Bits and Pieces #15: The Serpent's Bite -- Part 7
Title: Bits and Pieces: #15 The Serpent's Bite
Author: Pink Rabbit Productions
Fandom: Stargate SG-1
Pairing: Sam/Janet
Part: 7
Date: 28 August, 2012
Author's Note: Yes, this is actually still alive.
Earlier Parts: Earlier stories at altfic.com ( Bits and Pieces Series )
Bits and Pieces #14: | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 |
Bits and Pieces #15: | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 |
When last we saw our heroes: SG1 had just arrived safely at the base, while the Janet, Cassie and the Beta Team were attacked by a Jaffa that left a Goa'uld surprise which put a wall of ice over the gate, and started a freezing cold, green snowfall.
Bits and Pieces: #15 The Serpent's Bite
Part 7
Still pleasantly buzzed, Sam unlocked Janet's front door and heaved a sigh of relief as she stepped inside her friend's home. The familiar peace that always came over her in the other woman's presence washed over and through her. One beer with Jack and the team had turned into three in spite of her protests, but the alcohol and friendly companionship hadn't done for her what simply entering Janet’s home had.
Debriefings, reports, praise from the general, even a friendly drink with the guys had all just seemed like more of the same, a brief lull in the storm rather than a change in circumstances.
Not like this. This was real and it calmed her frayed nerves almost instantly.
She checked and found a note to the effect that Simon had indeed been picked up and kenneled. Ironic, the need to see to such mundane details even when faced with imminent doom. But perhaps that was a great deal of what families were about. As she thought about it, she recalled her mother had always handled such things when she was a child, seamlessly seeing to hearth and home even as her father had focused on other, more high-flying concerns. She'd resented him even then, jealous and hurt that everything but his family seemed to have a priority in his life. And after her mother died....
She shied from that memory, the pain still too raw for her to face alone.
But even as she shoved it aside, the unwanted idea occurred that she wasn't so different from her father -- pushing everything but her own concerns aside until it was too late, running scared from any kind of emotional demands, and too often losing track of those she claimed to love when their needs conflicted with hers.
Now there was a dark thought.
Particularly when the world had been saved, she reminded herself. It was a time for celebration, not depression.
She'd almost lost everything, but there was still time to fix the mess she’d made of things. The SGC would bring Janet, Cassie, and the rest of the Beta team home once the Alpha team was back---only a few more days to wait. Then she'd have a chance to make her apologies in person rather than through emails written on the run.
Precisely what to say was still something of a mystery. Her distance and coldness had been a decision made with an eye to the harsh realities of their situation, not to mention a whole lot of panic. There were careers and a child to consider when calculating the military's stance on certain issues. Not to mention emotions, drives, wants, needs, and all of the things that went into any relationship; all things at which she'd long since proven her hopeless incompetence. It had seemed so much safer to just step away, let things cool down, and maintain the walls she'd long kept between herself and any more earthbound temptations.
Nearly dying and losing an entire world could change a person's view on such things, alter priorities, and bring emotions into crystal cut clarity.
All of which was almost too terrifying to contemplate without winding up in a corner somewhere sucking her thumb and babbling like an idiot because she honestly couldn't see an easy path for any of them. Accepting her own emotions and knowing what to do with them were two very different things.
Easier to just water some plants.
Much, much easier.
She turned a hose on the flower garden in the back first, then checked on the hanging baskets in the kitchen and the planter in the foyer. It was make-work, if she was honest. Janet hadn't been gone long enough for anything green to be in dire danger. Still, the mindless chores helped ease some of the tension threatening to turn her stomach into the proverbial Gordian knot. By the time she stepped into Janet's bedroom to check on the spider lily hanging in one corner.
Other than needing a larger pot, the plant was fine, the soft loamy earth in which it was planted still faintly moist.
Which meant Sam should just move along.
Only she didn't. Instead, she silently set the watering can aside, simply drinking in the sense of the other woman that surrounded her. It suddenly occurred to Sam that she was exhausted. She'd been running for what seemed like days, then capped off the insane volume of activity with a healthy measure of beer. Really, she'd had no business driving and she felt a burst of shame for not seeing that earlier. Not to mention a fair degree of annoyance as it struck her that O'Neill was the one who'd pressured her to have just one more.
