One Too Many Planets Part 8
The exhilaration and breathlessness came all at the same time and as her body leaned forward she crooned into the ears of her grey steed, urging him forward, ever faster, laughing out loud as the two of them outdistanced their pursuers. Only when assured victory was theirs did she gently ease her mount to a gentler gallop and then slowly down in pace until he was walking or at least doing a dancing walk, foam flecked mouth whinnying from the pleasure.
She slapped him affectionately on the neck promising him an extra special feed when they returned home – a well earned treat.
Hearing the approach of the others, she studiously composed her features and projected an air of calm serenity.
"My Lady!" The elder man's face dripping with sweat, twisted into a grimace of displeasure. "Your conduct is unbecoming a future--."
"Oh, hush now, Chancellor." And turning her huge blue eyes on him her words lost all their bite. "I was merely allowing Iskender his head. Otherwise I would have had a most difficult time managing him. He would run; nothing would stop him. See, he is now as meek as a babe at the breast." Knowing this elderly statesman well, she was aware he would not, could not stay angry with her for long.
While in discussion, her other younger companions chose to stay a little back on their mounts out of respect for the situation.
Realising a little more of a demure face was required, she lowered her head, looking up at the statesman through long lashes. "Don't be angry with me, my Lord Norgon. You know how that saddens me." Lowering her voice she projected the little girl chastened, knowing how her mentor would be unable to resist such an entreaty.
"Your Highness should have been born a man, you have the heart of a warrior."
Delighted with his choice of praise, the young woman looked up grinning impishly.
"Never a truer word, and now, just a short gallop, for I must surely--."
Alarm registered on Norgon's features. "Hold fast! Do you forget we are close to the land of the Canvar – it is not safe to wander too far."
She watched as he cast wary eyes around him, hiding her mirth carefully so as not to offend.
"Very well, my lord. I will heed thy warning, though the pace is Iskender's to set."
And with a pretty nod of her blonde head, she turned her mount and with a gentle squeeze of her heels they sprang forward, retracing their journey.
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He couldn't, at first, believe his eyes. It had to be too good to be true that the first people he encountered, one of them should be Carter. Hell, he didn't know she could ride like that – she almost seemed part of the animal she was astride.
Concealed within a mass of rocks, he had watched as she galloped past as if pursued by Goa'uld but then she reined in her mount and actually waited for the other riders to catch up. He was bewildered.
What the hell was she playing at? Through his monocular he was able to see every nuance on her face and it did not appear to be one of fear and subjugation. More like she was the pampered pet doted on by others.
He saw her laughter and watched the way she allowed certain emotions to cross her features. And what was with her get up? Where on earth were her BDUs? The flimsy attire she wore left little to the imagination; that was for sure.
And before he knew it, she'd wheeled her horse and was riding towards him. Dammit, what more could he ask, and yet, how to get rid of her entourage?
He had mere seconds. Looking behind, he checked that the route did not permit long range viewing, the way turning as he remembered it every dozen or so yards, often less. He dropped down, picking up a rather sharp burr and, carefully concealed, he awaited his moment.
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She had just taken Iskender over a fallen tree trunk and turned sharply to stay on route when, from the very earth sprang a dark vision, a face hidden by head covering and impenetrable eye covers. With no time to raise the alarm, she was pulled none too gently from her stallion, hearing strange garbled words which made her believe she had been taken by a lunatic.
When the covers fell from his face she saw his eyes, surprised at the depth of darkness. And yet, for a moment, she imagined she saw such burning joy until she opened her mouth to call out and then it was replaced with annoyance. And before she could utter any sound, an iron hand was clapped over her mouth.
Even as she wondered if this were some outrageous hoax planned by her younger companions to amuse her, she saw the stranger reach with his free hand for Iskender and place a thorn under his saddle.
At once her stallion reared up in pain and with a heavy slap on his rear as encouragement, he was off, taking the route she had originally intended, galloping to escape the terrible pain.
Her fury knew no bounds as she twisted in her captor's grip but almost at once she was dragged down, hidden by the fallen tree and by the stranger's body which covered her own, preventing her from moving even her hand to warn her friends as, unknowingly, they leaped over them and were away.
