At the sound of her
voice, Jack lifted his head to look at her, his brown eyes almost black
with emotion. "Carter, I . . ." his words trailed off.
Sam fought against the
grip of the two Kull Warriors at her side, but her efforts seemed
futile. The dull thud of Jack's head when it hit the table seemed to
echo around the room.
"Hold him," Baal
ordered.
Two Warriors held his
shoulders; the other two grabbed his hips and thighs in their strong
hands. In doing so they blocked her view so that she could only see
Jack's feet and legs. Mesmerized she watched his toes and feet contort
and writhe within the restraints as he attempted to wiggle away from
their grasp. Unfortunately, his attempts were as futile as hers.
"What the hell are you
doing?" Jack's voice held a note of desperation that galvanized Sam to
renew her efforts.
If only her head didn't
pound so, she could concentrate better - think of a way out of this for
him - for them. Jack had always depended on her to pull a rabbit out of
the hat . . . and other places. Her vision blurred and she could feel
her heart pulse in time with her headache.
Her bare feet scrabbled
on the floor as she fought for leverage. One foot lashed out at the
Warrior on her right; she winced with pain because it felt like she'd
kicked a concrete block. The brute didn't even seem to notice that she'd
attacked him. She swallowed the bile that suddenly clogged her airway.
The acidic liquid left behind a sour taste in her mouth and a dry raspy
throat.
Briefly, her vision
cleared and she saw the cloth that had covered Jack's mid-section
slither to the floor to lie abandoned.
She could barely see over
the pair of Warriors whose bulk obscured her view of Jack. Her
concentration was so focused on him that she was startled when two
technicians walked past her and stood on the opposite side to Baal.
The sight of them stilled
her struggles as nothing else could, for she recognized them - they were
the ones that had administered the hormone injections to her. The
muscles in her swollen abdomen convulsed in memory and she bit her lip
to overcome the pain.
An unknown moistness
trickled from her nose; its presence irritated her and she sniffed. When
that didn't help, she tongued it away from her upper lip and grimaced
when it tasted of copper.
Sam bent to wipe it on
her upper arm and when she saw the smeared blood, her eyes widened with
concern. What was happening to her?
But she couldn't worry
about her own well being at present. Jack was depending on her to figure
a way out of this - but she couldn't think above the pulse of pain that
beat inside her head. Her stomach heaved and she fought a wave of
dizziness that threatened her sense of balance.
"No, she muttered, "Think
about Jack. Concentrate on him, Samantha Jean Carter."
She almost welcomed the
diversion that the sound of the lead technician's voice provided,
"First a small incision -
a necessity in order to harvest the genetic material, my lord."
Baal was silent,
seemingly lost in thought and the tech with the knife seemed to take
that as permission to continue with his grisly task.
Hold him still," ordered the tech.
Baal reinforced the order
with a nod toward the Kull Warriors. The muscles in Jack's feet and legs
corded.
"What's going on," screamed Carter. "Sir?"
"Oh, god . . . no," moaned Jack.
"Don't do this, Baal,"
she pleaded as tears welled up in her eyes and then flowed down her
cheeks.
The Goa'uld ignored her,
his eyes riveted on the scene in front of him. He rubbed his chin with
his forefinger and licked his lips as if in hunger.
Hold him steady," the
tech raised a needle in front of him as he adjusted the plunger. "This
is a very delicate operation - one usually done with the patient
anesthetized - I don't want the material to be damaged or
contaminated."
In front of her horrified
gaze, the syringe disappeared behind the concealing curtain of the two
Warriors.
"Nooo!"
A bubbling scream that
Sam recognized as Jack's rent the air. It built into a crescendo, and
then died away to be followed by silence that was only relieved by the
sound of his gasps and her sobs.
"There, it's in," the
tech's voice sounded tense, "Give me the storage vial."
The technicians stepped
away from the table, one holding a tray.
Baal finally took his
eyes off Jack and looked at her. His eyes flashed and he smiled.
"Release him and bring the female."
