Chapter 14:
"Well, it's about time," Daniel muttered to himself when he saw Jack and Sam approaching the Volostrian government building where he had been impatiently waiting since the pair left over an hour ago.
"What took you so long?" He asked, directing his query at Jack.
"Thirty minutes, Daniel. I said thirty minutes." He held up his arm for emphasis and pointed to his watch. "I did say thirty minutes?" He looked to Carter as if needing confirmation. "Carter?"
"Yes, sir, thirty minutes."
"And it has been…" He lifted the cover of his watch and studied it quizzically as if it were some new alien device.
"Twenty-seven minutes, sir"
"Twenty-seven minutes, Daniel," he stated emphatically slapping the cover back with emphasis.
Daniel ignored Jack's feigned annoyance. He didn't know what happened in the meeting room after Jack sent everyone out, although he had some idea. He saw the pain and anger. He saw the rage that encompassed Sam like a dark storm cloud when she came face to face with Reynarc. A seemingly life time later he saw her flee the meeting room the pain and anger and rage replaced with frustration, guilt. Defeat.
And now? The mask was back. Control. Dutiful solider. Yet, behind the façade he noted an emptiness and weariness.
"Are you okay?" It was all he could really think of to ask. Was she okay? It was such a stupid question.
"Yes, Daniel, I'm fine. Thanks for asking."
He hated when Jack did this. He understood why he used sarcasm and ill-placed humor in tense situations, but no mattered how many times he was witness to or was the recipient, it was frustrating.
"Sam?"
Sam sighed resigned to the fact Daniel would not be appeased with, 'I'm fine' "What do you really want to hear, Daniel?"
It really was a stupid question.
O'Neill took Carter's response as his cue to step in. "What's got your boxer briefs in such a wad, Daniel?"
"What?"
"You seem a little, I don't know, tense."
Daniel took the bait. "I'm tense?" He rubbed his hands through his hair in frustration. "I'm tense?"
"Yes. Maybe you should take up a hobby. Try knitting."
"What?" His voice was strained.
"Briefs, wad." O'Neill motioned toward the archeologist obviously enjoying the annoyance and confusion he had caused.
He sighed heavily. "Fine. Fine." He really, really hated him sometimes. "After you left, Minister Hvas invited us to join him for dinner."
"And, of course, you politely declined."
"Um, not exactly."
"Um, not exactly? What exactly is that supposed to mean?"
"Apparently it's a state dinner. All parties involved in the negotiations are expected to attend."
"And you agreed to this?" It was O'Neill's turn to rub his hands through his hair in frustration. "Unbelievable."
"Jack, just listen."
"No, after the debacle this afternoon I can't believe you even considered accepting."
"What exactly happened, Jack? I'm a little fuzzy on the details."
"We're leaving, Daniel."
"Jack."
"No, Daniel." He raised his hand to forestall further arguments. "I don't want to hear it. I don't give a damn about the negotiations and I sure as hell don't plan on going to dinner with a sadistic psychopath who torturers for fun and don't get me started on that idiot, Hvas. I'm not going to put her through this again."
Carter stood by and listened to the words. She knew it was all about her, the bravado and harsh words. It was all about her and she hated it. For the last eight months it's been about her.
"Colonel. Daniel," she spoke their names calmly. The effect was immediate. The two men turned together as if realizing for the first time that she was there. "Please…I know you're just trying to protect me, to do what you couldn't when…" She paused as if reflecting on the still painful memories and drew in another deep breath before she continued. "I think it's time for me to live again, sir, and if it means eating with the devil, so be it.
Daniel looked at O'Neill with a 'what the hell' expression. O'Neill responded in kind with a raised eyebrow and a slight smirk.
"I'm hungry, let's go eat." She stated matter-of-factly brushing past the men heading toward the government building.
"Ah, Sam, are you sure?" Daniel called out hurrying to catch up to the retreating figure. He understood, but he was just checking. "I mean, Jack's probably right."
