TRIGGER WARNING: Sexual assault

Chapter 12. Jolinar's Memories

Sights and sounds rush her mind like a crowded subway, coming all at once and much too fast, and it takes her a moment to sort through the confusion. She is being led into a room; she can feel a rough hand shove her in the back. The room is dingy, the air stiflingly thick and rancid. A man stands beside a battered old bed; he turns when she enters. His bald head connects straight to his round, bulging torso like a thumb, and he leers at her, showing crooked, rotting teeth. She recoils back, horrified. His eyes glow white; unnatural, terrifying, and she feels bile rising in her throat and she's sure she's going to hurl…

The vision fades, draining away like water in her hands. Sam opened her eyes, grimacing at Martouf. "It's gone. I lost it."

"We will arrive soon." Martouf said, desperation leaking into his voice.

"I know Martouf. I'm sorry. Maybe I'm not going to be able to do this."

"You have to." He barks, all his usual softness gone. She starts, a little taken aback at his outburst, but she knows he's right. She has to remember, for her father's sake. But Sam is sure that, whatever happened to Jolinar down there, she is really not going to enjoy remembering.

"Hey, Marty. A word?" Jack interrupts, overprotective as always, and Martouf diligently follows him out of the cargo area to where she can't hear them. Tiredly, Sam runs her hands over her face; the memory spike in her temple smarts as her finger brushes it, and she winces.

The sick feeling in her stomach didn't evaporate, and she rubs a hand over her belly, inhaling slow, deep breaths and desperately trying not to regurgitate her lunch. The torture she had just experienced through Jolinar's memories was probably happening to her father right now, and the thought only worsened her sickening feeling. This had to work. She had to remember. She couldn't let her father die here, in Hell, not when she was the reason he was out here in the first place; she had been the one to drag him in to her dangerous world. How could she ever face Mark again? How could she ever forgive herself?

Sam drew her knees into her chest and rest her chin upon them, her arms wrapping around her legs. She felt, more than saw, Daniel tentatively come to sit beside her, but she refused to look at him. She had to admit, a flame of anger still burned inside of her. Try as she might to be understanding, he had pushed her away after Sha're's death, and it had hurt, far more than she intended it to. Far more than it should have.

He withdrew from her, collapsing in on himself; he was cordial and pleasant at work and on missions, but he had ignored her calls and her offers to talk. He did not come to her, not even as a friend, and Sam was worried that she had lost that part of their relationship too. He had distanced himself from her, and Sam told herself that it was fine, that he was grieving, but that only made it all the more painful when she overheard two SF's talking about how Ke'ra had kissed Daniel, and that Daniel had then kissed her back.

She had stomped around the halls until Ke'ra had blessedly gone home, a permanent scowl on her face, not noticing or caring how personnel quickly scurried out of her way.

"You going to be okay?"

She glanced up at his concerned face, but quickly looked away. She was having enough conflicting feelings right now without adding Daniel to that mix.

"Yeah. It's just so confusing. Images and faces. Fragments of thoughts and feelings." She swallowed, trying to control the wobble in her voice and blink away the stinging in her eyes. "There was a Goa'uld on Netu. Not Sokar. He was um…let's just say he was less than attractive. I know his name — Bynarr, I think. But I get this… horrible, sick feeling when I remember him." The bile again threatened to rise up, leaving a sour taste in the back of her throat.

"Something happened between him and Jolinar." Daniel surmised.

Sam nodded. Jolinar's terror and disgust and pain still lingered in her mind, and it made her throat tighten. "Something worse than the torture and pain. Something Jolinar never wanted Martouf to find out about."

He said nothing, but after a moment Sam felt his fingertips brush against where hers rested on her leg. Sam stiffened, closing her eyes, but she had to pull away.
She could not afford the distraction.

She stood, choosing to join Jack and Martouf out on the flight deck, and missing the way that Daniel stared forlornly after her. The only one that did see this was Teal'c – one eyebrow raising as he observed this curious interaction between teammates.

They made it to Netu but were captured by Bynarr and thrown into the pit. On the upside, at least they had found her dad. On the downside, she was now in Bynarr's clutches, and he was not as sympathetic to their plight as she had hoped.

"Our most recent addition is the Tok'ra Selmak. Have you come to rescue him?" When she only glared at him, Bynarr laughed, his gross, scarred eye oozing with yellowish-green pus.

"Did you think I helped Jolinar escape?"

"Yes." Sam jut out her chin, defiant.

"Why?"

"Because you loved her."

Bynarr's lip curled into a snarl, "You are mistaken."

"Then why do you hate her so much?"

Bynarr studied her with his one good eye. The smirk that crossed his face then had Sam wishing that she'd held her tongue. He drew in close, close enough that his rancid stench filed her nose; necrotising flesh and oozing infection. "Her death has robbed me of the revenge that I have long dreamed of. But no matter, now I have you." He loomed towards her, a grubby, fat hand reaching for her.

