Keep Your Eye on the Baal by dinkydow

Chapter Nine

"You look awful," Sam smiled to take some of the sting out of her words.

"I feel awful," Jack rasped through lips that were white with blisters. "Must've ate something that didn't agree with me."

She offered him a cup of water from a pitcher that had been waiting in their cell and then poured some over a rag. His eyes were bright with fever and she needed something to bring his temperature down.

He took it in trembling hands and raised it to his lips. Cautiously he took a sip and then swallowed with an audible groan. Setting down the pitcher, Sam sat down next to him where he slumped against the wall.

"No kidding. What was that about, anyway?"

"What?" He raised weary bloodshot eyes to her and winced when he dipped his head to swallow. "Oh, you mean that crap back there with Ma and Pa Snakehead?"

She nodded, almost afraid to continue. At least he hadn't immediately vomited the water back up - that had seemed to go on for hours. It made her feel so helpless to see him like that, she wanted to help, but there was essentially nothing she could do. So she settled for dabbing his face with a piece of wet cloth she'd torn from her shirt. It wasn't much, but it was the best she could do.

Jack shrugged as if it were nothing and seemed to avoid her eyes. "Oh, not much, Slime-Baal gave me a choice, either I ate the snake or he stuck it inside your head. So I ate it. Go figure."

"Holy, Hannah! He threatened to implant it - inside me?"

Sam shivered at his words. He still wouldn't look at her, which set off her alarm bells. So she crawled around and sat cross-legged in front of him so she could get a better look at him.

"Sorry, it feels like I gargled with broken glass." He paused to take another sip of water, and bent over to aid his swallow, before he continued. "Yeah, and that wasn't just any snake either. It's the same kind he used on the Kull Warriors, the type that turns you into a zombie." He closed his eyes and wheezed, as if the act of talking was an effort.

Her mouth made a soundless oh. "So, Baal has been using me as leverage to make you do what he wants?"

Jack nodded his gasps for breath loud in their otherwise quiet cell.

Sam leaned in closer to Jack, her face inches from his. Viewed from up close, he looked even worse. His pale face was a roadmap of wrinkles and lines etched in pain.

"Why are you letting him do that, Jack? When I saw you bow down to him, I didn't know what to think. I never thought I'd see you do that. Not to anyone, but especially not to that particular Goa'uld."

"Things change, Carter. So believe it." Jack's arm cradled his middle as he grimaced with pain. "Oh, god."

He bit his lip; thick clear liquid dripped down his chin from having ruptured some of the blisters on his mouth in the process. Sam's stomach lurched in sympathy.

"Is the pain worse?"

"No, about the same. Who knew I'd be allergic to those suckers?"

She knew a diversionary tactic when she heard one and wasn't about to give up so easily. "But how can you let him do that to you?"

Jack straightened and nailed her with his dark brown eyes. "You have to ask, Sam? Don't you know by now what you mean to me?"

Sam trumped his stare with one of her own, "Yes, but to give in to Baal like you did - and all because of me? Don't you think I can take care of myself without your help? Because I can, you know."

Jack's sighed and shook his head. "It would be kind of hard for you to do that if you were dead, now wouldn't it?"

She paused as her mind tried to put the pieces of this puzzle together. "What are you saying?"

"You died on the table, Sam. He'd already gotten what he wanted from you and dumping you in the nearest sarcophagus was not on his agenda - so I changed his mind."

"You changed his mind? How?"

"What do you think?"

He curled onto his side and heaved weakly, but a dribble of stringy saliva was the only result. Sam scooted around and lifted his head so it rested on her lap. Tenderly she wiped his mouth with her wet rag. Then her eyes widened when she saw the bloodstain on it. Her alarm quelled her nausea as his condition continued to deteriorate.

"You're vomiting blood?"

Jack nodded and then closed his eyes again.

"How long has this been going on?"

He shrugged, "Maybe a couple of hours."

"And you weren't going to tell me?"

"What could you do about it? Huh?"

Jack grunted and squeezed his eyes shut; his mouth opened as his stomach muscles rippled in another paroxysm of pain. This time he didn't bother stifling his deep coughs or wipe away the saliva mixed with blood that hung from his mouth.

