SG-A: Michael's Hope
a/n {telepathy/internal thoughts}
As the footsteps of thirty men on a mission stomp down the hall a voice barks an order, "I don't want the experiments, only the equipment." Frightened, she silently cringes and cowers into her corner. "I don't want witnesses!" And she sees his shadow.
{Do I fight or do I hide?}
He stops and turns slowly. She gasps silently: Michael.
He freezes. He felt her. A mixture of horrified-admiration and fear when she gaped his name. He steps forward cautiously.
{Play dead!} Another step. {Oh please let this work.}
A vicious hand yanks open the door to her cell. Careful steps approach the crumbled body on the floor in the corner. Calling over his shoulder to a passing henchman, but not removing his focus from the body, "This one I want."
{Damn, I should have fought. Great!} silently she curses herself.
Michael smiles at her thoughts. The crumbled body can't see his reaction as she is carried like a sack of potatoes back to the ship. When the guard leaves, she explores her new cell. Once again trapped. The ship's engines fire up and leave the planet.
{Damn. Well no point in playing dead anymore.}
A night after an odd meal of strange mash, she tries to sleep. It's fitful turning foggy.
The fog swirls and he walks towards her, "Who are you?" She doesn't answer. His voice drops to a softer warmer tone, "Who are you?" Yet again she does not answer.
He stops directly in front of her and raises his palm. She closes her eyes and resigns herself to death. The palm moves closer and pulls a hair away from her face.
Gasping, she shoots straight up from her dream. Quickly checking her surroundings, back in her cell alone, she sighs. Finally her heart rate calms down. And she feels it. Turning, she wasn't alone. Outside the cell doors, he smiles at her and then walks away. Terrified to go back to sleep, she shivers back into a ball.
After the third day, her body gives her no choice. It sleeps. The dreams bring her back to being a school teacher, but all her students are Wraith. Turning to the door way, he's there filling the frame watching her.
Waking up again, she automatically looks to the cell door. No one. She sighs heavily and collapses.
Fully alert he comes to the cell door again. This time the voice is a straight conversation. Not ordering. Not vicious, but also not soft or sultry either. "Who are you?"
"Delilah come to cut your hair!" she fires and turns her back.
He roars with laughter but stops instantly when he hears her mental plea:
{Please, let me go. Just let me go.}
"Why?" he asks to both questions. No response.
Once again she silently responds in her mind, {I'm no use to you. Let me go or kill me.}
"No," it's almost a whisper. Her head drops and silently cries. He moves on.
That night: she sleeps. He comes kneeling to her side. Her dreams are fitful and twitching violently again. He stokes her cheek with a lone joint.
Walking down the city street she looks into the shop window. She sees his reflection beside hers. He smiles. She doesn't know what to do. His reflection backs away leaving her alone. And she just watches him retreat.
Softly waking up, it frightens her to see him so close. So real. This time his palm presses and caresses her cheek.
{Shhh, It's alright. Rest easy.}
She heard him inside her head. Shivering in fear her eyes go wide. Rolling smoothly to his feet, holds a hand out to her. Instead of taking it, gets to her own feet.
"Follow me," his voice is warm and reassuring.
Of her own free will, she follows him. Down a few halls to another room. The door opens at his command. Following him inside, she looks at the accomidations of the small room. A medium size bed with warm comfortable fabrics and soft pillows. A chest of drawers under a window showing the zooming stars. He stays at the door letting his body language express her safety.
"Rest," he softly orders and backs out of the room. The door closes. Alone.
Turning, she continues to look. A change of clothes on the bed. A second room: wash room. Sinking to the bed, she curls herself around a pillow and drops into a deep and comfortable sleep. It feels like a cloud of warmth and comfort has enveloped and surround, not allowing fear in. Finally a normal dream.
Awakening refresh and relaxed, she showers and changes. Checking the main door, finds it isn't locked. Cautiously, she heads down one hallway not seeing anyone and turns down a second. But she also realizes quickly she could get lost. And what good would that do? Instead, she heads back. But now she can't remember which door is hers.
Cringing in fear, he is coming towards her with a tray of fruit. She begins to shake.
He smiles, "It's okay," and opens the correct door. Reluctantly, she follows.
He sets the tray on the foot of the bed. Toying with a green one he asks again, "Who are you?"
Bracing herself beside the door, she timidly answers, "Nobody." He beams a smile.
{Stop that!} her heart cries out.
"Why?" he parries back.
Staring back ponders, {Did he hear my thoughts?}
"Yes," he breathes.
Pressing herself to the wall as he stands. He takes a step forward, she tries becoming one with the wall. {Oh no, not another experiment!}
This time he soothes back into her thoughts, {No, you are something different.}
Her hazel eyes lock onto his yellow ones, "What?"