Sam swallowed the bile
that gushed into her mouth and grimaced at the sour taste as she watched
the four Warriors undo the restraints that held Jack to the table. Then
they lifted him off it and he fell to the floor in an untidy heap.
Two Warriors picked him
up where he slumped between them, his head lolled forward. She couldn't
tell if he were conscious or not. For his sake, she hoped he wasn't.
Then she was pulled
toward the blood-smeared table and lifted onto it.
"What are you doing?" She
hated it when her voice wavered as saliva dribbled from the corner of
her mouth.
"It is time to harvest
your eggs," Baal hovered over her as two Warriors fastened the
restraints over her wrists - the other two held down her legs.
She tried to wiggle out
of their grasp and kicked at them. "I don't think so," she hawked and
spit at the Goa'uld but it missed its mark.
"Carter?" Jack's voice sounded faint.
Her wrists restrained,
the Warriors fastened the leather cuffs around her thighs and ankles.
"Let her go, Slime-Baal,"
Jack growled, his voice stronger now and filled with rage.
***
"Sir?" her voice trembled and their eyes met. "Jack."
Jack lunged toward the
table, but was brought up short by his guards. "Carter, don't . . ." he
bit his lip, unable to continue.
His eyes met with Baal's who smiled, "Continue with the harvest."
The gray-suited
technicians nodded and busied themselves with their instruments.
"Jack?" Sam moaned. "I don't feel . . ."
As he watched, her eyes
rolled up in her head and she began to convulse. Her head made a hollow
sound as it thudded against the table and her back arched against the
leather straps.
"Let me go!" Jack's eyes
grew wide as he tried to get to her side. "Please."
"What is going on?" Baal
too seemed puzzled - which scared Jack even more.
The head technician
looked at Baal. "She appears to be having an allergic reaction to the
injections, my lord."
"What?" Jack eyes blazed as he shouted at Baal. "What injections?"
Baal appeared angry and
concentrated his attention on the technician. "Will it affect the
eggs?"
"No, my lord, but it could be fatal if we continue," he temporized.
"It is of no consequence
if she lives or dies - continue the harvest," Baal snapped.
The technician shrugged
and picked up a syringe. "I have to administer something to stop the
convulsions, my lord."
Baal nodded his permission.
As Jack watched, the
contents of Sam's stomach bubbled out of her mouth and then ran down her
cheeks to puddle in her ears and around her neck. Almost immediately she
choked and gasped for air.
"Turn her head," Jack
shouted. "Turn her on her side or she'll aspirate it and die."
Such was the tone of
Jack's voice that the man started to do as he had commanded - until Baal
spoke.
"No."
The technician froze in place, "My lord?"
"Leave her," The
Goa'uld's eyes flashed - a not so subtle reminder of his power.
"Continue the harvest." Baal smiled and looked at Jack.
O'Neill sprang for the
table, and like a dog on a leash, was brought up short. "If you don't
want him to do it, then let me."
The jerking of Sam's body
began to slow as she struggled to breathe through a blocked airway. Her
eyes bulged and her back arched off the table; then she collapsed and
lay without moving.
The technician's eyes
grew wide and he laid his fingers against her neck. "There is no pulse,
my lord."
Baal's lips thinned around his smile as he looked straight at Jack.
"Continue the harvest."
The man nodded, picked up
his scalpel, made an incision. Her blood trickled in a thin stream down
her side.
Jack howled with rage, "Why didn't you let me save her?"
"Her only purpose was to
produce the eggs for the cloning process. Alive or dead, her body will
provide this."
Jack gaped in disbelief, "You have a sarcophagus, don't you?"
This couldn't be
happening, not to Carter - to Sam. She deserved better than this and it
was up to him to ensure that she got it. He had to find a way to stop
the butcher who sawed away at her insides, like she was so much dead
meat.
"Yes, but I choose who is
worthy of its use. The female has served her purpose and is unworthy of
further notice," Baal's smile showed his teeth and his eyes held no hint
of humor . . . or mercy.
