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White
Out
by Lyta
Rated NC-17
Section 1/2
Note: Sorry, folks, due to technical difficulties
with The Evil That Is Microsoft,
I am currently
unable to post this story as just one large file.
If I can fix this
software glitch, I’ll post it as one large file again.
All I wanted to do
was fix a missing period and two typos...
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Prologue (1/15)
Nephthys languidly trailed her red-coated nails
through the fine, curling chest hair. It
was a shame she did not have the means to make this one a
"Ronald, I wish I could properly reward you for
the service you have so ably performed." And for the assistance it would
give in her retribution for the murder of her beloved Seth.
Ronald ran its fingers through her sleek black
hair. "Oh, you have, honey. If you're happy, I'm happy."
Nephthys studied the curves of the man's muscular
body. One of the advantages of mating
with a future host was that one could examine the specimen's body in
detail. It was a pity it would not be
able to service her again in this manner, but it would make a fine host. "That is as it should be. Were I able to, I would make you first
prime."
Ronald's head tilted towards hers slightly.
"What's that?" In the bluish
dawn light easing through the curtains, its hair looked more chocolate brown
than auburn.
She rose onto her elbows and slid up its body until
she was level with its neck. Looking
into its eyes, she explained, "It is a great honor. However, it is not as great an honor as the
one I am to bestow upon you momentarily."
A delighted smile crept across its face. "This sounds *very* interesting, but I
don't think this soldier is up for any more honors for just a little bit. Besides, I'm on duty soon. After I get off, though, I'd be happy to
accept anything you want to bestow."
It lifted its head and kissed her gently, its hands trailing down her
spine, massaging the muscles of her back.
As they pulled apart, she sighed reluctantly. Much as she enjoyed this human, it was time
she took the next step towards her revenge.
"You will not need rest to receive this gift, Ronald. You must simply accept it." She lowered her head to the side of its
neck. She ran her tongue down the side
of its neck to her favorite point of entry, and it slid its hands down to her
buttocks, still massaging sensuously.
She bit down firmly, wide mouthed.
Ronald made an odd sound of pain and shock.
Quickly she changed hosts. As she asserted control over Ronald's
attempted screams, she felt a familiar tingle of delight. She curled tendrils lovingly around its
spinal cord (it had been an excellent lover,) and proved her dominance once
again as she stilled its thrashing limbs.
She purred into its panicked mind, assuring it that it was indeed
blessed. It resisted still, as befitted
a strong host, and she eased tendrils into crucial areas of its brain, sliding
inside its most private thoughts. It
shuddered at the invasion, and she cooed her pleasure at this reaction. Triumphant, she tightened her new arms around
the old host, easing it to the side as blood drained out of the woman's
mouth.
The former host lived, as Nephthys preferred. While the husk was unable to speak due to the
wound in its throat, its blood flowed properly and its skin was still in
excellent condition. Neither would be
true if Nephthys had released the goa'uld toxin, and the gift the husk was to
receive would have been indistinct and of inferior quality as a result.
She gazed into the terrified black eyes and
smiled. "It is time, Sondra, that
you be marked as the honored bearer of the goddess Nephthys. I regret that it could not be done while you
were my host, as would be truly proper.
Alas, the days when the gods walk openly on this planet again are not at
hand, and we must use subterfuge to accomplish our ends. Therefore, the Mark of Nephthys is now but a
parting gift from the Goddess of Death."
As was typical of modern humans, Sondra did not
appreciate the gift as it should.
Panic-stricken, it cried out incoherently and tried to break free from
Nephthys' embrace. Nephthys allowed it
to pull away enough that the goddess had room for a full swing of her right
arm. Sondra's head whipped to the side
from the force of the blow, and it fell senseless. Nephthys chuckled at the horrified reaction
of her new host. Toying with her
subjects was both the right and pleasure of a goddess.
She rose, stretching her new lean muscles. She always enjoyed the body of a host who
could physically dominate others. She
strolled over to Sondra's purse and pulled out the ribbon device. Sliding it on, she flexed her hand, admiring
again the sigils on the stone that made it unique: a half moon atop two rectangles, the smaller
one inside and adjoining the larger. It
was the mark of Nephthys, Goddess of Death, mother of Anubis, and sister-wife
to her beloved Seth. Seth,
God of Chaos and Storm, murdered by the god-slayer Samantha Carter.
The husk was stirring. Nephthys sauntered back to the bed, and as
Sondra's eyes flickered open, the goddess leaned
over. "Now receive your final
honor," she pronounced, and performed her duty as Goddess of Death. As the device flickered to life, the former
host let out a choking whimper of helpless agony. The odor of burning flesh curled through the
apartment.
It had been a delightful night.
*****************
Part 2/15
"Yo, sleepyhead, time to
get up."
Sam woke to the faint, lingering odor of one
particular brand of aftershave mingled with a trace of sweat and a musky male
odor. The muscular chest pillowed
beneath her head rose and fell slowly, and one warm arm was wrapped around her
back. Light rain pattered on the canvas
overhead. Tent canvas. Oh no, not again.
The pillow lifted in a deep breath, and he shook her
gently with the arm around her. His
voice rumbled under her left ear, the gentle sound rolling through his
chest. "Wakey,
wakey, Carter."
Damn.
And why did it have to feel so good? This was just asking for trouble. He was already awake; there was no point in
pretending. She swallowed
self-consciously and opened her eyes.
"Good morning, Colonel," she mumbled, slowly pulling away from
him and levering herself onto one elbow.
She avoided his eyes, rubbing her face and blinking at the wadded green
material in front of her. She'd sworn to
herself this wasn't going to happen again, this waking-up-piled-together-like-puppies
thing. It was bad enough that they did
this *before* Alec came along, but now....
God, what was wrong with her?
When Jonas joined the team, the team's sleeping
arrangements had quietly switched so that she and the Colonel shared a
tent. At first, they'd slept against the
opposite walls, more afraid of themselves than any enemy outside the
canvas. Then the two of them got stuck
on a broken goa'uld mothership and nearly drowned
together, and they didn't worry so much about sleeping as far apart. Then came Kanan and
Ba'al, and on nights when the nightmares jerked him
awake, cold and shaking, her hand was on his shoulder, and the distance closed
even further. Then *she* almost died on
the Prometheus, and then *he* was lost with Maybourne,
and each time the distance between them had shrunk until most mornings they
woke up tangled together.
In the beginning, it had been hesitant contact that
both pretended didn't exist the next morning.
Eventually it became habitual, and most nights she couldn't have said
who initiated the cuddling or often even if they'd been awake when it
happened. When her relationship with
Alec had evolved into something physical, however, the surreptitious contact
made her feel guilty, (guiltier than before, that is) and she decided to make
sure it didn't happen again.
She'd tried stuffing things between them, scooting to
the far side of the tent, and even twisting her sleeping bag to the point that
she could hardly move. The Colonel had
taken her rejection silently, not objecting or reaching for her, and even tried
to sleep stiffly facing the other direction.
It had worked, at least most of the time. Occasionally it still happened, and every
time she was afraid the comfortable weight of his arms would be for her what a
sip of cognac was for an alcoholic. They
probably ought to switch tent-mates, but she didn't want that; after all, there
was nothing between the two of them so there was no real problem here. Yeah, right.
She sat properly upright and studied her surroundings. The large pile of dirty laundry that had been
wadded between them had gotten squashed into a lumpy, if comfortable, mattress,
and was primarily underneath her. It looked
like she was the one who'd rolled over it, so she couldn't shove the blame for
that onto him. She pulled her thoughts
to their current mission and met his eyes.
Time to move on. "So, sir, do you think the river level
will have dropped enough for us to get back to the gate today?"
He tilted his head, his gaze soft and accepting and
tinged with a trace of regret.
"Probably not enough to wade across, but we should be able to fell
a tree and cross on that. Eager to get back?"
There was a rustle outside the tent and the odor of
percolating coffee drifted in.
"Well, I'd sure like a shower.
Otherwise..." She thought
back to what was waiting. A few experiments, a report that was overdue, and – oh crap.
"What's the matter?"
Sam turned and began fumbling in her pack. "Nothing." The weak light of another drizzle-coated dawn
seeped through the green tent walls, soaking everything in olive.
"Yeah, right." The Colonel
raised his eyebrows and put both arms under his head, looking dangerously
speculative. "So tell me, Major,
what's waiting for you when you get back?
There's something you don't want to face."
Oh, yeah, he wasn't going to leave this alone. And this certainly wasn't a topic she wanted
to bring up with *him*. "I'm going
to change, now, sir. If you don't
mind...?"
"Uh-huh.
Sure." He rolled over to
face the tent wall. "You know,
Carter, you can tell me."
She pulled out her last pair of fresh underwear and
the cleanest of her BDU's. They were several days overdue now and all
her outer clothes were at least somewhat dirty.
That was okay; it matched her current guilty mood. "I know I can, sir. It's just – personal."
The Colonel shifted, still facing away. "Trouble with, um, Alan?"
She smiled wryly.
"It's Alec. And yes, we were
supposed to have a date the night before last.
Obviously..."
"You stood him up."
"It'll sure look that way, yeah." She began changing rapidly, the moist, chill
air seeping through her.
"Well, if all else fails you're welcome to come
with Teal'c, Jonas, and me tonight to the monster truck show at the Convention
Center. Lots of fancy
machines, Carter."
"Thanks sir, but we have other plans." Hopefully she still did, she thought,
glancing at the way the olive-hued light tinged the skin of her wrist. She was tired of an exclusively
military-green life, with camouflage highlights.
"Oh, come on, Carter, what could be more fun
than aliens, bad beer, and the Super-Scorcher?
Vroom, vroom! Bring the guy
along. If nothing else, we could pick up
passes for you, good for the whole weekend."
She might as well tell him now; he deserved better
than hearing this from the SGC grapevine.
"Maybe another time, sir. Alec and I have plans for the entire
weekend."
He was quiet and still for a long moment. She tugged on her jacket and fumbled with the
buttons. The material was stiff and the
buttons didn't seem to fit through the holes.
He cleared his throat. "Going
out of town?"
"Yeah." Her
voice was not as steady as she'd like.
"Alec's rented a cabin in a small town somewhere on the other side
of the
He coughed, then said, "Lotta
snow there this time of year."
Now her boots wouldn't seem to lace up properly,
although she wasn't doing anything wrong.
"So they say."
*****************
Nephthys rocked on the balls of her feet, glancing
again down the hall in the direction of the elevators. The airman's job was entirely composed of
intolerable waiting and mindlessly watching the computer approve palm
prints. Samantha Carter should surely be
exiting soon. The woman never seemed to
leave the mountain.
"Ron, you gotta pee or
something?" The nicely shaped,
dark-skinned airman, named - Nephthys dredged the protesting host's mind for
the information –
"No, man." She feigned embarrassment. "Jock itch." She had found centuries ago that if the host
would find the lie embarrassing, people were less likely to question it.
She walked several steps away from the check-in
station, turned her back on Wilson, and pulled a flask from an inside
pocket. Because the host had not had
time to build up a large amount of this formula in its body yet, she needed to
regularly refresh the dose coursing through her veins. She took a deep drink. The chemical solution in the flask, her own
signature concoction, would make certain that the
Nephthys carefully replaced the flask before turning
around. "Hey, this is flavored
water - nothing bad. You know me better
than that, man."
Years in that prison of a jar had left her subterfuge
skills rusty. She was standing out too
much. Pulling from the host's memory,
she removed the flask and held it out.
"Want to try some? It's
raspberry."
"Oh gross, man, you know I hate that
shit."
Voices echoed off the corridor walls behind her. Her spine began to tingle with the
distinctive approach of a
Unable to resist, she turned.
The
Nephthys studied her target. It had taken far too long, with several
changes of hosts, to find out who this woman was. Seth's killer was a tall female, long-legged
with a masculine but graceful stride. It
- no, she, the goddess must not underestimate the god-slayer - had an unruly
mop of damp blonde hair that tossed as she looked at her companions, and her
physique was extremely fit. Her features
were pleasing to the eye, and Nephthys could see why she had been chosen as a
host at one time. She had a distinctive,
wide smile with which she was currently gracing the shol'va. She turned to look at the Colonel, and her
eyes softened around the edges.
Colonel O'Neill was speaking. "You're sure you'd prefer a remote,
boring mountain cabin to the Super-Scorcher?
Jonas and Teal'c seem pretty excited." The goddess noted the gentle look in its eyes
when it gazed at the woman.
Samantha Carter, the murderer, responded. "Yes sir, I think Alec would be pretty
disappointed if I didn't go. He's been
planning this for some time. We're
leaving as soon as I'm off work."
A remote mountain cabin? Nephthys hid
a smile. The setting was perfect, with
the added advantage that this overly-interested colonel would not be
present. She would have all
weekend.
Unexpectedly, the woman turned toward the goa'uld, and
Nephthys found herself staring eagerly into the clear blue eyes of her
opponent. Samantha frowned faintly, and
the Goddess of Death schooled her face and dropped her gaze to the floor. The formula should be working, but
still... The woman soldier walked past,
close enough for the goddess to reach out and strangle her. So tempting. The goa'uld's time would come, and Samantha
Carter would suffer greatly for her insolent, heretical slaughter of a
god.
Nephthys watched out of the corner of her eye as the
murderer strolled away with her companions.
The soldier glanced once over her shoulder at the airmen, then continued down the long tunnel to the exit.
As the three humans and
His stage whisper followed her. "You can't just walk away from your
post, Ron!"
She raised one hand in a brief wave, clutching her
stomach with the other. "I think
I'm gonna be sick," she groaned.
She couldn't wait until the duty shift was over;
Samantha Carter could be long gone by then.
This opportunity was too perfect to pass up. If the human authorities were going to be
after Ronald, she would simply switch hosts again. While she was certainly enjoying this body,
it would be a minor inconvenience to change.
After Samantha Carter had stared at her leaving the base, she should
probably find a new guise anyway.
She followed the murderer to the parking lot and
watched her climb in an older vehicle, a classic Volvo according to her
host. She jogged to the airman's sedan
and followed. At first she was afraid
that she had lost her quarry, but as she approached the final checkpoint on the
base, she saw the distinctive vehicle being waved through. Nephthys followed at a comfortable distance,
and smiled when the murderer turned into the driveway of a residence not far
from the base.
The goddess drove past, noting a red sports car that
was parked on the street in front of the residence. She drove several blocks away, parking in
front of a house with a "For Sale" sign and an abandoned air. She slung on the airman's overcoat to conceal
the uniform; besides, it was appropriate garb on a windy January day.
As she strolled towards the murderer's residence, a
tall, black-haired man with a muscular build closed the rear of the red
vehicle. She slowed her pace, allowing
it time to re-enter the domicile. The goddess glanced around the
neighborhood. No one else was visible;
it was
The door of the residence opened halfway, and the
man's muffled voice came out. Nephthys took
the pamphlet and accompanying business card and slid out of the vehicle. She walked rapidly away, leaving the car door
half-open behind her to avoid the noise of it closing.