His hand reaches out and strokes her cheek tenderly, {I don't know.}
He's so close. She can smell him now. That same smell… her heart begins racing, {This is his room.}
The yellow eyes release hers and lead the body out of the room. The door closes behind his retreating back. {Thank you?}
It takes a few moments to wrap her head around everything. Finally she moves. In the top drawer of the chest she finds a tablet. Swiftly she begins typing up a journal and munching on the fruit he brought.
This time when she beds down, she crawls under the blankets and can smell his power and comfort surrounding her. And then she begins to realize, just as she is confused about him, he is just as confused about her.
Staring out the window she watches the nebula change and swirl. The door opens again. "Who are you?" he asks yet again.
"I'm nothing. Just a school teacher captured for torture," just a statement of fact.
He steps right up to her and looks deep into her eyes. This time she is stronger and asks right back {Who are you?}
{I don't know myself}
It's her turn to cup a palm to his cheek. He grasps her wrist, but she doesn't cringe this time. Noticing that, he slides his palm over hers and leans into her warm touch.
{Let me go?}
{I can't} With that, tears out of her touch and the room.
That night he slips silently back into the room and watches over her while she sleeps. More than that, watches her dream.
Back home, she comes into her classroom. A man with a bouquet of flowers fills her door frame. Excited she comes to him. As the flowers lower, it's Michael. She isn't afraid this time. She embraces and kisses him as if this was normal.
Michael's hand on her brow is warm, but his arm begins to shake. Her image effects him badly sending him stumbling from the room. She awakens in time to see his back disappear. Now it's her turn to smile.
The torture continues. Each asking the other the same question over and over, never coming to a conclusion. A warm hand only seems to increase the torture.
One day she comes to him in the lab. Sitting down, bent over his computer examining his notes, she strides up behind him. She goes bold and slides her hands over his firm proud shoulders and down his confused chest. The words whisper in his ear, "Let me go."
Instead of a rebuke, he smiles staying focused on his task, "I should say that to you." She starts to retreat, but he holds the hands to his chest for a few moments and then lets her retreat.
Another day comes. In her gilded cage he approaches. She barks, "Get out of here!"
{Where am I?} he probes.
"NO!" she calls both ways.
{Where am I?} He tries again leading.
She stares him down, {You know.} And then a lit of a smile creases her thoughts as she is beginning to understand. {But where am I?} He tries to block her meaning from his own thoughts. Reaching out, her fingers softly part the fabric of his shirt so the palm can slide against his bare chest. His life force.
{Get OUT!} He calls, but doesn't move
Now she knows for sure and uses it against him. That tone he tried on her so many times now comes back in his face. In his soul, {Where am I?}
Oh, now he gets it. He goes back to why she was so flustered when he arrived today awakening her from a fevered nap. Sultry, he pushes his chest into her hand, deadly the tone is even more sultry, {Where am I?}
The game is up. She tries to use his tone against him once more, {You know.}
{I just want you to admit it.}
{You're in my heart.}
{So are you.}
He yanks her hand from his chest and crushes her body to his. Her hands clamp to his jaw crushing their lips together. The passion is fired. The kisses are furious.
{Oh, this is good.} she bites back.
{I've never wanted this before.} He admits.
{Do you like it?} Her tongue invades his thoughts.
His hands clamp to her waist, {I've been missing out.}
Her body curls even closer (if that's possible) {I want more!}
Ripping his shirt off, drags her nails down his back. He cries out. She smiles. Just for that, he rips the dress off and gapes. She launches again backing him to the bed. The tastes, the bites, the groping go on until she fires another volley at him:
{Give it to me?}
{What? Give you what?} His brain is swirling in confusion and lust.
{Seed. Life}
Panic grips him to freeze. Taking advantage of his shock, she easily flips him to his back. Before he even has a chance to argue, he is sheathed and soon screaming in an ecstasy-release he never knew existed.
Panting he manages to push out with the quell of sanity slowly returning, "Who are you?"
{Mother of your child}
His mouth drops open. Leaping from the bed, snatches her clothes and dashes out into the hallway leaving him naked and confused.
But not for long. Swiftly recovering, calls the guards to catch her. He is waiting at the open door when the guards force her back into the room. He maybe wrapped from the waist down by the sheet (arms crossed over his chest), but she is clutching the dress closed around herself as well. Shoved in, the door is locked behind her this time.
Locked in and alone with Michael. This time he is furious with her. Backing herself against the wall he stomps forward and slams a fist on each side of her neck.
{WHO ARE YOU?!} he roars in her mind.
She covers her ears and whimpers back, {Get out of here.}
{Why?} This time he whispers. He leans in close enough to kiss her and asks, "What do you want from me?"
Lifting her head she bores her gaze directly into his, "Never." He tries to probe her mind again but some how she has managed to hide the truth. But there, ah, that's where she was hiding it. Feeling him getting close, she tries to throw him off again and physically reaches for him.
He sneers and slams her wrists to the wall. The look is now murderous figuring he had a spy in his clutches, "You want it, lets do it right."
