Horrorstricken, Sam
watched the scene play out between Jack and Baal, and knew where it
would end - the only way it could end given this particular Goa'uld's
insight into the general's character. Jack's features instantly
transformed from an almost incoherent rage to dread as he seemed to
realize what he'd said - and to whom he'd said it.
Sam watched the blood
drain from his face as he pivoted in place and stared at her, his eyes
bleak with dismay. Just for that instant he bared his soul to her, his
neutral mask of non-emotion already slamming into place as he pivoted
back, Jack's apology plain in that tumultuous unguarded emotive
communication to her.
Baal's chuckle ensured he
had his captive's full attention - all of them. AGT-4/8 whimpered as she
ducked behind Sam's legs. Her maternal instinct automatically came to
the fore as she reached out and patted the frightened child on the
shoulder, an empty form of reassurance that she had no way of
implementing.
Jack remained where he
was; his nose virtually touched the force field that sent warning arcs
of electricity through the air. "No," he shouted. "I'm not doing it
anymore."
"Is your word worth so little then?"
"Promises made under
duress mean nothing, you know that," Jack retorted, his lips taut with
anger. To the watching Sam, the only crack in his otherwise poker face
seemed designed to limit the snake's pleasure if only a little.
As for her, Sam felt like
she was at a tennis match and she was the ball as the two foes hurled
volleys back and forth across the net of the force field. She had the
feeling that they wouldn't be shaking hands at the end of the match
either.
"I know that you promised
your cooperation in exchange for the safety of your mate, O'Neill," Baal
objected in reasonable and dulcet tones; Sam thought he would have been
equally at home in any corporate boardroom or courtroom if the situation
hadn't been so serious. "I have been extremely lenient despite your
repeated transgressions."
"Compared to what? Huh?
You've threatened to stick a snake in Carter's head and butchered her on
the operating table . . . and you call that being lenient? Well I'm
tired of you and all your games. I'm not playing anymore."
Jack's hands were fisted
at his sides and he looked like he wanted to wrap them around the
Goa'uld's neck - probably because that's exactly what he wanted to do.
Not that Sam could blame him.
The girl at Sam's side
whimpered and she gave her a tense smile and patted her once again.
AGT-4/8 dimpled with a return smile that surprised the older woman.
"You continue to try my
patience, Tau'ri. Understand this, I am your god, and hold the power of
life and death over your mate and the girl. However, since you care so
little for their welfare . . ." He turned to the Warriors. "Restrain him
and take the others away. I care not if they are harmed."
"Over my dead body,
Dirt-Baal," Jack snarled and leaned forward, his entire body tensed for
the upcoming confrontation - the one that Sam knew he was forcing out
into the open.
"That can be arranged, as
you well know," Baal smiled, with an eagerness that sickened as well as
mesmerized Sam.
"Bring it on, Dirt-Baal,
what's one more time in the sarcophagus when it's like a second home to
me already," Jack's voice sounded dead, as if he'd already breathed his
last and didn't care if he ever woke up again.
Sam swallowed hard and
squeezed the shoulder of the girl who still clung to her legs like a
barnacle. She knew Jack well enough to know what was on his mind, and it
wasn't life, at least not his own. He was more than willing to sacrifice
himself for her and the little girl.
She'd witnessed his brand
of self-sacrifice far too many times not to know what he planned to do.
With a heavy heart, she also realized she knew what she had to do - and
the effect it would have on Jack.
As Sam watched in
disbelief, Baal stepped back and two Kull Warriors took his place
directly in front of Jack. Then, as the force field disappeared, Jack
flung himself at them, his outstretched hands scrabbling with their
sheer bulk, as he tried to win past. They stood fast as if carved in
obsidian, and seemingly without effort, pinned his arms to his side.
That attack thwarted,
Jack lashed out with his legs, and caught Baal unprepared. The Goa'uld
hastily retreated out of range and raised his arm that held the hand
device. Its ruby jewel glowed crimson and then a shaft of golden light
impacted Jack's forehead.
He grunted with pain and
stiffened, his eyes riveted on the cause of his torment. Beads of sweat
immediately appeared across his face, evidence of his struggle to deny
Baal a glimpse of the pain he caused. Only a determined expression
there, his eyes locked with this monster that Sam knew far too well
still strode through his nightmares like the avenging god that he
personified.