She stepped behind a tall hedge and turned, peering
back at the man. It was staring at the
half-open car door, a look of suspicion on its even, rugged features. It had a shapely, powerful physique, and
would make a fine replacement for this host.
Also, its proximity to her target would allow her time to toy with her
victim. However, she must keep
discretion in mind. She was already
taking far too many chances for her liking.
But justice was overdue, and every moment's delay was an affront.
Samantha Carter emerged, a small, soft-sided blue bag
in hand. She walked up to the man, who
took the bag and put an arm around her waist.
They conversed quietly for a moment, and then Samantha inclined her head
towards the vehicle. The man nodded and
then lifted her face to its with one finger. It kissed her gently, and then opened the
door of the vehicle for her.
This could be interesting. Nephthys would definitely keep this creature
in mind as a possible host should the opportunity present.
As it started to climb in the driver's side, it
paused, glaring one last time around the neighborhood. She stepped back farther into the
bushes. It would not do for this one to
see her host's face.
After the red sports car drove off in the opposite
direction, Nephthys returned to her sedan.
She drove to Ronald's residence to hurriedly change out of the
distinctive uniform before the base authorities came looking for the missing
airman.
When she reached the bedroom, Nephthys frowned. The husk of the old host was still in the
bed, and would attract far too much attention when found.
There was no time to dispose of it properly, so she
carried the husk to the garage and stuffed it in the trunk of the sedan. She would have to use Sondra's vehicle to
avoid searchers for the AWOL Ronald; no one would miss the woman for some time,
and if Nephthys disposed of the woman's purse, the husk would be difficult to
identify, assuming it was found any time soon.
After Nephthys changed clothes, she climbed into
Sondra's small vehicle. As she turned
onto the interstate heading north, she tossed the keys to the airman's sedan
out the window. She glanced down at the
fortuitous map, and began to hum a song of ancient
*****************
A light snow had fallen while SG-1 was
off-world. Tips of dry, brown grass
poked through the powder dusting the pastureland between
Alec glanced over his left shoulder. "This little storm's supposed to swing
south of where we're going, but a big one's coming tonight that's supposed to
cover most of the northern two-thirds of the state. I'll bet Breckenridge will be packed this
weekend, as well as
Still somewhat surprised that she finally had a
social life, Sam watched his profile against the moving landscape in the
window. Alec Colson had a strong jaw and
high cheekbones, with large green eyes that reflected intelligence, a lively
sense of humor, and occasionally something darkly intense and intriguing. She glanced down as the music began, a heavy rock beat with intelligent lyrics. "So you decided against installing the
new stereo?"
"Yeah, even though she doesn't have a CD player,
a '63 E-type like this is still more valuable with the original system. We probably should be taking the Jeep into
the mountains today, but I thought you'd be more comfortable in the Jag. The Jeep's suspension is really shot after
all those backcountry trips to go climbing.
But, the boss is pleased with my latest project, so I think in a few
months I'll be replacing that dirty old Jeep with a brand new Land
Rover." He glanced sideways at her
and smiled. "Leather
seats and all the bells and whistles.
That'd be good enough for me to tour with you all over the
mountains."
Sam rubbed her face tiredly. "I've ridden in my share of Jeeps, but a
Land Rover would be ideal for the mountains.
I see why you want one." She
stifled a yawn. Alec smiled and turned his
attention to passing a series of tractor-trailer rigs.
Well, Sam thought, the man had good taste in
cars. They'd met at a classic car show
six months ago, Alec displaying his Jaguar, and Sam, on a last-second whim, her
Volvo. She hated to admit it, but at
first she'd been far more impressed by the car than the man. The handsome engineer had been persistent, however,
and she'd found they had much in common.
He could hold his own in a conversation with her on many aspects of
general science, and they both liked antiques, especially anything with an
engine. And she knew it was a bit
shallow of her, but she enjoyed the fact that she could wear heels on a date
and still look up to kiss him.
Less than three months ago they had begun dating in
earnest. At first, he was out of town
often enough that their relationship hadn't seemed too demanding. Lately, though, he seemed to want more and
more of her time, and she could feel the cracks in their relationship beginning
to show.
Janet had said, "The cracks were always there,
honey, you just didn't see them at first."
It bothered Sam that Janet didn't like him, ostensibly because his eyes
reminded Janet of her ex-husband.
It bothered Sam more that since Janet told her that,
she had started to see flashes of Jonas Hanson in Alec's gaze. She turned away to stare at the eastern
scenery again, trying to think about more pleasant things.
The tires beat a hypnotic rhythm against the
pavement, and
"I guess I've made you wait long enough. We're going to Gould."
Sam's eyes sprung open. "Goa'uld?"
Alec glanced at her, obviously confused. "What?" He looked back at the highway, changing lanes
to pass again.
Sam shook her head.
"I'm sorry, I was... falling asleep. Now, what's the name of the place we're
staying?" She schooled her face
into what she hoped was polite interest.
Alec glanced back at her, a furrow between his
brows. "The town
of
Alec put his right hand to his mouth, mimicking a
microphone and occasionally making a static-type noise. "Ladies and gentlemen, you are now
headed away from all the big ski resorts and tourist traps. Your upcoming travel adventure is to the
secluded little town of
Sam laughed, wrapping her fingers around his. "Sounds lovely."
"I've got a pamphlet right here." He released her hand to fumble between the
seats. "Can you spot it?"
She searched around the stereo and seats for a
moment, and then shrugged. "Sorry,
Alec, I can't find it."
"Oh well, the place is easy to locate. I've got the map up here." He tapped his right temple with his index
finger. "Furthermore, it's supposed
to be a great place for snowmobiles. I
know you love your bike, so I thought you might want to try a snowmobile. Same principle, just skis
instead of wheels."
"You're right, that could be fun." She ought to get General Hammond to
requisition a few for icy planets; they'd probably work better than F.R.ED.s. No. Work thoughts were not allowed; she was on
downtime.
"Yeah, they've got some really avid snowmobilers there, so the trails are kept in pretty good
shape. Besides, you spend too much time
hidden under that mountain. You ought to
get out in the wilderness, remember what a tree looks like."
The Colonel's face as they slopped towards the
showers this morning flashed in front of her, saying, "If I never see
another wet tree again, it'll be too soon."
Sam coughed, controlling her chuckle. It was time to change the subject. "Gould.
Strange name for a town."
Alec shrugged.
"Oh, it was probably named after the original
inhabitants."
Sam winced at the vision of goa'uld pioneers in
spurs, gold leather vests and chaps, and hieroglyph-embossed Stetsons. Oh, she definitely needed this time off. Rubbing her forehead, she tried to move the
conversation forward. "I'm glad
we're doing this, Alec."
"Yeah, I think it'll be fun. Although I wasn't sure you were coming
earlier this week." Alec's eyes
never left the road.
"I know.
I'm sorry about that. I wish I
could explain why I couldn't call."
"I know, I know, it's classified." Alec sighed.
"It's all right. I know
whatever you do there is important, and I know your work means a lot to
you." He dropped his hand off the
wheel and reached over to squeeze her hand affectionately. "I'm just glad you're with me
now."
Sam looked down at his hand. It was a strong hand, broad and
well-manicured. It fit nicely over hers,
and it was a comfortable size for her to wrap her fingers around. "So am I."
*****************
Part 3/15
"Sam, wake up.
Look at the elk." Sam pulled
herself upright from where she had sagged against the side window. Eight elk were ambling across the road about
six meters in front of the car. A
gray-muzzled female stopped in the middle of the road and inspected the
Jag.
The elk stared directly at her, and Sam could feel
the speculation in the dark eyes. The
old female then glanced at Alec, tossed her head, and snorted, the air rising
from her nostrils visible in the early twilight. The elk wandered on, following the herd
across the ditch and past a sign:
AVALANCHE CONDITIONS
MAY BE PRESENT
Sam smiled as she gazed through the aspen at the
retreating elk. "Wow."
Alec grinned triumphantly, and put the car back into
gear. "Told you
it'd be great." The car
rounded a bend. A scattering of
buildings lined the highway, the largest a long wooden building that announced
itself as "Earl's". About
twenty meters beyond Earl's, an intricately carved sign depicted an elk head
whose huge rack of antlers was entwined with flowers. Under the elk the sign stated, "The
Elkhorn and the Columbine Year-round Cabins." Alec pulled into the snow-patched drive and
followed the signs up a gentle slope towards the office.
The drive wound through dense pine and aspen past
cabins that varied from brown-painted modern rectangles to quaint log and
stone. About half of the cabins had
vehicles parked in front. Ash and tan
boulders were scattered through the snow, varying in size from ones the Colonel
would call "handy stool-sized" to a few mammoth blocks taller than
the smaller cabins. Several small paths
wound through the trees and clumps of underbrush and merged to one large one
leading down towards the highway. The
surrounding mountains varied from tree-covered mounds to jagged snow-capped
crags. Few buildings were visible, and
the landscape reeked of the kind of wilderness Sam was used to associating with
other planets. "This is beautiful,
Alec," she commented, staring at the thousand-foot cliff towering over the
cabins.
As they parked and got out, a woman
with a long gray braid and Native American traces in the deep lines of her face
stepped off the porch. She looked them up and down in silence, a
large bag of birdseed cradled in her arms.
Alec stepped beside Sam and placed his hand on the
small of her back, urging her forward with him.
He smiled amiably and asked, "Excuse me, but is this the
office?"
The old woman sniffed audibly through a hooked
nose. "Of course it is. That's why the sign says 'office.'"
Alec's smile faltered momentarily, and then he
visibly forced it back. His hand dropped
from Sam's back. "Well, then, if
you'll excuse us," he said, starting to walk around the woman.
"You seem to need an awful lot of
excusing," she said, shuffling toward a blue spruce whose limbs sagged
with bird feeders.
Alec blinked, and then pursed his lips and walked up
the steps in silence. Sam started to
follow.
The woman placed the bag of seed on the ground beside
one of the feeders. "They're not
there," she called as he rattled the doorknob. "You'll have to wait 'til after supper."
Alec turned around.
He closed his eyes a moment, then plastered the broad smile back on his
face and gazed at the woman. "And
how long would that be?" he asked a bit too cheerfully.
"About as long as it takes me to fill up all
these feeders. It's the birds'
suppertime, you see. If I don't fill up
these feeders, the bratty little things won't eat." Alec's brow scrunched up in consternation,
and Sam smiled at the snow. Something in
the scene reminded her of Colonel O'Neill trying to deal with difficult alien
tribal leaders.
Alec rubbed his forehead as he walked down the steps. "You could check us in and then fill
them." His voice was still
pleasant, but frustration crept into the edges of his words.
"If I did that it'd be dark when I filled the
things up, and I'm not risking breaking a hip over a bunch of birds." She drew out a butter knife and bent towards
the bag, poking the knife through the clear plastic.
Alec started to say something, but shook his head
instead. He met Sam's gaze. She shrugged; they might as well indulge the
old woman. Apparently unwilling to let
go, he turned back to the woman. The
smile had faded, and he took a deep breath before speaking. "They won't eat when it's dark
anyway."
The woman didn't look up from tugging open the top of
the bag. "I know that. But I don't want to walk outside tomorrow
until my lazy nephew Leonard gets the walk shoveled, and who knows when that'll
be. The birds will need extra food in
this cold blast that's coming. Shivering
burns lots of calories. You're a big
boy; you can wait."
Sam stepped forward.
"Why don't we help you fill the feeders? Everything will go a little faster for
everyone that way."
The old woman straightened
and looked at her in silence for a moment.
Sam walked towards her and cautiously unhooked the nearest feeder. She handed it to the woman and then picked up
the bag of seed and placed it in Alec's arms.
The old woman lifted the lid, multiple silver and turquoise bracelets
clanking on both wrists. Sam picked up a
red plastic cup from the ground and began to scoop seed into the feeder.
On the third feeder, the woman finally spoke
again. "Don't worry; that Honeymoon
Cabin's worth the wait. I'm Sarah Nez,
and you're Alexander Colson and Samantha Carter." Sam glanced at Alec, but he was staring
distractedly at the bag of seed. Not
looking at either of them, the woman continued, "Everyone else new has
checked in."
As they filled the rest of the feeders, she gave them
the standard check-in speech. They slid
the lid of the last feeder closed and Sam hung it on the limb. The woman concluded, "And the cabins all
have propane heat, and a propane water heater and appliances, so even if the
power goes out, you'll still be warm and cozy.
Just light the kerosene lamps on the mantle and you'll be
fine." Sam offered her arm to
Sarah, who paused, and then took it.
They walked up the steps, Alec trailing behind in silence.
"One final thing," Sarah added, "the
closest place to eat is Earl's. Plenty
of places in Walden, but that's a 20 mile drive. Go to the west side; the other side is a
smoky, noisy sports bar." She
smiled at Sam as she drew out a key.
"I like you, girl. Tell Earl
I said to give you the local menu, not the one with tourist prices."
*****************
The drive turned away from the cliff and wound along
the hillside, paralleling the gray rock face.
Cabins were scattered among the trees and on the edge of a large,
boulder-littered meadow. A man wearing a
dirty green coat and carrying a snow shovel stood on the side of the road at
the last curve. He rested his wrists on
the handle, staring as they drove past.
Probably the nephew, Sam realized, noting the greasy ponytail and vague
resentment in his dark eyes. The
"Honeymoon Cabin" was at the end of the drive, with a mammoth fir on
one corner.
Alec had a disapproving frown. "Nothing but a tin
roof for the Jag? God, I hate
leaving her out in the weather."
The shelter for the vehicles was an open-sided awning shared by several
cabins. It was a good 75 meters from the
door. Alec pulled close to the door of
the log and stone building.
As he unloaded the luggage, Sam unlocked the
brown-painted front door. Hanging on the
door was a green wooden "Welcome" sign flecked with painted daisies,
which boded well for Sam. She'd been
afraid they were going to spend the weekend in some lodge decorated primarily
in stuffed hunting trophies. The door
squeaked open into a room tastefully decorated in dark wooden furniture. Sam strolled in with her bags, noting the
mountain landscapes hung on the wall. On
the wall to her left was a stone fireplace with gas logs, and beyond that the
door to what was obviously the bedroom.
On the far side of the room was a small kitchen and dinette with a long
picture window on the right wall.
Alec came in behind her and glanced over the
furnishings. "Nice enough, but no
television, damn it. There goes tomorrow
night's game. I thought every place
everywhere had a television. I've never
stayed anywhere without one before."
No television was fine for Sam, especially if it meant
she didn't have to spend an evening watching football. "It's clean, though," Sam
commented, remembering the last dive where SG1 was housed off-world.
He carried his bags into the bedroom. "Alright, a king-size
bed. Perfect," he
called. Sam chuckled and set down her
bags to look out the window. They were
several hundred meters from the cliff face at this point, but the sheer mass of
the mountain filled the window. The hillside
ran up to the cliff in a steep white-covered slope turned into a columned hall
by lodgepole pine.
