Hello my amazing readers! I'm going to be very blunt. I needed to take a break from this story. A friend of mine was recently a victim of domestic violence (she's safe and healing now). After what happened to her, I couldn't stomach the idea of being inside Pete's head to rewrite/edit this chapter. I opened the file, started to write several times, and promptly closed it. So, thank you for your wonderful patience.
*Trigger warning for a sexual assault fantasy (Pete's mindset) in this chapter.*
Mark didn't know where he was or how to get back to their makeshift camp. He'd blindly run out of the tent, overcome with guilt from the realization that he didn't know his sister at all. Had never truly known her. The things she must have faced; the grief he'd given her over wasting her life. Introducing her to Pete. Pressuring her to settle down; to make a difference with her life. He'd been stupid. Selfish.
The blackness of the night made it impossible to see. There was no moon orbiting this planet, or at least no moon shone tonight. Or perhaps the tree cover blocked what little moonlight was available. It didn't matter; he knew he was royally screwed.
Suddenly pitching forward as his left foot tangled in the roots of a tree, he landed with a hard grunt. "Damn fool," he grumbled to himself, slowly climbing back onto his feet. Recognizing the impossible situation, he stopped. What had he taught his kids? If they were lost in the woods STOP. Stay calm, Think, Observe, Plan. Well, this wasn't Earth, but he was lost in the woods, so why not.
Stay calm—yeah right. He decided it best to circle back to that one later.
Think. Alien planet, alien woods—thinking was so not helping with the staying calm part.
Next was observe—yep, not happening if you can't even see what's around you, nothing to observe. No way to see if there were predators nearby. Stop thinking! He ordered himself, not missing the irony.
Plan. His Dad had always said to stay put unless he was in mortal danger. Good ole Dad, Mark scoffed; he'd never let Mark live down the fact that his advice was going to prove right. Again. If Mark ever got off this godforsaken, no light will ever shine again, planet, he'd have to remember to thank his dad. With another grumble, he slid down the tree trunk and sat on the cold, hard ground. There was nothing else to do but sit tight and hope Sam would find him.
"I swear to god, Carter, your brother is the biggest pain in my ass," Jack growled as yet another tree limb smacked him in the face.
"I know, sir," Sam said between clenched teeth. She wasn't irritated at her CO's complaining. On the contrary, she agreed with him wholeheartedly. Her brother was a man-sized pain in the ass.
When Mark suddenly tore out of the tent, Sam had just been waking up. It had taken her several seconds to remember where they were, to understand why her CO was kneeling over her, a deeply concerned look on his face. In her state of distress, she'd assumed that Mark was upset by their actions; the obvious outward affection they'd inadvertently shown. If he didn't suspect before, Mark definitely knew there were unresolved feelings between her and Jack.
"How far do you think he could have gone?" Sam walked, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth.
"Not far," Jack answered, then cursed as another limb of leaves smacked his face.
Sam nodded, though she new her CO couldn't see her. But right now she didn't trust her voice. Mark was her responsibility. If she hadn't been so caught up in her own stupid emotions, this wouldn't be happening.
They'd been searching for Mark for the last three hours with no luck. The dense forrest canopy made navigating by stars impossible; therefore, they were relying on the three point method of maintaining a straight line in a forest. It was difficult with the night being so black, but their lights gave just enough light to manage They followed the straight path for approximately 50 meters, then retraced their path back to camp before rotating 30 degrees and beginning the search pattern again.
"I'm sorry," Sam said softly, breaking the silence. "I shouldn't have reacted that way."
"Hey," Jack stopped and turned toward her, his flashlight illuminating her face. "This isn't on you. Nightmares are just part of the package," he told her honestly. "I understand how seeing you like that would upset Mark, hell, it affected me and I've woken you up from several nightmares."
"Thank you, sir," she shot him a half-smile at his attempt to absolve her; however, they were two peas in the same pod. Self-blame was in their makeup. Like recognized like.
"You think he's smart enough to figure out how to get back to camp?" Jack asked with skepticism. At her silence, he admitted, "yeah, I didn't think so either."
Pete ran. He ran because he didn't know what else to do. Dolos hadn't showed up as planned. Sam's team was still alive and had rescued him. His well-thought-out plan was going to hell in a hand basket. But there was still hope.
According to Teal'c, O'Neill and Mark had taken Sam—traitorous bitch—north to some city. If he could find his way there, he could slide back into the group. No one knew he'd been working with a Goa'uld; no one ever needed to know. He could still play the victim and be the victor. Sam would be forced to see him as a brave hero, swooping in to save the day. She had to, because if the bitch failed to see his heroism, he couldn't be held responsible for his next actions.
He kept moving for hours, praying his wilderness training that the pain-in-the-ass chief of police back home had insisted he take, would actually prove useful. The forest canopy had gotten more and more dense as he travelled, making following the stars nearly impossible, but then the barely visible glow of the cresting sun gave Pete a faint, stationary point to follow. Thank goodness, too because he had almost stumbled right into the bitch's tent. That wouldn't have been very hero like.
As he surveyed the area, he saw no signs of life near the camp. No fire was smoldering. The tent flaps had been haphazardly thrown back, one tent pole knocked out of the ground. Their backpacks were still looped over a tree limb, nothing inside the tent was packed. Clearly, the trio had fled suddenly, but would surely be back.
Pete pulled one of the packs down and flipped it open. It was neatly organized and contained feminine items; obviously Sam's. Helping himself to one of her protein bars, he took small satisfaction in eating her only remaining chocolate and took a deep swig from her attached canteen. She didn't need any small comforts, he grinned at his actions. Tossing the wrapper on the ground, he used the toe of his boot to scape dirt over it, glancing around to ensure no one was watching him.
Walking over to the tent, he crawled inside. He saw the three sleeping bags crammed into the small space. Burying his nose into the middle sleeping bag, he breathed deeply, her light floral scent filling him his senses as he grew hard at the thought of her lying there nude, dreaming of him. He grinned at the mental image until a thought struck him. Sam had slept in between two men. He could forgive her lying next to Mark—he was her brother after all—but he couldn't ignore her blasphemy of lying next to O'Neill. Naked. Touching him. Pete saw red. With a growl, he slammed his fists against the material, imagining her beneath him, begging for his forgiveness.
His hands reached for his belt as he ripped it open and pulled his erection free. Gripping himself, he allowed the rage of her betrayal to fill him as he pumped his fist up and down his shaft. He imagined slamming into her as she cried out in pain. Her punishment for betraying him. He'd pin her arms brutally above her head, stretching them past their limits. He'd use his teeth to mark her as his. She would exist solely for his pleasure; she'd finally learn her place.
With a grunt he came hard, his ejaculation spurting onto the inner material of her sleeping bag. Sick satisfaction filled him as he watched the moisture soak into the fabric. Now, a part of him would always be touching her bare skin.
The haze of anger lifted as Pete realized how exposed he was if Sam and the others returned to find him with his pants down—literally. This was not the narrative he wanted to create. He was the hero. He was her master. Zipping up his pants, he crawled backwards out of the tent and looked around the slowly brightening woods. Seeing no one, he selected a spot a few hundred feet away and hunkered down to await their return.
