A/N: Triumph! Yes, I return. The vibe is clear, now with a drow/mechwarrior hybridized thingy. Long chapter, worked hard on it for everyone. As for the sword...s'mine. Yes. I own a Hanwei Tiger Katana, if you care to look it up. I couldn't resist, I'm sorry ;). Please, read and review.

Sam was seated in comfort after the slaves carefully placed Jack into the old, etched sarcophagus. It slowly slid shut, working whatever magic it had on her lover's flesh. A chair was pulled from nowhere, and Carter slumped into it. She was numb to the core, worried for her man. She looked around, noticing for the first time the trophies lining the dank, fur-covered tent she now occupied. Steel glinted dully in the rising sun, lying in racks lining the hut's walls. The smell of smoke, oil, blood and sweat permeated the dwelling. A throne of carved wood was occupied by the woman referred to as Melinda. A studded leather vest -almost similar to a bulletproof- and doeskin breeches marked her as someone who valued a certain amount of practicality. Hard-earned scars traced their way across the skin of her arms. Melinda was staring at her, single eye keen and clear.

"He is your mate."

"Yes."

"You are not a Herald. Lord Heru-ur's minions do not dress as you do."

"That's because Heru-ur is dead."

"But...how?"

"Don't ask. Please, all I want is Jack so I can leave. You're free."

The mention of the word 'free' seemed to have an adverse effect on Melinda. She rested her chin on her hand, mumbling to herself. The sight of Carter's tear-stricken eyes and utter lack of concern as to her own fate had left little question as to the veracity of her statements. Sam looked away from the sarcophagus, turning to her erstwhile captor.

"What do you want with us?"

"I...I don't know. The Kan were right...how many years has Heru-ur been dead?"

"Four or five."

"Hmmm."

The scarred woman fell back into thought. Carter wrung her hands, trying to look around, find a way out of the situation. She couldn't leave Jack. She couldn't fight her way out. She had to sit tight. In the meantime, her gaze continued to drift back to the golden sarcophagus. She willed one message to him, through the space that separated them.

They're coming for us, Jack. Hang in there.

Melinda's slaves returned, bearing gifts for Carter. Melinda was lost in thought, waved them away. The massive men laid the bundle at Sam's feet, left without a word.

"Is there someplace I can, you know..."

"Yes, around the corner. Be quick. Change."

Carter left her to her thoughts. She didn't want to be away from Jack...but she needed to get out of her blood-spattered BDU's. She couldn't bear it, couldn't cope with her Jack's blood all over her. Her mind did loops that left her stomach queasy. She had to ask directions, but the submissive men managed to point her to an unoccupied yurt. She noticed that all the slaves were male, but she didn't care. Her psyche was too fragile. Too battered from the last forty-eight hours.

My dreams. My dreams of being with Jack have all come true these last few days. I've slept beside him, ate with him, touched him, smelled him, kissed him...and now it might be taken away. Why? Why can't we just...live? Why can't we just settle down, like normal people, start a family? I'd give anything to hold him again. I'd never let him go.

She shucked her BDU's, threw them into a corner. Most of her gear was gone, stripped away by slaves at their leader's order- they had taken her vest, radio, IDC, rations, and most her webbing. She had been given back her knife eventually, as what appeared to be professional courtesy on Melinda's part. So, she looked at the rough little package she had been presented with and hoped for the best. The contents were simple- soft boots that reached up to her knees, a black silk dress, and a large fur cloak. It was obviously meant for someone who wasn't expected to run, or fight. It was meant to impress, and looking over herself briefly, she knew it did. There was a tooled leather belt that was too big for her. She fiddled with it, gave up, and let it ride high on one hip and low off the other, like a gunslinger. She hung her Ka-bar off of it as best she could, and returned to Melinda's hut.

Really, do I have any other option? They could kill me and Jack in a second.

The whiteness vanished, parted by the edge of a bleak roof made of oak poles and animal skins. The smell of charred meat, blood and sweat brought him to, as he found himself able to move. He sat up, as best he could, and grumbled.

"Christ. I hoped never to see the inside one of these Goddamn things again."

"Oh, sir...Jack!"

Thin arms around him, across his bare chest from behind. Warmth boiled within him, hearing that voice again. He interlinked his fingers with hers.

"Missed you, Sam."

"Missed you too, Jack.Missed you more than..."

Melinda's eye focused on Jack as she coughed loudly. One hand rested on an ugly-looking flanged mace. It was long, fire blackened with a handle wrapped in twine.

"I have shown you the proper respect, as our traditions dictate. Now, you will do the same. I am Melinda Ya'Tresk, daughter of Melinda Ka'noc. Who will defend your slave?"

"Slave?" repeated Jack, incredulous. He was still sore, aching, unarmed and naked from the waist up. His hands slowly slipped away from his mate's.

"Silence, jaluk, you have no say in this matter. Speak once more and I shall have you whipped Again, who will defend your slave?"

Sam looked deep into Jack's brown eyes, saw the pain, the determination. He silently begged her not to do it, not to give in to the barbarism, but what else could she do? She had to stall until a rescue mission could be mounted for them, and he knew it.