"Of course I'm right," Jack answered following at a more leisurely pace. "You heard the Major, she's hungry."
It was laughable. Here he was making small talk with a group of aliens, the Midgren or Migraines as he like to think of them and they had definitely caused him more than one, who only a few months ago abducted, repeatedly tortured, and left for dead one of his team members. Not just one of his team members mind you. Carter.
He was not faulting all the Midgren for what had happened to Carter, just one. Reynarc. He was the leader of the Midgren delegation and he was a certifiable psychopath, insane, lunatic, psycho, nutcase. Any description would suffice. He was the one who tortured Carter. He was the one who still haunted her dreams. He was the one she had her weapon pressed against earlier in the day silently daring her to kill him.
And then there was the other group, the Volostrians or Idiots as he referred to them. The Idiots not only knew for six months where Carter was and refused to let the SGC attempt a rescue, they tried to bomb the hell out of the Migraines and Carter and their own people with their oh so special pulse cannon. The weapon, the big honkin' space gun, the real reason why SG-1 were here playing nice with the aliens. Fulfill the primary objective of the SGC by obtaining alien technology to help in the fight against the Goa'uld, Carter be damned.
Really, who could make this up? Yet, here he was and he was not laughing.
"Are you going to stand there all night staring at him?"
"Staring at whom?" O'Neill asked.
"Don't play dumb, Jack, you know who," Daniel replied. "You haven't stopped staring at him since he walked through the door."
"And he hasn't stopped staring at Carter."
"What do you think is going to happen? Do you really think he's going to do or try something?"
"Daniel, you do your thing. Talk. Mingle. Play diplomat." He said with a gesture of his hand toward the group assembled before him. "Let me do my thing."
"Yes, Jack, you do your thing so well. Brood. Scrutinize. Intimidate."
"Yes, well, practice make perfecth" he deadpanned returning his glare to Reynarc.
Daniel turned toward the other man standing next to O'Neill. "Teal'c?"
"Daniel Jackson, I do not find it necessary to converse with those who conspired to cause Major Carter harm."
Leave it to the one who says the least to say the most. Teal'c was right. They were both right. He sighed in resignation and turned from his place at the back of the long, rectangular shaped room that served as the gathering place for dinner. He followed his friends gazes to Reynarc. If looks could kill
Reynarc, stood on one side of the room, the sole representative of the Midgren. He was dressed in his finest military regalia and contemptuous smile, and was flanked on either side by two burley guards dressed in similar garb. He did not acknowledge the glares of the men across the room. Reynarc's gaze, as it had been since SG-1 arrived, was focused solely on Sam. He stalked her from across the room practically raping her with his piercing stare. He watched her every move, every gesture, every smile.
It made him want to throw-up.
Sam. He both admired and agonized for her. He knew this was some sort of healing thing for her, being in the same room, fraternizing with the very people, with one exception, who knowingly allowed her to be imprisoned for six months by the very man who stood just a few feet away. She kept her back to him, but he knew she knew.
Jack. He knew he blamed himself for what happened eight months ago. Nothing would change his mind. He had stopped trying. He was the one that had helped Sam the most. Jack, he supposed, was in the not so unenvied position of understanding what Sam had gone through.
Daniel was not sure how much longer he would be able to stand by and watch when he abruptly left his spot and headed toward Sam. Apparently, he had had enough.
"Carter?"
She politely excused herself from the Volostrian politician who had been droning on about the Volostrian economy, she thinks. It was difficult to focus when she could feel his eyes boring into her from behind.
"Sir?"
"How ya doing?" He was concerned and he made no attempt to hide the glare he shot over her shoulder toward Reynarc.
How was she doing? She felt like she was main attraction at the zoo. All eyes were on her watching her every move. Honestly, if she had to spend five more minutes in this room, she was going to be sick.
