Chapter 61 - Crossroads
Jolinar woke before Sam, and if Sam could be glad about anything it would be that, the chance to avoid feeling those first feelings. Physically, they were almost on their last mile, but the defiance that had cost them a dangerous wound had left their minds almost untouched—two sides of the same coin, Sam would have thought. Quetesh might strike out at their body, but she hadn't found a way to touch that.
But it was only in the dreariness of half-sleep that Sam's mind whirled, before consciousness flooded her with too many sensations. A Jaffa had half-bandaged them while they lay unconscious, stopping the bleeding from the stab wound in their side. He had not cleaned it, though, and a fever was starting to rage through them. Sweat dripped down, stinging in their still-unhealed wounds. Her left hand throbbed, swollen where the three broken fingers were starting to set unevenly.
*I cannot heal,* Jolinar said, her voice thin and almost forlorn. Not helpless, not yet.
But when every inch of their body ached, it didn't really seem to matter. The pain was too much, and Jolinar vomited up what little bile was in her empty stomach. Their throat burned, and the retching twisted at the new wound in their abdomen. Jolinar barely had the mind to worry about internal damage, if that even mattered, if they even survived long enough to die from that.
The Jaffa had also left a small cup of water, only the second in the five days trapped in this cycle of torture. Cruelly, it lay just out of reach of their good hand. Jolinar tensed her jaw tightly, trying to reach for it with only the thumb and forefinger of her damaged left hand. But it didn't work, and she hissed through her teeth as she tried to bring the cup to her without nudging the swollen fingers. The cup spilled a little, a few precious droplets lost to the floor, but they managed to soothe the burn of bile in their throat and dampen their cracked lips.
A tear squeezed from one eye as Jolinar's broken hand released the empty cup. Her breaths came in harsh and gasping, but they were sobs of pain and near-despair.
*I am sorry, I am sorry,* her thoughts flailed, not knowing why she said it, only that it was something she might not have done enough.
The sobs wracked their body almost as much as anything else. Sam tried to apologize back, because somewhere she knew that her impetuousness and naivete had gotten them here, maybe more than whatever Jolinar considered her fault.
But the tears washed the guilt into one, and truly they couldn't see where one idea ended and another began. It had all been too entwined to differentiate blame.
While it was still quiet, while they were still at rest, Jolinar let control loose. Sam felt their consciousnesses blanketing each other, clinging for what support they could still offer. Jolinar felt that it would probably be over soon, at least for a while.
Sam felt her eyes flick open for a second, and her bleary vision cleared for a second as she saw only the floor. There, by the cup. Her eyes closed again, but she tried to open them. Tried to focus.
In the fever of their mind, Jolinar thought Sam was imagining something. Sam couldn't reach to the floor with her hands, still bound. Her legs were still almost untouched, like her back—it had given them little comfort before, but now she struggled to untangle her leg. With her bare foot, she reached for what she seemed to see.
And her foot found it. Jolinar named it first. *The spike.*
~When I pushed her hand to the floor...~ Sam managed to grip the small black object with her toes, bringing it closer so that she could grab it with her hand.
Almost three inches of black metal, and now it was theirs.
They heard footsteps approaching, and Sam quickly twisted her arm, even as more pain shot up it. She pierced the spike into the back of their tunic, and then waited for Quetesh's return.
*Is it any hope?* Jolinar wondered.
Sam didn't have time for an answer.
ooooooo
"I'm not ready yet," Daniel said, even as the words were almost denial. SG-6 was about ready to permanently withdraw to the Alpha Site, as the base prepared to possibly accept news of apocalypse on Earth.
Sha're sat before him, their legs crossed, Shifu in between them again. The Abydonian ceremony of bringing peace to a child seemed more fitting now than ever, and they hoped it would bring them peace as well.
"You know, I'd been ready before," Daniel said. He brushed his fingers over Sha're's hand. "When they almost closed the Stargate Program down, I planned to escape through the gate."
