by Avalon (avalon99@telusplanet.net)
fanfic at http://members.dencity.com/avalon_online
PG-13, S/J, Part 4/8
THE MANY SHADES OF NIGHT IV
"A Universal Darkness "
Carter was dreaming. But it wasn't her... Some part of her that was still Samantha Carter recognized what was happening. Jolinar. It was one of Jolinar's memories, not hers. And then the dream swept her away and she could only watch...and remember.
The System Lords had found her. They were coming. She had to escape. They hadn't sent an Ashrak. No, this time the entire population of this world would suffer for what she had done. These people had given her sanctuary and for that crime they would all die... She had to leave, to try to save them with her absence...
The dream changed, moving forward in time. Now the people of...Hejira...that was its name. The people of Hejira were dying, fleeing their homes in terror of the darkness that the System Lords had unleashed on them.
The Ammita. Devourers of Souls, and Dwellers in Amenta, the place where the sun sets. Genetically engineered nightmares, constructed by one of the first Goa'ulds and designed to destroy whatever world they were set against. Innumerable, unstoppable...except by...
And then there was only terror, screams in the night...and darkness. Nothing but endless, undying darkness.
* * *
Carter awoke, the scream still echoing in her ears. She opened her eyes, blinking in the dim light, and frowned. Shadows were swirling by her, curiously distorted, and... something was clutching her tightly around the knees. Instinctively, she lashed out with both feet, trying to break its grip, reaching for the gun that should be there...
"Hey, cut it out!"
Carter stilled as recognition flooded over her. Colonel O'Neill. Her body went limp with relief. She was safe.
She was also upside down. She was draped over his shoulder like a sack, she realized, her upper torso dangling behind him while he held onto her by one arm and both legs.
"What happened?" Her voice sounded frighteningly weak, even to her own ears. She found herself clutching at his belt with her free hand, trying to stave off the dizziness that was threatening to send her back into oblivion.
"You passed out. I carried you. And you just kicked me. Sweet, Carter."
"Sorry." She wasn't sure if she managed to say it out loud, or just thought she did. Whichever, it didn't seem terribly important just now. Her mind was more occupied with the fact that the pain had returned...although it didn't seem to hurt quite as much as before. Or perhaps she was just getting used to it, she mused ruefully. And there were other questions burning in her mind.
"How long was I out?"
"'Bout 15 minutes. I can't see my watch right now." The Colonel sounded breathless. She couldn't blame him. It couldn't be easy carrying her like this. And he had an injured arm...
"You could put me down," she suggested in a small voice, shutting her eyes so she wouldn't see the ground trailing by above her head.
"And have to haul you back up in a few minutes when you pass out again? Nuh uh, Carter. You can just stay there for a while."
Okay. She hadn't been entirely sure she could continue walking if he put her down and, short of kicking him in the side again, there wasn't a great deal she could do about the situation. Besides, the Air Force frowned on its personnel kicking their commanding officers. Carter shook her head. Her mind was wandering again, just like it had when...
The memory made her tense and O'Neill tightened his grip on her, growling. "Stop squirming. You're not making this any easier..."
"Sorry, Sir." Her voice was a little steadier now. "But I think I have an idea how to kill the Ammita."
"The what?"
"The...the creatures. I think I know how we can kill them."
O'Neill lurched slightly then came to an abrupt stop. "Great," he said. "I've got some good news too."
"What?"
"I've just found the underground stream." As he spoke, he stepped backward out of the ankle-deep water he was standing in and reached up to lower her to the ground.
Carter only had time for the quick thought: "This is going to hurt..." and then O'Neill had pulled her off his shoulder and deposited her in a sitting position on the stone floor.
She was right. It did hurt. But she didn't pass out, which was quite an accomplishment, given the circumstances.
"You okay?" O'Neill sat down beside her, panting slightly.
"I'm still conscious, Sir," she said, essaying a faint smile.
"Good. Stay that way." He turned and reached behind him, picking up his HK and aiming the flashlight on her. "All right. Let's take a look at your back."
Carter's stomach tensed, but she remained still as he moved behind her and trained the light on her wounds. There was a long moment of silence, then: "Jesus, Sam."
Carter bit her lip. "That bad, huh?" Her hands had clenched into fists, she noticed, and she forced them to relax. Behind her, she could sense the Colonel's eyes on her.
