seen Teal'c hanging around Shaw's neighborhood, for example, the cop would undoubtedly find out eventually. Teal'c was a hard guy to miss. Yet Jack figured Shaw was unlikely to go to the police willingly about what had happened. Way too embarrassing. If the cops picked him up running around naked, on the other hand, who knew what might happen? The idea had amused O'Neill earlier but now he'd had time to do a lot of thinking he wasn't sure any of this had been one of his friend's better ideas. A whole heap of trouble could come pouring down on O'Neill and the Air Force. The kind of trouble Jack might find it hard to wriggle out of. He wouldn't necessarily be able to protect Teal'c either and he certainly had no desire to bring the Air Force into disrepute. The President and the Pentagon would be highly unhappy campers. The situation was bad enough already but could skid way out of control and come crashing down on both of them. What Teal'c had done was totally illegal and Jack himself was aiding and abetting a crime. O'Neill happened to know citizen's arrest was permissible in the State of Colorado. Fine and he might get away with claiming that if he called the cops now and lied a lot. One problem - citizen's arrest was supposedly okay only if you witness the criminal actually committing the crime you arrest them for. Jack also doubted the cops would look very kindly on the citizen in question tying the perp to a chair in a lock-up for a few hours. Use of undue restraint or force would probably be an issue. The law could class Teal'c's actions as kidnapping, a Federal offence. If they harmed Rodgers, it would aggravate the situation. They would be guilty of one or many unlawful acts of violence and he would be a victim of crime, as if he wasn't one already. Making Rodgers a victim and therefore deserving of some kind of sympathy was not an appealing prospect. If they killed and disposed of him, well, Jack wasn't sure he could live with the cold blooded murder option. Nor did it necessarily solve their problems, although it might make it more difficult to make any kind of case against them stick. Now he thought about it O'Neill wondered if this might be one reason for their prisoner trying to spur him into action. Goad him into committing a number of criminal acts and bring a mountain of shit down upon his head. The man was devious, Jack had to give him that, and who knew what was going through that crazy old brain of his? Trying to figure out the best way forward was giving Jack waking nightmares. Sure, he'd enjoyed the increasing terrified look on Rodger's face, the fact that he had debased himself and peed in his pants with fear. Nevertheless, he wasn't certain it was worth the possible implications of their actions. He had to come up with a plan that would minimize the impact but he hadn't yet. Therefore, he had little choice but to keep Rodgers on ice until he did. O'Neill said nothing of this to Teal'c. His friend might see it as an additional reason to dispose of their prisoner and, in some ways, perhaps it was. What kind of stink was it going to cause when Rodgers told the cops General Jack O'Neill had held him captive? He didn't want to give Teal'c more ammunition to fire at him about their prisoner. Nor did he wish to go into all the legal ramifications and worst case possibilities with his friend. Not until he'd concocted a way out. He could hang Teal'c out to dry to save his own ass, of course, but no way in hell was that ever going to happen. O'Neill would rather put his own butt on the line to protect Teal'c and suffer the consequences. It seemed his friend had not really thought this whole thing through. He probably wouldn't see it the Tauri way. Jack's brain, however, was working overtime thinking about actions and outcomes. It was a particular area of expertise when it came to O'Neill's furtive mind. Worst case scenarios. Hung if you do, hung if you don't, he thought. "You could not inform her of your actions?" Teal'c asked referring to Catherine's desire for Tauri justice. Jack shot him an odd look. "What do you think?" he replied with a hint of sarcasm. "No, I figure we leave him to stew for a while and then turn him in to Pete Shanahan." Even as he said it, O'Neill knew he still had some thinking to do around his plan before he could act on it. Teal'c arched his eyebrows with surprise. "It would satisfy your honor to give him to the police? You have killed many times, O'Neill. I do not comprehend your reluctance in this matter." Jack sighed, wondering if Teal'c would ever truly understand. His culture was so totally different and his many years living on Earth could not change some of the fundamentals. "Sure I've killed people, T. It's part of my job. But it's not my job to take lives, it's to save 'em. In our line of work, the two aren't mutually exclusive. Kill the bad guys so you can save the good ones. This..." He waved a hand around at their surroundings. "This is entirely different. This would be murder. And if I beat up on him, I'd be as bad as he is. He feeds on that. It would give him too much satisfaction, don't you see? What can I tell ya? The man's a nut job." Teal'c mulled this over silently for a few moments. "You Tauri are strange indeed," he ventured in the end, "but I believe I begin to understand." "I'm sorry if I don't live up to your expectations, T," O'Neill replied with a small smile. "Revenge is your thing, not mine." "You believe in justice but our notions of it differ somewhat my friend." "Quite." "You must do as you see fit, O'Neill. It is not my decision to make. He wronged you, not I." Jack's smile broadened and he patted Teal'c on the back. "I'm glad you caught him. Thanks." Teal'c bowed his head and smiled back. "You are welcome, O'Neill. How long do you wish to leave him alone with his terror?" Teal'c's expression was morphing into smug satisfaction and O'Neill smirked. "Not sure." Jack wanted to weigh up his options a bit more. He was about to suggest they go to his place and return later when the locked front gate burst open. Instinctively, he drew his sidearm and Teal'c cocked his zat ready for action. Then, as the intruders entered the yard, he recognized their outlines: Daniel Jackson, Dave Dixon and Lou Ferretti. "Shit!" he