Disclaimer: I don't own anyone you recognize. Flashpoint and its characters belongs to its creator and producers.
Disclaimer 2: This is not a crossover. Any character names you recognize from any other TV series are just an attempt to honor those characters and not reproduce them.
A/N: Still dark. We find out what Ali wants Sam alive for...
A/N: Words in italics are spoken in Pashtu.
He wanted to do something that felt like it was making a difference. Looking around the room and then back at the general, he could see that he wasn't the only one.
Sam endured three more days in the same pattern before something changed: three days of travelling punctuated by blows, burns, hunger, and thirst, followed by whipping and the Russian Roulette, before a small meal of bread and water. Then he was given a short time for some uneasy rest before the next day dawned and the cycle began again. They stopped early on the fourth day, and Sam felt dread spread through him as he contemplated why that might be. He didn't have long to wait. He could feel the change in the air around them as he was dragged inside… inside something. He inhaled sharply as he realized that he'd been brought into a cave… into the caves… the tunnels that riddled the mountains of Afghanistan. He immediately began fighting as hard as he could, knowing his chances of being rescued would drop to zero once he was fully inside the Taliban controlled tunnels.
But again, his struggles were just an irritation to the men dragging him along. A kick to his bad ankle had him crying out in pain and collapsing back into the hold of his captors. The pain kept him from trying again – that and the fact that he was already five minutes inside the tunnels. He knew that was far enough inside that getting away from his guards wouldn't get him free. There were too many Taliban around. He could already hear them around his party. The murmur of soft voices in Pashtu continued for the additional fifteen minutes it took them to arrive at their destination.
And then Ali's voice drowned out the other voices. His demand in Pashtu brought immediate silence. "No, I need to see him immediately! I have a gift for our illustrious leader!"
Sam heard another quieter voice finally agree. Rustling noises confused him until he realized that someone was disarming his captors. He knew that didn't give him an opportunity to escape, though. The leader's guards would make sure of that. He didn't fight as he was led forward again, knowing that there was still no escape at this point. He paid as much attention to his surroundings as he could, though. He had to be prepared for any opportunity.
He was stopped again shortly, realizing that he was just behind Ali when the other man spoke again. "Brother, I have brought you a present! I have finally found the enemy of our people known as the Ghost. I have brought him here, so that you may punish him as is fitting such a great enemy of our people. Also, I humbly ask to be reinstated in our ranks as a reward so that I might fight alongside all of my brothers!"
"What is wrong with you?" a harsh voice asked in English, even as Sam was thrust forward and to his knees. He quickly realized he was kneeling in front of the leader Ali had given him to. "Remove the blindfold," the voice ordered, before Ali could respond.
Sam blinked as the blindfold was removed. His face showed no recognition, but he knew the man in front of him was Malik Farad Al-Hamad, the leader of the Taliban in Afghanistan. He'd kept updated on the list of the most wanted international terrorists, just like the rest of his SRU colleagues. Malik examined his face for a moment, before nodding at something behind him and commanding, "There," gesturing with his hand to the area in front of Sam. Sam could tell that he was speaking English because he wanted Sam to understand what was going on.
Sam kept his face composed as Ali was dragged by two of Malik's men into the space in front of him and forced to his knees. His hands were bound behind him, mirroring Sam's. As he started to speak, a gag was forced into his mouth and his words became a mumble of unintelligible sounds. Malik eyed him with disapproval.
"You really are an idiot," Malik said to Ali. "We have already been contacted by both the Americans and the Canadians, threatening all kinds of reprisals for this man's kidnapping." He backhanded Ali. "And you want to be reinstated?" He snorted. "You think this is what our people need right now? The Americans were finally getting ready to leave our country. Now, no one knows what they will do. In this one action, you have single-handedly put our people in more danger than they have been in, for any of the past five years."
Ali was staring at Malik in shock. It appeared that he'd never anticipated this kind of reception. He tried to speak through the gag once more.
Malik backhanded him again. "I wish to hear nothing that you have to say!" he exclaimed. His eyes went back to Sam's composed face. "I thought you might enjoy seeing your kidnapper get what he deserves, though." He held his hand out and a revolver was placed into it. Ignoring Ali's ineffective struggles against his men's hold, Malik placed the revolver against Ali's left temple and quickly pulled the trigger. Sam flinched just a little as the sound of the shot echoed through the room, the side of Ali's head exploding from the force of the bullet.
Malik now examined the group of Ali's men who had been herded together by his men. "Brothers, you have a choice," he said, his voice softly menacing. "You can choose to swear allegiance to me, or you can choose to remain loyal to the traitor and share his fate." Unsurprisingly, all of Ali's men swore allegiance to the leader in front of them.
Malik gestured them out, but spoke quietly to his man who was following, "Mahmoud, put them to work, but keep an eye on them. And keep them together. They will all pay if any one of them tries to betray us."
Once they were gone, Malik turned back to Sam. Again he closely examined Sam's face. "Bind his hands in front of him," he quietly ordered one of his remaining men.
Sam fought the temptation to fight when the bonds on his wrists were cut. He knew this was still not his opportunity. After taking the measure of Malik, he wasn't sure he was actually going to get one, but he refused to give up yet.
"So, brother, what are you going to do with him?" one of the men asked, curiously, as they re-fastened his hands in front of his body.
"I will return him to his people," Malik said, smiling a very sinister smile at Sam.
"Will that not cause even more problems when he speaks of his experiences?" the same man asked.