No more of that in the future, she chastised herself. Saving the world was no damned excuse for driving drunk or even mildly tipsy.
She sat on the edge of Janet's bed, sinking into the pillow-topped mattress with a soft sigh.
Janet had never begrudged her a clean bed when she was in need, she justified the decision she hadn't quite consciously made, but was well on the way to.
And she was so damned tired.
Flopping back, she closed her eyes, a thousand thoughts and images running, unbidden, through her head. Laughing together, astronomy lessons, the sybaritic confines of a harem bed that was meant for one thing and one thing only, desperate escapes, and a more desperate kiss.
And it had been desperate.
Even Captain Samantha Carter wasn't so blinkered that she didn't realize just how raw and wanton that blending of mouths and bodies had been. Enticing as it was to simply chalk it up to the temptations of the forbidden, she had to admit there was a lot more to it. Without planning to, she considered her relationship with the other woman: the months of growing closeness; the attraction that, in hindsight, existed at so many levels; all the times they'd talked and laughed for hours on end, and it still hadn't been enough; and finally the kiss, and her own ridiculous overreaction to it. She'd hurt the other woman, her unreasonableness threatening to damage a level of trust that was so special and unusual. Whatever else, she should never have allowed that to happen and maybe....
Maybe she was being paranoid. The SGC wasn't like Washington D.C. where a person was under constant scrutiny and any tiny mistake could cost an officer their career. Folding an arm across her face, she simply let her mind float, not focusing on anything, but subconsciously aware of where she was lying, the soft scent of Janet's shampoo and perfume still clinging to the sheets and pillows.
She was still drifting, rerunning the night they’d kissed and musing on what might have happened if she hadn’t run, when the dream she'd had on the Goa'uld mothership came flooding back, the emotions and sensations swirling through her with unexpected intensity. Without thinking, she reached up to outline her own lips, memories of kisses---both real and imagined---playing in her mind. Guilty arousal raised goose bumps on her skin, drawing blood to the surface, and causing a deep, heated flush. Slow, deep breathing shifted, catching ever so slightly at irregular intervals. The fingers stroking her lips slid over her chin, then down her throat, trailing along the faint corrugation of her windpipe in a slow, languid caress that didn't end until she reached the collar of her blouse, the fabric feeling icy cold in contrast to her own skin.
A quick roll onto her stomach and she lay with her face buried in Janet's pillow, arms wrapped tightly around its downy softness, painfully aware of the blood running like melted lead in her veins.
Without planning to, she envisioned the dream taking place in this bed, melding it with a fantasy in which she didn't leave the other woman behind in a panicked flight after that first, wanton kiss, but rather drew her close, continuing the hungry lovemaking. A ragged sigh escaped her lips and she clung more tightly to the pillow, muscles rippling across her back and shoulders, her mind racing, mentally painting the sort of image she didn't usually allow herself to even remotely contemplate.
She was still lost in the fantasy, her body aching so badly she could barely think straight, when her cell phone rang. The sound barely penetrated on the first couple of rings, and the soft vibration at her hip only added to the rush of sensations making her body shudder. Then suddenly, she recognized the sound and rolled, fumbling to clear the phone from its holster.
"Carter here," she stuttered when she finally got the phone open, only a ring or two ahead of her voice mail picking up.
"Captain Carter?" Professionally polite, the man's voice was unfamiliar, instantly snapping Sam out of any fantasies and back into the real world. Her cell was SGC issue, which tended to keep spam calls to a minimum, and meant that even voices she didn't know probably had important matters to discuss.
"Speaking."
"This is Dr. McKenzie at psych. I've been treating Tony Phillips. I think you know about his case."
