Chapter 12: Small Differences

Funny, he could have sworn it didn't hurt so much tonight. His back, his stomach, his head, all the agony he'd felt in every square inch of his body the past few days faded into the background tonight. Ba'al had taken Sam. That was all that mattered now.

She demanded to be taken in my place and that son of a bitch did it, he thought. And I couldn't do a damn thing to stop him. I tried, but I couldn't stop him. Hell, I could barely talk, let along get out of this damned bed. If he hurts her…

Afraid for her, ashamed of his own weakness, Jack started to berate himself. It was that old voice of self doubt that spoke loudly in his head.

Of course he's going to hurt her …what are you going to do about it …look at yourself, you're a useless old man … you didn't protect her…you couldn't protect her… what's happening to her? What are you going to do about it?

Jack's self recrimination was worse than anything Ba'al had done to him the past few weeks. A Major General in the US Air Force, a former black ops soldier, Jack O'Neill was no stranger to torture, physical or emotional. He'd learned to persevere in the face of the cruelest treatment and the most squalid conditions an enemy could throw at him. In some ways Sam was equally prepared. But she was younger, hadn't survived the weeks of captivity he had in the past and what's more, she loved him. Their love made her vulnerable. Hell, it makes me vulnerable, he thought.

In the present situation, Jack's love for Sam triggered his worst misery and his strongest motivation to survive. And the husband in him rightly assumed it was the same for her. Our greatest blessing and our greatest curse, it's the story of our lives.

Ba'al's been hurting Sam right along with me this whole time, Jack reflected. It's just a different kind of torture; it's exactly what he's doing to me right now. If our positions were reversed, if Sam was the one beaten everyday, I'd have lost it long ago. If I was helpless to stop her pain, I'd go crazy…just like I am now.

If we're going to survive this, we have to do it together. I have to do something.

He wanted to beat Ba'al senseless for what he was doing to both of them, but mostly for what he was doing to Sam. Jack's weakened physical state made it impossible, but it didn't stop him from thinking it, even plotting how he'd do it. He'd kill him slowly, inflicting maximum pain and terror, the way Ba'al was killing them now.

But instead of wreaking vengeance on his tormentor, Jack was flat on a bed, in the middle of a gilded cell. It was absurd. More than absurd, it was intolerable. He had to do something, anything to prove to himself he wasn't helpless.

I'm not gonna lie here in this damned bed any longer, he resolved.

Using what strength remained in his upper arms, Jack forced himself into a sitting position. The effort took its toll on his severely damaged body; the pain was excruciating. Weakened muscles stretched and pulled beyond what they should have; newly healed tissues tore with the stress of unwanted exertion. It hurt. And he rejoiced in the agony. The pain told him he was still alive. And where there was life, there was hope, hope he could help Sam.

Sitting breathlessly on the side of the small bed, Jack remembered the cameras. That creature was watching him. At least he hoped he was; he hoped Ba'al was watching and gloating over his agony. It would keep the Goa'uld's attention off Sam. With that thought in mind, Jack gave his captor something to watch.

By sheer force of will, Jack insisted his legs support him as he pushed himself off the bed and struggled to his feet. And they did, at least momentarily. But the success was short lived. In mere seconds, his legs gave out beneath him and Jack collapsed, ignominiously falling on the floor next to the bed. Coldly, he laughed as he considered his predicament. The chair was still over three feet away. And his wounds were bleeding again.

It doesn't matter, he thought, reactivating the old hardened soldier persona, the man who could survive anything for the sake of his fellow soldiers. With that thought in mind, determined to do something, he made his way to the chair. He crawled on his hands and knees, but he got there, all three feet of the way. When he did, he pulled himself up and fell onto the hard surface of the metal chair, breathing heavily from the exertion.

Who the hell am I kidding? He thought. Can't give up, he answered himself. For Sam, can't give up. She'll think of something and I'll help her, whatever it takes. Just come back, Sam. Come back in one piece.

And with that thought, he mercifully lost consciousness.

OoOoOo

Sam wasn't completely surprised Ba'al agreed to take her instead of Jack. She suspected he'd planned to do that all along. Beyond that, she didn't know what would happen next.