"Sam, you should see the bathroom. I think it's as big as the
bedroom." Alec reemerged fiddling with his keys.
"I'm going to put a tarp on the Jag."
Sam carried her bags into the bedroom and looked
around. The bed occupied the majority of
the room, with closets and a tall dresser filling one wall. The bathroom was huge, with brass fixtures
and a giant Jacuzzi obviously meant for more than one. She walked back out into the main room and
checked the reception for her cell phone.
"Damn. Not even one
bar." She pulled out her phone card
as Alec walked in with the last of the bags.
"Alec, give me just a minute.
I have to call in to give them my number." She walked into the kitchen area and picked
up the cabin phone.
Sam's phone card didn't have a lot of minutes left
and the base switchboard system had been unreliable lately, so she dialed the
Colonel's number. After the second ring,
she heard, "O'Neill."
"Carter checking in, sir. This line is
not secure." Sam picked up the
phone base and stepped towards the window.
There were birds hopping around in the snow and fluttering into the
occasional bush. The cliff loomed
beyond; a gray wall broken occasionally by sloping shelves and precarious
trees.
"Gotcha. What's up,
Carter?"
"I'm spending the weekend at a place in north
central
Sam heard the Colonel rustle around for a
moment. "Okay, I'm ready for
it," he said. Sam gave him the
number and he repeated it back correctly.
"So what town is this in?" he asked.
She winced. "Uh, the town.
The town is called Gould, sir."
The phone was silent for a minute.
"Gould?
This guy took you to a town called... Gould?" He spoke slowly, his voice
over-controlled.
"Yes, sir, Gould." Sam rubbed
her forehead. She would never hear the
end of this.
The phone was suddenly muffled. As she gazed at the birds, out of the corner
of her eye she saw Alec approaching. One
strong arm wrapped in soft red flannel came around to snuggle her against the
right side of his chest. She leaned back
contentedly, and something tickled her neck.
She jumped, and glanced at Alec, who was staring out the window in
wide-eyed innocence. She glared at his
profile in mock suspicion. After a
moment, she looked back out the window.
Something brushed her ear. She
snapped her head his direction, and spotted the offending hand drop. Trying to keep a stern face, (she was on the
phone to her boss, after all,) she grabbed that arm and wrapped it tightly
around her as well. She could sense Alec
grinning as he nuzzled her hair.
The Colonel returned a long moment later, still
snickering. "Let me get this
straight, Carter, you went to this place on purpose? To relax? Are you... feeling okay?" His voice was light and teasing.
The laugh burst out.
"I didn't name it, sir."
The Colonel snickered again. "Obviously."
She shook her head.
He was enjoying this way too much.
"The place where I'm staying is called 'The Elkhorn and the
Columbine'." She gave him the
number of the office. Mid-number, Alec
licked her ear and she couldn't help it; she giggled, and then swatted
flirtatiously at the arms around her while choking out the rest of the
number.
The Colonel cleared his throat, then said, "Hope
you have a nice vacation, Carter."
She glanced up at Alec, who was staring thoughtfully
at the ceiling, and then she quickly looked back out the window. "Yes, sir. Thank you.
You have a pleasant downtime as well."
She hung up and turned to face Alec, poked him once
in the chest in mock admonition, and then wrapped her arms around his
waist.
He tried to look sheepish and failed. His eyes caught hers intently, and his face
became serious. "You work too hard,
you know."
She stared at the buttons on his chest; they were
gray with black swirls and somehow seemed to suit him. "Yeah,
sometimes." A whiff of his
aftershave hung in the air, the one she'd bought last month in a ridiculous,
masochistic moment of self-directed anger.
It was the same one the Colonel used, and she was ashamed of herself
afterwards, but it was too late; they'd exchanged Christmas presents only hours
later. She'd put off buying anything for
him until the last moment, feeling hopelessly lost about the whole prospect of
buying a Christmas present for her lover when it'd been so long since there'd
been anyone in her life *that* way.
She'd justified it to herself at the time as simply choosing something
that she knew a man with good taste liked, but that had only worked until the
Colonel showed up at the SGC's Christmas party
wearing a vivid yellow-and-green-checked flannel shirt. Now she just tried not to think about
it.
Alec brushed a lock of her hair back from her
temple. "Only
sometimes? You're hardly ever at
home, Sam. It's been weeks since you
last spent the night with me. We don't
have to have sex every time if you're too tired after work; I just like your
company. I know we haven't spent the
night together very often, but I really like waking up next to you."
Sam's emotions rolled into a conflicted tangle at his
words. She sighed, trying to sort things
into logical, rational boxes. A lot of
her hesitation where Alec was concerned was probably just cold feet at the
thought of commitment to anything other than the SGC. She looked back into the green eyes studying
her. "I know; I like that too. It means a lot to me that you're willing to
put the effort into having this weekend with me. I'd like to get things sorted out. I know my work has come between us a lot
lately."
"Well, I think you're worth the trouble, and
I'll just take whatever time I can get."
He kissed her gently.
"Speaking of worth it, there's a great little steak and Italian
place in Walden. If you don't mind, I'm
not in the mood for Earl's, and I think once we get started here, I'm not going
to feel much like leaving." His
voice dropped and he stroked the side of her neck with one finger. "And I don't intend for you to feel like
leaving either."
"I like your confidence." She smiled and brushed his cheek with her
lips. "Let me get my
coat."
*****************
As the black slip puddled
beside the rest of the clothes on the bathroom floor, Alec held out a
hand. She placed her palm in his, and
gentlemanly, like a naked, muscular footman, he assisted her as she stepped
into the frothing waters of the rectangular Jacuzzi. His eyes met hers, hooded and intent. He raised her chin to his, and she tasted
cabernet and lightly seared steak on his tongue. Hot water from the jets beat against her
calves.
He pulled her with him down into the swirling
pool. The water line rolled up her body,
scorching as it went. She settled against
the side, slipping lower so the balls of her feet pressed firmly against the
other side of the tub. The water just
barely covered the top of her breasts and left his erect nipples exposed to the
air. He leaned towards her, twirling a
strand of her hair and speaking in a husky whisper. "Warm enough yet?"
There was something dangerous in the back of his
eyes, so she moved closer. "It's
getting there." She brushed her
cheek against his, grateful that he'd shaved before dinner. Lips stroked the skin behind her ear, sliding
to the side of her neck. Her chin
lifted, stretching upwards as his mouth moved to the hollow of her throat. She turned slightly on her side to give him
better access.
He moved to the other side of her neck, his fingers sliding
under the water to trace slow-moving patterns on her abdomen. As he shifted, she caught a glimpse of his
face; he looked hungry, almost predatory.
She shouldn't choose men like this, men with a dark streak in their
soul. Always-Five-Minutes-Early-For-A-Briefing-Sam
didn't approve of this. But
Black-Leather-And-Motorcycles-Sam ran her hand across his nipples, circling
them lightly with her thumb.
Suddenly he leaned back. He dipped his right forefinger into the water
and lifted it out, watching the water drip from the tip. A playful smirk curled the corners of his
mouth as he glanced back at her. His
hand trailed over her arm, leaving a small trail of droplets. "Close your eyes." He dipped his hand underwater again, and she
tilted her head back against the smooth ceramic rim and complied. One of the jets softly battered her lower
ribs, and she heard his hand swish in the water beside her.
Water dripped onto her left cheek. She reached up to wipe it away, and her wrist
was caught. "Ah! No-no." As the drop trickled towards her ear, it was
stopped by the tip of his tongue. She
turned to meet his mouth, but he was gone.
He pulled her wrist up to the foot-wide tile rim behind her head and
held it there. Trusting his imagination,
she reached up with her right hand to tangle their fingers together.
There was a faint splash, and a moment later a drop
fell on her forehead. It hovered on her
skin and she waited. His legs brushed
her thighs. As he leaned in to slice his
tongue across her forehead, she recognized the tang of his aftershave.
A drop wobbled down the side of her nose towards the
corner of her mouth. Before it reached
her lips, his tongue curled along the edge, intercepting the drop. A drop fell onto her shoulder, and it tried
to escape, running towards the water lapping at her breasts. The pool sloshed against her as he dove. She arched her back towards him, but he
missed the drop. He hissed, then slowly kissed the top of her breast along the path of
escape. Over the throb of the motor she
heard him wet his hand once more. Again
on the shoulder, drip... It rolled, and his mouth barely touched her as he
captured it. It had been a long time since
someone paid attention to her like this.
His breath danced across her face and down. His fingertip touched her neck, and a drop
traced the line of her pulse. The tongue
followed, making small circles swirling towards the waterline. Then again, drip... and lick.
Releasing her hands, his tongue teased the base of
her ear. She again caught a trace of his
aftershave, the one she bought him, the one the Colonel used. She wondered which Sam bought the aftershave,
On-Time-Sam who would do what it takes to avoid screwing her CO, or
Motorcycle-Sam who knew that face flashed in front of hers *every* damn
time. Just like now, when she could see
the rain from P2R 496 dripping from the line of the Colonel's jaw as another
man's fingers moved beneath the water to brush between her legs.
She opened her eyes and pulled his mouth to hers,
hard, and laced with self-anger. He
smiled against her and slipped his hand lower, his fingertips caressing their
way inside. The force of his kiss
pressed her head back against the rim, and his finger slid deep into her. She shivered slightly, inhaling as if she
could pull his tongue inside her throat.
He moved to draw circles around and across her
clitoris, and she drew her hand across his erection. He gasped faintly, and rubbed against
her. She obliged, grasping him and stroking
slowly. One arm reached around her,
lifting her breasts out of the water.
His mouth descended, licking the water away. He brushed her nipple with his teeth, and
then took it in his mouth, his tongue vibrating against it. His engorged penis flexed gently in her hand. His fingers entered her again, and she
shuddered under him.
He shifted to suckle the other breast, and she
caressed his head, moaning softly as he moved inside, swiveling slowly while
twirling the pad of his thumb against her clitoris. His hair barely covered her nails when she
ran her fingers through it; it was black and soft and it didn't remind her at all of the Colonel, whom she wasn't going to think of
again. He lifted his mouth a fraction of
an inch off her skin. His lips brushed
her nipple as he spoke, his fingers still teasing below. "Are you ready?"
"Oh yes," she groaned.
He reached behind her, pulling out the foil packet
and tearing it open. He rose out of the
water, his elbows on the side of the tub, and Sam began rolling on the
condom.
He groaned, "I hate these things." Sam silenced him with a kiss as she
finished. Now was not the time for that
discussion; he still thought the condom was for pregnancy prevention. The SGC's hormone
shots were adequate birth control, but she hadn't figured out how to ask him
for STD-related blood work when she couldn't show him her real test results
because of Jolinar.
As her fingertips rolled the condom to the base of his shaft, she
wondered what he might be hiding from her; it would only be fair if there was
something. The condom was like their
whole relationship, all pleasure and concealment.
He moved to the center of the tub and pulled her onto
his lap. "I think you have to
either be on top or drown," he stated, bracing one arm behind him. She rose onto her knees and straddled him,
then leaned forward and kissed him, her hands on his shoulders. His hand moved beneath her to position
himself against her opening. Still
kissing, she eased herself onto him, inch by inch, relishing the sensation
while giving herself time to adjust. He groaned faintly and leaned back on both
arms. There was more friction than she'd
thought there would be and she paused to relax deliberately. He still wasn't deep inside the way she
wanted.
Sitting on his lap, they were eye to eye. She found the possessive gleam in the green
depths disconcerting, so she slid her arms under his and clutched him
tight. Nestling her head against his,
she slid her hands up his back, enjoying the definition of the muscles beneath
her hands. He moved beneath her and
inside her, her weight not a burden to him.
There were definite advantages to dating an exercise junkie, she
reflected. They swayed together slowly,
sloshing water against the sides as they separated and joined. Sam adjusted her legs and tilted her hips,
but the water wasn't working well as lubrication, and the friction was too
much.
She leaned away from him to look him in the eye. Swallowing, she gathered breath to speak past
the distraction of him moving inside. He
shifted his arms, and his left hand came up to brush her right nipple. She choked, losing her air.
He kneaded her breast, which was unfair; he could
tell she wanted to speak. "I want
more of you. Out of the tub," he
panted. She nodded and they separated,
stumbling out of the tub and into a dripping tangle on the bathroom floor.
Sam shoved him on his back and straddled him. He looked like he was about to object, so she
covered his mouth with hers. She didn't
want to obey anyone right now, even – no, especially - him. The condom was slick and damp against her
palm as she lowered onto him, the other hand braced on his taut abdomen. It was better now, more comfortable, and any
objection he had to the position drained into a moan as she rotated her hips
down. Motorcycle-Sam had been hiding for
too long.
As he filled her, she felt connected; a solid part of
this world. She felt incredibly female,
and Earth-bound, and real. She ran her
palms across his torso and braced herself, and then began to move, pulling off
him slightly and sliding back down, then circling her hips to settle
deeper. Suddenly, the Colonel's face
slipped back into her mind. The Colonel
smiled at her, asking something she couldn't hear, and the hands massaging her
damp breasts felt magnificent. Her hips
rocked harder, thrusting both against him and with him at the same time.
Alec groaned, "Sam." The drops of water that ran off her face and
breasts now brought back the curl of Alec Colson' tongue on her skin, and the
Colonel's face vanished. She picked up
speed. His thumbs brushed her nipples as
they moved together. Tension was
building inside, pushing her faster. She
grasped his biceps for support, feeling her climax approaching. "Oh yes," she trailed off and her
eyes closed. "God, so
soon...."
Alec growled, "Oh, no you don't. Not until I'm ready for you." Just as she was about to crest the edge, in
one sudden motion he pulled her torso to his and rolled over, pinning her beneath
him, still connected. They were both
motionless for a second, Sam's body swirling away from the edge, her arms
trapped between them.
As her senses returned, Sam glared at him and gasped,
"You goddamn bastard." She
balled her fists against his chest and shoved, unsure if she was honestly angry
at him for halting her, or if she grudgingly approved of him trying to prolong
the pleasure.
Alec withdrew slowly, smiling wickedly. "Now what did you say?"
She started, "You god-" but choked off as
he slammed into her mid-reply.
"Oh, yeah, that's the spirit," he chuckled,
pulling away again, agonizingly slow.
"-damn bastard," she gasped, her voice
quaking as she struggled for breath. His
eyes held an impish triumph. She'd never
liked a man that let her walk all over him; she'd always enjoyed a
challenge. The irritation waned as she
regarded his cocky smile, and her fists unclenched and slid to his
shoulders.
He arched his neck and hovered, barely inside her,
then slid in forcefully. She shifted to
the left, and he eased deeper inside.
Bracing on one arm, he dragged her closer. He set a slow pace, ending each stroke with a
sudden, forceful thrust. He rocked his
pelvis against her clitoris, sending a warm ripple through her groin, and the remains
of her anger dissipated. Longer could
definitely be good. She liked a man with
a mind of his own.