"But you did not know where I was," said Sha're, interested.
"I would have found you," Daniel said, looking her in the eye. "I would have fought Apophis all on my own, and I would have saved you somehow. I was ready to leave Earth behind forever and devote my life to you."
Sha're's brow creased, the impact of his words touching her, giving her reason to think.
"Now I may have to do that, and it's not so easy," he said quietly. SG-1 had always been important to him, almost the only thing he cared about on his planet. But he'd spread his wings since then, drawing others close, too close to abandon.
"You will be welcome on New Abydos, Dan'yel," Sha're said, caressing his hand back. "And we may rebuild our society."
"I know," said Daniel. "And I can probably make it my home again, eventually."
"But I know it is not the same," Sha're said, nodding.
Shifu burbled, and they both glanced down, faces softening.
Daniel hoped he wasn't being too selfish, asking for more than freedom and a family. A stray thought darted to the front of his mind. "Sha're, do you have a way to contact Sam?" Part of him thought the answer might bring him pain, but it needed to be addressed again.
Sha're shook her head. "It could not be risked. Even though it was likely you would not demand such information, if I was ever captured it could be forced from me."
Daniel nodded, grimly. "Do you miss her?" he asked, looking closely at his wife.
She nodded sadly. "More than I thought."
Daniel gripped her hand, heart twisting in a knot again. "That's good. Because sometimes, I'm afraid I don't miss her enough." Sometimes he forgot that she'd been on his team.
Sha're had nothing to say, but just held his hand, and they continue the ritual for some time more.
ooooooo
Sam and Jolinar's fever got worse, and judging from Quetesh's emotionless gaze, she seemed to think it punishment enough for the day. They couldn't have taken any more in any case.
She took her stand in the cell, her voice even and low as she just went through a list of questions. This time she paused after each one, just long enough for Sam and Jolinar to have a split second to bite down hard and refuse to answer.
~Maybe we will go mad,~ Sam thought, as the fever ravaged her focus, the neverending questions a maddening sound. Jolinar wanted to reach out and strike it away, do anything to make it stop.
Quetesh had infinite patience. Every question, about every little Tok'ra aspect that the Goa'uld concerned themselves with. Sam hadn't known all of this before, but she didn't care now. All she cared about was to have something other than the questions in her head tempting her.
*She may leave, let us recover enough for more torture,* Jolinar said.
And even the Goa'uld eventually saw that there was no point. Nearly passed out against the cell wall, Sam's dry eyes lay wearily shut, her slow shallow breaths passing through chapped and broken lips. Quetesh sighed, and finally left.
Not knowing how much there would be, Sam grasped onto this bit of silence for a few seconds, soaking in its comforting presence.
*What did you find?* Jolinar asked, with effort throwing their mind back a few hours.
~A lock pick, essentially,~ Sam answered, finding just enough strength to focus. Their minds ached with the physical throbbing, but it had not overcome them yet.
*You can free these chains?*
Sam reached for the spike she'd hidden in the back of their tunic, opening her eyes to make sure that no one was watching. The Jaffa were still positioned some way down the hall, and the hard floors would alert any other approaching presence. Sam kept her broken hand resting in her lap, as comfortable as she could get it. Even thinking about it made it hurt more.
She brought her other hand over, using her good hand to pick at the other manacle's lock. Her eyes had a hard time focusing, and her hand occasionally jerked out of her control. But the rest and the silence already felt like healing, and the more she worked the easier she felt it get.
It felt like an hour before anything clicked in the lock. The manacle opened, and Sam breathed in shortly.
*Not now,* Jolinar said quickly, and Sam felt the warning too.
She clicked the lock back closed, and breathed out. What was the point of using their one, only, escape chance without a plan. How would they get out of the cell itself? How would they get to the rings, to the gate?
But Jolinar didn't squash the hope, and together they cradled it between them, wanting it to grow but not knowing how.
