Title: My Enemy My Friend
Fandom: Stargate SG-1
Warnings: Violence, strong sexual themes
Disclaimer: All known characters and premises belong to their respective owners. So there.
Summary: He had set her up.
Notes: You know me and my WIPs
Bound and blinded, she struggled until a blow to the gut drew breath from her very soul. Blood trickled from her mouth, free-falling to the floor with a frightfully loud drop, signalling that much blood had since pooled around her.
She opened her eyes behind the rough cotton material that had robbed her sight. Shallow breaths, staccato in their delivery were only interrupted by gasps and coughs; her body was beginning to become too weak to regulate its breathing.
She slumped forward, the cuffs around her wrists and ankles rubbing the skin raw, preventing her from adhering to gravity's sweet demand.
A wet sponge was forcefully thrust against her mouth and she drank thirstily, her body in too much need to reconsider the suspicious offering.
She knew that at least two days had past, for the Sun's light had warmed her skin twice, and the Moon's fingers had wrapped her in cold for three. She waited for the Sun, rays that gave her false hope behind hooded vision.
She crinkled her nose, feeling the caked blood crack, pinching her skin. Her tongue snaked out, moistening her dried and split lips, tasting more of her blood. There had been so much blood.
She heard the staff warm up, feeling it press against the bottom of her spine. She glanced up at Jack, her eyes meeting his emotionless stare.
'No one gets left behind', he had once said. Twice commanded. And three times returned.
Except this time, something lay different in the air. An understanding she did not understand as she was pushed to the ground, forced to watch her CO dial out. Forced to kneel motionless while the man whom she trusted with her every last breath, nodded to the Jaffa that held her captive.
Nodded to their agreement.
She had been punished, made to watch her betrayal walk through the gate and stay there until the wormhole had disengaged.
Sounds were deaf to her ears and her sight was soon taken prisoner by a blindfold. The last thing she remembered was her stomach's somersault as the transporter rings beamed her aboard a ship of a fake-God who had a planned agenda for her.
She spat out a mixture of blood and saliva, as a cry of anger escaped with a ragged breath. She collapsed once more, her body spent from the last burst of energy she felt. It had been a set up.
He had set her up.
The fake mission, the wild goose chase that finally led to her capture. How could Hammond have been so easily fooled?
Anger fuelled another burst as she struggled against her restraints, thrashing about, uncaring towards the self-inflicted pain that arose from her actions.
She jerked her head up, ear towards the sound of the deep guttural voice that she had grown accustomed to, these past two days. She felt the shackles be loosened before she crumpled to the floor - her body too weak to sustain its own weight. Routine greeted her as she heard the rhythmic march of the Jaffa guards stop right before her broken body. She allowed herself to be dragged to the communal baths, a place she had yet to see, but could easily discern of its purpose by the sense-numbing smell of chlorine that permeated the air.
She grunted as she hit the ground hard, after having been released by the guards. Feeling her way around the dirt and walls, she reached the small enclosure that bore a hole in the ground. Pulling down her tattered pants, she squatted and emptied her bladder, blindly reaching for some paper to wipe herself with.
After she had finished, she crawled back to the center of the room, moving towards the sound of running water. She reached the pool and slid in, allowing the water to take the weight off her weary bones. Hissing out loud, she cringed as the highly chlorinated water cleaned her wounds, the sharp stings reminding her of the beatings, of the torture she had to endure. She floated there for a few minutes before an arm grabbed her and yanked her out.
"Enough bathing. Thoth is getting bored and needs entertainment. He has a special surprise for you."
She allowed herself to be guided back to her cell, groaning as she was slammed back against the wall and shackled once more. She hung there, too tired to fight. Her mind, though exhausted, fought to find memories of discussions past. Thoth. It was the first time her captor's name had been mentioned.