Rating: FR-M
Spoilers: Abyss, Ex Deus Machina
Summary: Sam came to realise that she was tied to a chair, a very hard one at that. This was deliberate on his part; she had made his life uncomfortable and now he would return the favour. Although, she thought grimly, this chair is probably the least of my problems.
Author Notes: Sam/Baal pairing. I took the premise of Ba'al being on Earth from Ex Deus Machina and my muse is responsible for the rest. You've been forewarned about the pairing, too, so don't shout at me! (hides under bed) My first prime will deal with any flames, so don't waste your time.
Disclaimer: All publicly recognisable characters and places are the property of MGM, World Gekko Corp and Double Secret productions. This piece of fan fiction was created for entertainment not monetary purposes and no infringement on copyrights or trademarks was intended. Previously unrecognised characters and places, and this story, are copyrighted to the author. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Dedication: For Sarah, always.
Dichotomy pt3
Copyright (c) July 2006, Ruth
Sam felt the vehicle judder to a halt beneath her and sat very still, her brain desperately attempting to analyse this new situation she found herself in. What did he want from her? Where was she being taken? Her thoughts were interrupted by his hand, suddenly gripping her arm.
"Are you going to behave, or do I have to sedate you again?" he asked, his eyes reflecting the moonlight in the darkness of the car.
"Bite me!" she snapped, turning her face away from him as the doors behind her were opened.
"Maybe later," he said in a low voice, which left her in no doubt as to whether or not he would fulfil this request.
It was the dead of night; this she could tell from the silence and opacity which surrounded her as she was roughly removed from the vehicle. She had no idea where she was, or how long she had been travelling. A shove at the small of her back almost sent her sprawling onto the ground once more, but with a little effort she recovered her balance and began to walk forwards, into the night which promised anything but rest for her.
"You see how much easier this becomes with your co-operation?" Ba'al said smoothly, still gripping her arm.
"Nothing to do with the needle full of god-knows-what that you stuffed in me!" she snapped, willing the pounding in her head to subside.
He laughed, then, and the sound was lost in the thick, night air. She could only feel his breath on the back of her neck, his hand on her arm as he forced her to walk forwards, into uncertainty and darkness.
"Your insolence never fails to amuse me," he said, suddenly stopping short behind his henchmen as they did something ahead. Sam strained to see in the darkness, but all that she could hear was a faint clicking sound, which could have been anything from a pen to a bomb. There was no moon that night. Sam finally decided that rational thought was not something which she could achieve; instead she concentrated on remaining conscious, at least partially aware of what was going on around her.
"Leave the lights", Ba'al ordered as they moved forwards once more, "We wouldn't want to give our guest any clue as to our location."
His smugness came across the night air in waves and it irritated Sam even more. She cursed herself for having made that journey to O'Malleys on foot - they wouldn't even notice her absence until she failed to turn up for work the following week. She was vaguely aware of having been moved inside, as the cold air no longer rushed about her face. Instead, she was shoved forwards and her feet found the bottom of a flight of stairs.
Her brain began working in overdrive. Yes, this was a bad situation. Understatement; this was a very bad situation. However, the darkness might work in her favour; she couldn't see the henchmen but logically, this meant that they couldn't see her. Surely she would be able to make some sort of escape, or attempt at getting help? Her decision was made; after all, she had nothing to lose.
O
She stopped on the stair, causing Ba'al, who was still holding onto her arm, to jar his own at the sudden inertia in her movement. He cursed her and moved to drag her further, but she gathered all of her strength and wrenched her arm from his grasp, throwing her body to the side and away from him. Unfortunately, adrenaline gave her more strength than she had anticipated, and she found herself tumbling backwards down the stairs which she had just climbed. She heard his angry shouts above her, but a split second later her breath was knocked out of her as she landed, hard, on the floor.
Move! Move! Her mind screamed, the last traces of adrenaline forcing her limbs into action. She was only vaguely aware of the stinging in her legs and back as she tried to re-trace her steps, but was unable to get outside. Instead, she appeared to be trapped in a labyrinthine series of corridors and rooms from which there was no easy escape, particularly not in the dark.
Hindsight oh so helpfully informed her that this was perhaps not the greatest decision that she had ever made. In fact, it was the second stupidest mistake she had made that evening, second only to her decision to have a quiet, relaxing drink at O'Malley's, which had turned out to be nothing of the sort. She stopped, and fell forwards against the nearest wall, gasping for the breath which had been ripped from her lungs, sliding to the floor in defeat. At least she had tried.
She felt a hand grab the back of her collar and drag her to her feet, but even as she struggled against him she knew that she was done, her energy was gone. She knew it was him before he spoke; the smell of him filled her nostrils and made her eyes sting even worse than before.
