Title: Redeemed
Summary: Remember Jaesin? Well, this story is about him and his journey back to Sam, as well as his never ending struggle with inner demons. This begs two questions: Will Sam accept him? Will he even get the chance to find out?
Rating: T
Spoilers: Not really sure yet. Quite possibly Seasons 7-9, but nothing's set in stone.
A/N: Thank you for coming back, if you've read Traitor? If you're new, I'd suggest reading going to my profile and clicking on Traitor? to catch up, since I'm not going to re-explain everything as I write.
All I can say it that I hope Redeemed will get the same response as its predecessor.
Prologue
The floor was stone cold against Jaesin's bare back. The air wasn't much better. His breath came in ragged, shallow gasps as he fought to breathe.
"I suppose," said the cruel, twisted angel, whose voice originated from somewhere above him, "that another round of torture would not be enough to break you."
"Not a chance," Jaesin hissed through gritted teeth. He'd begun to think Anise didn't want information from him as much as she wanted the thrill of absolute power. Unfortunately, for him, he hadn't broken, which meant he had some level of power, which led to Anise becoming increasingly creative in torturing methods. She wanted to hear everything from the moment Zeus, or Gindesh as he was known to the Tok'ra, took complete control. Jaesin felt that the information was extremely personal and could think of no reason in the least to share.
But Anise took interest to the next level: obsession. His first refusal had made her angry and she resorted to seduction. When he fought her off, she got pissed. The next time he saw her, she came in with a load of devices. He quickly discovered what the devices were made for. Pain, agony, anguish, suffering, and misery were few among the many words that could be used to describe Anise's collection of "toys." They covered anything from physical pain to mental, emotional, and spiritual pain and everything in between. The torment got worse and worse the longer he held out. The beautiful, vengeful angel, if she could be compared to something so high and lovely, seemed to lose her mind. Zeus had nothing on the woman! She was exponentially more terrible than Jaesin's former symbiote.
"I have only begun," she whispered, kneeling beside him. He was revolted at the soothing honey in her voice. She stroked his temple. "Do not fight me Jaesin. It can only get worse from here, the longer you refuse."
Compulsively, he jerked away from her hand, the movement causing a thousand volts of sheer pain to lance up and down every inch of his body. He cried out.
He could hear the pleasure in her tone as she went on, "If you tell me what I want to know, then I can end your misery. I would let you go and seek the one you want, if she could bear to see your face again."
Jaesin let the jibe go through force of will. He couldn't let her know how much it had gotten to him. In all honesty, as desperately as he desired to see Samantha again, to apologize, to tell her it wasn't his fault, to tell her that he really did care for her, he didn't know how eager she would be to see him. If she never wanted to see him again, then who was he to interfere?
"Once you have your damn data, then you'll kill me," he rasped. "You couldn't smuggle me out. If you got caught, you'd have to explain the presence of Zeus's host being in your custody." The last sentence was bitter tasting, but he went on, "It'd be so humiliating for you. Who knows what the High Council would do? Personally, I don't care.
Anything is better—ARGH!" His last words were cut off by a violent kick to his side. Jaesin could swear he heard—and felt—ribs crack. He coughed reflexively, and spit blood onto the floor, further proving his theory. Great, he thought sarcastically. Just what I need.
Anything else he might have said, or thought, was cut off by something smashing into his head and almost immediate unconsciousness.
- oOoOoOo -
So this, mused Jaesin upon waking, is quite possibly what a hangover feels like. Somehow, he doubted it; he felt worse than shit. His head felt like some mythical giant was beating it with a tree. He didn't even want to think about the abuse his body was feeling. There was no way to tell how long he'd been Anise's captive.
"Come on," crooned a soft voice. "Jaesin, wake up. Jaesin. That's it. Come. I have food."
"No." It was soft, he wondered if she heard it. Just to be sure, he repeated with louder, with more authority. "No."
She laughed softly. Opening his eyes, he saw her dark figure approaching against the bright light. As his eyes adjusted, he saw that she was holding a tray topped with meager sustenance.
His breath caught as he surveyed the tray. It was metal. What the type was didn't matter. It was strong. It would suite his purpose perfectly. He just needed an opportunity.
With a grunt, he sat up. Scabs cracked and he felt trickles of blood begin to leave trails across various places on his body. His ribs burned where Anise had kicked him. With a hiss, he fought against the cramps in his arms, legs, and abdomen. Finally, he was sitting up and immediately concentrated on conserving his strength.
She gingerly stepped over and knelt beside him, a smirk ever-present on her face, and set the tray on his lap. He grunted again as the tray landed on bruises. This time she leered.
Moving faster than he thought was humanly possible, he yanked the tray off of his lap and hit Anise on the nape of the neck with the edge of the tray. The leer dissolved into shock as she fell into a crumpled heap.
Jaesin bit back a moan as waves of agony flew through his body. The effort of dealing a killing blow had cost him much. He lay, exhausted, waiting for sleep to reclaim him.
R&R