Both her hands trailed up his neck and tangled in the
silky black hair. As the rhythm
increased, she hooked her legs behind him, easing her knees towards her
shoulders. He leaned forward, his breath
ragged, rocking into her faster and with less coordination. Her eyes rolled shut as the tension began to
coil inside again. The edge of the
bathroom rug slanted across the middle of her back, and her shoulder was in a
cooling puddle on the tile, but all she cared about was the sensation of the
man stroking inside her. Water and sweat
rolled off his shoulders and mingled with the liquid on her skin. She shifted her hips so his pelvis impacted
just right, and she felt warm and sexy and so very alive. A groan slipped from his throat and he curled
his body down to hers, crashing inside her.
She could tell from his face and his rhythm that he was about to climax
without her, so she slid one hand between them to where they were joined. He cried out and choked, clutching her as he spasmed and she moved her fingers. The scent of his aftershave washed over her
and, eyes closed, she peaked.
She felt him starting to shift when he'd half-caught
his breath. She wanted him to linger
where she could feel him inside her, and she moaned and tried to trap his hips
against hers, but it was too late; he'd already withdrawn. She missed the link with another human being,
the fullness he'd provided. He rolled
halfway to the side and propped himself on his elbow.
Grinning, he waggled his eyebrows. "I always knew I was good, Sam, but you
didn't have to call me a god."
Sam giggled. "You bastard."
She grabbed the wet towel beside her and playfully swatted him across
the face and shoulders. "You arrogant son of a bitch."
She pulled the towel back for another blow, and he
snatched her wrists and pinned them to the damp tile, leaning over her. "But you like me that way." His mouth pressed down on hers and she arched
into him, savoring the connection.
*****************
Part 4/15
When Sam first woke, the sound and the strange light
from the doorway disoriented her. For a
moment she lay frozen, her stomach twisting as she tried to remember what
planet it was and who the hell lay next to her.
The sound ebbed and flowed with the faint movement of
the body beside her. Alec. Alec was snoring. It was a high, buzzing snore, and though her
stomach untwisted, Sam found it irritating.
The motel-style clock radio on the bedside announced that it was
She lay listening to the
buzz and watching the patterns of light thrown through the doorway by the distant
fire. The Colonel's snore was much
deeper, if louder. Teal'c, of course,
had never snored as he kel-no-reemed.
She wiggled and Alec shifted, stopping the sound for
a moment. Moments later, it began again,
so Sam sighed and got out of bed. She was
thoroughly awake now; her body was convinced she should be on watch.
She walked into the main room tying the sash of her
robe and wandered over to the picture window.
Outside the snow was falling densely.
The large clumps were obviously damp, and had made a glob-like line
along the base of the frame where the wind had blown them under the eaves. The Colonel would have made some smartass
remark about the snowy hike tomorrow, or the lumps forming on tree limbs
waiting for them to walk beneath.
The wind hurled the snow past the window and into
drifts beside pine trees and a distant shed.
She leaned on the windowsill and closed her eyes, wondering what the
Colonel's cabin would be like with snow piled snugly around it. It was probably a bit rough around the edges,
with few luxuries like a Jacuzzi. The
furniture would be broken in, not new, but he would keep everything militarily
neat and clean. He'd definitely have a
fireplace, a wood one, not gas, with warm, real flames and authentic smoky
scent that would linger on his skin. You
could taste it, a hickory-flavored tang that mingled with the salt of his sweat
as your tongue traced the veins in his neck.
He'd hiss slightly as he inhaled, and his long fingers would roll down
your spine until -
"Hey, what's the matter?" At the sound of Alec's voice Sam jumped away
from the window, a guilty heat creeping into her cheeks.
"You startled me," she gasped, trying to
cover her embarrassment. She looked into
his eyes for reassurance, but his face was half-masked in shadow.
He hovered where he was a moment, and then walked to
where she stood, his expression one of mild concern. "I woke up and you were gone. I was cold.
Are you alright?" He put his
hands on her hips and tugged her close.
"I'm fine; I just woke up and couldn't get back
to sleep." She wrapped her arms
around his neck and kissed him briefly.
"I was looking at the weather.
It's quite a snowstorm."
He dropped one arm and turned to look out the window
with her. "Yeah, this will help
that drought. We need a good snow pack
on the peaks this winter."
Something moved in the shadows behind the falling
snow, a large darkness that blended into the bushes. Sam frowned.
"Did you see that?"
"See what?"
Alec looked around.
Sam pointed. "Behind those bushes.
Something moved."
He shook his head.
"I don't see anything."
Sam stared into the snow-blurred night. There were no
Alec shrugged.
"More than likely one of those elk we saw earlier."
Sam nodded.
"That's probably what it was, although sometimes bear will come out
in the winter. It looked more
bear-like." Or
"A bear?" Alec's arm
became tense around her waist as he peered into the darkness. "If he hurts my Jag I swear I'll turn
him into a rug. That car means
everything in the world to me."
"Really?" she said dryly. "The *car* means the world to
you?" Well, she'd been under no
delusions about what their relationship was based on.
He froze, staring out the window, and then scrunched
his eyes closed. "Oh,
shit." Opening his eyes, he turned
back to face her and cupped her face in both hands. "You, however, are more than the world
to me; you're the whole damn universe."
He kissed her gently.
Sam smiled.
"Not a bad recovery, but you're still stretching it."
Alec's brows bunched together worriedly. "Trying too hard?"
"Yep."
His hands moved to shrug, then fell back on her
shoulders. "'Oops' just seemed too
lame."
It was her turn to shrug. "Maybe, but it's sincere."
Alec took an exaggeratedly large breath. His green eyes were large and pleading. "Okay, sincere, then. Come over by the fire. Please."
He took her hand and led her.
As he lowered her to the rug, the false blue and
yellow flames heated one side of her body and his breath warmed her ear. "You're so beautiful. I'm glad you're mine."
*****************
The muscular pillow under her head shifted
slightly. It was warm and male and
musky, so she slid her hand across his bare chest, waiting for the rumbling
voice. It came just as her hand reached
his other arm.
"Hey, sleepyhead, time to get up." He shook her gently with the arm wrapped
around her.
"Good morning, Colonel." she mumbled, and
opened her eyes.
Alec's green eyes were wide and piercing into
her. "Colonel? There something you need to tell me,
Sam?"
She blinked for a moment in shock, then swallowed,
feeling her cheeks start to flame.
"Oh God, I thought I was at work."
"Really? You snuggle
up with your co-workers like this very often?" His voice was tightly controlled, and his
right arm around her tense and hard.
"I- Well, sometimes, I – I fall asleep in my lab
late at night." It was the truth,
she told herself, just not the answer to his question.
"And where do you sleep in your lab?" His voice was still quiet, but cold. He slid his left hand up and lightly stroked
her arm with his fingertips.
The irritation overflowed into her voice. "Usually at my desk or
lab table with my head on my arms.
The Colonel is always one of the first ones in and he usually finds
me." His fingers were just barely
digging into her side, and his arm didn't slacken its grip around her. "Lighten up, okay?"
Suddenly Alec shifted his arm and rolled over her,
pinning her to the bed with his weight.
He nuzzled her cheek, inhaling softly.
An ill-defined cold sensation, startling and yet vaguely familiar, began
to grow from inside her chest and up her spine.
Moving to her ear, Alec licked it, and she tried to pull away, but there
was nowhere to go. His breath was hot in
her ear as he whispered, "I hope you're telling the truth, babe, because
I've never been very good at sharing."
Sam's jaw dropped, and as she jerked her head away,
she felt a needle-like pain. One of the
earrings she'd forgotten to remove last night had momentarily caught on his
teeth. "Alec! What the hell?"
She grabbed at his shoulders to shove him away, but
he was rolling off already. He stood
with his back to her, reaching for his robe.
"So, you up for seeing the sights around the
metropolis of Gould today?"
Sam sat up and rubbed her earlobe, anger overshadowing
her earlier embarrassment. She pulled
away her hand and there was a fleck of blood on her fingertip. No, he was not getting out of this that
easily. "Don't call me 'babe'
again," she spat. "And I do
*not* appreciate what you're implying."
He paused in tying his robe, his back still to
her. Turning, his face had
softened. "Sorry, I know that bugs
you. I was just... thinking some rather
pleasant thoughts about last night and then the first thing you do is call me
'Colonel'. I guess I have a jealous
streak. I do trust you."
Her ear still stung.
Maybe she should just go home.
Alec stepped closer.
"Sam? Are we
okay?" He looked genuinely
worried. Relationships aren't supposed
to be easy all the time, she reminded herself.
"I guess," she grumbled, glancing at her
finger as it came away from her earlobe again.
Her ear had stopped bleeding. She
was never going to have a life outside the base if she didn't give it a
chance. She sighed, and then muttered,
"What do you want to do?"
"Well, I actually have a surprise for you. I've reserved a snowmobile for us."
She eyed him warily.
"A snowmobile?" Snowmobiles did sound like fun.
Alec smiled.
"Yeah, there's a place on the corner that has a few for rent, so I
reserved the best one."
The best... "One? Aren't you coming?"
Alec blinked. "Of course. I'm
driving."
She tugged the sheets out of the way and turned to
face him fully. "What am I supposed
to do?"
Alec's brow was wrinkled in confusion. "You ride on the back and hang onto
me. I'll show you how they
work."
Yeah, that's what she thought he meant. Sam stared at the covers for a moment,
tossing several bad ideas about what to say out the window. She gritted her teeth, and then met his gaze
again. "Alec, I have been handling
my own motorcycle since I was 15. I
don't mind snowmobiling with you, but I am not riding on the back like some
biker's 'girl'."
He grimaced, and took a deep breath. "Ooh, blew it again. You want sincerity, not flattery,
right?" Sam nodded
suspiciously. "Maybe we should try
Steamboat Springs today, then, and I'll reserve two snowmobiles for
tomorrow?"
The puppy dog eyes were clearly deliberate, so Sam
scooted to the edge of the bed to stand.
She pulled on her robe, knotting the sash tightly. "I thought you wanted to avoid the ski
crowds."
Alec smiled and reached for her, running a finger
along the outside of her face.
"Well, this way I get to show you off in public. I'm just glad you're with me."
She brushed him off and stalked into the
kitchen. She desperately wanted her
first cup of coffee.
*****************
Janet Fraiser hesitated, and then knocked on the
General's door.
"Come in," he called. Janet slid in, barely opening the door and
clutching the file in front of her close to her chest. She closed the door behind her quickly.
He closed the file in front of him, frowning at
her. "What can I do for you,
Doctor?"
"Some information has come across my desk, sir,
and I am quite concerned about the implications," she said. While that was the professional way to state
things, it was also the understatement of the year.
He leaned forward slightly, placing his elbows on his
desk. "And what are those
implications, doctor?"
Janet took a deep breath. "Sir, I have reason to believe that a
goa'uld has had access to the SGC."
His eyes hardened.
"How recently?"
"Within at least the past 24 hours, sir."
As he continued giving orders, Janet stared at his
desk. Today the brass lamp was beside a
model of an F-14 Tomcat. In a new
picture frame beside it smiled two little girls wrapped in pink feather boas and
hugging one another. She hoped he
wouldn't miss something special with his grandchildren because of this. She hoped more than that, too. Her palms were sweating.
He hung up and sighed. "All right, doctor, so why are we spending
the night on the base?"
Janet handed him the file. "As you know, the local authorities have
been instructed to notify us under certain circumstances. Yesterday afternoon some SP's went in search of
an AWOL airman, Ronald Porter, and found a body, probably civilian, in the
trunk of his vehicle. The coroner ran a
toxicology screen on it and sent the results to us. The preliminary autopsy shows evidence of
some unusual chemicals, including naquadah, and an injury to the throat similar
to that left by an exiting symbiote."
"You're certain of this?"
"Yes sir, I am."
The General rubbed his brow. "Where was the airman stationed?"
Janet looked down at the desktop, and then met his
eyes. "The entrance
to
"Unknown, sir. We may have
missed one from Steveston, or it could be another one
like Hathor that was already on Earth. I
find it hard to believe that it came through the stargate with all the
precautions we take, but that does remain a remote possibility." And if it did, it was her fault for missing
it.
Janet nodded. "Yes, sir."
"That'll take some time."
"Yes sir, but I don't see any other way. We have to ensure the integrity of the SGC
first." Janet shook her head
slightly, knowing she wasn't going to get much sleep for the next few
days.
"Agreed." He nodded once,
and flipped through the file. After
several pages of silence, he asked, "Any idea who the body is?"
"The police are still looking into that, sir,
but there was something else unusual.
Have a look at this photograph."
The general picked up the picture of the dark-haired
corpse. "What happened to that
woman's forehead?"
"It's a burn similar to that left by a ribbon
device, sir. Normally, however, a ribbon
device doesn't leave a pattern."
The General squinted at the picture. "It looks almost like a
hieroglyph." No one had ever called
the man stupid.
"Yes sir, I was hoping Jonas could take a look
at it as soon as he'd been screened for a symbiote."
He replaced the photograph in the file and leaned
back to meet her eyes. "No sign of
the suspect?"
"Not yet, sir. But the
police don't know what to search for. We
need to get someone over there. Can we
unseal the mountain so that I can send a staff member over?" Janet didn't hold out much hope, but it would
simplify things.
"I think Colonel O'Neill managed to get away
before the lockdown, sir. He's the most
senior officer that's currently off-base.
Plus, his rank ought to help smooth some of the red tape." Difficult patients reap their own rewards,
Janet thought to herself.
The general's forehead wrinkled. "Good suggestion, but how do we know he
isn't a goa'uld?"
"Well, SG-1 was the last team to receive a
physical before the lockdown, so he's one of our lowest risk people. Ultimately, though, we can't be sure of
anyone. We're going to have to screen
him ASAP once the screenings are finished here." Janet hated the thought, but they couldn't
trust anyone right now.
The general stood.
"Well, Doctor, it looks like we need to get started right
away."
Janet nodded, and opened the door wide. The four SF's hovering outside the door
stepped aside. "If you'll come with
us, General, we'll get you cleared first."
*****************
Part 5/15
"You'll love this place," Alec stated,
escorting her up the icy steps as though she were a princess in glass
slippers. "I always stop here when
I'm climbing in the area." As
always, Alec reached the door first and held it open for her, a gentle smile on
his lips. The maitre d' glanced up at
them.
"Table for two, please," Alec said, gazing
down at her. The warm light in his eyes
had been there all day. It was nice to
not be one of the guys, but Sam had never been comfortable on a pedestal. Alec stepped aside, allowing her to go first
through the narrow aisle. The restaurant
was dimly lit, with small candles flickering above white linen
tablecloths. Low, wordless music drifted
in the background.
As they reached their table Alec predictably stepped
in front of the maitre d' to hold Sam's chair. Sam sighed as she sat. He was trying so hard, it was getting
exasperating. But he did make her feel
both feminine and special. He reached
across the table and snagged her right hand as the waiter set two glasses of
ice water on the table. Sam reached for
her menu with her left hand, feeling a bit awkward. Fortunately, the menu opened to the main
page.
