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In Your Own Backyard

Sam gasped, sat up in the bed. She looked around slowly. The piece of paper on her beside table seemed to glow in the moonlight. She turned on the lamp, and read it. The program from her mother's funeral. She closed her eyes as the pain of her mother's death washed over her. His fault! It was all his fault! If he had only picked her up like she had asked him to! She hated him!

She threw herself to her side, grabbed the extra pillow and began to weep. As far as she was concerned, her father was as guilty of killing her mother as if he had pulled a trigger on a gun pointed at her head! Mom hated driving in the city! He knew that! He promised that he would be there! When it had gotten too late, her mother had called a cab rather than miss being at home when her children returned from school. If he had been there, had picked her up like he promised, she wouldn't have been in that cab. Wouldn't have been in the accident. Wouldn't have been killed. She hated him!

Mark was angry, too. He had shouted at him. Told him that it was all his fault. Usually he shouted back. This time he had remained silent. She hadn't remained on the stairs long enough to see his face as the two moved from the kitchen into the hallway. She didn’t want to see how angry he must have been at her brother.

"Would you kill him?" a voice whispered from somewhere above her.

Startled, she sat up once again, looked around. She frowned. The voice sounded…evil. Her mind didn't register that she could understand a language other than American English, or the French that she was learning in high school. Kill her father? She was angry with him. It was his fault that her mother was dead. But kill him?

"He killed her. He killed your mother," the voice whispered.

Memories flashed through her mind…of talking to him…he was dying…she had to save him!…seeing him in a place…blue lights…icy blue walls…caves…tunnels. She shook her head. She must be having a dream…a really bizarre dream. There was no such place, no such thing as the…Tok'ra?

The hiss that filled the air around her chilled her to the bone, left goose pimples on her skin. What was going on?

A  A  A  A  A  A

She opened her eyes. Looked around. She must have fallen asleep. The beeping of the monitors assured her that Daniel was still alive, for now. She glanced at her watch. How much longer would it take? The man lying on the bed in front of her, his body wrapped in bandages like a mummy as he continued to bleed, to suffer from radiation poisoning, wouldn’t live much longer. Only her father, well, technically Selmak, could save her best friend.

Sam shook her head. Daniel had done what he always did - run into a situation heart first, thinking only about the safety of others. He had saved the Kelownan's from their own stupidity. They were alive. He was dying. It wasn't fair!

Janet walked into the room. "You need to rest."

"I'll have plenty of time to rest after-" she cut the thought off even as she silenced her voice. "Any word from my Dad?"

"Not yet," the petite doctor replied.

"How long?" she asked softly.

"Just a few hours. Not more than four," Janet said, tears in her eyes. "I'm trying to keep him sedated, to ease the pain. But he keeps coming out of it."

"That's one of the few things he can remember of his death…" Sam broke off, frowned again. After his death? How could he…could she…What was going on? And what was that horrible hissing sound?

A  A  A  A  A  A

"Answer me! What is the code that will breach your world's defenses?"

She licked her lip, could taste the blood. Her arms were numb from being chained above her head, her shoulders ached. Her back was hurting as well. "I don't know."

"Lies!" He paced away from her, whirled around to face her once again. "You will tell me, or you will die."

Her eyes rolled as she struggled to remain conscious. How long had she been here now? Hours…days maybe? So tired…thirsty too.

The Goa'uld studied her. She was a warrior. She was a woman. There were other ways in which she could be broken. Much more…pleasant. For him. He barked orders to the Jaffa who stood near the door, then left the room.

As soon as she was taken into the opulent room she knew she was in real trouble. Her arms were useless, probably would be for the time it took for the circulation to return, and the muscles to relax. How long that would be depended on the length of time she had been tied and hanging by her wrists against that wall. When the slaves stripped her, bathed her, then rubbed lightly scented oil onto her skin, she had no doubt about what was going to happen. She bit back the tears that threatened to fall. She would not give him the satisfaction of seeing her break! Never! No matter what he did to her!

"You are a beautiful woman, Major Carter," the Goa'uld said softly from the doorway. His eyes moved over every inch of her. He glanced at the slave that huddled in the corner. "I wish to observe you preparing her for me," he said.

She bit her lip, tried to focus her mind on mathematical problems as the young woman pushed her thighs apart, lowered her head and began to gently lick and suck on the tender flesh. Sam fought to keep from becoming aroused, but the slave was talented. Dark hands slid up her belly, massaged her breasts, tugged at nipples that had hardened.

"Yes, that's it," the Goa'uld whispered huskily. "Give in to the pleasure."