"All right," he said at last, not answering her question. "Let's get your jacket off, Carter."
This was really going to hurt.
It did. The flak jacket and her khaki jacket came off relatively easy, but O'Neill had to use a length of bandage from his basic first aid kit, soaked in water, to help ease her black t-shirt away from her mangled back. The blood had begun to dry, cementing the shirt to her skin, but the bleeding began anew as he pulled the material away. After what seemed like a lifetime or two, she ended up with the shirt hanging around her neck, draped in front of her. Not that modesty was very high on her list of priorities at the moment. She was too busy fighting to stay conscious and not shoot Colonel O'Neill.
"God. Aren't you finished yet?" There was more than a little desperation in her voice.
O'Neill angled the flashlight a little higher. "No. Hold still." And then he began sponging the remaining dried blood away.
The first contact of water on her newly re-opened cuts sent a deep shudder through her and she bit her lip, tasting blood. She closed her eyes tightly against the tears that were welling up. "I will not scream," she told herself resolutely. "I will not."
"Talk to me, Sam," O'Neill was saying. "Tell me about the Ammita."
"Great," she thought. "I'm dying, and he wants to have a conversation." Still, anything was better than what was happening behind her. "All right," she said huskily. "They were genetically engineered by the Goa'uld. They use them as weapons, to bring rebellious planets into line. They... Damn it!" Carter stiffened, her fingernails cutting deeply into her palms as the Colonel reached what must have been the deepest gash, running along her right side and across her lower back. "Okay. That's enough! Just stop now." She was trembling, she realized, her body shaking uncontrollably. "Please Jack..."
"Almost done. You're doing great..."
Easy for him to say. The world was beginning to fade again.
"Hang on." O'Neill stopped his ministrations and reached into the medical kit for something. "Sam..."
"Yes?" It was an effort to form the word.
Another pause. "Never mind. Just...sorry."
Carter frowned blearily. What was he talking about? Sorry for what? And then he poured disinfectant over her back. This time she was unconscious before she hit the ground.
* * *
The first thing Carter saw when she opened her eyes was Colonel O'Neill sitting beside her, staring out into the darkness, his M9 in one hand and her HK with its few remaining bullets on his lap. His own submachine gun lay on the floor between them, its flashlight illuminating the darkness.
She was laying on her side. Her shirt was back on and her jacket was draped over her, providing a little warmth in the coolness of the underground chamber. She was laying on something other than rock -- his jacket? Carter shifted gingerly and felt something pull on her back. Bandages and tape. Another quick internal inventory showed that he must have removed her boot, bandaged her swollen ankle, and somehow got the boot back on afterwards. The boot itself was loosely laced up, enough to provide a little support, but not tightly enough to cut off the circulation.
The pain... It wasn't gone...probably wouldn't be for a very long time...but it was manageable. Instead of stabbing into her with knife-like intensity it had faded to a dull ache. Now she felt as if she had been beaten all over with a blunt object, rather than sliced open by a very sharp one.
"Hey..." her voice was weak, but clear.
O'Neill turned and looked down at her, a smile lighting his face. He was wearing only his black shirt and the flak jacket over it, she noticed. A roughly tied bandage was wrapped around the upper part of his now bare arm. She glanced downward. She was laying on his jacket.
"Hey yourself," he said. "How do you feel?"
Carter glanced back up at him then took a deep breath. "Like a truck hit me. How long was I out this time?"
"About half an hour. This is becoming a habit, Major. Still, it made bandaging you up a whole lot easier."
"You should have hit me over the head to start with then, Sir."
"Next time, Carter."
Carter smiled slightly then cautiously levered herself upward into a sitting position. O'Neill reached out to help, steadying her with one hand. The pain in her back didn't increase markedly as she moved, and the bandages seemed to be holding. She flexed her right foot slightly...and found herself digging her fingernails into O'Neill's wrist as a shaft of agony shot up her leg. She gasped and for an instant the world spun dizzily again, then the pain faded back to a slow throb.
"Carter, do you mind?"
She turned to him, realizing she still had a deathgrip on his wrist. She was about to release him, was opening her mouth to apologize, when she heard it...
The dry rustle of old leaves.
TO BE CONTINUED