He feels her shutter, but hold her own. Closing her eyes, she resigns her fate trying to be strong, {It's no worse than the last place.} A single tear streaks down her face. {Except there's one thing….}
Now he feels the conflict of emotions. She is trying to be strong and bold because behind that strong looking wall was nothing but shattered glass. What was it? He can feel it, this is no spy, but that is she? What is going on? She wants something from him. Something personal. What was that work she used? Softly he pushes the façade of a wall, {Why do you want this seed?}
The wall is trembling while she tries to snap back on the verge of tears, "Get out of my head!"
{Why?}
Feeling her wall is about to crumble and desperate for him not to know an idea strikes her. The fire is back and she smiles, "One way or another, I'll get you out." And slams her head into the wall. Hard. Once, twice, three times and she collapses. If he hadn't been holding her wrists, she would have sank to the floor. Instead, he is confused again by her actions.
Lifting her crumbled body, his own head is swimming. What is wrong with this female? She is afraid of him, then nice to him, compassionate, then lustful and needy (practically raping him) and then bolting. And this exchange just now? Afraid, no terrified of his potential attack but yet then tries to be forceful herself. What was wrong with this woman?
Tucking her into the bed, he curls up next to her and looks over her wound. Who is more confused about their emotions and reactions: her or himself? He wants something form her, but what? What is it he needs from her? Brushing her hair back, he just stares and ponders.
Waking up, finds herself on the bed with him caressing her head. "Hello," he whispers out loud respecting her wish to stay out of her head.
"Hello," she moans. "Let me go," she pleas again weakly.
"No." Simple and soft.
"Why are you keeping me?" the tears leak out.
Sitting up, turns his back to her. "I know I have minions here I can control with my power." Standing up, putting his hands to his sheeted hips. Slowly he turns back to face her. "I've never met anyone who can get into my head. I've never met anyone who I could reach but not control."
She sits up and rolls to her knees and states the truth, "I scare you."
He huffs and leans in, "Ha! Nothing scares me!" Leaning in closer, her palm slides to his chest and up over his shoulder. He smiles, "You want me."
She keens, "Yes," and kisses him with fire. He lays her back and she tears the sheet away.
{Why?} he softly probes.
{No} she blocks.
He tempts. He teases. He tastes. He caresses. She is tortured by his touch. Crooning and keening to his minstrations she almost drops her firewall on her own. Tempting her with the point of delivery to her wanted desire, he asks again, "Why?"
Instead of answering she pleads his name. He gives into her with that, but before he releases, asks again. She doesn't answer. He yanks back spoiling her treasure.
She screams and tears steam down her face staring at his prize on her belly, not in.
"Why?" He asks again. Venomously, she shakes her head and the tears continue. He begins again, leaving her crying out his name again. Once again he grunts the question on his abyss of release. Once again she doesn't answer. He denies her yet again.
Collapsing at her side, they are both panting. She cries softly, "Please Michael, just give me what I asked."
"Why?" he asks for the umpteenth time, sweat coating them both. (As a scientist, he's pretty sure his emission would never be compatible and so that doesn't bother him. What bothers him, is her reason and the refusal to tell him.)
"If I told you, you would never let me go. No."
Curling over her, propped up on his elbows, he stares into her hazel eyes, "Oh well now I have to know."
Squirming, she tries to wriggle out from underneath him. He chuckles and stokes one hand down her side. "Shh, just rest.' She tries to struggle again, but with his hips pinning her down, and his palms making those massaging tender strokes.
Giving into the relaxation, she lets HIM rest. Her own hands come up to caress and soothe his lower back, his sensitive central spine, the nape, and then down again…. His body leans down further allowing her hands to reach around him better. Just what she wanted. Placing tasting kisses along his chest, his neck, his ear, his cheek and then his mouth… She starts it again.
This time his own defenses are abolished, her touch beyond intoxicating. He can't stop her this time as her nails draw blood down his back and her dull teeth dig deep into the ball of his shoulder. He tries to yank away before it's too late, but her teeth and claws hang on too tightly. His cry of release this time more of anger and loss to the battle. More of him loosing the battle with himself. He wanted her to have her desire. He wanted her happy. Dropping to the bed in pure exhaustion, she curls tighter into him, not allowing the intimate connection to break. Arms latch onto each other. She whispers in his hear… the last words he hears as he slips into blackness, "Thank you."
~~~000~~~
The rocking of the ship awakens the entwined couple. Some how she became curled to his back in their sleep. Stoking his face again, the ship buffets. His eyes fly open. Leaping from the bed, he swiftly dresses. From the doorway clasping his overcoat, he pauses to look at her. He shutters smiling seeing her on his private bed barely covered. She smiles back and he flees.
Just as quickly, she leaps to her own feet and into the flight suit. This time she is successful in making it to the Dart bay.
At the command station, Michael the battle and the Darts being attacked. One of his Darts breaks from the others and dashes far from the battle. He curses. He just knoooooows. She's gone.