Sam could take no more.
Nothing was worth this torment, not even her own life. Her lover had
already surrendered more than he ever should, more than she feared he
could afford.
As for the child who
clung to her in fright, she was reasonably certain that Baal would spare
her for she was the last of the clones. Baal needed AGT-4/8 - and Jack -
but as for herself, she was honest enough to realize that her own life
was meaningless where Baal was concerned.
But she was through with
being a by-stander and would not be Jack's price anymore. She was not
going to stand by and allow Jack to sell his soul - or die - for her.
"Stop it!"
Clutching the hand of the
child who struggled to hide behind her Sam strode toward Jack, who was
now on his knees, his face upturned toward the punishing beam of the
hand device. The skin of his bare back and shoulders dewed with the
sweat of his refusal to submit meekly to the punishment Baal doled out.
Her heart quickened at his strength and it served to reinforce her
resolve. If he continued to fight against all odds, could she do any
less?
"I'll go with you - just
leave Jack alone. Okay?" She shouted the words, frantic to get Baal's
attention on her and away from Jack. She sighed with relief when Baal's
eyes turned to her, his smile as wintry as Antarctica.
"Very well," Baal nodded
and the beam retreated back to its home in the ruby of the hand device
and Jack collapsed to the floor.
Sam knelt beside him, and
AGT-4/8 hunkered down beside her, as if glued to her side. Loath to
provide Baal with a glimpse into their feelings for one another, she
restrained her fingers from combing through the damp hair of Jack's
heaving chest by balling them into a fist where her nails bit into the
flesh of her palm.
Instead she brushed his
forehead with her fingertips, careful to avoid the circular sunburn that
was a telltale sign of the hand device. Despite her best efforts, her
touch elicited another groan from Jack.
"Sam?"
"I'm here, Jack."
"Don't go," he opened bloodshot eyes and sought her face. "Please."
Sam jumped when she felt
Jack's long fingers softly stroke her thigh, out of sight, secretly;
practiced at expressing his want and his need for her in the most public
of places. Then she leaned into it, hungry for his touch.
"I have no choice," she bent down to whisper her words.
"I order you not to,
Carter," Jack licked dry cracked lips that split when he tried a parody
of a smile. His reassuring strokes ended as the pads of his fingers
pressed into her leg, almost painful in his silent plea for
compliance.
"Sorry, that won't work
either, Jack." She smiled, but her heart wasn't in it. "Besides what are
you gonna do, general? Put me on report? Put a reprimand in my file?"
"Latrine duty?" he
murmured. Chill air bit into her as his fingers fell away in surrender,
a connection she did not wish to have severed.
"Let me carry my weight.
I can do it, and if it doesn't work . . ." She nibbled her lower lip
nervously, "well, at least I know I did my best. But I won't let you
carry me anymore."
"But I'm supposed to
protect you, Sam." Her name escaped his lips in a soft sigh, almost
imperceptible to her ear, but she heard it nonetheless - and the
entreaty that it contained.
"I know, but you can't do
it this time." She inwardly smiled at the slight whine in his words and
let her thumb briefly brush his lips. "You do know what you mean to me,
remember that, Jack O'Neill. I am not saying good-bye, because I have
every intention of coming back to you. You won't be rid of me that
easily."
Hidden, as secretly as
his touch had been, she squeezed that wayward thumb in her fingers.
Fleetingly, she offered him the reassurance he would never ask for, even
of her, and solicited for his trust at the same time. She was determined
that this would not be the end for them. Not if she had anything to say
about it, and she had plenty to say to a certain woman-hating Goa'uld
who was the bane of their existence.
Then Sam stood and took
the hand of AGT-4/8 and walked out of the cell and stopped in front of
Baal. "I'm ready now."
***
"How touching, your mate
remains loyal to you, even though you put so little value on her
welfare," Baal gloated with glittering eyes. There was no doubt about it
- the scum-sucking bastard was in his element.
Jack said nothing, what
could he say in the face of Sam's decision to take matters into her own
hands? He just hoped that she knew what she was doing, and survived the
experience.