A shudder slid through Sam as she remembered the young airmen. Hathor had left him with a time bomb ticking in his head, her programming driving him to attack Fraiser in the mistaken belief that she was somehow his. Sam had barely managed to get back in time to help the other woman, and Phillips had been locked up in an effort to deprogram him. "I remember," she said simply. From what she'd heard, the poor bastard might never be sane again; though given what he'd tried to do, she was hard-pressed to feel much sympathy.
McKenzie must have heard the anger in her voice, because his tone took on the same soothing note she’d heard Janet use when working to get her way with patients she knew would resist following orders. "I'm calling because Airman Phillips became extremely agitated earlier tonight. Apparently, he overheard enough to realize there was trouble at the ...base...and the general nature of it." Even over scrambled transmissions, team members tended to talk around things to maintain some semblance of security.
Sam shook her head in confusion. "I don't understand," she admitted, wondering why this was her concern.
"He's asking to speak to you," McKenzie explained. "Begging really." There was a brief pause as though he was debating how much to say. "He says it's important."
Muscles clenching along her jawline, Sam ran a hand through her hair and fought the impulse to lose her temper. The notion that she was supposed to do anything for Phillips after what he’d try to do to Janet enough to set her teeth. Maybe it was illogical and maybe she should have been more sympathetic, but she just couldn’t quite manage the trick. "Is he still obsessed?"
"He has...issues," McKenzie said softly, then paused before continuing, "and definitely still has very strong feelings where Dr. Fraiser is concerned."
Sam just bet he did. "Did he tell you what this was about?" she demanded, less than eager to pay a visit to the man who'd come so close to destroying someone dear to her. Phillips and his delusions were Psych's problems, not hers.
McKenzie apparently sensed her mood, because he went on using that same soothing, manipulative tone. "No...and he won't. He refuses to talk to anyone but you...says you're the only one he can trust to care for her the way he does...that's what he said. Just you ..." But they both knew exactly who Phillips would be referring to, the woman he was still obsessed with.
Sam shivered as though someone had walked over her grave. One part of her wanted to just chalk it up to Phillips' insanity. But....
But....
But Hathor had gotten through before, and she'd taken a tiptoe through the tulips of Tony Phillips' mind.
She was still considering that factor when McKenzie continued a little hesitantly. "Normally, I wouldn't bother you with this, but he's extremely upset...worse than he's been in quite some time...and if there's any chance that he knows something...."
"Yeah," Carter said abruptly as she pushed to her feet. She'd already come to the same conclusion. "I'm on my way."
She had the house locked up and was jogging to her car by the time McKenzie finished his goodbyes and hung up. Once in her car, she gunned the engine hard, and broke every speed limit as she weaved through the late night traffic.
* * * * * *
The universe was fresh out of miracles.
That thought went through Janet Fraiser's head as she accepted that she'd failed. While Makepeace and the marines had moved anything that might help keep them warm inside the glittering cage surrounding the gate, she and the science team had continued their efforts.
All for naught.
She swallowed hard as she looked up from the laptop computer she was using to study one of the crystalline snowflakes. A high-powered microscanner was connected to the computer, which allowed her to use what looked like a large pen to study the tiny flake, but the Goa'uld creation was tightfisted with its secrets. She had some sense of the crystal lattice, but no idea what had created it or made it so strong. Melting the damn things hadn't been possible with anything short of a blowtorch and by then, there was no data to be had. Brute force could shatter the tiny crystals, but when broken, they quickly dissipated and left nothing available for study. Spectrographic analysis suggested it was simple ice, microscopic analysis revealed nothing unusual, and chemical analysis came back as H20.
In short, with the tools they had at hand, all they could tell was that it was ice.
Only it didn't act like any ice she'd ever encountered before.
She uttered a soft curse and scrunched lower over her equipment, using her body to shield it as best she could. Makepeace's men had started disassembling the tarps a short while before, so she was working without protection.
As if summoned by that thought, a deep voice broke in. "Doc?"
Fraiser looked up from her work, gaze swinging over to the broad figure standing a short distance away, his expression grim.
"It's almost time," Makepeace informed her.