~What do we do?~ asked Sam. Her thoughts still felt a little slurred. ~This cell is locked manually, which is strange, right?~
*It can't hurt to try to open it,* Jolinar said. *Not if we can get out.*
~Jolinar, I may really lose it if we get caught again.~
*I know. We have to wait.*
Sam closed her eyes. She hadn't seen the lock, and she wasn't an expert. But she'd heard it lock several times now, and could almost see it from inside the cell. It wasn't the best information, but it was something.
They'd survived almost a week of this interrogation; waiting up to a few more days for a real chance at escape was the only logical choice.
Quetesh came back, possibly hours later—they didn't know, being sound asleep. Again, she seemed to judge them too weak for any real enjoyment, so she stuck to the practical. Questions again, and Jolinar almost started giving answers. Some outrageous, some teasingly close to accurate, they popped into her mind during the interrogation. But she wouldn't even give Quetesh that much. She clenched their jaw and remained silent.
That night almost seemed a relief, if it was a night after all.
When Quetesh came the next day, they were awake, and Jolinar tried to focus on the exact sounds and sights of the lock as she entered. Whatever information she got was stuffed down swiftly, because she'd missed the device on Quetesh's hand.
Not a hand device. Sam had never seen it, but she knew automatically—hara'kash.
~Jolinar?~ Sam said, suddenly worried more than ever before.
*Samantha...do not worry, it is only for me.*
~Don't be an idiot, Jolinar,~ Sam snapped, heart racing. ~Even if I can't feel it, what hurts you—could kill you—~ She broke off, worry and weakness stealing her words.
Quetesh had aimed for Sam's body earlier, weakening the host to damage Jolinar's mind. It hadn't gone far enough, and now she brought the easiest path to breaking Jolinar herself. Sam didn't need to have Jolinar lay it out in detail to know exactly what kind of injury the symbiote herself would undergo. With her healing impaired, not even Quetesh could know exactly how much worse than usual it would be.
"Are you not worn with this?" Quetesh asked, and they wondered for a moment if she was instead. "Would you not rather die now than days or weeks hence?"
Weeks. If they thought too hard on the implications there, they might truly break under this torment.
Sam held her body locked in place, brittle strength all that was holding her. It was all she could do to keep a safe place for Jolinar.
Quetesh sighed, and without any glare or pause, lifted her hand. The ring-like hara'kash on her hand lit, and then shot back straight through Sam's head. It hurt more than Sam had been prepared for, but then Jolinar screamed in her mind and she forgot herself. The hand device had seemed to bore through their skull, sending waves of the painful energy all through their body. The hara'kash needed no time. It was like a spike, aimed straight for Jolinar herself, and not taking anything in its path into account. Sam felt like her head had been impaled on a long needle.
Since Jolinar could barely affect it, Sam knew that the fast patter of her heart was hers alone. Jolinar was writhing, screaming, overwhelming her head with the intense pain—and Sam's heart was breaking for her. She couldn't say a word, knowing Quetesh could not have planned this, but would have if she knew.
The beam stopped, and Jolinar's inner scream halted abruptly with it.
~I'm here,~ Sam said, vainly reaching out with her mind, hoping it might be some comfort.
Jolinar shivered, emotionless.
~Don't break on me,~ Sam warned, choking up. ~Not after all this, you can't leave me. Jolinar, you can—~ She didn't know what. That was worse, she didn't know what Jolinar could do.
"So simple," came Quetesh's words through to Sam's head.
Again she was impaled, again Jolinar had nowhere to go, again she screamed, and Sam felt like she could barely hold back tears.
But then it stopped. As Jolinar withered with the freedom from pain, Sam breathed out and almost opened her eyes. Through the crusted lashes and fever-bleariness she saw Quetesh's feet. Sam didn't look up.
"Too soon," she heard Quetesh mutter. And then the feet vanished as Quetesh turned to leave. Jolinar might have lost even more strength in her relief, but Sam didn't stop to question Quetesh's actions.