Undeterred by the lack of help, she kicked and bucked and at one point felt an elbow make satisfying contact with some part of her attacker's body and as his hand moved to release her mouth she struck with sharp teeth, eliciting a hiss of pain followed by words which, although unfamiliar to her ears, she knew full well to be the kind uttered as profanities.
'That will teach you to deal so roughly with me!'
He was still shaking his hand as she jumped to her feet and as his eyes dropped to his injury, she took her chance and lunged to his left.
"What the hell? Carter!" He couldn't get off her fast enough, his hand feeling like it had been through a mangle. Jack was incensed to see puncture marks on the fleshy part of his left thumb and shook it vigorously to ease the stinging pain. "What the hell's gotten into you, Captain? Have you lost your mind?"
But before he knew what to think, she was like a meteor, shooting off as if her life depended on it.
It was a moment's hesitation, but it was enough for her and she momentarily evaded his outstretched grasp and was running as if the wind was at her heels.
"Carter, get the hell back here!"
Even before he barked the order, Jack knew his 2IC wasn't about to obey. He'd known from that delirious moment when he'd grabbed her, when he'd looked into those staggeringly deep blue eyes that there was something awry – something missing.
As he felt an icy hand of despair clutch at his vitals, he was off on her heels. And if it hadn't been for her flowing garments which snagged on an outstretched branch, he wouldn't have stood a cat in hell's chance of catching her. As she tugged wildly at the material, he seized her again, making sure he stayed well clear of her teeth.
They'd practiced hand-to-hand combat enough times for him to know and be prepared for practically anything she decided to throw at him, teeth not counting, but she resorted to copying a frenzied feline spitting, scratching, clawing and attempting to bite. And with little time to ponder these totally uncharacteristic traits, he fought to gain a semblance of control over what had degenerated into a free for all. Eventually one of them lost their footing and then they were down, grappling and rolling one then the other on top.
Jack supposed he was grateful that she didn't use her knowledge of combat because it meant that there was really no contest. It was just a matter of time before he gained the upper hand and managed to straddle her, his hands pressing hers down, his own legs pinning her thrashing limbs hard to the ground. She still attempted to twist away, bucking and thrashing, but it allowed Jack time to catch his breath whilst using up her own energy – all to his benefit.
Eventually, she realized her predicament and stilled, her own breath coming in painful rasping gasps. Glaring up at her captor, without any recognition, she spat out, "You will be punished for this outrage!"
Jack shook his head, unable to see any signs of head trauma but accepting that after so many weeks had passed since Sam had disappeared, that didn't mean much.
He stared at her hard.
"Carter, if you're hiding in there, now would be a good time to reappear." It was worth a try.
He could feel the tension in her body even without the defiance that burned in her eyes lashing him with fury. He sighed heavily.
"Look, Carter. I know that right now this must seem pretty weird, but don't you recognise me?" A look, part exasperation, part hope hovered over his stern features as he stared down at her. There was no change in her expression. "We're a team, Carter – you, Teal'c, Daniel and me – SG-1. You somehow got separated from us while working on some hieroglyphics and you were transported to this place. I don't know if it's the same planet or not, but," and now his voice grew firmer as did his grip, "you don't belong here. I've come to take you home."
He could feel her intense scrutiny and couldn't prevent the faint glimmer of hope which was kindled in his heart.
"Where is this home?"
It was her voice, he was sure of it but it wasn't exactly what he'd been wanting to hear and her words sounded strange. Still, she was showing interest – it was a start.
"Earth."
No struggling – that's a good thing. Right? Jack tried reading what was in her eyes – nothing. He eased the pressure of his own body on hers just a little, ready if she so much as gave a twinge.
"Earth?"
He scowled, not liking this one little bit. He stared at what he believed was his 2IC, finding it hard to come to terms with this person and who she really was.
He decided giving her a technical answer wasn't within his capabilities and he wondered if she'd have the ability to understand even if he could.
"It's a planet, a great distance away and if we're to make it home in time for Thanksgiving we're gonna have to get a move on."
He waited for her reaction which wasn't exactly get up and let's go, but still, no struggling. Good again.
"I'm getting up now. Okay?" Slowly, cautiously he sat up, his legs still pinning hers down but setting her torso free.
She continued to stare at him with eyes that he thought he might drown in.
"Thanksgiving?"