"Get you some help?"

Jack lay unmoving except for the visible struggle as air rasped in and out of his open mouth. "No," a low almost whimper was his answer, and for a moment she wondered if she'd imagined it - just a trick played on her ear by his noisy gulps for air.

"What?"

"No . . ." his gaze was fixed on some faraway spot, a sure sign of the pain she knew he felt. "He'd just put me in back the sarcophagus. Been there, got the t-shirt - like I never left," his voice faded, as faraway as his gaze.

Sam slumped against the wall, and mulled over what he'd told her and what she'd witnessed. She knew that Jack had been forced to consume a symbiote; she'd seen it with her own eyes, though at the time she had questioned the veracity of it, had even considered that it might be a hallucination caused by the sarcophagus. But, Jack coughing up blood in her arms was proof positive that it was real, too real.

From what she knew about Goa'uld physiology, its blood was acidic - not counting the various chemical compounds the symbiote was able to manufacture to control its host. When Baal had forced Jack to eat one, its blood must have caused a chemical burn in his mouth and stomach. Based on that information, she realized that was the root cause of the blisters on his mouth and the blood he was vomiting. And if he had gotten any down his airway, then his condition would be even more critical.

"I don't think I have a choice."

A long sigh escaped from Jack's open lips. "No . . . please." An almost unperceivable tremor traveled down his bare back.

Sam nibbled her bottom lip. Baal wanted Jack alive and would soon take matters into his own hands anyway. In the meantime though, he shouldn't suffer like this just to avoid the inevitable. "I'm sorry, Jack."

She bent down and kissed his forehead, and then slid out from under him. This time it was her turn to avoid his eyes as she lowered his unresisting head to the floor and stood.

Squaring her shoulders, she walked to the cell door that shimmered with the force field. "Hey you," she addressed the Kull Warrior who stood guard to one side of the door. "I need to talk to your boss."

He said nothing, only stared at her. But then it would be hard to tell just what it was thinking with the black facemask it wore. It must have done something though because Baal soon appeared with a guard of his own.

Baal's eyes raked her up and down and his lip curled in a sneer. "You wished to see me, female?"

"It's General O'Neill. He's pretty sick."

"It is not surprising, the Tau'ri are noted for their fragile nature. Why do you tell me this?"

"He's dying."

"You do not wish him to die?" Baal cocked his head to one side as if measuring her. Automatically, her back stiffened.

"I know that you don't." Sam matched him stare for stare, her blue eyes to his brown.

"What are his wishes on this?"

As if he didn't already know, she thought, But it would do her - and Jack - no good if she angered Baal. Unfortunately, much as it galled her to admit it, she needed him.

"Since when does that matter? You and I both know he's important to you, too important to not revive - unlike me."

He chuckled. "So he told you?"

"Of course he did."

"You are unusually perceptive for a mere female." He accented the last words, his lips curling around them with distaste.

Sam lifted her chin for her return volley. "You are unusually stupid for a snakehead."

Baal's eyes flashed with anger. "Do not tempt me, female. O'Neill may not be able to save you next time." He turned to the Warrior at his side. "Take him to the sarcophagus."

Sam stood back and watched as it picked Jack up as easily as if he were a child and cradled him in his arms. Jack was silent during the whole ordeal, his arms dangled limply at his side as the Warrior left the cell. She had saved Jack's life, so why did she feel like she'd betrayed him?

***

She watched dispassionately as her sister was taken away. It didn't matter, that's what she told herself. At least her sister felt no pain anymore. She was the last one remaining now. All seven of her sister's had died, some more quickly and painfully than the others.

However, it was lonely without them and she wondered what her future would bring. Her fingers traced the brand on the inside of her arm that designated her as AGT-4/8. She been told it meant Ancient-Gene-Tau'ri-Four-Of-Eight. The sister who had just died had been A-G-T-Seven-Of-Eight.

Her world was limited to a small room that contained everything she needed to survive, a pallet to sleep on, a blanket, and a toilet. Tasteless food was served twice a day and she consumed it because she was told to. It was a rule, and rules were to be obeyed - immediately and without question.