She nodded. "I know." She took a deep breath, then exhaled it in an effort to release the tension knotting her shoulders. With him watching her that way, she had to fight the urge to apologize, though for what she wasn't entirely certain: not pulling a rabbit out of a hat, not helping with more mundane matters when they clearly weren't going to find a miracle, or simply for not having Sam's knack for fixing everything.
"I just thought I should let you know in person," the colonel added, his own tone beaten and a little defensive. He looked away for a moment.
Feeling the need to offer some kind of encouragement, but with little positive to say, she directed a glance toward the shelters set up inside the cage. "Thanks for helping look after Cassie while I-"
"Don't worry about it," he inserted before she could finish. "She's a good kid."
Janet nodded, eyes still on him as she blindly reached for the micro-scanner with an ungloved hand that was numb with cold and stiff from the myriad of cuts and bruises she'd gotten fighting both Makepeace and the Jaffa. She'd stripped off the bandages when they got in the way, then her surgical gloves when they'd stiffened in the cold and begun randomly sticking to things. As a result, every unbruised patch of bare skin was covered in tiny, red marks where blowing snowflakes had touched and momentarily stuck.
Distracted by the colonel, she grabbed the wrong thing with too much force, coming up with a scalpel she'd been using to try and slice open one of the flakes. The blade sliced deep, carving a wake through her fingers and palm, the damage worsened by the fact that numb fingers didn't initially register the pain and she put more pressure on the blade before realizing she'd grabbed the wrong tool. A curse escaped her lips as blood splashed across the computer screen.
"Doc, you okay?" Makepeace questioned and started to take a step forward to help.
She waved him off as she grabbed a towel and wrapped it around her hand. "It's nothing." Which was true enough in the cosmic scheme of things. She retrieved a small bottle of cleaner meant to be used with the various scientific instruments and clumsily squirted a healthy dose onto the screen and half the surrounding instruments. Another curse. Though it didn't really matter, she reminded herself. The computers and most of the science gear would be left behind in the next few minutes.
"Well, I've gotta finish things up...and then no more delays," Makepeace said haltingly and turned away.
He'd only gone a few feet when Janet looked down and froze.
The flakes of snow caught in the sample tray were melting. As she watched, they softened and turned to slush, the greenish glow dying away in seconds. "Colonel," she called out, her voice rising the better part of an octave. "Wait."
He pivoted back, his expression tired and a little impatient. "Look, Doc, I know-"
"It melted the snow," she interrupted before he could say any more. She grabbed for the cleaner and peered at the list of contents. "It's mostly alcohol." She tossed another of the sample containers at him. "Scoop up some of the snow." She was already looking at the melted sample at maximum magnification.
"What the heck is that?" Makepeace asked when he returned with a sample tray mounded with greenish-white crystals. He pointed a finger at the screen which showed clear globules lying unmoving in a transparent landscape. As they watched, the formless shapes began breaking down and dissipating.
"Bacteria," Janet exhaled, then grabbed the tray from him and poured a healthy dose of alcohol over it. In moments, it was melting. "It's bacterial..." She stared at the screen again, watching the way the familiar shapes were starting to spread into the surrounding water, losing their shape so rapidly they would be invisible in moments. “Breaks down almost instantly…that’s why we couldn’t see it before. “She tipped her head up to peer at the Goa'uld device that had started it all. "It must have seeded the entire area in addition to whatever it did around the gate." Her breathing was carefully controlled as she fought the giddiness that threatened to overwhelm her. She looked down at the bottle in her hand. "We tried a disinfectant, but it was water based...probably just froze… but alcohol has a much lower freezing temp, so it actually managed to kill the stuff." She cursed softly, silently kicking herself for not seeing that possibility sooner. She tipped her head back on her shoulders. "It must draw energy and moisture out of the air... uses them to propagate. The ice may just be a side effect."
Makepeace grinned. "So we've got a way to fight this thing?"
Janet could almost see his dream that they could beat it all the way back through the gate to the Goa'uld homeworld. She shook her head. "No," she neatly punctured his hopes, "we don't have enough alcohol...we've only got two, maybe three gallons in medical." Most of their disinfectants were more powerful---and also water based. She glanced toward the Stargate. "Maybe enough to open a small hole in the gate or free up the DHD." Implicit in her statement was her doubt that they had enough to do both.