'You know, turkey, potatoes, sweet corn – the whole hog."
"You eat a whole hog?" Her voice sounded incredulous. "That is indeed a great food festival."
Jack's eyes rolled. "Yea, kind of… the pig though, that's questionable."
Jack grimaced – here was another Teal'c mind. Could he cope with two of them?
He decided to ignore her confusion; it would only end up him digging a deeper hole for himself.
She got to her feet carefully, flexing her shoulders.
"You okay?"
Sam nodded though Jack had to admit to himself that she didn't look all that happy.
"Can you remember anything about how you got here, Carter?"
She shook her head irritably. "Why do you call me Carter?"
Jack's irritation matched her own. "Because that's your name," he bit back sharply.
"How did you get here?"
Well at least she was asking questions, that was more like Carter.
"I did what you did – played around with those hieroglyphic thingies on PX thingy and, hey presto, Scotty must've beamed me down."
"Scotty?"
Jack's mouth tightened self-consciously. "Oh yea, keep forgetting your memory problem. Once we get you back, Janet will sort all this. It could just be a simple concussion. Hey!"
He had simply reached out to see if he could get a closer look at her head for any signs of trauma and she had done what he should have been expecting.
He leaped back from the slashing knife, feeling the blade slice through his jacket sleeve and cut into his bicep.
"Hot damn!"
Her face was feral in its ferocity, white teeth bared in rage.
"Cur of a dog, I'll slice you in two for daring to touch me!"
With an agility Jack knew well, Sam lunged at him, the knife again drawing forth blood on his thigh. He cursed and she grinned maliciously.
"Save your breath, cur dog, for your dying prayer."
She feinted right and seeing him follow she threw herself low, rolling under him, reaching out to strike at his very vitals. But her cry of victory instantly changed to a squeal of pain as Jack's hand clamped around her wrist, twisting hard so that the weapon dropped from fingers suddenly turned numb. She had expected the cracking of fragile bones to follow but to her complete surprise that follow through never came. Despite her surprise, she used her body, now relieved of her weapon, her knee shooting up to Jack's groin but this time he was ready and caught her knee in a firm hold which he then used to turn her, slamming her down hard on the solid ground. Not even waiting to check she was thoroughly winded, as he knew she must be – he had been far from gentle – he reached for the straps on his canteen, unclipping them in one easy motion and wrapped them around her wrists which he subsequently pinned behind her back. He felt her wince as he pulled extra tight, then stifling his own groan of pain, he stood up and began to examine his wounds.
They were both stinging badly and Jack continued to swear softly under his breath as he ascertained the damage. Bicep – a nice sized slice, not too deep; blood beginning to ease – manageable. The cut in his thigh was significantly smaller but it was a little deeper. He knew if Fraiser were around she'd be reaching for the damned needle and sutures but that would just have to wait for the time being. He tested his weight. Ouch! He'd live, it was doable.
He looked down at Carter. She was trying to move her wrists, work her hands free. Let her try – if there was one thing he was damned good at, it was knots. It would be a cold day in hell before she got out of his bindings.
He leaned over, grabbed her shoulders and yanked her up, quickly stepping back as her leg lashed out just missing him.
He turned baleful eyes on her. "You'd better quit that before you do yourself an injury," he warned softly, but Sam did not heed his words and kicked out again.
Out of nowhere she felt his arms impact the back of her knees and with a cry of alarm she felt her legs collapse as she landed heavily on her rear.
"Ouch!"
"I did warn you," he muttered dryly.
She glared venomously at him.
"Keep up the kung fu and you'll find your butt hitting the ground more times than you can say cur dog."
This time she was hauled up by her collar and only with the greatest effort did she restrain herself from again attempting to cause Jack physical damage.
"You will pay for your insolence. My mother will have you--." Her scornful tirade was cut short.
"Your mother's dead, Carter!"
Sam's eyes flashed with such spite that Jack felt doubts begin to surface in his own mind. Was this an AU Carter? Her vicious temperament certainly pointed in that direction.
Muttering under his breath, Jack rubbed a hand through his grey hair.
'Damn, damn and triple damn…Okay, calm down. There has to be something that will sort this question out. Think O'Neill, think…' His eyes lit up resolutely.