The waiter spoke quietly. "Welcome. My name is George, and I'll be your server
tonight." He recited the featured
items for the day.
She glanced up at the rangy young man. He looked like Daniel did before he cut his
hair short, and Sam couldn't help smiling broadly.
George smiled back.
"Would you like some wine?
We have an excellent
Alec's grip tightened on her hand. "I think we'll have two
Confused, Sam blinked at Alec. "What's wrong?"
He tilted his head a bit, speaking slowly. "You know, Sam, not everyone has
innocent reasons for smiling at other people.
I love it when you smile at me, but a lot of guys see that big,
beautiful smile and think of other things." He dropped her hand to turn a page of the
menu. "What do you think you
want?"
It took her a moment to realize that he was talking
about the meal. She gritted her teeth
and considered, then shook her head, deciding to drop the argument; she was too
worn out for this. It had been a nice
enough day overall, including sightseeing, feeding each other exotic flavors of
ice cream, and laughing as they tried out Stetsons on each other's heads at a
western clothing store. She didn't want
to spoil it when they were both tired and hungry. "I was considering the lobster and
shellfish special, but that grilled salmon the waiter mentioned sounded pretty
good."
Alec waved a hand.
"Oh, take the special. The
fish here is never as good as it sounds, but the lobster is great."
Sam stared down at the menu, the new sapphire
bracelet on her right wrist distracting her.
"It's awfully expensive."
"You are absolutely worth it," he
smiled. As the waiter approached, Alec
stated, "Two specials, please."
Sam shook her head, looking at the description on the
menu. "I don't think I can eat all
that food, Alec." George placed
their drinks between them on the table.
"Well, I'm intending to work it off again
tonight." Alec smiled wickedly at
her obvious flush as the waiter silently finished scribbling the order.
After dinner, they walked toward the package-stuffed
vehicle, his hand cradling hers. They
stopped on a corner opposite where the car was parked waiting for the light to
change. Alec turned to face her. "I hope you've had as great a day as I
have."
Sam gazed at the red brick sidewalk, swept clean for
the tourists passing on both sides of the street. "It's been nice. I do think you spend too much money on
me." And she didn't really want
half the things he bought today. At
least they could go back to the cabin now; she needed time to think.
"A beautiful woman like you deserves the
best." He stroked her cheek, his
eyes tracing the lines of her face. Sam
swallowed, feeling uneasy at the intensity of his gaze.
His hand dropped just before she was about to pull
back. "I was wondering, Sam. You're just as much of an adrenaline junkie
as I am; I can't believe you can stay sane spending all that time underground."
She turned her head to stare into the rapidly
deepening twilight, the continuous lie grating inside. Her stomach was a bit unsettled; she'd
probably overeaten. "I have plenty
to keep me busy."
Alec shook his head.
"I can see it in your eyes; there's part of you that's bursting to
get out. Come climbing
with me some time. It's a great
rush. I'll keep you safe; you don't have
to be scared."
Sam glanced back up at the mischievous challenge in
his voice. "I've always enjoyed
climbing, Alec. I've just never done it
for fun, only for work. It doesn't
frighten me."
"I'll bet," he murmured, his voice husky,
"you were quite the little hell-raiser when you were a
teenager." Sam started to shake her
head, and he caught her jaw delicately between his fingers. He lowered his mouth toward hers, muttering,
"Then you were one of those good girls who secretly wanted to be
bad." He was right about that, she
mused as his lips touched hers.
There was a clunk across the street. Alec jerked back and stared at a ski-toting
crowd of older teens walking on the other side of the street past his car. "Hey!" he yelled, and several
glanced his way. "Get the hell away
from my car!" A sandy-haired boy
shoved the crowd along, a frightened look on his face. Alec lunged toward the boy.
"Alec, wait!" With a glance at the oncoming traffic, Sam grabbed
his collar and arm and yanked him backwards.
The boy broke into a run and soon rounded a corner, followed by his
crowd of friends. As they disappeared
around a corner, Sam heard them break out laughing.
Alec threw her hands off and spun towards the
car. "Fuck you!" he screamed at the
empty street. He turned on her, still
yelling. "Why did you do that? He hit my Jag! I could have caught him and pressed charges
for vandalism!"
Sam stepped a pace back from him, alarmed. She'd never seen him like this. "Alec, there were cars coming! You could have been killed."
He glared at her, then glanced at the slowing traffic
and broke into a run across the slush-and-ice street. Sam waited a moment, crossing as traffic
stopped with the pedestrian walk sign.
Alec bent over on the sidewalk, running his hands along the red paint of
the vehicle. He moved intently down the
side, his fingers spread. At the rear
edge of the door, he stopped, and leaned close to the top corner.
"That dirty little son of a
bitch. He chipped it."
Sam glanced in the direction of the teens. Fortunately none were in sight. The fury in Alec's face was unsettling. "Let me see, Alec."
Alec moved away, his hands fisted beside his
ears. "He chipped the paint with the
tip of his skis. He probably did it on
purpose."
Sam had to stare for several seconds to find the ding
Alec was talking about. She ran one
fingertip over it. "I don't think
it's actually the paint, Alec, I think it's just a scratch in the wax. It'll probably buff right out."
"Damn kid.
I hope you're right. Try to keep
something nice and look what happens.
He's damn lucky he ran." He
turned away from the car, hands still on both sides of his head. Walking to the edge of the street, he paced
on the curb, the movement of his coat visible as his chest heaved. Sam shook her head and stared after him. She'd never seen him really angry before, and
she didn't like what she saw.
As he approached the corner, the pedestrian light
over his head changed to a flashing red hand.
Snowflakes drifted past him, turning an arterial crimson as the hand
stopped flashing and glowed solidly. The
sapphires on her wrist hung cold and heavy like a shackle. In the quiet, tires from passing vehicles
splashed through the slush, and a car engine started up.
Alec turned away, pacing along the narrow, unlighted
side street that the teens had raced down.
Sam sighed in exasperation. Maybe
she should give him some space to cool down.
But if he caught the boy he felt was responsible, he might do something
rash. She shook her head, frowning at
his behavior, and followed him along the side of a red brick building, picking
her way over the thick gray line of slush left by a much earlier snowplow. The distant engine revved, and tires squealed
behind her.
Distant headlights illuminated Alec's back; his
shadow stretched and wavered between the fresh tire tracks on the snowy
road. Sam glanced behind her. A mid-sized sedan was accelerating rapidly
towards the intersection despite the now-red stoplight. Alec didn't turn around, walking slower now
with his fists on his hips.
"Alec, watch out!" she shouted, and ran
towards him. He paused and turned
halfway around. "Get off the
road!"
As the car's engine revved again, shifting to a
higher gear, Sam grabbed Alec, hurling him towards a nearby doorway. Between their size difference and the icy
footing she couldn't throw him properly, but she caught him by surprise and
off-balanced him. "Hey!" he
protested as he staggered. Horns blared
as the oncoming car raced through the red light.
She shoved him into the doorway, certain the vehicle
was going to hit her. In the fraction of
a second before it reached her, Sam turned her head and met the familiar eyes
of the driver. Tires screamed and slush
flew into the air as she lunged towards the doorway shielding Alec. The engine roared, and suddenly everything
was cold and dark.
The sound of the engine faded, and Sam wiped the
filthy slush from her face so she could see.
She was only halfway in the doorway; the thing must have missed her by
inches, if that much. The taillights of
the car were fading into the distance, so she peered out,
trying to make sure the car wasn't turning around. "What the hell did that idiot think he
was doing?"
"It was probably those kids trying to scare us,
the jerks." Alec leaned out of the
doorway to scan the street.
"No, it wasn't a kid. I swear he...,"
she censored herself, brushing off as much of the slush as she could. The man had looked familiar, but she couldn't
place him. Maybe she'd seen him in a
store today.
"Irresponsible brats. If it wasn't
one of those kids, it was someone they knew." Alec stepped into the street and marched
towards the Jaguar, glancing in all directions.
"Let's get out of here."
Sam wrung out the bottom of her formerly powder blue
coat and shook her head, unable to explain her suspicions without leaking
confidential information. "Maybe we
ought to call the police," she admitted reluctantly. If the driver was after Alec, the police
needed to know. If this was related to
her work, though, that would be a mistake.
Was the NID after her? Or maybe
another Adrian Conrad, she wondered, starting to shiver. But the car seemed to be aimed at Alec. Why would anyone want to harm Alec Colson, of
all people? Still, the driver could have
been drunk or high or just trying for a thrill.
She followed him, shaking the remaining slush off as best she could
while scanning her surroundings. She was
really cold now, and wanted badly to get back to the cabin for a hot bath and a
change of clothes.
Alec's tone was bitter. "And tell them what? That a car drove by really, really fast and
we didn't get the license? And that it
scared us? No
way."
Sam hesitated, gazing down the dark street, and then
nodded. It was probably best to keep the
police out of this. There was something
familiar about the driver, something she felt was work-related. She'd call the base as soon as she had time
alone.
Alec unlocked the car, rubbing one hand mournfully
across the corner of the door as he opened it.
He held the door open for a moment, and then closed it, staring at her
clothes. "God, Sam, you're a
mess. Let me go buy some towels for you
and for the car seat and we'll go straight back. You can't be comfortable." He pulled off his coat and draped it around
her shoulders. "Here, this will
help a little."
Sam tugged the flaps of the coat together, and he
wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close. As they walked toward a nearby store, Sam
leaned into him, simultaneously grateful for the heat of his body and reluctant
to stay in his arms.
*****************
Nephthys stood in the bushes beside the path, waiting
for her next host. The shadows were deep
and soft-edged in the pink light from the scattered street lamps lining the
long drive.
Fate had not allowed the assault on the mate to
succeed, which was a shame. Maiming or
killing Samantha Carter's mate would have been an excellent step towards
justice. Death was far too simple a
punishment for the god slayer; it was a cliché, but she should suffer more than
that, at least at first. Clichés, she
reflected, were often based upon fact.
Unfortunately, the murderer had gotten a good look at this face, and so
she must leave this rather pleasant body.
Now the goddess had observed the situation, the
setting, and her target, and was ready to move to the next phase, a more direct
one where she was in closer proximity to the god-slayer. She knew she was getting overeager, but
justice had waited far too long. There
were several potential hosts, but this one had chosen an opportune time to walk
alone down the path, and time was running out.
Besides, a strong-willed host was sometimes the best for subterfuge, as
the personality was hard to suppress and would emerge in the tiny details that
could have betrayed the hidden deity. It
was moving quicker than she'd expected, marching with its head down against the
wind.
The instant the new host passed, she stepped from the
bushes behind it. She grasped its head
with one hand, covering the mouth, and wrapped an arm around the waist. Open-mouthed, she bit down hard on the neck. It jerked wildly, arms flailing. She sent an impulse to her old host's small
intestine, sending it into violent spasms, and changed hosts. Both bodies collapsed, the husk coughing on
blood and moaning, clutching its stomach.
She felt the familiar, marvelous tingle as she
asserted control over the host's attempted screams. This host was exceptionally strong-willed, and
she curled tendrils as rapidly as possible around the spinal cord. It took a moment to still the arms clawing at
the back of the head. Firmly, she
informed the host of its blessing. As
she eased her tendrils into its mind, she slid inside its private
thoughts. It fought her, outraged, and
she lost control of the limbs. The new
host tried to climb to its feet.
Annoyed, she sent a wave of pain slicing through the body, crumpling it
back to the ground, and she triumphed, finally gaining full control of the
unsatisfying beast.
The husk was already sitting up and wiping the blood
from its chin. Its eyes met hers, and it
scrambled to rise, clutching its stomach.
She kicked the side of its right knee.
Something cracked, and it collapsed, mewling like the animal it
was. She lashed out at its head, and it
slumped into the snow piled beside the path, silent and still.
She retrieved the ribbon device, and moved the husk
off the path and deep into the bushes.
The husk was strong and she didn't wish to take any further chances with
it, especially burdened with such a difficult host. Without waiting for the husk to rouse, she
whispered "Now receive your final honor," and marked it. The glow of the device turned the snow to
gold, and Nephthys sighed at the beauty of the ritual. The scorched odor was swirling away in the
wind, and the husk would be covered by snow by the end of the night. No one should find the corpse for some
time.
The Goddess of Death had done her duty; now it was
time to set things in motion. The
murderer would be suffering soon.
*****************
Frowning, Jack climbed out of his truck and adjusted
his sunglasses. The kid in a uniform
that had been assigned as his "partner" fidgeted at the gate to the
impound lot. Jack suspected the kid was
chosen because they didn't want to waste a real cop's time babysitting a
grouchy colonel. And Carter going off
for the weekend with some guy had absolutely nothing to do with his
grouchiness. Absolutely. Nothing.
As a matter of fact, he wasn't going to think about
her for the entire rest of the weekend.
Okay, maybe not, but he wasn't going to think about her for the rest of
the day. He walked up to the kid,
Ricker, or something like that, and the kid cleared his throat as if he wanted
to say something. After a moment's
silence, Jack raised his eyebrows expectantly.
Ricker just swallowed and nodded, and then walked on towards the door of
a hangar-type building. Jack followed,
watching as the kid wiped his palms on his pants.
After they signed in, the kid handed him a pair of
beige plastic gloves. Jack dragged the
thin things on. His hands felt like
they'd been shrink-wrapped.
Ricker led him to an older-model, maroon Mazda
sedan. It was clean inside, and had
decent paint with a good wax job. Of
course, it could be that the lab guys had cleaned it, but it looked like it was
normally clean. Jack glanced at the
warped, busted lock on the trunk.
Assuming the airman was alive, he wasn't going to be happy with the
Colorado Springs PD. Of course, since it
was involved in a murder, this car wasn't going anywhere, so the lock probably
didn't matter. Jack flipped up the
lid. The rug in the trunk had been
removed, exposing the solid metal beneath.
The kid wiped his hands again as Jack walked around
the car, opening doors and the glove box.
Empty. Perfectly clean, except
for a bit of dust on the steering wheel and dash, probably left from the search
for fingerprints.
Rubbing the back of his neck, Jack turned back to the
boy. "Okay, Ricker,"
"Riker. As in Star Trek."
The kid waved one finger in the air and smiled geekily.
Jack wondered vaguely what "Riker" in Star
Trek was. Probably
some weirdly-painted alien species.
"Okay, Star Trek, if you want my help figuring things out, you're
going to have to actually," he waved his hands in the air for effect,
"give me something to figure out."
The kid shook his head. "What?"
"This car was stripped by your lab boys. The neighbors and coworkers have all been
interviewed, and the reports aren't typed up yet so I can't tell who to ask
what. The apartment was cleaned, and
everything that could tell us something has been taken away." Jack shrugged, trying to show less irritation
than he felt. The kid looked worried
anyway. "I can't piece the clues
together for you if you won't show me where these wonderful clues are."