Now that the showdown had
passed, Jack felt totally wrung out, and devoid of any emotion. He
didn't bother to get up, not that he had the energy to perform such a
task at the moment anyway. So from his position on the floor, he watched
with hooded eyes as Baal nodded and gestured to the Warriors who
surrounded Sam and the girl.
"Sam?" the upturned face of the child who so trustingly held her
hand in a death grip looked scared.
Shame bit deeply into his
heart at the sight, it took long moments to realize Sam was being true
to herself and all he could do was the same. The realization was a
distant second to his being able to ensure her safety though.
"It's okay honey. We're just going for a walk - that's all."
The little girl nodded
but didn't look like she believed her. Well, that just showed Jack that
she was a chip off the old block. He didn't believe Sam either. As they
walked out of sight, he propped himself up with one arm, his ears
strained to hear anything that he could.
It was hard to hear over
the pounding of his heart, but he did the best he could. For a few
moments, he heard nothing but the retreating steps of the Kull Warriors.
Then he heard a familiar voice, one that filled him with dread.
"Stop her!" It was Baal,
and he sounded upset. That was so not a good thing where Sam was
concerned. Jack's throat constricted and he swallowed hard.
The Goa'uld's voice was
followed almost immediately by the sound of blasts of energy being
unleashed - once, twice, then three times. Then he heard a high-pitched
whimper that was quickly stifled. It was the sound a scared child would
make, not a grown woman like Sam.
He held his breath;
afraid the sound would prevent him from hearing what had happened -
though he had an inkling of what it was. But he heard only a chuckle,
one made low in the throat. He knew only one person - or thing - that
laughed like that.
"Take the girl away and dispose of the body of this female."
Jack sat stunned into
immobility; Baal's words reverberated in his mind. No, it couldn't be.
There must be some mistake. She promised that she'd be back - she'd
promised him and she always came back. She said she could take care of
herself. Just like the hopped up rabbit on batteries, she took a licking
and kept on ticking. Always there, had always kept him from
self-destruction, from losing hope - from giving up.
Down the hallway, Jack
heard something being dragged over the floor and gulped. Sam . . .
Carter, his second in command, the one who always pulled a last minute
rescue out of her butt - but not this time. Jack damned the snake - and
damned himself even more.
Sam was gone, dead. His
arm slid out from under him and he let it because it didn't matter.
Nothing mattered. Dully, he banged his head against the stone he lay on
and wondered why he felt no pain.
The snakehead had settled
his score with him, just as he'd threatened to do. He'd taken away the
one person that had kept him from throwing in the towel and giving up.
Yeah, he pretended, but while she lived, there was hope, even for a
jaded has-been jet jockey like him.
His mouth opened and
closed on words that stuck in his throat. He blinked, and the tears that
flooded his eyes overflowed and coursed unnoticed down his cheeks.
"Sam," he whispered and
shook his head in violent denial balled fists slamming against the
unyielding stone harder and harder with each sobbing breath.
"No, this can't be
happening," he whispered hoarsely, sucking in the salty tears in the
process. His grief lent him the energy to rise - first to his knees,
then to his feet. Jack stood with his legs braced to fight an enemy that
was out of his reach.
"No!"
He screamed the word and
staggered to the wall in a daze. All reason burned from him, only an
animal's rage was left. His fist impacted the wall again and again; his
eyes saw only the face of the snake who'd taken Sam away from him,
despite his best efforts to prevent it. Baal's face morphed into Sam's
and his jackhammer fist stopped in mid-flight, then dropped to his side.
His insides, the place his heart had lived - and died - flash frozen in
that instant.
"Oh Sam, you promised,"
he whispered as a sob escaped his painfully clenched teeth.
This was just another
promise that had been broken in a long line of such, courtesy of the
resident snakehead. That inability of his to toe the hard line, if Jack
had sent her away that night in the first place, she wouldn't have been
there when they came for him. She wouldn't be dead - because of him.
He stopped and looked at
the wall, now smeared in crimson, bits of his own flesh hung raggedly
from his mangled knuckles. It was only right that he suffered, but he
would get that snake and punish him for what he'd done, if it were the
last thing he did . . . that was a promise he intended to keep. Deep
below his frozen heart the rage built, he still couldn't believe she was
gone. Somehow he felt her, but he knew, he'd heard . . .