He approached her with particular caution; even with her hands tied he knew she was capable of inflicting damage. She watched him suspiciously as he circled her and when his hand shot out and lifted up her flowing dress she screamed in alarm and fear.
"Hah!" Jack grinned exultantly. He had his answer. At least all his efforts had been worth it. Yet he frowned at the fear and loathing in Sam's eyes and abruptly dropped the hem.
"For God's sake, Carter, what the hell did you think I was going to do?" he demanded in exasperation, hating the look on her face. "Look," he explained, his annoyance slowly abating, "Schrödinger and you were fooling about and things got out of hand. He swatted you none too gently, caught you just behind your knee. You bled like a stuck pig – two vicious scratches. I was just checking on them…they're healing nicely," he finished lamely.
"Keep your filthy hands off me, cur dog!"
"Mmmm, nice turn of phrase you've got there, Captain, but I can't stop to chat. It's time we were moving."
Sam dug her heels in. "I'm going nowhere with you," she spat.
Jack surveyed her icily. "Well, let's put it this way – you either use your own two legs or I'll throw you over my shoulder – your choice." His features were stony and he hoped she wouldn't catch on to the fact that he would find it nigh impossible to carry her. He had enough coping with everything which needed to be done – no way had he the energy to be carrying her.
"Well?" he demanded.
She glared but began to move, albeit in the wrong direction, but it was a start and Jack, using his MP5 nudged her none too gently on the correct bearing.
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All too aware that time was of the essence, he set a brisk pace giving no quarter when Sam complained. He knew full well her capabilities and had no intention of allowing her to sabotage his plan to put as much distance as possible between themselves and Sam's new-found companions.
Jack knew they would eventually catch up with her horse, spend time slowly retracing their route to check if she'd fallen and they'd missed her and, then, as their alarm escalated, they would widen their search. Jack knew it was imperative to climb higher into the hills where the steep and rocky terrain would aid in concealing their tracks.
Retrieving his two packs, Jack threw a bundle of clothes at Sam's feet.
"I'm going to free your hands so you can put those on."
Sam chose to ignore both Jack and the clothes, staring somewhere past his shoulder, her nose in the air, rubbing her wrists where the leather straps had cut into them.
Jack forced himself not to look at the marks. "The boots will be an improvement on what you're wearing." The delicate shoes she wore had already begun to fall apart and she could feel a number of blisters on the soles and toes of her feet. Still she ignored the man.
"Put them on, Carter." His voice sounded weary. "Okay, let's put it this way so there'll be no misunderstandings." Jack's voice was ominously low as he came to stand nose to nose with her, his dark eyes glinting. "Either you put these on or I'll do the honours myself!"
'Ah ha! That struck home,' he thought as he saw the barely concealed apprehension cloud her eyes. He glanced at his watch, aware of the passing time. Sam wasn't, however, prepared to give in gracefully and it was only when Jack's patience had worn thin and he reached roughly for the trousers, that she snatched them ungratefully from his grasp and began to put them on beneath the long garment she wore. She turned her back on him, her face aflame with mortification as she removed her top, her bare back revealed before she started to put on the shirt.
"It's the vest first." He coughed. He actually sounded uncomfortable.
She froze and for a moment, Jack wondered if she was simply ignoring him or simply didn't understand.
"The black top," he explained.
Quickly she shrugged out of the shirt and reached for the vest. He could sense the relief in her as her body was again covered. He hadn't enjoyed watching the change of clothes this last few minutes, but there was no way he was going to allow her any privacy which would offer her the opportunity for escape.
As she sat to remove her footwear, Jack caught sight of her feet and snorted in disgust.
"For crying out loud, Carter, why didn't you say anything?"
He knelt down, taking hold of one of her ankles. She instinctively pulled back but Jack's grip merely tightened. He noticed the other foot flex and, knowing what she was thinking, glowered hard.
"A wise move."
He covered the blisters with antibiotic cream and dressings, took the socks from her hands and carefully fitted them over her feet. Then taking the boots, he pushed them onto her feet and sat back to let her tie them. Seeing the look of utter consternation on her face as she surveyed the ties and all the hooks, without saying a word he finished the job himself.
Quickly now, he packed everything carefully to leave nothing that could be found to give their position away.
"Right, let's go."