~Jolinar?~ she asked, desperate. Now her tender eyes were starting to sting with tears, now she could barely keep the lump down in her throat. ~You're alive, right?~
Jolinar couldn't answer, but Sam felt her consciousness, small and empty. And Sam just melted around it, wrapping it, bringing it to her as a part of herself. She didn't know what Quetesh had done or what it meant, only that it had left strength that Sam needed to share. That Jolinar needed to receive.
The symbiote hadn't closed herself off, at least. She let Sam in, even though she gave no response. The minutes passed, and Sam's heart still thumped rapidly in her chest with all the worry. Her head was throbbing to the same beat, though she had almost pushed aside the rest of her pain. It was bodily, it was recoverable. Sam feared for Jolinar's mind.
*I will not die,* Jolinar finally said.
A wash of relief swept over Sam for a second.
~You know what, this is pointless,~ Sam said, her mind racing frustratedly.
Hints of emotion were coming back to Jolinar, worry and fear and a strange comfort. *What?*
~She almost killed you, no?~ Sam asked.
Jolinar didn't need to speak her answer, so she said something else. *I would have died, but with my last act I would have spared you. My death—it would only urge the Tok'ra on.*
~Stop that,~ Sam demanded, trying to find stubbornness in her mixture of relief and fear. ~I don't even know what that kind of survival would be like. That's not—I won't accept it.~
Jolinar had barely a response, just the slightest bit of herself that reached to find Sam, become harmonized with her again.
~I'm not going out on those terms,~ Sam said. ~If we die, we'll do it together, and we'll take our insane chance.~
*There is no chance,* Jolinar protested, as Sam moved her quivering hands. *You will not be able to move.*
~To hell with that,~ Sam spat. The rage didn't feel good, it felt too strong for all they'd been through. But she wanted it anyway.
She pulled the spike from her tunic again, bringing it to the manacle. Quietly, one ear on the guards that might escort Quetesh back any second, she started breaking through again. Her breathing was almost coming in sobs, each one wracking her body with pain both physical and emotional. They were losing it so fast.
Her hand slipped and the spike missed the manacle and hit the hand, right on a swollen broken joint. That little pain somehow hurt more intensely than anything should, after all they'd been through. Tears sprang to Sam's eyes, and she squeezed them shut, waiting for the end so she could continue. She didn't have the strength to curse.
The minutes passed, and Sam tried to find the magic combination of angles to get through this lock. It wasn't much easier the second time, except that she knew she could do it. Eventually. She didn't know if she had the time.
Jolinar was quiet, still worn. But she could remember, and she did, and Sam needed the help to recall another cell door in another place. A much kinder prison, the SGC. *Not for me,* Jolinar added. But Sam had been much more healed when she'd broken out of that, and she'd had much more at her disposal. And she'd had an escape.
But even Jolinar didn't urge her to slow down and think of a plan. Get out or die—that was good enough.
Finally Sam broke through the manacle, and she was paying attention this time. Grimacing, tears threatening again, she took the spike in the thumb and forefinger of her left hand—the only whole part of that hand. Trying to breathe steadily, she remembered the last sequences of turns in the lock, and carefully, got it done.
When the manacle broke free, her hand jerked a little. She was going to retch or pass out or both, and god, how was she going to even move? She lowered her head, trying to breath in deeply, but feeling the pull of the stab wound at every muscle in her abdomen, ripping and tearing.
*You will not pass out,* Jolinar said, like a mantra in her head. *We will not lose now. Samantha, we are free.*
A short spasm went through Sam, but she lifted her head. Her hands, one broken, one with a stab wound festering—they weren't bound by chains any more. Her only weapon was a piece of metal barely three inches long, but they were free. ~Jolinar, we can do this.~
*We can.*
All they needed to do was take it step by step, never bothering to think about the miracle of odds they'd need to complete all the steps. Now, it was about standing up.
