It was the third time she'd tried to get someone's attention and like before, she gained no response from anyone outside the room.
"Didn't think so." Feeling her way to the bed, Sam sat down and rotated the joints in her shoulders. Eventually she managed to crack her neck, grateful for the instant relief. With her mind now free to think of other things besides pain (although there were enough images in her head of pain to come to make anyone else go crazy) she contemplated.
The first thing that came to her was a question. Why did Ptah want her so badly? 'No, wait... I don't really want to think about that'. But curse her and her damn inquisitive nature; now that she was thinking about it it wasn't going to go away until she found out why. What did she have that Ptah wants? If he expected her to MacGyver up any weird lethal contraption or if he wanted information about Earth, technology or idle chit-chat he could go to hell. If he was going to force her to become a Goa'uld he could go to hell and burn. It was safe to say that Ptah could go to hell in general… Torture, pain, and interrogation were nothing new to Sam or any other member of SG-1. She'd go to hell herself before giving Ptah what he wanted.
'Then you'd better be ready for hell Major…' Sam knew she was in a Catch 22, damned if she did, damned if she didn't. To resist a Goa'uld was to endure torture or endless, unwavering Snake sarcasm and gloating. To go along with it was to go against everything that she believed in.
Standing up again, Sam ran a hand through her hair and let out a wobbly sigh. She was slowly beginning to feel cold, as if someone had suddenly turned on the air conditioning. Pacing the small room to keep warm, Sam forced her mind to think of other things. She'd forgotten to feed Daniel's fish, and there was a report on her desk that was meant to be handed in three days ago. Cassie's birthday was in a week; she still didn't have a present. Sam didn't know what to get the teenager anymore. Janet had spoiled her rotten, although she'd never admit it. Sam smiled at the thought of the God-awful birthday cake she'd cooked for Cassie the year before.
'The guys are probably already back at the SGC, gearing up to come and get you. Nobody gets left behind.' The thought had come from nowhere, but it was comforting none-the-less. Nobody gets left behind, ever. Her guys had never failed her. Sam just had to stick it out until help arrived, however long it took.
Sam eventually realised that she was shaking. At first she was going to give in to the fact that she was anxious about her situation (or maybe more than just anxious), but when the shaking took control of her whole body she realised that she wasn't getting any warmer.
'Ptah has air conditioning'
The Air Force Major paced the room in larger strides, trying to put some heat into her aching muscles. This was probably some form of torture that Ptah delighted in. That or she had been locked in his freezer by mistake. Whatever the reason, it was getting miserably icy. She thought about banging on the door again, but she couldn't bring herself to unwrap her arms from about her chest. After a few slow minutes the coldness was becoming unbearable. Pacing wasn't helping. Her hands were stiff, her nose was running and she couldn't stop shivering. Sam opted for the bed, and curled up on her side. She knew the temperature in the room was dropping for a reason, but she hated being cold. The bed provided little warmth.
Just when she thought she couldn't feel her legs anymore, Sam heard footsteps outside her cell. She forced herself to her feet just as her door swung open, flooding the room with light. Sam squinted at the black silhouette in the doorway, trying her best to conceal her involuntary shaking. Neither of them spoke. The black figure advanced towards her and nudged a staff weapon in her side. She knew the drill. Out the door, down the hallway to your doom… off to see the Wizard.
Her arms were folded across her chest as she stumbled out of the cell and into the dimly lit hallway. At least it was warmer, and walking helped to ease the stiffness from her joints. She would have preferred that there wasn't a staff weapon lodged between her shoulder blades, but beggars couldn't be choosers she guessed. Sam used her time outside her cell wisely. She memorised the ornaments she passed, how many doors were on each side of the corridor and even counted how many Jaffa she could see. But as the number of ornaments, doors and Jaffa grew past her brain's buffer she gave up; opting instead to try to remember her left and right turns.