"No, wait!" She backed up, then kicked out, catching him in the stomach and sending him stumbling back a few paces. She tried to follow up with a right hook, but suddenly his hand shot out, his palm glowing orange, and the power of the Kara-kesh sent her flying back into the wall. Her head collided painfully, rattling her brain, and she was too slow recovering to evade his hand. He grabbed her hair, forcing a cry from her lips as he wrenched her head up, dragging her over to the bed and throwing her face down upon it.

She turned over quickly, her legs curling up to kick out at him, but he used the Kara-kesh once more, and Sam found all her limbs suddenly pinned to the bed.
No! She cried silently, Not like this! But no matter how hard she struggled, she could not lift her arms or legs.

Bynarr mounted her, his fat, sweaty body crushing her rib cage. Sneering, he bent to rip open her shirt, exposing her bra. His clammy hands grabbed at her even as she raged at him, her neck straining as she roared. He ripped at the zipper on her pants, and she squirmed even harder.

"Stop! Stop it! I'm not her!" She screamed, even as his hand dipped into her pants, the putrid pus dripping down his face in his excitement as his fingers curled beneath her underwear and…

Dead. He was dead. A smouldering, black hole in his chest. She jumped up, fixing her pants. Bynarr's First Prime, Na'onak had killed him and she had no idea why but he was taking her back to the pit, back to her friends, and so she didn't really care.

Sam almost cried in relief.

O - O - O - O - O

"I'll get it, Sam." He said as she went to retrieve her bag from the back of his car. She didn't say anything, just walked up to her house to unlock the door. Daniel frowned, his concern for her increasing, if that were even possible. She had seemed normal during the mission, at least, as normal as one can be after being imprisoned on a Hell-planet, tortured, then barely escaping from an arch-nemesis with their lives. It was once they got back to the base and Janet told her that Jacob was going to be okay did Sam seem to crawl into her shell. She hung around the infirmary like a ghost, pale and barely speaking, until Janet had ordered her home to get some rest. Daniel had offered to drive her, and she had followed him blindly to his car.

Daniel sat her bag by the door and locked it. He squinted; it had already grown dark but Sam had not turned on a single light. Daniel fumbled for the switch, blinking rapidly when he found it and nearly blinded himself. He tiptoed down the hall, finding Sam sat on her couch, staring at the blank TV.

Something painful twisted in Daniel's chest. There was something very wrong with her, and Daniel was terrified of the thing that scared Samantha Carter.
He moved towards the couch, bending over the back of it to softly caress her hair. "Sam?"

She flinched away from him, hard; her blue eyes stared up at him, wide and wild. Her face softened when she realised it was only him. "Oh. Daniel." She muttered, then dropped her gaze to her knees.

Daniel felt like his throat was closing over, and a dull ache had started up in his chest. He moved around the couch, slowly sitting down beside her so as not to startle her again. "Sam?" He reached out, cautiously, to turn her face to his, "What happened on Netu?"

"Hmm? Oh, nothing. Nothing happened." She smiled thinly at him, but it was like that of a painted doll.

Sighing, Daniel scooted closer until their legs touched. He laid a hand over her smaller one, his fingers curling around her palm. "Sam, talk to me. Please. I know something happened. When you came back from Bynarr, your shirt was all…" He trailed off, remembering the fear he had felt in that moment when she was brought back to the pit, her shirt ripped halfway open, the top of her black sports bra just barely visible. But she had snapped right into action mode, going to her father and caring for him, and Daniel had hoped that maybe it wasn't what it seemed.

Sam shook her head, "I'm fine, Daniel. H-he didn't really do anything, I swear." She pulled her hand out of his grasp and stood before he could say anything further. "I'm gonna take a shower and go to bed, I'm exhausted." She told him as she walked away.

Daniel sighed and flopped back against the couch when he heard the water running. He would stay here tonight, he decided. He would sleep on the couch, just in case – he didn't know what was wrong with Sam but he didn't want her to be alone. He had been a crappy friend lately. He had been pulling away from her and he was sure she had caught on. But what else could he do? Of course, it wasn't Sam's fault that she made him feel this way – she had never wanted that, had never asked for that. And yet he was finding it almost impossible to go back to being just her friend. He wanted more than that, so much more, but he didn't deserve it. After Sha're died, the guilt his feelings caused had nearly killed him. He betrayed Sha're, and he didn't deserve Sam, and so the universe had decided that he could have neither; a fitting punishment.

Daniel was pulled from his self-pitying by the unmistakable sound of retching. He jumped up, sprinting to the bathroom and pounding on the door. "Sam? Sam!" He called desperately, to no avail. He turned the door handle, relieved that she had not locked it.