*I'm here,* Jolinar said. *You're not alone.*
~I know that,~ Sam said, but her emotions said the gratitude much better. Jolinar was coming back, and there was no way either of them would let anyone try to rip her away again. She wished Jolinar was recovered enough to take control, because she really didn't know what she could do next.
Squeezing her eyes shut, and ignoring the tear that slipped out and stung its way down the gash on the side of her head, she pushed her elbows back against the wall. That didn't hurt, and neither did positioning her feet to stand up. But when she pushed herself to almost standing, it was good that her jaw was clenched, because it felt like she had been stabbed in the gut again. She doubled over in her new standing position, right hand automatically clutching the wound. It was starting to bleed again, and she was dizzy and faint already; she stumbled against the wall, leaning but not sitting.
She didn't want to say "I can't", but her determination slipped for a second. And yet, there was Jolinar, Sam's overexertion putting some strength back into her mind, and it felt good for them both.
The sudden rush of dizziness faded, and Sam opened her eyes. It was a few steps to the door, and there she would have to break through another lock, but this time without the Jaffa hearing or noticing. ~Shit.~
Jolinar almost smiled, and Sam remembered dark humor for the first time in a long time.
Her bare feet were weak but painless as she took her first step, eyes on the bars and the wall of the ship beyond. One hand to her stomach, the other still gingerly holding the spike in her two unbroken fingers. Another two steps, and then she felt the dizziness again. There was no way her hands could protect her face if she fell, and then she would hit her head and it would all be over. Gasping, taking the only option, she took one last long step and fell against the bars of the door.
The pain of a dozen burns and cuts flared to life, but it was the sound that doomed her. The dull clang as she hit the door, head reeling but hearing just fine. And the Jaffa heard, and she heard one set of boots approaching.
"Kree!" he shouted, right in Sam and Jolinar's ear.
They heard the other Jaffa come closer, and Sam prepared to use her only option, stab the Jaffa through the bars. It would sign a death penalty for her and Jolinar, but she had no other choice except wait for them to come in and chain her back up. But the Jaffa was right near her looking confused, and she looked down in the split second before he was about to say something and saw his zat. She inhaled sharply, regretting it, but with all the strength she had her arm shot out through the bars.
The Jaffa almost said something, but he'd underestimated Sam and Jolinar's strength and stood too close. Sam snatched his zat, opening it before he could look down, and then she sent two blasts straight into his chest. No hesitation, and then the other Jaffa was down before he could call kree again.
No guards came running as the Jaffa hit the floor. And somehow Sam was feeling stronger, as if her body was readjusting to being upright again. ~Are you healing?~ she asked.
*Adrenaline,* Jolinar answered, with a weak ironic chuckle. Her despair at being unable to do what had always come naturally faded just enough to appreciate what Sam's body was doing all on its own.
Sam would have laughed and cried at the situation, but she didn't. Adrenaline might give them a fighting chance. Carefully, she bent, dropping the zat to grip a bar for support and ignored the fiery pain from the pressure the bar put on a wound. The Jaffa was close enough for her to take his keys, pulling them to her with two fingers of her left hand, and adrenaline helped her stand up again.
One click, and the cell door was free. Sam slid it carefully, hands and legs starting to shake. No, adrenaline couldn't be all used up yet, it couldn't. The silence in the hall outside was both hope and worry to her, not knowing where she would go next. She barely remembered the ring room's location, but then what? First things first.
She picked up the zat again. Leaning against the wall, doubled over to ease what pain she could, each step she then took felt like the last before her body would give out. She barely kept her eyes open, dizziness rising and falling but never rising enough to drop her. She was not dead yet.
*Goa'uld ring combinations are often similar,* Jolinar offered, feeling her mind coming to life for what might be their last stretch.
~But do they usually have Stargates on their ships?~ Sam asked.
