Disclaimer: Stargate SG-1, Jack O'Neill, Samantha Carter, Daniel Jackson, Teal'c, Janet Fraiser, and no other ideas or such herein that are tied in any way to Stargate are mine. Only the ideas, Deimon, and actual words on paper do I take credit for. No money was made off of this writing piece, merely a cathartic experience.
Rating: Teen. VERY upper teen. GRAPHIC violence and torture in later chapters. You have been warned.
Summary: Caught between reality and dreaming, Sam is forced to live her worst fears. But not all is what it seems.
Time frame: early season one. Before Nox, but Janet's around. Pick your date in between.
A/N: ...to any and all who read my other writings...please accept this apology. There really is no excuse for doing NOTHING for going on two months (or is it more? I really didn't have the heart to check), and then the first thing you do is come out with a brand new story. This isn't too very long, though, and I promise you all, it is COMPLETELY done (except for a few last-minute checkovers before posting). So no waiting for any ridiculous amount of time before it's finished.
The truth of the matter is that I've been having one of the worst writers blocks I have ever experienced. Coupled with the fact that I've been having more and more nightmares again, this is just kinda what came to be. I generally use my writings as an outlet for my thoughts and feelings (I'm not alone in doing that, am I?), and I needed a place to get this all out. So now you all have a tiny little peek into my mind. Look if you dare. You've been warned. The truth of the matter is that I was actually considering posting this as a Mature, but decided against it at the last second, deeming it JUST mild enough to come over as a Teen (rated higher for later chapters. This first one's really very mild). Oh, and both of the final two chapters are both significantly longer. It's not only like...4000 words long. :P
The next chapter will be posted later today/tomorrow (depending on how you look at it). Reviews are, of course, welcome (much like chocolate on Easter...oh wait...). But more importantly, I hope you enjoy this.
The Darkness Holds No Secrets
Slowly, she began to come to consciousness. It was an almost familiar feeling, the slow peeling away of darkness to reveal a shadowy gray. The pain followed – sometimes it was a throbbing, sometimes aching, and sometimes a sharp, dizzying feeling. This time it was just a dull ache that permeated her entire skull, compressing her mind until she felt as if she were suffocating.
Sam forced open her eyes, preparing herself for a sudden wash of light. To her surprise, none came, and her eyes opened to only more darkness. Where was she? What had happened? A thousand thoughts filtered through her mind one after the other, each succeeding one becoming more and more frantic.
And then her mind lit on a truly terrifying question. Was she blind? Was that why there was no light to behold?
Panic began to trickle through her. If she was blind, what would happen to her? How would she be able to stay on SG-1? How could she continue to even work at the SGC? She fought to remain in control, forcing herself to stay calm and assess the situation.
She tried to uncoil from the painful fetal position she had awoken to. Instead, she found that she was tied hand and foot, with the two ropes twined together.
Slowly, methodically, she began to work her fingers into the many knots holding her hands tightly bound. Whoever had tied them wasn't particularly skilled at knot-making, she decided, as she felt the ropes begin to give way after only a few minutes of careful prodding.
Although it was easy enough to work the ropes loose enough to slip her hands through the nooses, they still left a ragged burn around both of her wrists. She felt blood oozing out of raw scrapes and pulled a wry grimace, hating the feeling almost as much as actually being tied. Next she began to work on the ropes binding her feet. These came away even easier. Sam shook her head, amused more than amazed at how easily she had been able to get free.
Lying perfectly still, Sam closed her eyes, trying to get her bearings. Now that she was free, should be her next move? The faint fear from before wiggled into her thoughts. If she was blind…The darkness surrounding her felt more artificial rather than natural, as if someone had simply turned out the lights. There was a simple enough way to find out for sure. Fumbling with her left hand, Sam sought for the small button on her watch that would light up the watch face. She finally found it, and a split second later an indigo blue light pierced the darkness.
Sam dropped her head ungracefully back to the stone ground, exhaling audibly with relief. She hadn't realized until then how afraid she was that she had somehow been blinded. She pressed her hands to her face, listening to her breathing, a small smile dancing across her lips.
She was still trapped in who knows where, though, in complete darkness, and without even an inkling of where she was or why she was there. The last thing she could remember was being on an average, exploratory mission on P4S-671. Of course, that didn't particularly signify any sort of reassurance…how many of SG-1's recon missions had gone awry in some way or another out of the however many they had had thus far.
"Alright, Carter, figure this out. What do you do now?" her voice was empty and hollow, echoing around the confined space eerily. Maybe talking out loud to herself wasn't the best idea in the world. But she'd started, and for some reason, at the same time that it slightly set her on hedge, it also reassured her. Told her that she was still alive, still functioning. "Now try to find a way out of this place."
She rolled over onto her stomach and wriggled forward, stretching one hand out in front of her to feel her way, and gritting her teeth against the pain of the rope burn dragging against rough stone. She'd hardly moved three feet when her fingertips rammed into a stone wall. She pulled her hand back and shook her tingling fingers gently, gritting her teeth as the pain flared for a second before dying away and receding back to a simple throb.
Trailing her fingers along the wall, Sam inched her way sideways, praying that there would be an opening of some sort. She highly doubted it, but it was always worth a shot. I mean, how stupid would she look if her teammates (or even worse, a group of Marines) came to rescue her and found her sitting in a room with an unlocked door or trapdoor through which she could have gotten herself out?
Eventually she fell back to the ground, her body quivering with exhaustion and her legs seizing up in painful cramps. She had no idea how long she had spent circling the space that she was trapped in, but she knew that she had been all of the way around it at least three times. After the first hour or so, she had regained enough wits to use the discarded ropes as markers, so she would at least know when she had made a full circuit. Her efforts had given her nothing but fingers rubbed raw and cramping legs and shoulders.
Her mind drifted in and out of semi-consciousness as she lay, one side pressed up against one of the walls of her prison. She strained to remember what had happened to her, how she had managed to find herself in this predicament. If she was being completely honest with herself, something about this whole situation felt odd; different somehow. No matter how hard she tried, though, she couldn't quite put her finger on what it was.
At some point, she fell asleep, her breathing evening out as her mind slipped into oblivion.
She's bouncing up and down, like she's being carried by someone running. She fights to open her eyes but they feel heavy, as if her eyelids are being held shut with an adhesive. She tries to open her mouth but only an indistinguishable burble gurgles from her throat.
"O'Neill!" The voice is near, emitting from somewhere above her head. She can feel the something solid that's pressing against her shoulder thrumming as well, as if whatever is carrying her is also responsible for the voicing the word. But what could that word have meant, she doesn't know. And somehow, the voice sounded odd. In what way, she isn't able to say.
Someone else nears her, the scent of soap, aftershave, and open air preceding him. Somehow the scent makes her feel safe, although at the same time a little anxious and nervous.
"Teal'c?" The voices sounds like the other one – hollow, echoing, distant, and yet close by.
"I believe she is awakening." There. The movement in the chest by her shoulder.
She is moving. Something hard presses against her back, or maybe she is being pressed into something; she really isn't sure which. Footsteps crunch toward her; she can feel them vibrating in the ground.
One of them kneels beside her, touching her softly on the cheek. The very brush of his fingers hurts. It feels as if they are searing her flesh.
A shout of surprise, of pain, forces its way from between her locked jaws, her eyes flying open with a dizzying abruptness. Light pours in for a second, washing her, filling her, burning her.
And then the darkness takes her once again.