"Oh. The material evidence?"
Jack nodded slowly.
"Well. It's in the evidence
locker or the lab. There's probably some
in each."
"Then let's stop wasting time running around the
city. Lead on, Star
Trek."
Two ridiculous hours of red tape later, he stood
examining funky zip lock bags labeled with police jargon and lab
gibberish. A woman with puffy brown hair
frowned at him from the other side of the counter. He didn't really blame her; he probably
looked a little scruffy and he was fingering her precious evidence. He should have worn his dress blues instead
of civvies for this, but they were at the cleaners. He didn't feel clean-cut and dress-bluesy
today anyway, not that that had anything to do with Carter and that guy. He wasn't thinking about her at all, and he'd
been busily not thinking about her for hours.
He reached for the next bag in the pile and froze,
then took the eraser end of a pencil and scooted it towards the puffy-haired
woman. "I'm sure you lab folks can
find more interesting stuff than I can about that thing." Why couldn't this have happened when they
were stuck off-world? He glanced at the
tiny, cage-lined window. It was
completely dark. Looking at baggies with
used condoms was not his idea of how to spend a Saturday night. He really didn't need to be thinking about
condoms when he wasn't thinking about Carter and some guy, too. Damn, this was taking forever.
He sighed. Nothing of interest in the pile from the house. Taking care now to peek at the contents
first, he started on the pile of evidence from the car.
Car registration. The warranty
for the tires, expired six months ago. Proof of insurance.
His cell phone began to sing its abbreviated
aria. He flipped it open. "O'Neill." The next bag was apparently an old sales slip.
The phone crackled in his ear. "Colonel, this is General Hammond. We're having a briefing on the situation and
were wondering how the investigation was going.
You're on speakerphone with me, Doctor Fraiser, Jonas Quinn, and
Teal'c."
He flattened the bag to read the slip through the
plastic. "Hello,
gang. Having fun?"
"We're making progress, Colonel. How about you?"
"Oh, I've spent most of the day running around
in circles and have just found out that our suspect prefers grape cough drops
and eats lots of microwave dinners."
Jonas chimed in, sounding chipper as usual. "Well, I've been studying the markings
on the forehead of the corpse and I think I know the name of the goa'uld we're
looking for. It's Nephthys."
Jack blinked a moment. "Is what?"
"Nephthys. The Egyptian goddess of death and decay. She was the mother of Anubis."
Just when you thought things couldn't look
worse. "Anubis'
Mom? Oh, she must be a
*wonderful* person." Jack reached
for the next bag. This one contained a
brochure for
Jonas continued.
"She was also both wife and sister to Set,
also called Sekmet, or Seth as you knew him."
Jack shook his head.
Wife and sister? These goa'uld were
kinky. "Seth? Wasn't that the hippie with the cult? And didn't we kill him?" Star Trek backed up a step. Oops.
At least Jack had more elbow room now.
The next bag had a flyer for a motel in Leadville. It was about the tenth one of those, each in
different touristy towns.
The cell phone cut in and out. "Repeat that, Jonas, you're breaking
up."
"I said yes, I think it was Major Carter, in the
escape tunnel with a ribbon device."
Jack rubbed his temple. Aliens. "Have you been playing Clue,
Jonas?"
"Excuse me, Colonel?"
"Never mind. Now, what was
the name of the..." he glanced around at the busy room, the puffy-haired woman,
and Star Trek looking at him worriedly. "The lady?"
Jack dragged over the next zip lock bag.
Bag number T-407, containing some sort of business card.
"Nephthys. N E P H T
H–"
Jack waved his hand in the air to stop him, then realized how silly that looked and put his hand back on
the counter beside the bag. "Never
mind spelling it, Jonas, you're just gonna have to help me write this
report."
Jonas rambled on about the kinky Egyptian
deities. Jack flipped the bag over to
read the front of the card. It had some
sort of picture of a deer with flowers, and writing in curling letters. He pressed the plastic against the card to
make out the letters. 'The
"Carter," he choked out. Jonas stopped in mid-sentence. "It's Carter."
"Excuse me, Colonel?"
"The thing is after Carter. Get me the general, NOW." Damn it, he'd wasted so much time today.
"I'm here, Colonel," came
"The thing left a card with the name of the
place Carter's gone for the weekend.
It's not in the mountain, it's after her, and it's out for revenge. I need reinforcements from the SGC to come with
me to
"I'm sorry, Colonel, but first we must insure
the integrity of
"Tell the SF's to meet me at the
"I'll try, Colonel, but with the weather the way
people say it is, there's no guarantees. I suspect everything's grounded."
"I'll drive, then. Call if you get me a chopper." Star Trek was staring at him like he was
sprouting fangs. Jack flipped the phone
shut and tossed the evidence bag to the kid.
"Send the locals to check out this place. Your suspect's going there!"
He stormed out the door, running down the long
hallway. Star Trek's voice echoed after
him. "Colonel, there's a huge blizzard
coming! You'll never make it!"
Jack shoved past two officers blocking the front door
and charged into the white-flecked darkness.
*****************
Part 6/15
Nephthys waited in the shadow of the snowplow. It was a hulk of a machine, ugly and dirty,
and the brown slush crusting on its edges didn't hide most of the chipped blue
paint. The cold was bothersome,
requiring her to spend a great deal of energy warming the hands of the host so
that its reactions were not dulled. The
metal of the ribbon device was annoyingly conducive to heat loss. Through the truck stop window she could see
the driver tugging on his jacket as the human exited the restroom. It was about time.
She strolled around the ugly machine, positioning
herself about fifteen feet away from the side and facing the door. As the bell on the truck stop door jingled
that it was opening, she removed her left glove, flexing her fingers in the
cold. She glanced up and down the
highway and around the parking lot.
There were no other humans or vehicles in sight. The only potential witnesses were inside the
building, and the crude, monstrous machine should shield the flash from
view.
The man walked around the corner of the vehicle, and
glanced at the goddess. It nodded at her
and turned its back, pulling out the keys.
Nephthys raised her hand. The
device glowed, and the comfortably familiar amber beam slammed the man into the
machine with the full force of her will.
The human slid down the side of the truck, moaning. The goddess sauntered to the man. She leaned over and took his chin and the
back of his head in her hands, murmuring huskily, "Receive the blessing of
the Goddess of Death." With a quick
jerk, she snapped his neck in two. It had
been quick and quiet.
She opened the door of the vehicle and reached in,
turning off the interior lights. She
then dragged the blessed corpse into the cab, shoving it to the side and
tossing a short piece of rope from her coat pocket on top of it. She glanced at the body. She was leaving too many corpses behind;
modern human authorities would take notice if she spread her blessing much
further.
She shut the door and started the rumbling, rattling
diesel engine, grateful for the previous host's knowledge of such things. She slipped the truck into gear, and drove
toward the stretch of highway she had chosen.
It was nearby, with a long string of power poles running beside a
straight downhill stretch. Even more
beautiful was the curve at the end, with a small rock wall under a snow-laden
hillside.
She stopped at the top of the hill and ran some quick
calculations in her head. She could
probably shield the host from injury somewhat, but still needed to exit while
the vehicle was moving slowly. She tied
the steering wheel in place with the rope, watching as another vehicle rounded
the curve and made its way up the steep hill.
After it passed, she opened the door and dragged the corpse into the
driver's seat. She stuck the corpse's
foot on the accelerator, released the emergency brake, and jumped.
She rolled as she hit, then kept rolling out of
control until she slid to a stop in the far ditch. She was bruised, but without severe
injury. She rose up onto her elbows and
watched her accomplishment. At first she
was afraid her tool would stray to the left, rolling off the side of the
mountain and missing the power poles, but then it slowly drifted to the right,
rapidly gaining speed on the steep slope.
The first pole made a huge, wonderful exploding spark as it snapped with
a sizzling crack. The second and third
followed, the downhill momentum of her heavy tool carrying it through pole
after pole as the slight ditch on the edge of the road kept the vehicle in
line. She smiled, listening to the
splintering, violent impacts. It was a
symphony of destruction performed in her name.
Finally it ended as the snowplow reached the curve. Tons of steel slammed into the rock wall with
a crunching noise like an empty, monstrous soft drink can. The next movement of the symphony began.
The rumbling was like faint thunder at first, growing
by the second. Nephthys widened the
pupils of the host's eyes to see better, but the human eyes were still inferior
in darkness. All she could see was the
end result of the avalanche as a roaring wall of snow collapsed onto the road,
snapping a few final poles and burying the only road into the town of
Excellent. Her time
frame had been extended and she could do things properly. Now all she needed was to be alone with the
unsuspecting god-slayer. Proper
punishment should be doled out in stages, after all. The modern human world rushed too many
important things.
*****************
General Hammond sank into the chair beside Janet at
the head of the briefing room table.
"All right, people, everyone's tired, so let's try to make it
brief. How are the screenings going,
Doctor?"
Janet gazed around the table. The general had huge bags under his
eyes. Jonas, a pile of books and papers
in front of him, was rubbing his temples, and even Teal'c looked a little
tired. If she could have, she would have
ordered immediate downtime for all of them.
"There's no sign of the goa'uld yet. But the screenings are going rather quickly,
considering the number of people that work in this mountain and the number of
ultrasound technicians we have trained to recognize a goa'uld symbiote. All SGC personnel are clear, but NORAD and
the other units in the mountain aren't finished yet and will take a while to
complete. We hope to be done around
He nodded.
"Jonas, do you have any information about our goa'uld?"
Jonas began passing out papers with Egyptian
paintings and hieroglyphs, as well as a written report on Nephthys. "Yes, sorting through Egyptian mythology
with Teal'c, we've come up with a few things that could be valuable. Nephthys was the wife of Seth, but she also
was estranged from him because, well, she cheated on him with Osiris in order
to conceive Anubis."
Jonas was nodding.
"Apparently, but also one with a problem with
infertility. She had trouble
conceiving the once and never had any more kids. She's kind of the goddess of infertility as
well."
Janet leaned back in her chair. "That's good to know. I'd hate to have another Hathor-type incident."
The general let out a slow breath. "I think we all agree on that,
doctor. Any idea how
this goa'uld got to be on Earth?"
Jonas shrugged.
"Not really. She was
reportedly inseparable from her twin sister, Isis. She may have been imprisoned at the same time
The general's lips tightened. "We'll just have to ask her when we
catch her, assuming she's still alive. Anything else?"
Jonas' brow scrunched up and he sighed. "Yes, but it's pretty speculative. Like many Egyptian deities, her history is
complex and a little contradictory.
Nephthys was the goddess of darkness and decay, but according to
Plutarch she also represents that which is invisible or unseen."
Janet frowned.
"Invisible? Could she have a
personal cloaking device like Nirrti?"
Jonas gave a tiny shrug. "Well, it's my understanding that the
personal cloaking device was a relatively new thing when Nirrti
showed up with it here. Teal'c had an
idea."
The
"Hmm." Janet
nodded. "There were some very
strange chemicals in the woman's body; things I haven't seen before. Maybe those chemicals interfere with the
detection of naquadah. That may even be
why she was infertile."
Janet shrugged.
"I suppose if the chemical was designed that way, she could. We're still not really sure how that works in
the human body."
Jonas looked uneasy.
"Well, I've also been searching the death records. With a little help from the internet, I found
an article about a death in
Janet ran her fingers over the folder containing the
young woman's autopsy report. "They're right. It's just the killer is an alien
parasite."
Jonas nodded.
"This goa'uld lately may have developed a liking for male hosts;
eight out of 11 of the FBI's probable victims were male. Of course, that may not mean anything, as
Osiris has demonstrated. And the FBI
doesn't know it yet, but it seems one of the victims is listed as working for
one of the NID's cover organizations."
Janet stared at Jonas. It just kept getting worse. "The NID? They must have eventually realized what
happened to their agent if the FBI got involved."
The general's color heightened. "You mean the NID knows there's a
goa'uld loose around here? And the thing
compromised and killed one of their agents and they didn't tell us?" His right hand curled slowly into a fist and
he stared out the window into the gate room.
Janet winced.
She was glad she wasn't on the receiving end of the phone call the
general was about to make. "It
would be typical NID, sir."
Tight-lipped, the general turned back and indicated to Jonas to
continue.
Jonas frowned at the papers in front of him,
apparently unwilling to meet the general's gaze at the moment. "That's probably where the goa'uld got a
lot of her information. We don't know
yet if the goa'uld was actively searching for information about the Stargate or
Sam, or if she just got lucky when she took that particular host."
The general wrinkled his brow, his ire under
control. "Now, I know Colonel
O'Neill thinks the goa'uld is trying to hunt down Major Carter, but if this
Nephthys was estranged from Set, why would she want revenge? And do the goa'uld
even feel that way about their mates?
Hathor was glad Ra was out of the picture."
Janet shrugged.
"I don't know about all goa'uld, General, but Apophis
seemed quite attached to Ammonet."
Teal'c folded his hands on the table. "And according to
Janet thought back.
She had only been called in for the aftermath and the resulting tons of nishta-related blood work.
"Well, there was no sign of her at Seth's compound."
"In both Egyptian mythology and
He glanced at Teal'c, who inclined his head in
graceful affirmation and then spoke.
"Seth himself almost escaped in the crowd of departing cult
members. It is conceivable that a
goa'uld could have evaded us, especially if she was not able to be sensed by
Selmak, Major Carter, or myself."
Janet raised a finger. "Not necessarily, sir. Many of them suffered from mild memory loss
and confusion from the effects of long-term exposure to the nishta
organism. At the time we thought it was
a blessing because it made the cover story more believable."
Janet desperately hoped they'd find the goa'uld on
base first. She could hear a catch in
her voice when she spoke. "And then
we'll have to conclude there's a goa'uld on the loose on Earth, and probably
after Sam."
Jonas let out a tight, frustrated huff of air. "General, are you sure we shouldn't be
out there if the goa'uld is after Major Carter?"
The weight of his office was clear on
Teal'c frowned.
"Is Major Carter aware that a goa'uld may be pursuing her? Even the most capable warrior can be overcome
if taken off guard."
The General shook his head, and took a deep
breath. "Colonel O'Neill and I have
made repeated attempts to contact her this evening, so far with no
success."
Janet swallowed, anxiety washing through her. "So she doesn't know."
The General looked around the table, and then dropped
his eyes. "No. She doesn't."
Janet stared at the report cover in front of her, its
corners curled and ruined by her frustrated fingers over the past 24
hours. Damn it, Sam, be careful.
*****************
Part 7/15
Frowning, Sam poured herself a glass of wine and
settled to toast her bare feet in front of the fire. She'd been avoiding analyzing her own
emotions, but something was off. She
needed to think. She'd hoped this
weekend would make her feel surer of her relationship with Alec, but as the
weekend progressed, her doubts had only grown.
His display of temper earlier in the evening bothered her, and he was
obviously much more jealous than she had originally thought. She also suspected that she was a bit more
independent than he liked.