"Stop butchering her,"
Jack screamed, his eyes brimmed with tears that threatened to flow down
his face. "Just stop it."
The tech paused and raised his eyes in question, "My lord?"
"Continue, or you will join her on the table," Baal warned.
The tech nodded and
lifted a bloody bit of material out of her body cavity and placed it in
a waiting bowl. "I have excised a part of her ovary. It will provide the
material that is needed."
"Good," Baal turned to
the Warriors who stood at her head, "Dispose of the body."
The technician placed his
scalpel on the tray and picked up the blood-spattered bowl. Then they
both left with their equipment.
Jack's eyes darted back
and forth from Carter's body on the table to Baal. "No, you don't have
to do that."
Baal's eyes flashed, "You dare defy me?"
"No," Jack's eyes pleaded, "She deserves to live."
"She is of no consequence to me. I care not if she lives or dies."
"I care," he shouted
wide-eyed; then his face went slack with grief and the words that would
damn them both ghosted past his lips. "I love her."
Baal's eyes glittered. "Then she is your mate?"
"Yes," Jack whispered,
"Sam is my mate." He swallowed hard and tried to shrug out of his
guard's grip on his arms.
"Let him go," Baal
stepped well beyond Jack's reach and his Warriors moved to flank him.
Jack limped toward Sam's
body and leaned over her torso; his fingers searched for a pulse he
already knew wouldn't be there. He bit his lip to prevent the sob that
fought for release from his lips. Trembling fingers brushed the sweaty
hair from her face while his thumb closed her eyes. Then his lips
brushed her forehead.
"Oh, Sam," he whispered, "This is my fault."
"Yes, it is your fault," Baal agreed.
"I was selfish," Jack
continued to talk to Sam as tears brimmed in his eyes and spilled onto
his cheeks, "You shouldn't have been there."
"And because you did not
send her away, she died." Baal's eyes narrowed. "You killed her."
"What do you want, Baal?
What is the price for her life?" Jack asked through lips that barely
moved; his eyes on the bloody figure that lay unmoving on the table. He
knew what Baal wanted - and as much as he hated to admit it, he would
give it to him - he would buy Sam's life with his soul.
"The power of the Ancients."
"I can't." Jack shook his
head. "That's not something I can just give away. Don't you think I
would've done that by now if I could?"
"Yes, I suppose you would
- your cooperation then." Baal stroked his goatee. "It is really such a
little thing to ask, is it not?"
"My cooperation," Jack
spoke as if in a daze. "Yeah, sure, I'll do what you want. Just let her
live."
Baal turned to the
Warriors, "Excellent. Take her to the sarcophagus. As for O'Neill, take
him to his cell."
"No," O'Neill gathered
her in his arms; his air of determination dared the Goa'uld to stop him
from this task. "I want to take her there myself."
Baal shrugged. "I shall allow it," he paused and his voice turned
deadly. "But do not defy me again."
O'Neill nodded and bent
to take her in his arms, red-hot pain shot through his groin made him
gasp as he picked her up in his arms. He grunted when her full weight
rested in his arms. Her head lay against trustingly against his chest;
he could almost imagine she was asleep if he ignored the blood and vomit
that smeared her features.
He took a step and almost
collapsed as his thighs and abdomen burned with pain. He stopped and
grimaced. He would do this; he had to. She deserved that much from
him.
"Assist him," Baal ordered the Warriors who had automatically moved
to surround Jack and his burden.
"No," he gritted, "I'll do it."
As a way to deal with the
pain, Jack counted the steps - each one a penance for his crime - each
one brought her closer to the instrument that would restore her life.
Long since his world had narrowed to Sam's face and the need to
continue.
On autopilot, Jack's legs
and feet moved on their own volition. Blood from his groin mixed with
thick half-congealed blood from Sam's abdominal wound trickled down his
legs leaving bloody footprints in his wake. He ignored it, like the pain
that surged through his entire body. It was unimportant compared to his
mission. Perhaps if he suffered enough, it would make up for the lapse
in judgment that had resulted in her capture and death.