He gestured with his head, up to the hills, indicating for Sam to lead the way.
Her eyes widened in apprehension; there was no mistaking her distress nor the paleness of her features.
"Y…you cannot mean for us to go through the land of the Canvar?"
Jack's eyes narrowed. "That's exactly where we're going – no other way."
He watched as her blue eyes changed from fear and confusion to fury and she rounded on him like a spitting cat, her hands attempting to claw him.
"You lie! Your words are twisted. You would sell me to the beasts! That is your desire."
As Jack fought to keep her nails from tearing his face and eyes his own expression grew thunderous and his patience snapped.
"I've had it with you, Carter! From now on," and here he pinned her wrists, once again wrapping the straps tightly, "you just do as I say. No explanations no discussions, zilch!"
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Considering the lack of cooperation from his 2IC, they made relatively good time. On two occasions Sam had felt her shoulder grabbed and she had been pulled down beside where Jack crouched. There'd been no need for him to tell her to remain silent; her round eyes wide with anxiety kept her lips sealed. She never saw who it was they hid from but so afraid was she of the Canvar that she dare not take a chance and cry out. Head bowed, shoulders hunched, she now trudged along, at times urged on with a gentle shove by her captor's hand.
She actually jumped when Jack eventually broke the silence to say they'd make camp. And as she looked around, without understanding why, she knew it was a good place, defendable in case of attack. She frowned, not quite understanding why she had such thoughts.
Darkness was fast descending as Jack dug out sleeping bags and began to make himself comfortable.
"Sit."
She ignored him and to her surprise he ignored her. She wasn't used to it and in the end, her weariness was such that she had to sit, sighing as her aching legs were given respite.
"Untie my hands."
Jack stopped working on his weapon and stared at her but made no move to do her bidding. She rolled her eyes at him.
"Are you deaf?" she demanded haughtily.
"Nice way with words you have, Carter. You must have people lining up to do what you ask."
She could feel the blood rising in her cheeks at his mocking tone.
"My wrists are hurting, cur dog!"
"Better your wrists than my face." Jack grinned at her coldly, watching the inner struggle going on in the woman. The flush in her cheeks seemed to grow deeper though her eyes refused to meet his.
"I…I have bodily functions." Her voice was so low, Jack barely heard them and even then, it took time for him to assimilate what she meant. As realization dawned, he stood warily.
He walked her to a secluded area where he'd already placed a small spade in the soil and a roll of paper. Before loosening her bindings he rechecked that this was somewhere she couldn't easily escape and then, working quickly, he untied her.
She stared at him resentfully and when he didn't move she spat out, "You intend to watch?"
"I want your boots and socks."
"Wha-at?"
"You heard - you'll be less inclined to go running off in the dark without them."
Seething with anger, but with no choice given the situation, she thrust them into his hands then watched as he retired out of sight, but not without an explicit warning that if she thought to use the spade against him he'd make her walk barefoot the rest of the way.
When she returned to the camp she was surprised that he didn't retie her bindings. He ordered her to sit on her sleeping bag then shoved a dish of something at her which she sniffed suspiciously as well as a canteen of water. She would have liked to have thrown them all back in his face, but the look he had given her as he handed them to her was warning enough that retribution would be severe if she dare.
She shook her head – it was as if he could read her every thought! How could this be? It was something she found utterly disconcerting.
Eventually, her hunger got the better of her and she wolfed the food down, pleasantly surprised to find it actually tasted good.
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"Give me your pants."
Her eyes, which had been slowly closing of their own will now shot open in obvious disquiet.
Jack repeated the order then seeing the growing revulsion in Sam's eyes swore softly and explained, "I keep your boots and pants as an incentive to keep you in your sleeping bag."
As Jack lay down in his own bag, he reflected on how pissed his 2IC was going to be with him when she eventually regained her memory. If the picture of her as she threw her trousers in his face was anything to go by, he was in very serious trouble.
He now observed the figure a little way from him and ascertained from her slow and steady breathing that she was indeed asleep and not faking. He had pushed her trousers into the base of his sleeping bag and tied the laces of the boots together then thrown them over a high branch.
There was no way she be able to get those down without making plenty of noise, enough to warn him.
Keeping his weapon by his side, he allowed his eyes to close. He couldn't stay awake the coming four straight days and nights and hope to keep his wits about him. He was going to have to trust his instincts.