The walk to Ptah or wherever she was going seemed a lot longer than her walk to her cell hours earlier. As her Jaffa escort nudged her down another hallway Sam caught a glimpse of herself in the reflective surface of a huge silver wall plaque that was hanging to her right. She was shocked to see such a bedraggled image of herself. Sure she felt like utter crap, but she'd felt far worse than this before. So it came as a surprise to see herself so pale, with dark circles under her eyes and lips tinged with blue. She didn't have long to stew over it though. Her Jaffa buddy stopped suddenly, yanking her around by her left arm to face the wall. There was a short pause before the wall began to merge into a doorway just like it had back on Elysium. Sam had to admit that it was kinda cool being able to completely hide a doorway.
Before she had even entered the room Sam could hear Ptah's booming, alienated voice reverberating around the huge room.
"And here I was, your God, thinking that I would have to revive you myself…"
The tug on her arm left and Sam caught a silent exchange between Goa'uld and Jaffa before her escort left the room in a hurry. Ptah stood up slowly from his chair, his golden robe rippling around him and pooling at the floor around his feet. He had been enjoying lunch, so it seemed.
"You must be hungry."
Damn right she was, but not hungry enough to eat anything he had to offer. Sam didn't answer, meeting the Goa'uld's audacious smile with a cold stare.
"Whether you eat or not is really nothing I have to worry about Samantha Carter. It would be a slow death for you, but you would be alive again in a heartbeat to feel it all over again."
Sam knew he meant the sarcophagus. The very thought of being subjected to that thing over and over was worse than the thought of death. Sam remembered what it did to Daniel not so long ago. Still, she couldn't bring herself to eat in front of a Goa'uld.
"Suit yourself." Ptah placed the food items that he had been holding out to Sam back on the small table next to him. Sam stood defiantly as Ptah made his way across the room towards her. "I apologise for the temperature change in your accommodation. It is routine, nothing to be alarmed about."
'Yeah right. More like a primitive torture chamber.'
Taking a few steps away from Ptah as he came closer, Sam finally demanded an answer, "What do you want from me?"
Ptah didn't answer straight away. He was staring Sam right in the face, his breath hot on her cold skin. When he spoke, it was with a deliberate crawl as if he wanted her not to miss a word, "Two things. Information… that will secure my place among the other System Lords, of which I will get from you gradually…"
"Not likely."
Ptah let out a short chuckle before continuing, "But more importantly, I want your companionship, Samantha."
The use of her first name and the word 'companionship' in one sentence almost made Sam throw up. She curbed the sudden nausea as best she could before replying.
"Go to hell." The venom in her voice snapped through the air, drawing another loathsome laugh from the Goa'uld.
"You have spirit, I will warrant that. But you underestimate me. In time you will come around."
"You're the one who's underestimating. If you think that I'm going to play along with your sick little games then you're wrong. There are people out there looking for me you know."
"Ah yes, the rest of the infamous SG-1. My sources indicate that they have not been permitted to even leave Elysium. Their fate lies completely in my hands, as does yours."
"We'll see about that. We've destroyed other System Lords… you're not going to be an exception."
Ptah didn't respond. He was too busy staring at Sam now that her words simply washed over him. If she didn't know any better she could have sworn that he had a besotted look in his eyes. Suddenly, she felt the cold metal of the fingertips of Ptah's hand device against her skin as the Goa'uld stroked her cheek.
"Are you sure you aren't hungry?"
Sam jerked her head away from him and backed herself away. Seeing her in better light now, Ptah looked Carter up and down and drew an amused expression across his face.
"No? Then perhaps you would prefer to be better attired."
Ptah dipped his head and then turned away from her. Sam opened her mouth to protest, but before she got the chance she felt a weight on her shoulder as her burly Jaffa guard ushered her from the room. He must have been waiting outside the whole time.
As she left Ptah's presence she felt her knees going to jelly. Interrogation and torture she knew how to handle, or at least she knew what to expect. It was the thought of a Goa'uld wanting her company that hit a nerve. She couldn't think of anything that repulsed, terrified and angered her more. Sam was now hoping that Ptah was lying (which was likely the case) and that her friends were already on their way.