Distracted he surveyed
the room and noticed a bit of damp rag in the corner; Sam had torn it
from her shirt and used it to wipe his forehead with her fingers that
were so tender, so loving, so forgiving. He wondered how any woman could
touch him after all the distasteful things he'd done in his life. The
cloth was probably dry now, but it had been hers.
Jack took shambling steps
toward the rag, picked it up with trembling hands and held it to his
cheek. His only remembrance of her, evidence that she existed here -
'had' existed here.
Once again the tears came
as the awful truth settled onto his heart, making it stutter within his
chest, it broke the ice jam there and allowed the eruption of rage that
dwelled and simmered there freedom - gave him freedom. What was life
without Sam?
"Noo!" His howl of denial
and rage bounced crazily around the cell and found outlet through the
shimmering curtain that sealed him into it. Savagely the vapor of his
incinerated heart barreled down the hall, careening from the walls like
a torrent of liquid rock, seeking the snake he could not reach.
His eyes followed the
sound out the door and then he flung himself after it, desperate to
fulfill his last mission. When his body impacted against the force
field, it hung there for a nanosecond, wreathed in crackling unholy
energy like some avenging avatar before it flung him back, senseless to
the floor.
When he regained
consciousness moments later, it was to discover that his wrists were
encircled with shackles that ended in a hook on the wall. Frenzied, he
attempted to jerk himself free.
Only exhaustion quelled
his efforts, rivulets of hot blood from his lacerated wrists trickled
down his corded arms, pooled against his neck and collar bone, and then
drained coolly down his heated skin along his ribs to drip loudly upon
the floor.
Baal stood over him and
Jack lolled his head around to look up at him from his seated position
against the wall. He idly wondered if he could kill him with a kick to
something vital. If only he could move his leg, but it seemed
super-glued to the floor.
"You did not think I
would allow you to continue your impetuous behavior; did you?"
Jack shrugged carefully
and then winced when the jewelry dug into his wrists and pulled at his
shoulders. Every muscle felt sore, probably a side-effect of running
headlong into an active force field - go figure.
"I'd considered it."
"The female's body was given to the carrion birds."
The over-dressed
snakehead that had a thing for boots had an air of anticipation about
him, like he expected a whole shit-load of bowing and scraping. He got
only silence as Jack bit down the rage and despair those carefully
calculated words had caused to well up inside him. It was better to
store it for when the opportunity presented itself, then it could be
unleashed when he strangled Baal with his bare hands and danced on the
bloody remains.
"You have nothing to say, O'Neill?" Baal prodded.
"What do you want me to
say?" His eyes blazed up at his tormentor and then he dropped his gaze
too weary to put up much of a fight. There was always tomorrow. "What is
there to say?"
Baal clasped his hands
behind his back and circled Jack. "There is the matter of the girl."
"What of her?" Jack was
wary of what was coming; yes she would be a liability, one that Baal
wouldn't hesitate to use. And as usual, he didn't have to wait long for
the other shoe - or in this case, boot - to drop.
"As your clone, she carries the Ancient gene."
"Yeah? And . . .
therefore? Come on, spit it out, Slime-Baal," Jack snarled, surprised he
had the energy to do that much. "Don't be shy."
"She requires training that only you can provide."
"Or you'll do what?" Jack
tilted his head up to study Baal's face. "Kill her? Is that what you're
trying to say?" He felt the trap snap shut on him, the snake had him the
short-and-curlies - again.
"Good, you know what is
expected of you," Baal purred. "See that you train her well."
Jack couldn't stop
himself; he slumped in his chains - defeated. Another life now held him
hostage to the reptilian god his world revolved around. The only way to
end it was to die. Only how did he go about doing that? No, that wasn’t'
right. He had no problem dying, Baal would gladly oblige him - and had -
too many times to count. The problem was to stay dead.
Baal's footsteps, as he
retreated down the hall, were like mocking laughter at the whole notion
that this nightmare would ever end. Only blind luck and a
not-quite-dead-and-departed friend turned glowy had ended it last time.
He had no one in his corner this time.
Sam . . .
He let the tears fall unfettered. He was so screwed.
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