In the beginning the room had been very crowded with seven of her sisters there with her, now it seemed huge and empty in comparison. She missed them.

Visitors to her world consisted of men in gray jumpsuits who exclaimed over her continued survival, black-suited guards who said nothing and a man whose eyes flashed when he was angry. He was always angry, despite the fact that he laughed a lot - too much. Of all of them, that one scared her even more than the others, though she wasn't sure why.

When her sisters had laughed, it had been a joyful sound and she smiled at the memory. His laugh was hard as the floor under her feet, and made something inside her twang with fear.

He had watched as they took away her sister, her last companion. She had wanted to cry, but had knuckled away the tears. That would come later, when she was alone and pretending to sleep. It would not do to cry in front of that man, it was a rule - her own - but one she resolved not to break.

He stood in front of her now, and she studied the tips of his boots. She knew better than to look him in the eye - that also was a rule - not her own.

"Come with me, girl."

Though she didn't like him, she knew from her observations that he held the power of life and death over her, so she obeyed him. AGT-8/8 had not, and had died because of it. She shivered as she remembered the shaft of light that had speared her sister in the forehead, and the blood that had gushed from her nose, mouth, and ears. Her sister's cries still echoed in her dreams during the time of rest.

She followed him down the hallway, her eyes on the boot heels in front of her as was expected. Under lowered lids, her eyes darted from side to side, eager to view the world that opened up around her. Her curiosity, like that of her sisters, was strong and she'd had to work hard to conceal it. Each sight was new to her and expanded her knowledge and like a dry sponge, she absorbed it. When he stopped and gestured her into another cell, she did so without hesitation, though she would have liked to have seen more.

Someone else was already there, a stranger. When AGT-4/8 turned around, the force field already was on and the man who laughed too much stood outside it. He laughed, and she shuddered at the sound.

She - she was a she - was taller and looked different than those in the gray jumpsuits. She was a woman - yes, that was the word she wanted. The strange woman had shorter hair of a different color than her own longer reddish brown that brushed her shoulders. The strange woman's eyes were blue whereas her own were a dark brown.

"I brought you some company," said the man who laughed too much.

"Who is this?" the strange woman looked angry and AGT-4/8 cowered away from her into the farther corner.

She knew from experience that corners were safest, especially when someone was angry. Anger usually meant she had broken a rule and the consequence was painful. So many times anger came even though no rule had been broken.

AGT-4/8 drew her knees up to her chin and wrapped her arms around them. From her corner, she watched as the strange woman walked up to the doorway.

"You don't know?"

The stranger looked at her and AGT-4/8 hastily lowered her eyes. When nothing bad happened, she dared to look up again.

"Why should I?"

"Because you are unusually intelligent for a mere female."

As she watched, the man who laughed too much disappeared from view, leaving her alone with the strange woman. A shiver coursed through her and she wondered what was going to happen now. Whatever it was, she knew it would be painful. The rules and taught her that.

AGT-4/8 remained crouched in her corner, her hand over her mouth to stifle the whimper that rose unbidden in her throat. She was not allowed to cry, or make noise. It was against the rules and was bad, very bad.

When the strange woman turned to look at her, AGT-4/8 curled into a little ball. Maybe if she made herself small enough, she could disappear altogether and the strange woman wouldn't hurt her.

Above the loud pounding of her heart, AGT-4/8 heard the strange woman come closer and then stop in front of her. When she dared peek between her splayed fingers, the strange woman crouched in front of her. Despite her best efforts to stifle it, a whimper escaped her lips.

"It's okay. I won't hurt you."

AGT-4/8 jerked away when she felt a touch on her shoulder, but pain didn't follow so she raised her head cautiously, wary of a trap.

Her wide eyes watched as the strange woman smiled. That was not in the rules and hadn't happened before; the only one who smiled was the man with flashing eyes, the one who laughed too much. But this smile seemed different and she was pretty when she smiled - much prettier than the man who laughed too much.

"What's your name?"

"AGT-Four-Of-Eight," she replied with a timid voice. She knew the answer to that question, and that she must answer it. That was a rule. She also knew what came next, and held out her arm, underside up, for inspection.