They were here because of her. Because she wanted to do this…whatever this was. What was she trying to prove? That he was not going to haunt her forever? That she could live her life again? That she was past the scars she still bore on her wrists and ankles from the shackles that tore into her skin for six months, past the lingering ache in her shoulders from the bones that were ripped from their sockets, past the scars that marked her leg and stomach when he viciously stabbed and left her for dead?
She put on her best smile and replied the only way she knew how. "I'm fine, sir."
He should have never agreed to this. She looked like she was about to fall apart if one more person said or looked her way and he did the only thing he knew to do. "Cut the crap, Carter."
She was startled by his reply. Apparently he could see past her charade and wasn't taking the stock Carter response, 'I'm fine', for an answer. Why would he? He knew the truth and she knew the truth. She dropped her head in resignation.
"Look, Carter," he continued, "it's been a long day." He put his hand on her shoulder. "You made it. Get some rest."
She lifted her head and looked into his eyes. "Is that an order, sir?" She could not decide if she should be happy, relieved, or pissed.
"Does it need to be?
She was too tired to think, too tired to argue, too tired to keep up the guise. "No, sir," she said settling for relieved.
"Come on, I'll walk you. I could use a break from all the minglingh" he said and ushered her out of the hall.
The fifteen minute walk passed in uncomfortable silence and the door to her room was a welcoming site but neither seemed ready to leave once they arrived.
"So," he said finally breaking the long silence. He shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot like a teenager on his first date.
"So," she responded, suddenly finding her boots extremely interesting.
"I meant what I said."
"Sir?"
"Get some sleep. You look like hell, Carter." He was right in encouraging her to leave the dinner. Okay, he ordered her to leave, but he was the commanding officer. It was his job to protect his team. She had been through so much today. Hell, she had been through more in the last eight months to last an eternity.
"Yes, sir," she said as she turned to enter her room too weary to even try to decipher the meaning behind his words if there really was one.
After she left, he stood rooted in his spot. He stared at the door. "You're going to be alright, Sam." He said softly whether she believed it or not.
She dropped heavily to the bed. The weight of the day had finally hit her. So many thoughts and emotions spiraled through her head. She was so tired. Emotionally. Physically. Mentally
Coming back to Volostra was her opportunity for closure, to finally bury the demons or just the one demon. It was funny to think how life threw a wrench in her plan.
She had not fooled anyone, Daniel, Teal'c, Colonel O'Neill, or him. She had only fooled herself into thinking she could come back here. What a fool she had been.
The scene had changed little in the time that O'Neill had been gone. Teal'c still stood watch, Daniel stilled socialized, the Volostrians and Midgren well, he didn't really care anymore. As far as he was concerned, the night and their part in this whole…
The Midgren. Where were the Midgren?
"Shit," he berated himself as he sprinted across the room toward Teal'c.
"Teal'c, where is he?"
"If you are referring to the Midgren, their representatives left shortly after Major Carter and yourself."
He suddenly had that all too familiar sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach. Again. It was all going to hell. Again.
Shit. Shit.
"Teal'c get Daniel and find the Midgren. Find him."
"What of you O'Neill?"
"I'm going back to Carter's room."
"Carter, come in." He barked into his radio as he sprinted out of the room back to Carter.
She was back in the room. She was hanging again, the pain ripped through her body. She whimpered trying to hold in the screams that threatened to tear from her throat.
He tenderly traced her cheek with his finger.
She flinched at his touch. The movement sent another wave of pain through her body.
She felt the tension of the ropes suddenly loosen and she was falling. She hit the floor. It was unforgiving. Her body screamed.
He stood over her. Watching. Inspecting his work.
He was suddenly on top of her. One hand pressed into her injured shoulder. Blood pooled slowly around his palm. The other hand held the bloody knife. The cool metal traced lazy lines down her face and neck.
She tried to scream but the hand on her shoulder quickly moved to cover her mouth. She was only able to whimper in protest.
She awoke with a gasp.
"Hello, Samantha…"