swore. "I guess I should have told 'em you weren't missing anymore, Teal'c." "Indeed." Surprised that their colleagues were crashing their party, O'Neill and Teal'c exchanged mildly amused looks and stepped forward to greet the new arrivals. Jack had a whole lot of explaining to do. 0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0 "Sam, we've found him," Dixon informed Carter. "That storage lead you gave us led us right to him." Carter grinned, idiotically pleased with herself but also curious. "Great. He's okay?" "Sure. Jack's with him." Doing a double take, she stared at the phone in surprise as if she might have misheard. "Come again?" "General O'Neill is here with him." "What the heck...?" Dixon shrugged as if she could see him. "Don't ask me. Jack gave us some bull about Teal'c wanting to show him something he'd put into storage. Not exactly plausible but I don't think he gave a damn about that. We couldn't get anymore out of him but they're up to something." "Really?" Sam retorted in a tone heaving with sarcasm. She wasn't sure what to do or say. Had this night been a monumental waste of time? It pissed her off because she doubted her CO would even bother to acknowledge their efforts. Knowing him, he wouldn't refer to the incident again unless pushed, but she figured she wasn't the one to do the pushing. She could probably reply on Daniel for that. "So what now?" she asked with a frustrated sigh. "Go home, sleep, what else? Mission complete, Sam." "Am I the only one feeling a little bit pissed off about this? He could have let us know Teal'c was okay. We could have packed up and gone home already, saved ourselves a lot of aggravation." "I know. He actually seemed a little bit contrite about that. About as contrite as Jack ever gets about anything. You know what he can be like." She scowled. "Only too well." "You're not the only one feeling pissed, Sam, believe you me. But what can we do? It's O'Neill." "Do-do you think they might have got to Rodgers and have him stashed away at that place?" she asked, having had a while to ponder the possible reasoning behind Teal'c's seemingly peculiar rental. "It wouldn't surprise me but I think I'm better off not asking too many questions. Jack happens to be the boss, so I figure we just let it alone." "Dave..." she started, sounding fretful, but he interrupted. "Sam, the mission was to find Teal'c. We found him, case closed. Forget it and go get some sleep. That's what we're gonna do." Glancing at her watch, she thought it hardly seemed worth going to bed. "Okay," she agreed. There wasn't much point in discussing it with Dixon any further. The only people who could answer her questions were the general and Teal'c. Carter figured hell would probably freeze over before that happened. The pair could be as bad as each other when it came to telling you absolutely nothing. Sam decided it wasn't worth going home and made her way to her quarters to try sleeping for a couple of hours. Teal'c was okay, that was the important thing, she told herself, getting some small comfort from the fact. She'd talk to Daniel about it later and might even have a word or two with Teal'c. The general himself was probably the last person on earth she would end up discussing her frustrations with. He was exasperating but she was used to it. For Carter, sleep was annoyingly conspicuous by its absence that morning. 0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0 Rodgers heard the door lock behind the two men and struggled with his bonds again to no avail. He couldn't believe it. Not worth the trouble after everything he had done? How could O'Neill think that? They couldn't just leave him. They couldn't discard him like trash, treat him with such contempt. An important man like him had earned the right to something better. He was an artist at his craft after all but these men had snubbed him as if he was nothing. Surely, they were going to do something to him? He simply could not fathom what was going on. It was dark and cold in this place. He hadn't had anything to eat or drink for quite some time now and, maybe even worse, had to suffer sitting in his own pee - evidence of his final abasement. If they left him for long enough, no doubt it wouldn't be the last time he would wet his pants. He'd probably crap himself too. There was nowhere else to go was there? It was degrading and, if O'Neill ever returned, Rodgers was sure this fact would give him a little thrill. He didn't know how long he had been there and how long he might remain there. Silent, lonely, muscles aching from being tied in the same position for hours. He had expected something more from a man like O'Neill. Revenge, a good thrashing, something he understood. He'd seen ruthless killer instinct in his enemy's eyes and had believed he would act on that impulse. Instead, he'd got... To be honest, he wasn't sure exactly what he'd got. Anything but this might have been preferable - anything on his level. O'Neill seemed to think he was superior, that leaving him untouched made him so. This notion astonished Rodgers. He wanted to meet the man on his own terms but his adversary had refused. So much for his plans as an arch-manipulator, he thought. Usually, Rodgers would have been inclined to disagree with O'Neill's apparent assessment that he was the better man. These events, however, had filled him with doubt. O'Neill had won, or so it appeared to him. He didn't like that one little bit. He had believed he was better than everyone else. Now, O'Neill's disdain had shaken his feelings of self-worth to the core. Overwhelmed by what had happened, tears formed in his eyes and rolled down his cheeks - tears of desolation, trepidation and his own insignificance. His enemy had broken him and would probably celebrate that victory. Peter Rodgers was afraid. Very alone and afraid. TBC Disclaimer: Stargate SG-1 and its characters are the property of Stargate (II) Productions, Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. This story is for entertainment purposes only and no money exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the author. This story may not be posted elsewhere without the consent of the author. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. Copyright 2009 Su Freund |