The pretty woman took it in her hands and examined it. The grip on her skin was unexpectedly soft and AGT-4/8 sighed with relief. When it was released, she examined it and found no hint of redness or bruising, which was what usually happened whenever anyone touched her - like the men in the gray jumpsuits.

"My name's Sam."

"Sam?"

"And your name's AGT-Four-Of-Eight?"

"Yes," then she became bolder. "All my sisters are gone."

"Your sisters?"

"Yes, my sister, AGT-Seven-Of-Eight was taken away when she died. I am the last one."

"Where did you come from? I mean, how did you get here?"

She knew the answer to that question too, but was surprised that Sam asked it. Hadn't she seen it herself? Or was this a test? She knew about tests, and usually passed them. She would pass this one.

"The man with the flashing eyes brought me here."

"No, I mean, where were you before you came to this planet?"

She tensed for the expected punishment and dropped her eyes to the floor when she couldn't answer the question correctly. That was not allowed. When it didn't come, she relaxed a bit and dared to look up at the woman in front of her. This Sam was unusual, and did not seem to know the rules.

"I . . . I don't understand."

The strange woman called Sam sat cross-legged on the floor. "Come here so I can talk to you better."

Tentatively, AGT-4/8 uncurled from her corner and emulated her position on the floor. When Sam took her arm, she allowed it.

"What does this mean?" Sam's touch was gentle and non-demanding as she pointed to the marks on the young girl's arm.

She smiled with relief, she knew that answer as well as her own name, because its meaning had been drilled into her by sheer repetition. "It is my name - Ancient-Gene-Tau'ri-Four-of-Eight."

"Oh, I see. You're a clone?"

AGT-4/8 nodded and smiled - the smile she'd only shared with her sisters till now. "Yes, that is what the men in the gray jumpsuits call me."

***

Thor watched the red tell-tales on his sensors. According to the readings, O'Neill had been separated from Colonel Carter again. And the life signs had grown progressively fainter, the probability was high that he was in a sarcophagus - or soon would be.

That would further complicate an already complicated situation. O'Neill would need specialized care that was not available onboard the Daniel Jackson. Its medical facility was more than adequate for any medical emergency - provided you were an Asgard.

Thor moved the appropriate shells to initiate long-range communication. He knew of such a specialist and would send for him.

***

Jack opened his eyes and turned his head, once again he was surrounded by the lighted panels of the sarcophagus. "Second verse, same as the first," he muttered to himself.

He'd driven his parents and other assorted members of the 'establishment' 'round the bend in the past with repeated renditions of this particular ditty, 'Henry The Eighth' by Herman's Hermits. It wasn't quite as bad as 'Ninety-nine Bottles Of Beer On The Wall', but it was close. Besides, it gave him a sort of anchor, a tad of control, a feeling of being in charge. Even when he knew with utter certainty that he had none of that - at the moment.

Reluctantly, he started the drill by sitting up and looking around. Yep, Slime-Baal, present and accounted for with his ever-present Kull Warriors as the back-up chorus. Did he just dream that he'd escaped?

No, wait! He'd already done that - again . . . and again . . .and. . .

Another line of lyric spilled from his lips to distract him from that really, really bad thought. "I'm 'En-er-ree the eighth I am, 'En-er-ree the eighth I am, I am."

"Has your mind failed, O'Neill?"

Jack gave him a tight-lipped smile; perhaps he wasn't as powerless as he'd thought. "Nope, just singing. You have heard of singing, haven't you?" Not missing a beat, he pivoted and turned toward the cells. After all, it wasn't as if he didn't know the way.

"I got married to the woman next door, she's been married seven times before. And every one was an 'En-er-ree, 'En-er-ree! Never had a . . . something or a Sam. No Sam! I'm her eighth old man, I'm 'En-er-ree, 'En-er-ree the eighth I am, I am. 'En-er-ree the eighth I am." His hands directed the non-existent band as he built for the finale, "H-E-N-R-Y."

