Title: Beyond the Shadow of a Doubt

Summary: After a grisly massacre led by none other than SG-1 itself, Sam leaves Earth to make peace with what she's done. Fate has other ideas, however, and drops her into the mercy of a bitter, aging man whose heir turns out to have a deadly grudge against SG-1.

Spoilers:The Ark of Truth; SG-1 Season 10 and pieces of Atlantis Seasons 4 and 5 are fair game.

Disclaimer: Me? Own SG-1? No. But I do own the plot to this story. Yay me!

A/N: Two main things of note: First, this story was completely spontaneous, so some bits of the plot will have kinks to work out. I appreciate any and all help I can receive with this.

Second, I've pretty much completely rewritten the chapters because the level I started this and the level I'm at now are extremely different. You will notice (if you've already read this story) that everything is longer and the chapter titles are different. I'll explain my methods for the renaming at the end of the prologue.

If this is your first visit, then all of this A/N is nothing more than the ramblings of a slightly insane student. Nothing more…I never reconstructed anything….

Prologue

Whisper

Sam clenched her teeth as sharp brambles caught and tore clothing as skin in one snatch. The brambles didn't seem to care that both skin and clothes were already worn and torn from others of their kind.

Hesitating in her mad dash, she listened for the sounds of pursuit and almost paid for the lack of movement; she was definitely still being followed. She whispered a silent prayer that she would have the endurance to out run those that chased her. The prayer was more out of old habit than any sort of hope of being answered; she had long since given up hope of a good higher power existing.

Even without the prayer, it wasn't like Sam lacked stamina. She hadn't been putting it to much use for awhile, but it couldn't have faded that badly. Unfortunately, the well-trained and armed soldiers behind her had most likely been putting their stamina to good use before they had come it pursuit of her.

Why was that? Sam had no answer. She had done nothing to draw attention to herself while she had been living on this planet, and she had no real enemies here as far as she knew. All that aside, the only reason she was even running now was to get the armed and dangerous soldiers away from the village that was sheltering her. If they had offered the homes to someone like her, then she owed them far more than acting as a simple decoy.

While she was asking herself questions, Sam briefly wondered where the sweet elderly woman named Harädna had fled to. Harädna was the one who took Sam under her roof and basically forced her to live for the past two and a half months. She owed the older woman so, so much for her kindness, but the last Sam had seen of her was Harädna's frightened expression as six men quickly approached the garden she and Harädna were tending.

As soon as they had made their intent clear, Sam ran. And ran. As far as she knew, all six men were currently storming the forest behind her and none of them had caused harm to anyone in the village.

Sam sent up another prayer for Harädna's safety. It wasn't that she didn't believe in a higher power, she decided. If she were a higher power, she wouldn't want to listen to herself either. She deserved no mercy.

Shirking away from negative thoughts, Sam pressed deeper into the hostile undergrowth. Negativity would cause her to slow down; it was a luxury she could not afford.

Her precaution came too late. Breath drew short as anything and everything plantlike did its very best to hinder her progress. She grimaced when she realized the beautiful handiwork that used to be her white tunic and blue breeches would be destroyed by the end of this venture. After the initial strain began, her lungs started a slow but insistent protest against the pace she had set.

In order to keep herself focused, Sam emptied her mind, but images surfaced after awhile. The unwelcome one of Barrett was among the very first. Her stomach clenched in bitterness and anger, shame and guilt. His was followed by a myriad of others, equally, if not more so, unwelcome. Using the pain such images invoked, she pretended her pursuers were the very memories she sought to run from. Mildly renewed energy filled her legs.

It wasn't the first time she'd run.

By her reckoning, it was about four months ago she had forsaken the planet that had become nothing short of a living hell for her. As soon as she had had the means, Sam had taken the first wormhole away from Earth. And another, and another. For nearly two months she gated to as many unexplored planets as possible, desperately searching for one she could settle down in and simply exist. Then again, maybe die, instead. Most days, death seemed like the better alternative.

In any case, Earth wasn't safe anymore. Abandoning her team only added to the torment she felt, but she knew that pain would follow regardless of whether or not she brought them with. In the end, she'd had to settle on herself. A glance at one of them was like taking another bullet in the heart, so she chose to leave them behind. Besides, what was one more reason to feel guilty? She already wanted to die, so there wasn't much farther for her to fall.

No matter what, she had never been able to escape the nightmares. At first, maybe for a week or so, she had been plagued with insomnia. Soon, guilt eased enough of its hold on her that she was allowed to sleep again.