And for the first time in weeks, Jack slept without dreaming of Sam falling away from him and when he did awake just before dawn, he was relieved to find his 2IC still deeply asleep. For a moment he was able to watch her without having to conceal what he was doing, aware of how long her lashes were and how a few golden freckles still speckled the bridge of her nose and touched her high cheek bones. Her blonde hair was longer than she normally permitted it, her fringe obscuring her eyebrows. His eyes lingered on her closed eyes until he abruptly stiffened and silently chastised himself for being such a fool.
Completing his own ablutions, HE made coffee before approaching Sam.
"Wake up, Carter."
No response.
He nudged her with the toe of his boot but she merely groaned and turned away sinking lower into the sleeping bag until just the top of her head was visible to the chill morning air. He nudged her again and was pleased to hear her respond until her words reached his ears.
"Leave me in peace, Misha. I will sleep a little longer. Later, prepare my bath..."
Jack's eyebrows soared as he gained a little insight into the type of life she had been living, apparently waited on hand and foot, while he'd been worried sick for her. Without a second's hesitation he stooped and took a firm hold of the base of her sleeping bag and in an instant had stretched up tipping Sam out of it without a moment's warning.
She came awake with a shriek, finding herself tumbling headfirst out of the security of her bag.
Looking up in confusion, she realized what had all too clearly happened and spat out the strange sounding words which she had heard Jack use earlier when she had cut him with the knife.
Ignoring her profanity, Jack threw the pants into her lap and indicated she should use the toilet facilities speedily. She looked pointedly at her boots still in the tree but Jack chose to ignore her and hunkered down to sip on hot coffee.
When Sam returned, her boots were waiting for her along with a cup of caffeine. She sniffed the contents of the mug, sipping the liquid cautiously, then wrinkled her nose at the taste and threw the contents on the ground much to Jack's consternation.
"Hey, that's a precious commodity on this planet!"
"It tastes of something long buried and then dug up. If you intend trading me to the Canvar your attempts at poison are confusing."
"Trade? Poison? What the hell is in your head, Carter?" Jack's annoyance had resurfaced as the pain in his thigh reminded him that he needed to change the dressing and take some pain killers.
Sam's blue eyes, dark now with doubt, regarded him scathingly.
"What have they offered to pay you for me?"
Jack's tired eyes watched her and, as he shook his head, he raked a hand through his grey tousled hair.
"Look, Carter," he spoke softly but with a force which demanded attention. "I'll say this once and once only. You are a member of a specialized team – SG-1. I'm the leader, my name's Jack O'Neill and I'm a colonel in the United States Air Force. You are a captain in the same Air Force. Back on earth, Daniel and Teal'c are waiting. Daniel's our resident linguist and Teal'c…well, you'll see for yourself. Our overall big boss is General George Hammond who will be waiting to kick my ass the moment we get back. But I'm hoping that an appearance by you will save my sorry butt."
"Oh yea, almost forgot good ol' Doc." Here O'Neill's voice had dropped in pitch. "Nothing can save me from what she'll have in store for my hide."
Jack's attention momentarily fastened on something in the distance and he couldn't quite mask the shudder which travelled down his spine. Snapping back to the present, his eyes roamed over his 2IC trying to ascertain whether or not his words had made any impression on her. Sadly, he realized her expression remained blank and withdrawn while she observed him through veiled eyes.
"Look," he spat, his patience evaporating with the morning mist, "there were a couple of times yesterday when we evaded some hefty looking thugs with spears as thick as my arm." He saw Sam flinch visibly, her eyes darting around her. "Relax, they're long gone – but, if I'd been planning on selling you I'd have got it over with long ago to save me the damned pain of keeping you on a leash."
Ah hah! At last. He saw a look of uncertainty enter her eyes – maybe he was getting to her.
"My mother--."
"Your mother is a lie!"
"It cannot be."
Jack snorted in exasperation. "Tell me this, Carter," and now he aimed to push home his advantage. "Can you remember what you did last year with your mother?"
Bewilderment raced across her face battling with her beliefs.
"I know you can't, but 'I' can tell you what you were doing, because you were with me!"
"No!"
"Yes!"