This was real close to the tried and true method of sticking one's fingers in one's ears and humming loudly. It also ensured that Baal wasn't harping on about the usual crap. I broke you before. . . I'll do it again in a heartbeat . . . Honor your god . . . What was your mission . . . and so on and so forth. Like a danged broken record. He was so not in the mood for that right now.

Just about to launch into the third verse - not the same as the first - he arrived at his cell. The well-remembered words died on his lips when he saw who awaited him there.

Sam was there, but someone else too, who looked . . . oddly familiar. It was a girl, prepubescent by the looks of her. Sam was on the floor talking to her, but when they heard him, they stopped and looked up at him. He paused long enough to let the force field go down and then stepped inside.

At his approach, the girl scuttled back into the corner like a wild animal. From the little he could see of her, she looked underfed and scared to death. Her hair probably hadn't seen a good shampooing in quite some time; her reddish brown locks hung limply around her face and nearly obscured the dark brown eyes that peered fearfully up at him.

"Am I interrupting something?" His tiny little egg of 'being in control' died a quick death in the face of this new development.

"Jack, there's someone you need to meet," Sam looked nervous.

"Okay, I'm game. Who?"

He spared a glance behind him; Baal hadn't left yet and had a smirk on his face that set all his alarm bells ringing. Something was up, and he was pretty sure he wouldn't like it either. So what else was new?

Still, there was no need to scare the poor little thing half to death, so he plastered a smile on his face and watched Sam as she turned to the waif in the corner.

"It's all right, you can come out. Jack won't hurt you."

He wished Sam wouldn't go making promises like that for him, but decided he could take that up with her later. Just because she looked harmless didn't mean she couldn't be used to take out an entire planet - case in point, Cassie and Rya'c.

Sam's soothing voice did the trick though and the girl unfolded and stood in the corner, her brown eyes almost too big for her face. He saw the hint of a dimple that would show when she smiled, if she ever did and an awful suspicion took root in his mind.

By now, the girl stood next to Sam who had one arm draped protectively around her thin shoulders. "Jack, I'd like you to meet my friend, AGT-Four-Of-Eight."

"Nice to meet cha," Jack crouched in front of her and stuck out his hand.

When she stared at it with a puzzled look on her face, he smiled and turned the gesture into a touch of her hair. From what he could see at first glance, it had a natural part caused by a cowlick in the front. Jack knew from experience how much havoc that sort of thing played with haircuts and how it would never do what it was supposed to.

It surprised him when the little thing allowed his touch, and told him a lot about how she'd been treated in the past. He brushed the hair away from her eyes and noted the light dusting of freckles across her nose and cheeks - that teased at his memory.

"Jack, you need to see this," Sam held out the girl's arm and showed him the letters branded onto the skin. "She told me they stand for Ancient-Gene-Tau'ri-Four-Of-Eight." Her blue eyes held hints of pain and sorrow as well as what looked suspiciously like pity flashed across her face.

Jack's eyes were pulled from Carter's blue ones to the child's. His eyes looked back at him from her face. His face, only . . . Charlie, Reetou Charlie, Mini-Me and all the others that had suffered because of him flashed across that pinched little face.

"She's you, Jack - only a girl."

Duh, oh. No matter how dense he could be considered, he'd recognized himself - and he . . . she stood right in front of him. Courtesy of the local snake god, the same slimy worm that held his soul hostage to his inability to not totally close his heart to others. If he were still that hard-assed son of a bitch that West had sent to Abydos, this new development wouldn't be a problem. But he was not that man; he had never been that man. And unfortunately, that would prove a problem too.

Furious, Jack straightened out of his crouch and stalked back to the doorway. All his careful maneuvering with Baal burned away by the pain that another innocent suffered when it should be him.

"What's the matter, splashing around in your own gene pool wasn't enough for you?" Jack's finger stabbed the air millimeters from the crackling force field that separated him from the subject of his ire. "You had to dick around with mine too? You just couldn't resist, could you, Slime-Baal?"

Baal's smile broadened, his teeth bared in an expression that screamed 'mistake' to the back of Jack's brain, only he'd stopped listening. Only when Baal's eyes flicked to Carter and the child behind him did her hear the warning. Oh crap!

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