Makepeace considered that information for a moment, his shoulders deflating as he accepted that her discovery was no magic bullet. He glanced over at his people. "My guess is everybody on this little picnic has a secret stash of some kind," he said thoughtfully after a second. "You figure Jack D. will help?" He'd used it as a disinfectant in the field a few times when that was all he'd had on hand.
She nodded. "It should...anything distilled is probably strong enough."
"Okay," he said, relieved to have even a hint of a plan that let him fight back, even if the weapon he'd been handed wasn't particularly high calibre. "You get your people together and find everything you've got in medical that we can use. I'll deal with my guys and collect whatever we've got. We meet back at the gate ASAP." They could figure out the next step then.
Janet nodded in understanding. "Will do, sir."
With the beginnings of a plan in place, they both hurried to see to their duties.
* * * * * *
Tony Phillips looked like he'd seen the bowels of hell itself. Hollow-eyed, shaky, a once-stocky man well on the way to becoming gaunt, he shuffled into the psychiatric facility's visiting room under the care of a burly, closely watching attendant. He took a seat, barely seeming to notice when his caretaker latched his handcuffs to the staple on the edge of the heavy table that dominated the small room. And when his haunted gaze swung up to touch on Sam, she had to fight the urge to run and hide. Not madness precisely, but something even worse.
McKenzie had warned her that the young airman still had serious problems in the aftermath of Hathor's attack, but no warning could have prepared her for what she saw in his expression. He wasn't just broken, he was shattered. She'd been ready to resent, maybe even hate the man for what he'd done, but the destroyed soul in front of her was worthy only of pity.
"Ma'am?" the attendant said on a questioning note.
Sam saw Phillips flick a suspicious look at his guardian. "I'll be all right," she assured the guard as she waved him off. "Go on."
"Don't suppose you have any cigarettes on you?" Phillips asked when they were alone.
Sam shook her head, taking a step farther into the room, but remaining well back from the table as she watched the prisoner with shadowed eyes. Despite the manacles, she had no reason to trust either his actions or his words, and McKenzie had warned her that he was still subject to unpredictable mood swings. The cuffs looked firm and the table they were latched to appeared heavy, but she'd dealt with too many Goa'uld spies to have any faith they'd hold if things went wrong.
Phillips nodded, accepting the news with a grim air. "Too bad," he muttered, ducking his head to run a hand through his hair, further stirring the already askew strands as he stretched his hands as far as the chains would allow. "The doc doesn't approve but they help sometimes...make it easier to...think." He rubbed his eyes, then trailed a hand along his cheek, fingers rasping against skin made rough by the beginnings of a beard. Didn't look like he got to shave very often. Not too surprising. Sam couldn't imagine the doctors were in a hurry to hand him a razor.
That thought still running through her head, she waited a long moment. "Dr. McKenzie said you wanted to speak to me?" she finally prompted when no further comment seemed to be forthcoming.
He looked up as though remembering she was there, and his eyes narrowed. After a moment, he abruptly blinked and shook himself, head tipping to one side while he twitched as though he had a violent earache.
"Airman?" Sam said carefully, uncertain whether to keep her voice soft and sympathetic or to adopt a tone of command to try and reach him.
He didn't look up, instead staring down at his hands with total focus as he spoke. "They try to keep us outta the loop in here. But we hear stuff...orderlies and doctors...they slip up...." His hands abruptly fisted tightly for a second and he tipped his head to one side, a pained flinch creasing his brow. "I heard the docs were prepping for trouble on the base."
So that's it, Sam thought. Hearing about the medical teams must have triggered him. No point in encouraging his obsessions. "There's always something going on," she said without getting into the details.
Dark eyes tipped up, spearing through her with raw intensity. "Big trouble?" he asked softly, "Shipping out trouble?"
"Airman, I can't answer those questions," Sam said, her tone flat, refusing to be baited. If he was looking for information on Janet, she damn well wasn't going to give it to him. "And you should know that."