Sam looked at him, he had dropped his robe and was stroking himself, his cock long and slender and completely hard. She closed her eyes. Concentrated all the harder on the calculations that were needed to construct a naquadah bomb large enough to take out the ship, but not scatter radiation so far that it could drift down to the planet below. She gasped when she felt him enter her, the young slave pushed forward to suckle at her breasts. Her hands were clenched into fists as the bastard continued to move above her, in her. This is nothing! her mind told her. Just another means of torture. You will not give in! You will not break! She bit back a second gasp when she felt the warm semen hit her belly.  The slave licked her clean.

"Finish it," the Goa'uld groaned. "Make her cry out with pleasure."

The slave situated herself between slender white thighs again, working with enthusiasm.

With a sob, tears of anger in her eyes, Sam cried out as her orgasm shook her from head to toe. She stared at the Goa'uld…why couldn't she remember his name? "Carter, Samantha. Major. 36-6-349."

With a growl of anger, the Goa'uld left the room.

She pushed the slave away, pulled the silk sheet around her shivering body, and huddled against the wall. She had just been raped. Not brutally. There had been no pain. She had orgasmed. But it was still rape. Unable to keep the tears at bay any longer, she began to weep silently, the tears sliding unchecked down her taut cheeks.

A  A  A  A  A  A

She opened her eyes. Mentally checked her body before trying to move. Sore, but nothing that indicated she had been beaten. Looking around she could see the colonel, and Daniel and Teal'c. They bore the marks and bruises of being beaten. She tried to stand, found she was chained to the wall. In a dungeon. It didn't look at all familiar. Something was poking at the back of her mind. She heard a voice…soft, feminine…familiar…

A dozen men entered the room. Her teammates were dragged toward the wall opposite of where she was sitting. She refused to turn her head. Daniel was first. Funny that they always seemed to think he was the weakest. He wasn't. He was every bit as strong as Colonel O'Neill. As strong as Teal'c. He didn't cry out unless the pain was excruciating. Often it was the Colonel who cried out first. Perhaps because he was older, his body had suffered more abuse. Two of the men used her friend as a punching bag. He grunted from the force of the blows, but refused to make any other sounds. With a sound of displeasure, the leader waved his hand, and Daniel's wrists were chained to the wall above his head, his face pressed against the slimy stone.

Colonel O'Neill was next. He had Special Ops training. Like Daniel, he grunted from the blows, but made on other sounds. He had glared at the man who stood watching, would have said something, she was sure, if he hadn't been winded from the punches to his belly and sides. Again, when he made no sounds, refused to cry out in pain or for mercy, the leader had him chained face first to the wall.

Teal'c was beaten with metal bars, and twice she heard the ominous sound of cracking bone. One of the men hit him in the face, shattering his cheek, she could see the way the side of his face seemed to cave in. Oh, god, the pain must be mind numbing! But he refused to make a sound. Like Daniel and O'Neill, he was chained face first to the wall.

She had the feeling that the leader was unhappy, because she hadn't made a sound either. To do so would have defeated everything that her teammates had suffered for. She had no doubt that without proper medical treatment, and soon, they would die. But she would not give in.

"If you will tell me what I wish to know, I will let all of you leave here," the tall, pale man told her. "Continue to defy me, and you will watch me skin them alive."

Oh, god! No! She couldn't…

"Don't you say one word, Carter," Colonel O'Neill growled, just before a fist slammed into his face. He spit blood toward his captor, his brown eyes blazing with hatred.

The man looked at her. "Tell me why I should spare their lives."

She raised her chin. By now General Hammond was aware that SG-1 had been taken prisoner. The Marines would be rushing through that door any second now…

Daniel screamed in pain as the man took a knife and sliced across his back, carefully removing a large chunk of skin…and the flesh attached to it. Blood poured from the wound.

"No! Oh, god, no!"

"Tell me!"

She was crying as the knife moved next across Colonel O'Neill's back, with the same result. He had tried not to cry out, but the moan he made let her know that the pain was excruciating. And why wouldn't that voice stop echoing in her head?

Teal'c remained silent, but his heavy breathing filled the air.

"Tell me what I want to know, and I will stop," the man said.

She frowned. Why was he speaking English? And where was Casey? Casey! That was her voice! "This isn't real," she said calmly. "You aren't real. They aren't real," she said, nodding toward the men who bled and moaned across the room from her.

Angry hisses filled the air. She wasn't even aware of losing consciousness, or of being tossed to land beside the body of her husband.

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