It didn't take long to realize she wasn't being led to the torture chamber. And she hadn't been blindfolded the way she and Jack had been on their prior forays from the cell. In less than three or four minutes they reached their destination. She and Ba'al entered a room that could pass for a quintescential Goa'uld throne room, an opulent chamber, decked out with the gaudy furnishings she'd come to expect from Ba'al and his cohorts. It was a far cry from the starkness of their sparsely furnished prison cell.

"Leave us," Ba'al/Lotan ordered the guards.

It seemed he wanted to talk. Well that was easy. She'd listened to his rant before. It was more than a week ago now, before the first time she'd been forced to watch Jack's beating. If nothing else, she thought, that little talk gave me some information. Maybe this one will too.

Once the door was closed, Sam turned toward Ba'al. She took the lead. What do I have to lose?

"You can't keep us here indefinitely you know," she said, sporting a bravado she didn't feel. "They're looking for us."

Ba'al smiled, one of those self satisfied grins that begged to be wiped off his face. Given the chance, Sam would be more than glad to do exactly that.

"Who do you think is coming for you?" Ba'al jeered in response to Sam's statement. "Perhaps your friends, the Taur'i? Or the Tok'ra?" He paused for effect, and then added, "Perhaps you are expecting the dead Asgard?" Ba'al sneered and snorted at the last possibility, congratulating himself on his own grim humor. "I think not my dear."

With that, Ba'al approached Sam. He stood directly in front of her, invading her personal space, doing his best to convey his own mastery of the situation.

"There are worse things than being here with me, Samantha," he said, his first use of her given name disconcerting to say the least. "And much as you'd like to pretend otherwise, you know I can keep you here as long as I see fit. I intend to keep you for some time, give you the chance to get to know me, before anything changes in our relationship. But I'm getting ahead of myself. Where are my manners? You must be hungry and thirsty."

He stepped back and directed Sam's attention towards a table set back from the door. It was spread with a lavish meal and sported two place settings. The intent was obvious.

"Join me, Samantha," he commanded. "It's been prepared especially for us."

Strange couldn't begin to describe the situation as far as Sam was concerned. She didn't like where this was going, not one iota. Still, she might be able to manipulate the situation to her advantage, to their advantage.

Play along, she told herself. Find out what he really wants and use it against him.

"Please, sit," Ba'al reiterated politely. Reluctantly, resolved to make this work for her, Sam did as he requested.

Once they were both seated, Ba'al spoke.

"Your misery during all of this has been most unfortunate," he said. "I'd hoped to make you more comfortable. Please accept my apologies."

Sam kept silence. He must be kidding, she thought. But I'll play, I can do this.

"Alright," she said aloud, her voice far from sincere, even to her own ears.

"Good enough," Ba'al replied, knowing it was the best he could ask for.

"I want you to know how much I admire your abilities, Colonel," he continued, unexpectedly shifting the course of the exchange.

"You do," Sam stated flatly.

"Of course," he said. "I remember the day you and I defeated the Replicators on Dakara. You must recall how well we worked together."

Oh yeah, she thought. You were a real team player.

"I recall you were of some help that day," she said aloud.

"You do remember," he said indulgently, as if she'd paid him a compliment. "I so hope we can work together again."

"I don't see that happening given our current situation," Sam retorted as pleasantly as she could.

"What might I do to make you feel differently?"

"Oh I don't know," she said. "Let us go? That would be a good start." Okay, now I'm channeling Jack she thought.

Ba'al laughed. It was a disturbing otherworldly sound, especially coming from Lotan's mouth.

"You are much like O'Neill," he said. "I admire you tenacity, even your irreverence. It shows spirit. But I'm afraid I have no intention of letting you go."

"The healing device then," she countered. "Let me have it one more time."

"Ah, your husband again," he said. "I'm afraid O'Neill is no longer part of my plan, at least not in the way you think."

"So you have no intention of doing anything differently?"

"Not so," he said. "Perhaps tonight, for you, I won't beat him."

That was something.

Sam closed her eyes, took a deep breath and forged ahead.

"But you're going to kill him, aren't you?"