"Why, I do love a challenge," he chuckled, the sound sending a shiver down her spine. He took hold of her arms and pulled her back against him, speaking low in her ear. "You shouldn't have done that, Samantha." Then, she felt a blinding pain in her temple and slumped against him, but after that she knew nothing at all.
O
Pain.
The first thing which her battered mind registered upon awakening was pain. This was swiftly followed by nausea, dizziness and then the bliss of unconsciousness. The second time she was not so lucky, and remained awake long enough to attract the attention of her perspicacious captor.
"You have only yourself to blame, my love" he said softly, approaching her with a smirk on his face, "I believe I was perfectly civil towards you before your little escape attempt."
Sam tried to move, but found herself unable to do so. Swallowing the nausea which rose as she moved her head too quickly, she shifted her body about and came to realise that she was tied to a chair, a very hard one at that. No doubt this was deliberate on his part, she had made his life uncomfortable and now he would return the favour. Although, she thought grimly, this chair is probably the least of my problems.
"Yes, I have never been drugged, kidnapped and beaten with more civility," she ground out through a bruised jaw, raising her eyes to examine him as he stood before her.
"Perhaps you should try to accept this situation with a little more grace" he said calmly, getting down until he was at eye level with her. "After all, I have no intention of harming you, quite the opposite…"
She didn't like the look on his face as he said this. Blatantly suggestive, it annoyed her as much as the arrogance and she groaned in frustration as she tried to pull herself out of her restraints. Exhausted from the effort, she sagged back against the chair and contemplated him with a cool stare, the best she could manage in her incapacitated position.
"If you have no intention of harming me, why am I tied to a chair?" she asked pointedly, looking him directly in the eyes. He seemed to relish this, thrive on it, and returned the gaze with an intensity which brought a flush to her pale cheeks.
"You have already proven your…ardent nature in these matters, my lady. I cannot allow you to escape and alert your colleagues to my presence here." He licked his lips slowly, deliberately. "You are my guest until such a time as I see fit."
"Fabulous," was her only response, a sarcastic and O'Neill -esque one which was all too familiar to Ba'al.
"I see that O'Neill's insolence has rubbed off on you," he commented, "Though I warn you that if you persist in doing this, my lenience will run out."
Despite the dangerous edge in his voice which warned her to be silent, Sam found her frustration exploding as she looked at him incredulously, before tugging at her restraints once more for good measure.
"Lenience? What the hell? This is lenient? You said it yourself, I'm insignificant, but I must be fairly significant for you to feel the need to drug me, beat me and tie me to a chair!"
He said nothing for a moment, studying her face with rather more interest than Sam was comfortable with. Her outburst had left her a little breathless; she concentrated on his movements as she willed her ragged breathing to subside.
"Are you quite finished?" he asked softly, with the air of a parent talking to a troublesome child.
She glared at him across the room, but decided that perhaps silence was her best option - for the moment at least.
"You are fully aware of how unpleasant I can make your life, Samantha;" he said her name slowly, rolling it on his tongue. She shuddered, whether this was due to his not-so-veiled threat or his use of her full name, she wasn't sure. "I assure you, this is lenience. I trust you are not anxious to explore other possibilities which are less so?"
A defiant scowl was her response to his pompous and arrogant threat. She was still seething; disproportionately so considering her situation (possibly life-threatening, if she kept pissing him off.) The most powerful System Lord in the galaxy was hardly the person at whom she should be directing several years' worth of pent up anger.
She sagged back in the chair once more, her body aching from the effort of her anger and attempts to escape. Her little backwards-down-the-stairs manoeuvre had left her bruised and dizzy, she must have hit her head when she hit the floor; the searing pain of a pulled muscle throbbed down her right side. She closed her eyes in an effort to fend off the nausea which had now returned to her.
In doing this, she had failed to notice him cross the room to stand behind her, but then she felt his breath on the back of her neck and jumped, jarring her injured side which caused her to let out a hiss of pain.
"Just be quiet, my love," he soothed, his long, elegant fingers stroking through her hair.
Killers' fingers, she thought, with a sudden rush of horror. Those hands which had let loose the daggers and acid which had tormented Jack time and time again during his capture. Hands which had restrained her, drugged her, beaten her…
He lowered his mouth from her ear to her neck, and to her disgust he began to place kisses at her throat.
"Bastard," she groaned softly through the pain in her head, and tried to shift her body away from him in the chair.
He laughed then, the malicious, cruel laugh that she and her team mates were used to. Then, she felt a sharp pain in her arm, which was equally familiar to her, before she succumbed to the bliss of unconsciousness.
O
To be Continued…
Author's Note: The story continues…Please continue to send feedback, let me know what you think by clicking on my name. Comments are always appreciated. See you next chapter!