She glanced out the window at the snow whirling in
the darkness. Earlier, when she was
peeling off her filthy clothing, Alec had announced he was walking to Earl's to
check the score in the Broncos game.
She'd tried to phone the base repeatedly, but had gotten the same
recording every time. "All circuits
are busy." Maybe she should have
called from the street and let Alec go into the store by himself, but she'd
been cold, and a dark street seemed like an unsafe place to be alone at the
time. She wasn't sure she was going to
get through tonight before Alec returned.
Alec had several things to his advantage, she
reflected as she sipped. Alec could
appreciate a fine machine, and stayed in excellent shape as a technical rock
climber. He was smart and confident, with
short, silky black hair that always seemed to fall back in place. They both liked antiques and had similar
taste in music. He was attentive and
gentlemanly in public, and passionate in private. He made her feel feminine.
But the same dark streak that had originally caught
her interest was starting to wear. He
was a bit too intense in his interest, and too possessive. She was feeling stifled.
Her wine glass was already empty. She got up and poured a second glass. As she settled in front of the fire again,
the room went black except for the light from the gas fireplace. She waited to see if the power would return,
but the lights never even flickered.
She rose reluctantly and picked up the matches and
one of the kerosene lanterns on the mantle.
Removing the globe, she touched a match to the wick and watched the gold
dance across the wick. The visible blue
base of the flame settled a fraction of an inch above the wick, almost as
though the wick wasn't really burning.
She understood the physics of the chemical reaction and the resulting
release of photons, but she still appreciated the simple beauty of the
old-fashioned lamp and the yellow glow it produced.
Ever since her mother died, she'd been somewhat
afraid of the world, bound to and hovering near it but never quite embracing
it. She dove into first her studies and
later her work, avoiding the difficult ambiguities of the social world in favor
of one where problems could be written on a chalk board and analyzed
objectively. She missed the
unconditional approval of her mother, and she knew rationally that part of the
reason that she wanted this relationship was that she was still seeking the
world's approval. She was good enough at
work; it was time for her to 'get a life'.
Her social life didn't measure up.
There were four lanterns, and she lit them all,
grateful that the appliances and heat were gas.
The only inconvenience should be the lights. She left one on the counter in the bath,
yellow light reflecting in the mirror.
As she placed a lamp on the tall dresser in the bedroom, the lamplight
glimmered off the bracelet beside it.
She picked it up, considering.
She knew Alec wanted her to wear it, but the bracelet was too cold, and
artificially dressy for her current mood.
She carried it and the third lamp to the table beside her chair by the
fire, and coiled the bracelet beside the lamp.
She'd put it on again when she heard Alec approaching the door. The last lamp she placed on the table beside
the large window, scooting it close so the light would shine clearly through
the pane for Alec to find his way.
Condensation had formed a delicate tracery of frost
from the base of the window to just over the top of the line of snow. The water molecules had lined themselves
along flaws on the glass, forming themselves into sparkling pipe cleaners and
miniature crystalline ferns. Sam ran her
finger along an errant line that strayed higher than the rest. At her touch, the frost melted onto her
fingertip. For a moment, it was almost
as if she were the one dissolving into cold liquid instead of the frost, like
the time after Nirrti's machine. The time when she could feel her cells
beginning to fall apart, melting her from within.
It had happened on her first night at home after
Janet released her from the infirmary.
The water from the shower beat on her back, hard and painfully hot. She stood, eyes closed, letting the water massage
taut muscles and reassure her that she was alive. The water began to cool as the hot water tank
ran low, and she sighed and opened her eyes, her first mistake. She glanced down and saw droplets of
condensation forming on her breasts as if they were seeping from beneath the
skin. The drops grew and rolled off, one
by one, merging with the liquid swirling away into the drain. Something inside started to melt and she fell
apart.
She slammed the faucet to "off" and
staggered out of the shower, gasping for breath. Grasping the edge of the sink, she looked
into the mirror for reassurance that she was alive. Beads rolled through the fogged mirror and
across her reflection.
She burst out of the bathroom and dried herself until
her skin was raw, but she couldn't stop the sweat pouring off her. Not bothering with a bra, she threw on shorts
and a tee-shirt and sandals, hoping the cold late autumn night would stop the
liquid sweat. She grabbed her keys, ran
to her car and drove.
The neon signs and street lights were a blur, and
fortunately there were almost no cars on the road, because she realized too
late that she'd run at least one red light and had no idea how fast she'd been
driving. She pulled over in front of the
Colonel's house and turned off the engine.
The clock on the dash read
She clung to the steering wheel as if she were still
driving. Her breath still came in gasps,
but slower, and she could see the clouds it formed in the chilly air. The minutes ticked by, and as her breathing
slowed, she wondered what the hell she was doing.
If she walked up to that door and into his arms, she
wouldn't leave until morning. She'd be
taking advantage of his feelings to satisfy her need for physical contact, for
reassurance. Her career, her team, and
the life she had built would all flow down the drain as surely as Evanov's body had.
She thought about Teal'c or Jonas, but even if she
wanted that kind of change in their relationship, she would wind up right back
in the infirmary if she set foot on base in this condition. But there was no way she was going to sleep
alone tonight. She needed someone to
remind her that she was really alive.
She'd had exactly three dates with Alec, the last one
ending in a polite kiss on the doorstep.
He was intelligent and darkly attractive, and he'd been clear that he
was quite interested. He lived in an
upscale condominium on the outskirts of town.
She started the car again and drove.
She was not flushing her life down the toilet.
As she stood on the doorstep waiting for him to fumble
his way to the door, the cold wind seemed to blow through her instead of around
her, and she couldn't control the shaking.
She wondered briefly what it would be like. She'd never been big on casual sex
before. He opened the door slowly and
stared at her, lips faintly parted.
Unable to look him in the eye directly, she spoke to
the furrow in his brow. "Work's
been tough." He stepped aside
without comment, and she walked past him into the room.
Sam pulled herself back to the present and stared at
her now-dry finger. This time, there had
been none of the panic of the last time.
There was only a vague, dull grief.
Her relationship with Alec had given her a vague
sense of connection, had helped to anchor her to the world she called
home. Now his dangerous edge didn't seem
so attractive, and while the physical intimacy was pleasant, it lacked
something. She felt more fulfilled
walking shoulder to shoulder with the Colonel.
And the first night that she'd slept well after Nirrti's
machine she'd woken up with her head pillowed on the Colonel's shoulder, not
Alec's.
Sam stared out the window into the darkness. Alec was a substitute for a man she couldn't
have. The sex was fun, but the
relationship wasn't one she was comfortable with any more. And it wasn't fair to Alec to be using him
like this.
She started to pour another glass of wine and stopped
after the first splash. She needed to be
sober for the conversation she was going to have.
*****************
Sarah Nez walked up the hill, hunched against the
wind even beyond the normal amount her osteoporosis demanded. Her carved walking stick preceded her,
leaving holes that began to vanish in the driving snow in moments. Huge flakes seemed to swarm frantically
around the pale streetlight, half-obscuring it as she passed. A striped, hand-woven blanket was wrapped
around her shoulders over her coat, its ends flapping wildly.
She rounded the corner to the Honeymoon Cabin and
looked up for the first time on her walk.
Her face was hard, with bright, fierce eyes and a scowl that rewrote her
normal laugh lines. Never slowing, she
continued up the path until she was a few dozen meters from the cottage. There she swung abruptly off the path. She walked beneath a giant fir on the corner,
blending into the shadows. She moved to
the edge and stopped, staring at the large window, her face still in
shadows.
"Leonard."
Her voice was sharp-edged and commanding, carrying above the roar of the
wind.
The handyman turned away from the window, resentment
on his face. The two stared in silence
for a long moment. Leonard's face slowly
shifted. He reached into his pocket and
drew out a flask. Unscrewing the cap, he
took a long drink.
The old woman's eyes narrowed as he slowly replaced the
flask in his coat. "That is white
men's poison."
Leonard smiled thinly. "It's good, too."
The wind slowed for a long moment, and then picked up
again, whipping the branches around the figure of the old Navaho. She shifted, bracing against the wind, and
gripped the carved raven on the handle of her walking stick with both
hands.
Finally Leonard's mouth twisted in impatience. "What do you want, old woman?"
She was still again for a long moment, apparently unperturbed
as the blanket flapped wildly around her.
She fit into the rugged landscape; the weather seemed to flow from her
more than around her. Finally, she
spoke. "People do not do
this."
Leonard opened his mouth, his face innocent, then stopped. A sneer
kept across his face. "There's a lot of things "people" should try more
often."
Sarah's chin tilted up slightly, and her eyes
narrowed. "You will return to your
room, Leonard, and leave this couple alone for the remainder of their
stay."
Leonard's sneer widened. "In a little while. They haven't even started yet. You should have seen them last night; it was
good. The boulder under that little
bathroom window's just the right height."
Sarah Nez stepped forward, the disapproving spirit of
the mountains. "Leonard, you will
cease this unnatural behavior. You will
return to your room here or I will call your parole officer and you will return
to your room there. You must
choose. Now."
Leonard's eyes were hard and unflinching. A fierce gust of wind howled through the fir,
then settled somewhat. Boots clunked up
the walkway towards the cabin. Alec
Colson strode up to the cabin door, never glancing in the direction of the pair
behind the huge, waving branches of the fir.
The two stood in silence as he unlocked the door and entered. Sarah turned back to Leonard and stared.
Leonard scowled, starting towards Sarah. Her chin rose at his movement, and he froze,
apparently considering. Teeth bared, he
turned away, stomping down the hill to the main building. Sarah stood under the fir, watching the
yellow beam of a flashlight as he moved around.
Eventually the light settled in an upstairs room. She glanced back at the cabin, still
frowning. Finally, she moved her walking
stick again, bracing herself against the wind as she turned to go down the
hill.
*****************
Jack stomped in the door of the truck stop at
He took a deep breath to compose himself and strolled
her way, trying to look casual. The
officer was well trained; she glanced up at him and frowned, sitting back and
visibly settling herself for whatever trouble he was bringing. Her right hand dropped to the seat beside
her. Jack figured he must look pretty
ragged for her to be keeping her gun hand at the ready. He wiped his face and tried to look reasonable.
"Hello, officer." He gestured to the opposite seat. "Can I pay for your coffee? I'd like to talk to you for a moment." The broad-shouldered woman looked as
exhausted as he felt.
"Coffee's free here for officers in uniform,
sir, but thanks for the offer. How can I
help you?"
Jack sat and slowly pulled his military ID out of his
pocket. "Jack O'Neill, US Air
Force." He slid it across to
her.
She picked it up with her left hand and glanced at
it. "What's your trouble,
Colonel?"
"I have to get to
"'Fraid you're not
going anywhere 'immediately'. This storm
has shut down everything from
Jack ran a hand through his hair and stared at the
tabletop. Carter didn't even know there
was a goa'uld loose, and the damn thing was after her. Maybe he should have just sat around
twiddling his thumbs waiting for a chopper at the air base; he might have
gotten there sooner. "Look, it took
me eight hours to drive here from
The trooper's expression was gently regretful. "I wish I could help, but I can't even
get across town to kiss my kid goodnight.
My advice is to pull up a booth, overtip the
waitress, and catch some shuteye. You'll
do better to let the highway department clear the roads and plan your route
based on what roads are cleared first."
Jack rubbed the back of his neck. There probably
wasn't anything the woman could do, and if he pitched a fit now, she'd be less
likely to go out of her way to help later.
"Thanks, officer." He
plopped into a nearby booth and dragged out his phone. Glaring at it, he contemplated calling the
general again. The weather was worse
than when he'd been told everything was grounded, and
He'd tried calling Carter repeatedly when he first
set out, but no one answered at both the numbers for both Carter's cabin and
the office, and neither number had an answering machine. As the nasty weather fell, he'd gotten a new,
infuriating message: "We're sorry;
all circuits are busy. Please try your
call again later."
Surely the lines would be open by now. He pushed redial and stuffed the phone beside
his half-frozen ear. A woman's clipped,
professional voice came through the static.
"The number you have dialed is not in service." He slammed the phone on the table, earning a
glare from a dozing biker couple and a sympathetic glance from the cop. How could the damn recording sound so
cheerful when it delivered a message like that?
*****************
Part 8/15
The door to the cabin flung open, slamming against
the wall and making Sam jump. A swirl of
flakes blew in, followed by a bundled, stomping figure. Alec shoved the door closed, and shook and
stomped more snow onto the floor. He
pulled a brown bottle out from his coat.
"Thought this would freeze before I could finish
it," he said, tipping back the bottle.
Sam frowned, hoping he wasn't drunk.
"Whew, it's getting bad out there."
He hung his coat to dry and unwrapped
the scarf from his neck. Smiling
genially, he rubbed his hands together vigorously. "I wouldn't be surprised if we have a
full-blown white-out before the night's over. Good thing we're not on the road
tonight. And don't worry, I checked on
the Jag and she's fine." He didn't
sound drunk to Sam, just cold. He walked
over to where she stood by the window and slipped one hand to the side of her
neck. Leaning in to kiss her, he stroked
her pulse point with his thumb.
She turned her head away, still annoyed by his
vanishing act. His thumb stilled. "Now is that the way to treat
us?"
"Alec, I think we need to talk," she said,
turning back to look him in the eye, placing her hands flat against his
chest.
He stared into her eyes in silence for a moment. Half his face was thrown into shadow by the
yellow lamplight, and his expression was
unreadable. Then concern crossed his
face. "You were worried about
me. I got all hung up on the game and
you've been sitting here worrying. I'm
sorry, Sam. I didn't mean to take so
long. They have this gorgeous big-screen
TV and the Broncos were up against
"Who won?"
Sam asked, trying to keep the sarcasm out of her voice.
Alec looked sheepish.
"Actually, I don't know.
They were 5 minutes into the final quarter and the power went out. I waited to see if the power would come back,
and then I realized how late it was and hauled ass up the hill to you. I really am sorry to have worried
you." His other hand had sneaked
around her waist and was starting to slip downwards.
"It isn't just that, Alec. Why don't we sit down?"
"Alright, but why don't we talk in there,"
Alec suggested, inclining his head towards the bedroom. His hand was well below her waist.
Sam took a deep breath, frowning, and as she opened
her mouth he spoke hurriedly. "I
want to get some dry shoes on. We'll
just talk, okay?"
Sam hesitated, and then nodded. Smiling, he leaned in and kissed her. He tasted of some stale, fruity mixed drink
and he needed to shave.
When he sat down and began to tug off his snow boots,
Sam perched on the corner of the bed several feet away. "Alec, I'm really not sure things are
working out between us."
He froze, staring at his foot. Something dark crossed his face, and Sam was
once again reminded of Jonas Hanson. The
shadow passed, and he looked at her, hurt and confusion apparent.
"Sam, I know you're upset, but-" he broke
off as she held up her hand.
"It's not tonight, Alec, I've been thinking all
weekend. I'm just not sure we're right
for each other."
