1 year, 11 months
Sam was tired, so very tired. It was a challenge to stay awake each day. Death looked more and more appealing an alternative to this so called life.
But today, for the first time in over a year, Sam smiled. She should have been taken to the torture chambers hours ago, but no one had come for her. Plus she had awoken to the smell of hot, fresh, buttery bread. The hunk of bread she got with her soup most days, if she got bread at all, was hard and stale. There was also a large cup of clean water to replace the two day old cup by her head.
As the day dragged by, with nothing to focus on, and already having counted the exactly 700 scratch marks on the wall several times, Sam drifted closer and closer to complete unconsciousness.
Some time later, something jostled her into a state of semi-consciousness. Sam fought to wake up completely. She tried to get taken to her personal hell awake, and if possible, return to her cell the same way.
As she woke up more fully, a small portion of Sam's brain was thinking of why she had woken up in the first place.
Then she felt the hand land on her shoulder.
Self defense automatically kicked in, and though it hurt her badly bruised arm, Sam reached up, grabbed the hand, and pulled it to her mouth so that she could bit down on it as hard as possible.
"OWWW! Dang, last person to do that was Carter!" she heard distantly.
Carter? Wait, someone bit his hand, whom he called Carter?
Colonel O'Neill!
Now Sam doubled her efforts to get up. If jack was there, Daniel and Teal'c would be too! And if they were there, she could count on being back home in no time.
Hang on a second... Something bugged Sam about the way Jack had phrased his remark. It sounded like they couldn't tell it was Samantha Carter herself, lying right in front of them! Granted, Sam's hair hadn't been cut in almost two years. It was well past her shoulders, and coated in dirt and grime. She was covered in small scrapes and bruises, and they couldn't see her eyes if they were closed. Her clothes were trashed; torn, ripped, and layered with dirt.
Probably Sam's most identifying feature were her dog tags, but they were tucked safely under her shirt.
Finally she came to enough to open her eyes, and all she saw was the back of one Colonel Jack O'Neill, before her cell door closed, locking in the sound of the soft cry that escaped Sam's mouth.
One more scratch. A new cluster started. One day, igniting the hope of the lost Earthling. One mark, counting down the days to her up coming rescue.
A/N~ Okay guys, next chapter will be back on Earth. Thanks to those of you that have kept reading. I promise its getting more interesting. If you see anything that needs fixing, feel free to tell me. Also, don't forget to feed the insanity with your lovely reviews!