"Oh, Khalid, I did not say I would return him to his people while he still lives," Malik smirked evilly at Sam.
Sam had to struggle not to react. He wasn't sure whether Malik knew he spoke Pashtu and every advantage would help. Yet, he could do nothing while they strung him up by his wrists to a metal ring attached to the wall. And then the beating began. Malik's smooth, amused, calm voice carefully directed his men in the method and strength of each beating. First they used fists and feet. Then they wielded switches. Finally Malik distributed whips. The only bright side was that he didn't have Ali's diamond dusted whip. Still, the metal-tipped and the knotted whips did enough damage. Sam was finding it hard to hold on to any piece of consciousness by the time Malik decided that it was enough.
In fact, Sam realized that Malik had no idea that he still held on to any bit of consciousness when he said, "He is dying. Take him to the other prisoners. We need it to look like we made at least an attempt to save him, and I do not wish to waste my physician's efforts on a dying infidel."
Sam collapsed limply when he was released from the ring. He was dragged through the tunnels to a long corridor containing cells. A cell was opened and Sam was pushed inside. There was nothing to cushion his fall because the inhabitants of the cell were unprepared for his arrival. Several of them gathered around him, looking up, startled, when Khalid announced, "His fate is yours to determine. It is doubtful, though, that he will survive."
Sam played possum until the door clanged shut and the sounds of the men outside moved away. The men fussing over him froze when his eyes fluttered open. One quickly reached for the cloth holding the gag in his mouth. After struggling with the knot for a moment, he quickly untied it. Pulling it away, he gently turned Sam to his side as he pulled the noxious cloth from the inside of his mouth. When he was done retching, Sam tried to speak. The man who'd removed the gag leaned down to listen when he tried to moisten his lips with his tongue. "Need to move away from the door," Sam whispered. He allowed them to carry him to a position further in the cell.
There were six concerned faces who met his eyes when he recovered from the pain of the move. Before he could speak, one of the men held a bottle to his mouth. Sam gratefully drank the tepid water, knowing he needed it to hold on to whatever strength he had left. He lay unmoving as the men quickly worked to make him as comfortable as possible, placing a rolled-up piece of clothing under his head and pulling a blanket up to his waist. He was still positioned on his side, so his torn chest and back were both spared the pressure of his body.
When they started getting things together to treat his injuries, Sam whispered, "Wait."
The man in charge quietly looked at him and asked, "Name and rank, soldier?" Sam could tell he was a ranking officer, though there was no insignia on the uniform shirt he wore.
"Master Corporal Samuel Braddock, JTF2, retired," Sam whispered in response. He watched the shock spread over the others' faces at the word "retired".
"You're a civilian?" one of the other men finally got out.
Sam closed his eyes for a moment, struggling to hold on to his composure. "I'm a member of the Toronto Police Strategic Response Unit, Team One," he finally replied, opening his eyes and meeting the commanding officer's gaze.
"Then why are you here?" the CO asked the question that was plain on everyone's face.
"Ali… Ali Adar found out who I was." Sam swallowed hard. "He brought me here to trade with Malik for his former position in the Taliban."
"Ali Adar has been fixated on the Ghost for the past five years," one of the men stated confidently. Realization crossed his face a few moments later as he and the rest of the men connected the dots.
"You were the Ghost," the CO stated, meeting Sam's eyes.
"Yeah," Sam admitted.
"So what happened to Ali?" the man who knew about Ali's obsession asked, quietly.
"He's dead," Sam swallowed hard again, his mouth dry. He gratefully accepted another drink from the CO before continuing. "Malik killed him in front of me."
"So what's next? Why are you here?" the CO asked.
"Malik said they're going to give me back," Sam's voice was fading. He met the disbelief in the other man's eyes.
"They're just going to give you back… just like that?" he questioned.
Sam's mouth twisted into a pained smile. "They don't intend for me to be alive when I get there," he admitted. He quietly eyed the officer, trying to determine if he would be receptive to his next comments.
"I'm Colonel Mark Smith," the CO introduced, realizing that Sam had no idea who they were, "United States Marine Corp." He gestured at the man who knew Ali, "This is Major John Sheppard, United States Air Force." He began pointing to the other men that surrounded Sam. "Lieutenant Aaron Franks, US Army, Corporal Mike Francis, US Marine Corp, Chief Petty Officer Pat James, US Navy SEALs, and Private Rob Davis, US Army."
"Can anyone get us out of this cell?" Sam asked, his eyes closing and fists clenching as he fought back the pain.
"I can get the door open," Pat James, the SEAL admitted. "But without a way out of the tunnels, getting out of the cell doesn't help."
"I know the tunnels," Sam admitted. "But I can't get out of here by myself." He forced his eyes open. "I need… I need a promise," he searched Smith's face. "I don't want…" his voice broke and his eyes closed as a wave of weakness brought the tide of unconsciousness closer. Sam fought it back, using up some of his precious strength. He forced his eyes to open and met Smith's gaze again. "I don't want to die here," he said softly. "I want… I need to go home." He let the other man see what he was feeling in his eyes, though his face stayed composed.
"I give you my word," Smith said solemnly, "that I'll do everything in my power to get you home."
"Thanks," Sam whispered. There were tears in his eyes.
"Mike," Smith quickly directed the other man to begin to attend to Sam's wounds. Sam lost the battle for consciousness as the pain of their ministrations pushed him over the edge.
A/N: So, how will they get back home?
A/N2: Don't forget what I said about the names... This is still not a crossover...