No was the answer, but neither had the strength to say it. Sam watched the gold and grey pattern of the walls as she passed it, step by step, and how many was it by now? The corner was only a few steps away, and then there were only two more turns before the ring room was theirs.
~If only it's empty,~ Sam offered.
*If we can zat fast enough.*
Time almost disappeared as they kept walking and gasping, and they had turned the corner, and then another, and adrenaline still had them high because they had survived. And they were willing with every bit of them to survive just a little longer, just for another step.
The air was fresher out here too, with no stench of blood and infection and filth from their cell. It was just another thing giving them strength, the freedom to breathe symbolizing the freedom to escape, if they could just make it.
Sam couldn't believe it when they turned the last corner and could see the entrance to the ring room ahead. A few more steps, a few more.
But then the silence broke, and they heard steps ahead. Gritting her teeth, Sam tried to move faster, and Jolinar tried to judge how much faster they needed. They couldn't stop, and Sam wasn't sure she had the strength to lift the zat for more than a second, if that.
Too late, Jolinar realized that they wouldn't make it, and Sam took in a deep sobbing breath before she prepared to fire again.
The steps brought a person into view. And there was Martouf and Lantash. She almost couldn't see past the Goa'uld robes, but there they were. The ones they had kept safe from Quetesh's suspicion, the ones who were never supposed to have to decide between the mission and the one they loved.
Sam's sharp relief mingled fully with Jolinar's, and it was overwhelming—she collapsed against the wall she was using as support.
Lantash stopped with a jolt, eyes full of shock. Sam could only imagine—a long gash down her face, arms and neck marked with burns and cuts, hands a mess, and her tunic almost completely matted with blood both from her stab wound and everything else combined. They were wavering on death's door.
"Jolinar," whispered Lantash, still frozen in shock. And neither Sam nor Jolinar had time to think before suddenly he was moving towards them, fear and concern on his face as he suddenly realized what was going on. "Samantha."
"Yes," Sam said aloud, her throat and mouth almost too dry. She closed her eyes for a second, taking advantage of the relief.
She felt his hand hover, almost touching their shoulder, but she knew just how it would look. Any touch might cause pain. "I did not know," she heard him say, a choke in his voice. "Oh beloved, I did not know. I was sent to Dorieth only this day, but did not suspect—no, I cannot talk." His hand found the wound in her side, and she grimaced, but he slipped his arm around her back and the other under her knees, and in one swift move they were cradled in his arms.
Sam breathed out, the sudden change sending another rush to her head, the relief abating the pumping of adrenaline. "You weren't supposed to know," she whispered, eyes still shut. A pang of Jolinar's struggle between regret and relief was strong, even as everything weakened.
"No, do not say that," she heard the protest in a breaking voice, and then felt a light kiss to her forehead.
"The mission," she murmured, as the world started to fade. He was carrying them to the ring room.
"We are being sent to Dorieth, so our absence will not be noticed here, only there. And they will not notice." To hear a familiar voice, even when so broken by shock and sudden grief, somehow made the impulsive and overconfident words sound right. They trusted him.
Sam and Jolinar could feel the adrenaline finally disappearing for good as the rings activated, as Martouf and Lantash carried them to Quetesh's gate room. And they had truly pushed themselves too far.
*You were right,* Jolinar said, her mind edging willingly back to exhausted oblivion.
~We are safe,~ Sam said. They had moved again, and then there was the fire of some weapons, and now the sound of chevrons lighting. She was so tired, in so much pain, but she knew as she heard the sound of the wormhole activating that she'd spoken the truth.
Safe in arms that they would trust to the end of the universe, Sam and Jolinar lost consciousness as they were carried through the gate.
—
Author's Notes: Thank you so much for all your reviews! I'm so glad to see how many people have stuck with this story for so long. I will be on vacation for the next four weeks, so updates will not be on the regular schedule. I have many chapters written ahead, though, so as long as I have access to the internet I will be able to update.