"You seemed to think we were pretty right last
night."
Sam smiled as gently as she could. "It was.
But sex isn't everything, Alec.
We're just... different. I don't
think this is going to work out."
"Different isn't always bad, Sam. And I'm not asking for a life-long
commitment. I just want your company and
a little time to get used to each other."
Sam sighed.
She knew this wasn't going to be easy.
"But too many differences can make the problems
insurmountable."
He scooted a bit closer and reached out a hand to
her, stroking the hair by her ear.
"Samantha Carter, we're still getting to know each other. I don't think we've been together long enough
to have insurmountable problems. You
seem awfully nervous about this. Are you
sure you aren't just getting cold feet at the thought of commitment?"
Sam blinked.
She hadn't been thinking in those terms, but it was possible he was
right. After her disastrous engagement
and years of loneliness, she was nervous at the thought of trying to make a
relationship work. "It could
be..." she trailed off, unsure what she wanted to say now.
"Well, don't worry," he smiled at her, his
eyes shining into hers in the dancing light.
"I'm not ready to settle down, and even if I was, we don't know each
other well enough to be certain that the other person is the 'right' one. We've made love, what, less than a dozen
times?" Sam tried to remember; she
honestly hadn't counted.
Alec continued, "Even if we were ready, I
suspect at this point it'd look more like the other person was more wrong than
right." Sam tried not to flinch,
but Alec chuckled and scooted closer.
"Yeah, you squeeze the toothpaste tube all wrong, you know. And you put the toilet paper on the holder
backwards every time." Sam smiled
hesitantly into his green eyes. She had
a moment of doubt when she noticed his flushed cheeks, and she wondered again
if he was drunk, but she pushed it aside.
His speech and coordination were fine.
Maybe he was right, and the things that were bothering her were more
from her nerves than his behavior. She
wasn't used to this much alcohol; maybe she was the one that was drunk.
His fingertips were lightly massaging the skin below
her ear, and Sam felt her pulse start to pick up. "I don't think you're ready to settle
down, either. But isn't what we have
better than one-night stands or celibacy?
We're not lying to each other.
We're just... keeping one another company until the right person comes
along." Until the right person was
available, Sam reflected, and then dismissed the thought. It would never happen.
"Besides," he scooted to where their thighs
were touching, "even if we never see each other again, we can't drive
anywhere in this weather. We're stuck
here together tonight. One last night
won't hurt, and it might make for a really nice way to say goodbye." One eyebrow rose suggestively.
Her pulse was definitely faster, and her chest was
getting tight. A flush from the combined
effects of the wine and his gently rotating fingertips began to heat her
face. "I don't know, Alec; it
doesn't seem right."
"No strings, although," he leaned closer,
nuzzling her neck, "I can always hope it'll change your mind." As his mouth moved towards hers, Sam turned
to him.
As his tongue stroked the roof of her mouth, one arm
wrapped behind her and the other hand toyed with the buttons on her
blouse. She brushed his cheek, the
stubble dragging distractingly against her fingertips.
He moved downward, kissing the side of her neck. She ran her fingers through the black hair,
and the dampness from the melted snow revived the memory of drops of water and
damp flesh against hers. She felt the
passion rise.
One of her hands slipped behind him and under his
sweater, tracing his spine upwards. He
kissed her hard, both hands now working frantically at her buttons. He swore against her mouth as one tangled in
a stray string.
"It's alright, there's no rush," she
whispered.
"I don't feel like waiting any longer," he
muttered as he forced the last button loose.
Leaving her blouse hanging, he yanked his sweater over his head in one
motion, and then pulled her to her feet to work on the fastenings on her
skirt.
"Alec, slow down. I'm still not sure about this." He paused, and then bent down to kiss her
neck, his tongue tracing patterns down to the hollow of her throat.
She pushed her stray reservations aside and unbuckled
his belt, then hesitated at his waistband.
She wasn't sure this was the right thing to do. She wasn't sure this was the right thing to do. He reached between her breasts to twist loose
the closure on her bra. Pulling it
aside, he nibbled at her left breast.
She swallowed and pressed his head to her, closing her eyes to savor the
sensation. There was something so
anchoring about the contact. How could
one last time hurt?
Her skirt fell and she stepped away from it,
unfastening his pants. As he kicked his
remaining clothes off and reached for her, the intent, almost angry
determination in his eyes made her pull back momentarily. Desire and habit pushed against something she
didn't want to look at clearly. Unfazed
by her hesitation, he pulled her to him and bent to kiss her shoulder. His hair stank of second-hand smoke. She turned her head away from it and he moved
up her neck to her ear.
His teeth tugged painfully on her earlobe. Sam had a brief flash of the flecks of blood
on her fingertip that morning, and a chill tingling crept up her spine. This was a mistake; she didn't want to
continue this relationship. She needed to
stop this. As she started to speak,
guilt rose in her throat at starting this in the first place. She would have to be gentle.
"You know, Alec, I'm really not sure I'm in the
mood for this," she said, smoothing his hair and pulling back a
little.
"Oh, no, you're not teasing me like this,"
he growled. With one arm he pulled her
hips back to his, his interest visible.
He kneaded her right breast roughly, and Sam flinched.
"Alec!" she protested again, grabbing his
wrist with both hands and pulling it off her and to the side. He allowed her to succeed, his eyes
half-hooded and possessive. As she
released his wrist, he wrapped both arms firmly around her.
He took a step backwards towards the edge of the bed,
pulling her with him. Hugging her
tightly, he leaned back so they toppled onto the bed at an angle.
He chuckled in her ear. "That's the spirit." Obviously he was drunker than she had
realized earlier.
"Alec," she began more firmly, her palms
flat against his chest, "You've had quite a bit to drink. I think you need a chance to sleep some of
this off."
One hand slid down to knead her buttocks, the other
gripped around her shoulder blades, dragging her upper body down to him. "Don't worry, babe, I'm still man enough
to handle you," he growled. Stubble
raked the side of her neck as he nuzzled.
He chuckled deep in his throat.
"I'm your god."
Sam couldn't help the shocked inhalation. His words sounded chillingly like a goa'uld,
and any remaining interest in sex fled.
She pushed against his chest, swinging her legs to one side as she tried
to climb off him. "Stop that, Alec,
you're not a god." His arms were
like a vise. "Let me go."
She shoved harder, but he simply tightened his grip
and rolled the rest of the way onto the bed, pinning her underneath him with
one knee firmly planted between her legs.
His pectoral muscles were hard as rocks under her palms. Suddenly she was acutely aware of how much
stronger he was than her. She wasn't
sure if she could get away without injuring him, but his behavior was growing
more unsettling.
Indecision held her paralyzed for a moment. He shifted his weight, and Sam tried to turn
her lower half away. He ground his hips
against hers, forcing her back. His
erection pushed snake-like into the skin of her abdomen. Repulsed, she tightened her stomach muscles,
trying to pull back from it. Enough is
enough, she decided. It was surprisingly
difficult to remember her combat training.
She forcefully cleared her thoughts. Her right leg was trapped under him. She raised her left knee, planting her foot
firmly on the mattress. Suddenly she
shoved upwards and to the right, pulling his left shoulder down to try to roll
him over. He lurched sideways and for a
moment Sam thought she'd succeeded. Then
he shifted his upper body, pinning her shoulders to the mattress. She grimaced as his upper arm pinched her
breast.
"You want to play wrestling games, Sam? This I can do." His left arm reached across her neck to twist
the collar of her blouse, the edge of his hand pressing against the left side
of her neck on her carotid artery. The
other hand crossed to the right, gripping the collar to press against the right
carotid. She recognized the maneuver
from training, and frantically shoved at his hands, trying to turn them. As the darkness rushed in from all sides, she
wondered distractedly where Alec Colson had learned how to do a blood
choke.
Hearing and touch returned first, and she realized
that someone was removing the last of her clothing. Then, a weight pressed her torso into the
mattress. She grabbed to one side and
tried to drag herself away, but he pulled her close and settled one knee
between her legs. She fought her to
focus her eyes. The flickering gold
lamplight made his face twist and jump with shadows.
She swallowed and found her voice. "Alec, stop this. Get off," she gasped, frightened and
revolted. His left arm slid back across
her neck, gripping beside her neck in preparation for another choke.
His pelvis rocked against her hips, and she struggled
for control of her emotions as her head swam.
Her right arm was blocked by his shoulder from doing anything effective,
so she grabbed at his throat with her left hand and shoved. He twisted slightly, protecting his windpipe,
and the pressure of his forearm on her neck doubled. She pushed on his left arm with her right,
trying to lever it away and breathe. His
other knee slid between her legs, forcing them apart. The world was growing dim around the edges
again, and her pulse was pounding in her ears.
She felt his erection pushing against her vulva, and
panic overtook her. She shoved at his
shoulders and tried to squirm her hips away. He seemed to pause, and the bar on her throat
lifted slightly. She drank in several
gasps of air, still for a moment. Thank
God. He wasn't going to do it. His head was above her right shoulder, and
all she could see was the striation of muscle on his shoulder and the straight
black hair at the back of his head. His
breath was hot and loud in her ear.
His right hand slid down her body in a rough caress,
dragging painfully across her left breast and towards her groin, and the faint
relief vanished. His hand lifted off her
abdomen. Surely he was going to
stop. Then the blunt pressure of his
penis returned. Cold shock flooded her
as she realized he was simply positioning himself, with his weight on his elbow
and his left forearm still across her throat.
Struggling wasn't working; she was still terribly
fuzzy from the choke. Maybe if she could
stall, she could reason with him. Her
right hand was still blocked, so she slid her ineffective left hand up to the
side of his face. "No, Alec, wait;
I'm not ready," she said, as clearly and calmly as she could manage. "And you're not wearing –"
"Sam, cut the frigid crap," he muttered,
and jagged pain sliced through her as he shoved inside.
A noise that was more a gasp than a cry of pain
erupted from her throat. An icy weakness
flowed through her, radiating from her chest and abdomen out through her
limbs. He thrust again, hard, shifting
his hips to drive deeper.
"Alec, stop, you're hurting me," she choked
out.
He didn't slow.
"Then try to relax a bit, damn it."
Shock still held control of her mind as securely as
he controlled her body. This was not
supposed to be happening to her, not on Earth, not here, not with him. Then, as he continued moving, she came back
to herself momentarily. Do
something. She had to do something.
As he pulled back, she tried to roll her hips
away. He fell out, and she frantically
pulled the still-conscious fragments of her military training to the
front. She twisted as he attempted to re-enter,
shoving his shoulders to roll him off.
It hadn't worked before, but she'd done something wrong. It didn't work this time, either. He grunted, and the pressure on her throat
became intense.
Both her hands moved to yank at the arm choking her. He found his place again and slid halfway
in. She shoved her feet against the
mattress for leverage and twisted, denying him any more.
Darkness moved in from the edges of her vision as she
struggled for air. He moved his hips
against hers and slammed into her, pushing her flat. The pain ripped her inside again, and her
faint cry cost precious air. His right
hand pinned one wrist beside her head, and he leaned down to her ear. His breath reeked of stale alcohol, and she
tried unsuccessfully to recoil as he growled, "I always thought you'd like
it rough. You asked for it, you got it,
you goddamn tease."
His arm moved with the uneven thrusts, and her air
began to return. She lay still for a
moment, drawing breath and watching her vision return. This could not be real. But the pain said otherwise, so she scooted
to the side as far as she could, trying to deprive him
of deeper access. He almost fell out
again, and she jerked away unsuccessfully.
The next thrust tore into her, and she lay still. It hurt less when she was still, and
struggling no longer seemed to matter.
She turned her head away from him and studied the wallpaper only two
meters beyond the hand pinning her wrist.
She hadn't noticed it before, but there were small vines trailing up
through the pattern like bars on a cage.
She was grateful for the angle of the wavering light; she didn't want to
see their shadows measured against the vine bars.
He huffed and thrust irregularly, ignoring her limp
form. Drops of his sweat fell on her,
rolling over her skin and onto the sheets.
The smell and feel of the liquid bothered her almost more than what was
happening below; after all, that no longer mattered. She wondered what type of plant the vines
were, perhaps ivy? Maybe poison
ivy.
He moaned and sped up, and she was grateful it would
be over soon. It hurt less than at
first, but with every movement Sam felt something small and private inside her
mind break. He convulsed and hurled
himself against her in ragged rhythm. As
she felt his seed wash her inside, she closed her eyes because it *did*
matter.
He collapsed on top of her. Turning his head to the far wall, he muttered
thickly, "Damn, you're a good fuck."
The absurdity of the statement reached her mind
through the fog, and she opened her eyes to stare at the back of his head in
disbelief. There was a faint white line
under the hair at the base of his neck.
It reminded her of something, something awful and important, but she
couldn't remember what, so she just stared at it, trying to understand why it
was so bad.
He rolled over onto his back, and she lay there for a
moment, still limp. Slowly it occurred
to her that she could move now, so she half slid and half crawled across the
bed to the opposite side. Her knees
shook slightly when she began to walk, and she dragged one hand along the
vine-barred wall for support.
Sam wandered into the bathroom and closed the
door. The lock clicked reassuringly, and
she clung to the handle with both hands, leaning her forehead against the cool
wood. The bitter tang of his sweat and
semen hung in the air.
She wanted to go home, or better yet, to the base,
with its thick concrete walls, high chain link fences, and armed guards. She could lock herself in her lab, and there'd
be more than a hollow core door and a sliver of cheap brass between her and the
world.
She ached inside.
Eventually she pulled herself together enough to let
go of the door. Avoiding the mirror, she
wandered over to the toilet and sat. It
burned when she urinated, and there were red streaks on the paper when she
wiped. She stared blankly at the paper
for a moment, unable to process what she was seeing. What the hell just happened?
The skin between her thighs felt slimy. She tossed the paper in the bowl and flushed,
deliberately not looking at the color of the water. She staggered into the shower.
There was only one large, clear plastic and brass
knob on the wall under the showerhead.
Although she'd used the shower earlier in the evening, she couldn't see
well in the flickering yellow lamplight and it took her a moment to figure out
how to turn it on. Icy water crashed
onto her face and shoulders, and she realized she was shaking badly. She twisted the knob back and forth, trying
to figure out how to warm it up; she was cold enough inside. Eventually the water became scalding hot, and
she left it set as hot as she could stand.
She leaned against the wall, watching tendrils of steam rise and twist
in the dim light. The water hissed loudly,
the pitch changing as she moved to wash herself. The rest of the world was silent; only the
hiss of the water and the occasional squeak of her feet on the wet tile
existed, but the noise was deafening.
Her stomach was churning, and she wondered if she was
going to vomit all over the shower. She
knew this was her fault. She never
should have let him touch her in the first place. Wrapping both arms around her body, she slid
to the floor and watched the water swirl down the drain. She wasn't afraid of dissolving into it any
more. Melting didn't seem so bad right
now.
Long after the soap and hot water had run out, she
could still smell him on her body.
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Feedback is appreciated.
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