She frowned. "I…I had an accident. I fell from my horse. My memory was lost but mother says it will return in time. She tells me--."
"I bet she does." Jack's voice dripped with heavy sarcasm. "Tell me. Did she tell you how you got that little scar on your right calf, or that one on your stomach?"
She stared at him resentfully, wishing with all of her will that her memory would return so she could tell him the truth and put an end to his ridiculous stories.
"No? Why am I not surprised? Possibly because I was the one with you when each of those two accidents happened."
Miserable, Sam ducked her head just wishing she could grasp something positive. "I…I don't understand…"
Jack's voice dropped to almost a whisper. "Neither do I, Carter, but I know one thing, I'm not leaving you here. No way in hell will I do that. And it's not just because of what Jacob would do to me if I were to leave you,"he explained cryptically.He could still see the hesitation lurking in her eyes. "Okay, enough of the chat. We're wasting time."
Rummaging in one of the packs he grasped a small packet and saying, "Catch," threw her a granola bar. Sam frowned but automatically caught it, turning it over in her hands, unsure what to do until she saw Jack rip an edge off the wrapping he held and begin to chew on one end.
"Eat!"
She felt the resentment and anger course through her veins at his overbearing attitude and in answer she threw the offering back at his feet.
"Suit yourself."
To her surprise, Jack merely picked up the packet and replaced it in his bag, not even caring to remonstrate with her other than muttering under his breath, "Just don't complain to me when you are hungry."
She glowered at him but this had little if no effect on him other than for him to demand she roll up her sleeping bed.
Hah! She was not a servant and had no intention of being used as one. She gave him the eye and folded her arms.
Only when he had put away all of his own things did he come to face her.
"I want to show you something," he said softly. "Look up there."
He pointed high into the snow covered mountains which, in the early morning with the sun's rays covering them in bright welcoming sunlight, appeared almost welcoming. Sam refused to look; she knew what he was trying to show her.
"That's where we're going and I can tell you from bitter experience that it gets very cold up there."
She could feel his eyes on her but still refused to give him any form of satisfaction and remained unmoving.
"Come night time," he continued, "the only thing between you and freezing to death is…" and now she understood all too well, "that sleeping bag." He stalked over to her, his face just inches from hers, his voice still low, and his manner scrupulously polite. "And if you leave that behind," he indicated her bag, "there'll be only one choice left."
For a moment she imagined he was trying to scare her into thinking she would face the freezing elements, but his tone had acquired a far more menacing air and her eyes jumped to meet his in complete dread as the import of his next words became crystal clear.
"Cosy is how I'd put it. What do you think?"
Wanting nothing more than to smack the arrogant expression off his face, she could feel her hand tingling with the urge, but there was something in his shadowed eyes which told her more loudly than any words, that she would come to regret such hasty action should she be so bold.
She turned away, a bitterness burning within her and resentfully she bent to the task of trying to fold up her bag. Unfortunately, she found the material taking on a life of its own as she struggled to fold it so that it would fit into its casing. As her temper grew with her increased struggles she realized the man was actually enjoying her predicament and looking distinctly amused.
Repeating again the oath she had overhead her captor use, she was
appalled when she felt herself grabbed tightly. She tried jerking back, yelping in surprise and indignation and, in her anger, she reached for her dagger forgetting that it had been taken from her. And as comprehension dawned, her eyes met his which were hard and menacing.
In the next instant she felt herself hauled unceremoniously to her feet and given such a shaking she believed her teeth were rattling in her head Accompanying this were some harshly spoken words which she tried hard but failed to ignore.
"You will keep a civil tongue in your head when I'm around, Carter, and if I hear you repeat those words once more I'll wash your mouth out with carbolic soap!" But the flare of rebellion had not died in her eyes and the expletive jumped to the tip of her tongue.
"Fu—"
"And you won't sit comfortably for a week!"
As his hands reached out to make good the threat, she hastily swallowed her words, feeling the blood rush hotly to her face.
As if in slow motion, his movements were arrested and she saw the hint of triumph in his dark eyes.
"Don't push me to the limit again, Carter. I may not back down so easily next time," he ordered grimly, then reaching down he stuffed the offending bag into the pack, tied it swiftly and threw it at her, saying tersely, "It's your stuff, carry it."
Go to Part 9