Please don't.

Sam stared at him. She was instantly reminded of the armband incident, staring into those eyes and being lost in the moment. Now, it was him pleading. She wouldn't let Jack fall into another woman's hands -not now, not ever, she told herself.

"I will defend him!"

Rage, a crawling, seeping rage, found its way into her veins. Melinda was trying to take her man, her MATE away from her. Trying to make him HERS. The insidious anger gave her muscles subtle strength, her voice a steely quality.

"Hmm. You defend your prize? So be it. Choose your weapon, and we will settle this in the Circle of Equals. "

Sam's gaze swept over the the racks of steel, watching the orange dawn light play over nicked blades. She couldn't quite handle a sword or axe or shield properly, but she knew that she would need the reach they provided. Sunlight glinted, Jack and Melinda stared, and Carter chose.

The scabbard was dented, lacquered wood. The grip was covered in cotton, some sea creature's skin below it. The hilt was blackened iron, inset with gold, and the long blade arced. She hefted the katana, felt the balance even inside the scabbard. Holding the long weapon awkwardly, she pulled it from its resting place. Turning around, she gritted her teeth, letting the anger rise. Melinda grinned, and led her outside into the center of the little town. Jack followed at a distance, all but helpless.

No one will EVER take Jack from me while I draw breath.

Jack was drawn along. What could he do? Melinda looked at him like any other possession- valuable, but replaceable. He didn't dare test her patience, for Carter's sake. Sam, however, looked incredible. She walked with a proud confidence, sword sheathed. The dress clung to her, beneath a mantle of wolfskin. Never in his life had he ever been more attracted to her. He wished her luck, and was suddenly sobered as the thought struck him like a slap in the face.

She's willing to die for me.

The slaves formed a circle, eager to watch another suffer as they did. Melinda paced back and formed, strapping a small shield to her left forearm. Carter threw off her cloak, launching it into the growing crowd of spectators. She pulled the sword free of its moorings, briefly admiring its deadly beauty. The bloodgutter running the length of the steel was sure, moulded to the contours of the weapon. Waves formed from the grinding process exposed strata of metal, creating a subtle sea along the edge. Gripping the weapon, Sam put her right foot forwards and began to stalk her human prey. The tendrils of rage gripped her mind now, intent on following through the primal instincts that had never quite abated.

Jack.

He watched as his lover circled, a sheen of sweat on her face. The sun was higher in the sky now, the slaves cheering. The war drums had begun once again, setting the ancient tempo of battle so all could hear. Some of the other men looked enviously at him. Jack knew he and his lover couldn't fight their way free. The ritual combat was their sole hope. So, he watched as the women padded, sizing each other up. Carter shuffled and slid, keeping her eyes locked on her opponent. Melinda kept her mace low, shield up as she advanced. The ballet of death began.

Melinda came in hard, three sudden steps and an uppercut-like motion. Sam barely dodge the bludgeon, sidestepping and swinging her sword horizontally as if it were a baseball bat. Melinda parried easily, stepping back and considering her opponent once more. Carter danced a little, unsure but determined. Jack stared at her, marveling at her courage. Another sweep, another slashing counterattack.

This time, however, Carter pressed the assault. She thrust wildly, twisting her blade and scoring a deep gash just above Melinda's hip. Her leathers split, and blood gushed forth. Sam followed up , working her way into the enemy's reach. She came up, elbows swinging hard and connected. Melinda stumbled, swung wildly. Another gash had appeared above the first, more shallow.

Sam.

Carter stared down the length of her blade at the prostrate, bleeding warrior. She panted, fury slowly abating. Her lips curled back, something feral coming to the surface.

"Don't you EVER fuck with me or my man again, or I'll kill you. He's mine, you hear?"

Melinda stared, hardfaced for a moment, before cracking like stone. She nodded.

"He is your slave, then. Take your prize."

"He is my mate. My lover. My man. Never my slave. Now, we're going to leave. We're going to leave, and you're not going to stop us. We're going to go home, and I'm gonna fu..."

"Uhh, Carter?"

Jack was calling out to her. She stared Melinda down a little more, kept the tip of the blade hovering around the woman's face and neck.

"Yes, Jack?" she answered without taking her eyes off her foe.

"Uhh... Carter? Our reinforcements are here."

Sam looked up, noticing for the first time the number of armed men in BDUs who held the circle of slaves at bay. Jack was turning quite a shade of red. Suddenly embarrassed, she nodded and flesh her face flush.

Oops.

The procession was silent. Jack and Sam lay at the heart of thirty of the SGC's finest. The road was short, maybe two miles of awkward silence from everyone. Sure, prettymuch the entire mountain had known about them before. Jack pondered the situation. He stared a little, not quite comprehending the severity of the situation. A plume of smoke in the distance answered how the airmen and marines had been able to get rifles through the gate- they had run a UAV into the obelisk, shattering the thing. He shrugged, wondered briefly how long it had taken to think that up before returning his thoughts to Carter and the inevitable round of inquiries awaiting them on their return. Three SG teams had seen her declaration of love and...romantic intent.

There's going to be hell to pay when we get back.