Then the nightmares began. Nightmares in such vivid detail it was all she could do most nights, after being shot into wakefulness, to not to relive both horrible experiences in every acute and gruesome detail.

It made her wish for the nights of dull insomnia. At least before the nightmares, she could pretend to think about other things.

Sam had become so wrapped up in her memories that she failed to notice the almost entirely vertical rock wall that loomed in front of her until she nearly collided with it. Not knowing what else to do, but understanding she was also more or less at the end of her rope, she began a desperate and vain climb upward. Or downward, since for every foot up, it felt like she went two back.

Suddenly, hands were one her shoulders and arms, forcibly pivoting her away from the rock face. One man held her in a tight grip from behind, which meant she really had no choice but to stare at the guy who could only be the leader.

Under the stare of such cold, grey eyes, Sam, to her horror, felt self-conscious about her ragged appearance. Although why she felt that way was beyond her; she had been less than worried about her clothes, hair, and general wellbeing up until this point. Most likely, the uneasiness probably had something to do with the fact she could just picture how pathetic and weak she must look.

It didn't help that, while she was weaponless, these men were armed only with daggers and long-knives. Not that weapons were necessary; the soldier pinning her had used good old-fashioned brute strength to subdue her.

The leader slowly approached her in a way that oozed confidence. When he was about a foot away, he reached out and grabbed a handful of hair. Dispassionately, he used the hair as leverage to pull her head back so he could look at her face better. Gazing into his eyes—there wasn't many other places to stare at—she couldn't believe how icy the look in his eyes was; she had seen more warmth in an enemy Jaffa's face.

"As much as I hate to say this," he said, "I think there's been a mistake."

A blonde haired man asked, "Wait, does that mean you're letting her go? At the very least—"

Grey-Eyes held up a hand, causing Blondie to fall silent. "I won't kill her, but I don't think she should be allowed to go free if I'm wrong. You should be well aware that I refuse to take another's life," he added, "unless absolutely necessary or justified. Her death would be neither, so I believe we should take her back to Lord Raimak so that he can be the judge."

Blondie nodded.

"Hey," grunted Sam, "are the villagers alright?" Just because Sam was the apparent target did not mean the village had to suffer, too. Hopefully she hadn't just made the villagers targets by showing sentiment toward them.

Grey-Eyes released her hair, raised an eyebrow, and backhanded her. Startled, she flinched, cheek stinging. "As our new prisoner," he growled, "you will not speak unless spoken to. Is that understood?"

Though his tone implied he did not expect a response to the rhetorical question, she still answered, "Crystal," in a very Jack-esque manner. This did not please Grey-Eyes all that much but as she had technically obeyed him, there wasn't a lot he could do in retaliation unless he was interested in a petty argument.

"Furthermore, as prisoner, you will be restrained. While we travel, only your arms will be tied as none of us will carry you for the next week or so. When we rest, the bindings will be switched to your feet because we also will not be hand feeding or watering you. One of my men will be in charge of watching you at all times. Do not resist, or I will be forced to respond. Lord Raimak is unaware of the change in orders, and if necessary, he never will be if you do something that warrants death. That being said, I hope this makes you realize I am a very unpleasant enemy, and it would be in your best interest to follow instruction. Keep in mind that killing a person is rarely the first punishment I resort to. Is that understood?"

Sam glared at him, mouth clamped tightly shut. Even without speaking, she still managed to convey she did in fact understand Grey-Eyes's threats and whatnot.

True to his word, her arms were swiftly tied (behind her back, which was distinctly uncomfortable) and one of his men attached a second rope to the one around her hands and wrists so as to make something similar to a leash.

"Let's go," Grey-Eyes said. Sam's guard gave her a shove in the direction his leader intended to travel.

Well this is going to be fun, Sam thought, trying hard not to resent her situation, which was probably just Fate's way of balancing the evils in a person's life. With a sigh, she followed Blondie, who was behind Grey-Eyes, and resigned herself to her due punishment.

A/N 2:Like it? Dislike it? Either way, this is what I have to offer now. Hopefully it's an improvement.

As for the chapter titles, instead of wracking my brain for more corny garbage, I decided to use song titles (original, right?). The song in question will usually have a theme in common with something in the chapter, though that won't always be the case. Often, only part of the song will have something in common with the chapter. Regardless, that's what's happening, and as a disclaimer/informative-thingy, I'll mention the artist at the end of the chapters. That way y'alls can be like, "Oh! I know that one. That's a great song," or you can look it up for fun if you don't know it. Whatever floats your boat.

A/N 3: Whisper is by Evanescence.

R&R