One step was followed by
another on a trek that generated memories of Iran and his ill-fated HALO
jump. That time, he'd limped, hopped and crawled through the desert with
only one thought in mind - reuniting with Sara. Now, only his stubborn
need to restore Sam to life kept him on his feet and moving forward.
A hand on his shoulder
stopped his forward progress and he looked around him. At his feet were
two sarcophagi -one right next to the other - he had made it.
Baal stood at the head of
the nearest one and touched a control; its lid split down the center as
it opened.
Jack pitched forward and
collapsed to his knees, his abused muscles taxed beyond their limits to
cope. Sam's body rolled out of his arms and fell into the open
sarcophagus, her legs and arms stuck out over the edge at odd angles
like the legs of a doll that had been discarded by its capricious
owner.
Jack gritted his teeth
and tenderly rearranged her limbs inside the box that would give her
life. Then he sat on the floor and propped himself up with one hand, all
his energy was spent.
"Just do it," he muttered, "Before I change my mind."
Baal pushed the button and the leaves closed together with the sound
of stone grating on stone.
Jack watched them close,
until his view of Sam's slack features was obscured by the closed lid.
His face mirrored Sam's - void of any emotion.
He felt sick and worn out
and absently picked at the blood that had dried on his bare abdomen -
Sam's blood. He held his crimson-stained hand up for inspection. Even
his nails were encrusted with it.
So her blood was on his hands - in more ways than one - someone's
idea of macabre poetic justice.
"Place him in the other
sarcophagus," Baal ordered the Warriors who had accompanied them.
"What?"
Jack looked up at the
Goa'uld in confusion. Nothing seemed real anymore. Maybe it was all a
bad dream and he'd wake up soon in his own bed, with Sam there beside
him - with nothing more urgent on his agenda than a day full of meetings
with the top brass.
"Your mind and body have
begun to fail; you need the services of the sarcophagus."
At some point Baal had
moved and now stood beside Jack. In his dazed state, he couldn't help
but wonder how he'd done that.
His eyes were drawn to
Baal's black boots. He'd never noticed just how shiny they were before
and couldn't help but wonder how he did it. He'd have to remember to ask
Baal about that.
Then, starting at the
calves of those polished black boots, Jack's eyes progressed up Baal's
pant legs, his stomach covered in black brocade and then to his chest
with its carved silver clasps. Finally, Jack's head tipped back and
looked up at the Goa'uld's face.
"No, I want to wait for
Sam," Jack shook his head in slow motion and his voice took on the
peevishness of a child.
"You would defy me?"
Baal's eyes flashed, "Remove the female and dispose of her body."
'No, stop," Jack's daze was shattered with those words.
He reached out to grab at
Baal's leg, to beg if necessary. But the nearest Warrior wrapped his
fingers in Jack's hair and hauled him up onto his knees to face the
snake he'd sold his soul to.
"You have foresworn your
word," Baal pronounced. "What of your promise of cooperation? Or was
your promise only meaningless words?"
"No, wait a minute. I'll cooperate. Just . . ."
"Show me this
cooperation, without question. Honor your god." Baal glared down at his
captive. "Release him."
Now free, Jack's head
slowly dropped as his body preformed the abeyance demanded.
"Do whatever you want,"
rasped from numb lips as his forehead met the cool floor.
The swish and swirl of
rich brocade and the distinct sound of heavy booted feet stepping behind
him said he was both forgiven - and damned.
Slowly Jack slipped
sideways to collapse onto his side where he laid with his eyes open in a
blank stare. His fingers reached out and caressed the side of the
sarcophagus where Sam was interred.
He hardly noticed when the Warrior picked him up and then carried
him to the second sarcophagus.
At Baal's touch, the
leaves of the lid parted with the sound of stone grating against stone.
"Place him in the sarcophagus and guard both of them well. Summon me
when O'Neill has awakened."
Jack was laid in it and watched impassively as the lid closed over
him - then he closed his eyes.
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