He found her hunched on her knees in the shower, traces of vomit slowly mixing with the water and swirling down the drain. Her back was red where the water pelted down on it, and her hair was plastered to her skull like a golden cap. He shrugged off his jacket and reached for her, making a soft noise of surprise and discomfort when he realised the water was scalding.

"Jesus, Sam." He muttered, mostly to himself, as he shut off the tap. He grabbed the towel and threw it around her shoulders, not really noticing or caring that he was kneeling in the puddle of water. He reached for her shoulder, wanting her to turn to him so he could see her face, but she shuddered so violently at his touch that he yanked his hand away as if burned.

He let his hands rest on his knees awkwardly, not sure what else to do with them. "Sam?" He called gently, dipping his head down to try to see her features.

"M'okay." She mumbled, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

"No," He said gently, "you're not."

She moved to stand, her knees wobbling, and he held out his hands to her, letting her decided if she wanted to take them. She did.

He helped her out of the shower and led her to sit on the edge of the bath. He went and pulled out a pair of pyjamas from the drawer in which she kept them and helped her dress. He lined her toothbrush with toothpaste and held it out to her, watching over her as she obliged. His hand hovered over her back when she stood and moved to sit on the edge of the bed, not touching her but ready if she needed him.

He knelt before her, sitting back on his heels and staring up at a face that had aged a hundred years. He remained silent, not wanting to push her, but hoping that it might be easier for her to talk if she could almost forget he was here.

Several minutes ticked by and he ached to hold her. He settled instead for brushing his warm palm over her foot, his thumb rubbing small circles over her ankle bone. He was losing feeling in his legs but he dare not move.

"It's not...what you think." She said eventually, her voice hoarse and she cleared her throat. "He didn't... I mean, he was going to – he was t-touching me, but then Na'o-Apophis killed him so I-I'm lucky, really."

He pulled his hand away from her foot so she couldn't feel how much he was shaking. Rage was clawing its way up his throat like a blackened demon and he was very glad Bynarr was already dead because his impulse was screaming at him to fly back to Netu and tear him apart with his bare hands.

Sam must have sensed his distress because she leaned down to briefly touch his shoulder. "I-I'm fine, Daniel. Nothing happened so...so you don't need to-to feel bad."
Daniel rose up onto his knees, his hands gripping the bedsheets on either side of her. "That's not nothing, Sam." His voice was so raw with emotion that the words hurt his throat.

She moved her hands to either side of his face, pressing her palms against his cheeks, her eyes shining with the moisture that threatened to spill over her bottom lashes. "It is nothing. It just...scared me, is all. So, so you don't need to tell anyone because it's nothing, Daniel, okay?"

Daniel screwed his eyes shut, swallowing down his fury. This wasn't about him, this was about Sam, and what she needed. "Okay."

If this is what she needed from him, then this is what he would do.

She pulled away from him then, drawing her knees up and laying her head down on her pillow, curled into a ball. Daniel pulled the blanket up over her, tucking it in around her like his mother used to do. "Do you need anything, Sam?"

She shook her head and he smiled for her, nodding once and turning to leave.

"Wait!" Her hand shot out, wrapping around his wrist, then letting it go just as quickly.

He turned back. "Do you want me to stay?"

She hesitated, then gave the briefest of nods. Daniel went to the other side of the bed and shed his wet pants and button-down shirt. He placed his glasses on the bedside table and flicked off the light. Slipping under the covers, he lay on his side near the edge so he could keep some distance between them. Daniel watched her shift back and forth under the covers for a long time, unable to sleep. She scooted towards him, the top of her head just peeking out from under the blanket, and her eyes shining in the dark.

"Daniel?" Her whisper was barely audible, but Daniel caught her hand as it reached for him.

"I'm here, Sam. I'm here." He drew her close, his arm sliding under her head until she was curled up into his side. He reached up to push her damp hair out of her face, tucking it back behind her ear; her skin was so warm against his. "I got you," he whispered quietly into the darkness. "You're okay now. I got you."

She seemed to breathe a little easier, her hand on his chest, curled beneath his, and Daniel watched her for a long time after she already drifted off. He carded his hand through her hair, his touch feather-light as the strands played over his fingers. His thumb grazed over her pale, flawless cheek; her lashes dark against her skin and her parted lips blowing soft, humid breaths against his chest. Daniel curled his long body around her smaller one protectively, his lips brushing a soft kiss to her hair.

The thought of someone hurting Sam terrified him, but his reaction to that thought terrified him even more. His throat felt painfully tight and he tried to swallow past it. It felt...wrong, somehow, to feel this way about her, and yet he was quite positive he would not be able to stop. Because what terrified Daniel most of all was being this deeply in love, only to lose it all over again.