Title: Outside the Lines: Trapped
Author: Annerb
Rating: Teens
Summary: How far would you go to make your world right again?
Classifications: Action/Adventure, Drama, Angst, S/J
Season: 4 (Alternative storyline for 'Chain Reaction')
Disclaimer: The characters mentioned in this story are the property of Showtime and Gekko Film Corp. The Stargate, SG-1, the Goa'uld and all other characters who have appeared in the series STARGATE SG-1 together with the names, titles and backstory are the sole copyright property of MGM-UA Worldwide Television, Gekko Film Corp, Glassner/Wright Double Secret Productions and Stargate SG-I Prod. Ltd. Partnership. This fanfic is not intended as an infringement upon those rights and solely meant for entertainment. All other characters, the story idea and the story itself are the sole property of the author.

Trapped

The room was what you would expect from a maximum security military prison. White walls, white bars and sterile air. A single window high in the wall emanated a small shaft of natural light that patterned the back wall, breaking the overall harshness. Just enough to remind the inhabitants of what they have lost.

Movement in the nearest cell tore Sam's attention from the patch of sunlight. As if in slow motion, her eyes followed the gentle sway, her ears registering a taunt creak. Like a pendulum in an old clock, she absently thought. The harried voices and clanking of opening bars were distant and unimportant to Sam.

Less than 24 hours earlier she had stood in the same spot. She had slipped away from the SGC, spending two days in San Diego, playing her part, visiting her family, all the while figuring out her next move. Desperation had finally forced one 'Stacy Miller' to board a flight to Washington D.C. Pure pluck, or perhaps foolishness in retrospect, had led Sam to the cell of one Colonel Harry Maybourne, incarcerated traitor and one-time member of the illusive NID.

To say he looked startled when she walked in would be an understatement. His eyes widened, darting from her to the security cameras.

She barely took two steps into the room before he spoke.

"You want some advice?"

Sam looked at him in surprise before nodding briefly.

"Disappear. Walk away as fast as you can and never look back."

'Never look back.' His choice of words haunted Sam, but she stubbornly pushed them aside, refusing to submit to second guessing. Maybourne clearly was not in the dark as to recent events.

"Tell me how to bring them down," she said without preamble, trusting him to know what she meant.

Maybourne's eyes widened. "The NID?" he said incredulously, his eyes darting uncomfortably towards the security camera again.

Sam stepped up the bars and nodded once more.

"You can't bring them down, Major. And they'll just kill you for trying."

Catching Maybourne off-guard, Sam reached a hand through the bars, grabbed his collar and pulled him ruthlessly against them. "Like they did General Hammond? Like they killed Jack?" she said harshly, clinging to her anger, knowing it was the only thing keeping her upright.

Maybourne's eyebrows rose at her use of Jack's first name, but his expression remained serene as if he was unconcerned that she might actually hurt him. He glanced down at her hand that gripped his shirt with white knuckles and cocked his head at her. Almost as if asking if she really thought this was the way to get him to help her.

Sam released him with a small push causing him to stumble a few steps back.

"I can't help you," he said, turning his back on her and lying down on the thin government issue cot.

"Can't? Or won't?" Sam accused.

Maybourne sighed, maybe accepting that she wasn't going to be so easily put off. He rolled into a sitting position and met her gaze squarely. "Major, you are walking a very dangerous line and frankly, you have absolutely nothing to offer me. And even if you did, I can't help you."

"Why not?" Sam asked defiantly with her arms crossed stubbornly.

Maybourne watched her with a strange gleam in his eye; it might have been esteem or perhaps something slightly less gentlemanly. "Major…as much as I respect your tenacity and loyalty, in this case it is misplaced. Take your out while you still have it."

"No."

"No? Goddammit Major, you once accused me of being a shortsighted idiot, but you are really gunning for my title here."

Sam continued to stare mutinously.

"You've already lost," he finally said with brutal exasperation. "This was over before it started. The moment Hammond died all of your fates were sealed."

Sam had to look away from him then, pacing a few steps before the bars.

"They've already won and there is nothing you can do about that. You just need to accept that."

"Never," she whispered fiercely and when she met Maybourne's eyes she finally saw just a hint of fear lurking there. Whether for her or of her, she couldn't be sure.

"He wouldn't want you to get yourself killed over this," Maybourne dared to say softly.

"None of that matters anymore," Sam replied, turning her back on him. She placed a card on the table in the middle of the room. "If you change your mind…"

Maybourne didn't reply, but as she knocked on the door for the guards to let her out, she thought she heard him whisper, "Good luck, Major."

She had spent the rest of the afternoon in a park near her hotel sitting on a bench, acknowledging that she was way out of her element. She had flown fighters over enemy territory, survived the torture of sadistic aliens and rewritten her fair share of scientific laws. But this was different. This was a world of shady back rooms and double speak, black ops and terminations. Her instinct to turn to her CO for guidance was as ingrained as it was pointless. There was no Jack or Hammond or Teal'c to help her anymore.

A restless night's sleep found her blearily heading out of her hotel room, but offered no new inspirations. As she pushed out of the lobby, however, the clerk called her back.

"There's a message for you, ma'am."

He handed her a small yellow slip. Maybourne wanted to talk to her. Sam prayed that this was the break she needed.

All her hopes were ruthlessly smashed the moment she stepped back into that cell. Like some sick marionette doll, Harry Maybourne hung from the beams of his cell with a noose tight around his neck. An inglorious end to an ignominious man.

After long moments of staring at Maybourne's gently swinging body, the vivid purple of his face contrasting obscenely with the orange of his clothes, the significance finally sunk in. They knew she had been here. Because while Maybourne may have been on death row for treason, he would never have taken his own life.

They had killed him to keep him quiet.

Adrenaline made Sam oddly still and her gaze methodically swept the cell. She noted the unplugged security camera and the carefully folded blankets. Her eye was caught by a small piece of paper on the floor. She squeezed an arm into the cell and grabbed the crumpled scrap, slipping it into her pocket.

She gave one last glance to Maybourne's body, knowing what it meant.

They were on to her.

The thought propelled her out the door, past the scrambling guards, ignoring every shout that followed her down the halls.

She didn't pause until she was outside the building, pulling her cell phone from her pocket. The numbers blurred and her fingers trembled. There was no guilt for the murdered traitor swinging grotesquely from the rafters, even as she began to realize that he had been correct. She had been shortsighted.

Her thoughts crystallized into one pulsating focus.

Daniel.