"Now, now, my dear," he soothed falsely, "have you learned nothing these past few weeks? His fate is completely in your hands. It's all up to you."

What is he talking about? What does he really want?

"It's not about the codes, is it?"

"No, sadly not," Ba'al replied. "Despite my vaunted arrogance, I no longer have the power or the wherewithal to wreck my vengeance on so grand a scale."

"Then what is it? What do you want?"

"All in good time my dear," he answered, "all in good time."

OoOoOo

When Sam returned that night, Jack was relieved to say the least. Struggling to keep his eyes open, he was rewarded by the sight of his wife, apparently unharmed. She walked in under her own steam, two guards waiting at the door and leaving once she was inside. Her face paled as she took in the sight of her badly beaten husband, awkwardly wedged into one of the room's small chairs. With a smooth motion, she pulled the second chair up close to his and sat down facing him.

"What are you doing out of bed?" Sam asked, worry clear in her voice.

"Waiting for you," he answered.

Right then, Jack released the painful breath he'd been holding, kissed her gently and sat quietly with his forehead leaning against hers.

Unexpectedly, Sam pulled away, reaching her hand up to touch his forehead. That slight contact confirmed what she feared.

"You're burning up," she observed.

"It's the effect you have on me," he quipped, smiling wanly.

She shook her head. Knowing there was nothing she could do to help him, she kept silent.

"Why did you do it?" Jack asked.

Sam held his gaze without speaking. She knew what he was asking. Why did I do it, offer myself in your place? Because I love you, why do you think? But then he already knew that.

"You told me not to give up." Sam answered.

He looked at her doubtfully.

"It's the chance we've been waiting for," she clarified.

"How do you figure?"

"I didn't think he'd hurt me, not after all this time," she said. "I was right. He never touched me. Ba'al believes he can talk me around to his way of seeing things," Sam supplied. "I know it's crazy, but he thinks I understand him, like him even. It's like he's courting me, Jack. I can play that. If I do it right I can get us out of here"

To say he looked at her askance was an understatement.

"He's playing with us," Jack said, "and you're playing with fire."

"And our choice is?"

"Right," he said sarcastically. There wasn't much of a choice, they both knew it. After more than three weeks of captivity that much was abundantly clear.

"It gives me a chance to come up with alternatives," Sam said. "I've already got an idea of our surroundings. He didn't blindfold me; I think I can find our way out of here if we get the chance. And with any luck I can get my hands on a weapon."

"So now he's gonna give you a pass to the weapons arsenal?"

She smirked.

"Maybe," she said, "but more likely he'll leave me alone in his quarters long enough to do some snooping. I happen to know he's got a healing device in there."

"And what, we're gonna heal them into submission?"

"Glad to see your sense of humor's intact."

Jack shrugged, refusing to acknowledge the pain the gesture caused him. It was nothing compared to the pain of imagining Sam alone with Ba'al night after night.

"Think about it," she said. "What's the difference between the healing device and the hand device?"

He looked at her blankly.

"They look alike," he said after a minute. "What's the difference?"

She was thinking; he could see the wheels turning.

"The alignment of the crystals and the intent, the power of the crystals responds to the intent of the user," she said thoughtfully. "That has to be it, the components themselves are the same. In that case, I could rearrange them."

"If you had the healing device in the first place, maybe," he said doubtfully.

Sam nodded. "Then I'll have to find one, won't I," she said.

OoOoOo

Meanwhile, on Enkara, Daniel's frustration mounted. Teal'c had arrived a few hours ago and together they waited for the help that was promised. Things were about to get interesting.

"Daniel!"

"What, what is it?"

"The Gadmeer, they are here," Jaylin called. The leader of the Enkaran Council pointed upward, directing Daniel to the familiar sight of a huge spacecraft, similar to the one they'd tried to derail 6 years ago. Help had arrived; with any luck, these aliens would know where to find his friends. If past experience were a sign of things to come, he suspected it wouldn't be a moment too soon.

TBC

A/N: Sorry for how long it's taking between updates. Between real life and some of the difficulties I'm having with the story, its taking longer than expected. Please hang in there. And thank you so much for your reviews. Your interest is much appreciated.