The muscles along the line of his jaw clenched and his hands fisted tightly again and remained that way this time. "Right," he exhaled bitterly, "I'm a security risk."
Sam didn't bother to confirm what he already knew, just folded her arms across her chest. Clearly, this was just a scouting mission. She might pity him, but whatever was going on in his head, she wasn't buying into it. "If that's all, I have to-"
"No!" Phillips interrupted sharply. He stared up at Sam, raw agony and desperation in his expression. "Is she all right? I just need to know."
Shaking her head, Sam tamped down a curse. Well, chalk her up as a sucker. Not bothering to reply, she pivoted away, intending to ring for the attendant to let her out.
"Just tell me if the Beta Team's back okay!"
That pulled Sam up short and she spun back. "What did you say?"
"Please," Phillips begged. "I just need to know she's back okay."
Sam's heart was suddenly pounding so hard she almost couldn't hear him over the roaring in her ears. "Y-you said the Beta Team." Only Phillips shouldn't have known a Beta Team existed. That information was way over his pay grade.
"I-I..." he verbally stumbled and trailed to a halt, then did another of the strange neck-twisting flinches, his head snapping to one side as his expression momentarily creased with pain. "No," he hissed almost inaudibly as he screwed his eyes tightly shut.
"Airman," Sam said sharply, in an effort to break through whatever held him in its thrall. It was just some kind of coincidence or misunderstanding, she told herself. He couldn't know. And even if he did, that didn't mean Hathor knew anything. She searched her memory desperately, trying to remember exactly when she'd started inputting the initial plans for the Beta Team into the computers.
He showed no sign of hearing as a tiny, half-hysterical whimper escaped his lips. "No, I'm not like that," he whispered raggedly, though Sam was certain it wasn't her he was talking to. Dark eyes snapped open and he stared up at her as though just remembering she was there. "I never hurt a woman in my life...never...never wanted to...."
Something in him was snapping, losing hold of reality and losing it quickly. And Sam couldn't afford to have him slide away, at least not until she knew what was going on. "I believe you, Airman," she said carefully, using all of her self-control to keep from grabbing him. That might just push him the rest of the way 'round the bend, she reminded herself. "But I need to know why you mentioned the Beta Team."
Phillips looked down again, fighting whatever internal demons were tormenting him with such ferocity. "The Beta Team," he repeated unsteadily, his head bobbing jerkily like a poorly controlled marionette. His head tipped up and he focused on her with a strange expression that somehow seemed to meld together more emotions than one human should be able to feel at one time: desperation, fear, barely controlled rage, seething jealousy and something else Sam hadn't expected at all, an all-encompassing kind of hope that made no sense. "I never...I never wanted...." he trailed off, shaking his head, apparently unable to finish. "I hate the thoughts she puts in my head...the images she makes me see...."
Tamping down any frustration, Sam tried to maintain her calm. Whatever was going on in his head, it clearly made coherent thought difficult. "Airman Phillips," she began, her voice low, but firm-a command voice, "I need you to tell me anything you know about the Beta Team." It was probably nothing, but she had to be sure.
He looked up again, gaze sharpening as it fell on her, the resentment and jealousy swelling in his eyes. His jaw clenched. "Carter," he growled, lip curling with dislike.
Okay, so the command voice wasn't necessarily the best way of reaching him.
More of the strange twitches. An unwanted voice whispering in his ear?
"I know what you want...I've seen the way you look at her," he snarled, his mood shifting, the subject leaving Sam to pray that McKenzie wasn't listening in. She'd extracted no promises of privacy, hadn't considered it necessary and suddenly wondered if maybe Phillips was going to blow things all to hell.
No, she reminded herself. He had no secrets of hers to reveal. Hell, she had no real secrets to reveal beyond a single, soul-searing kiss. Anything else was thoughts and feelings---and the military didn't bounce an officer based on those. It did so based on actions.
"But she'll never be yours." Phillips jerked his arms, clanging the manacles against the staple hard enough to rattle the table.
Sam backed up a step and tensed in case he broke free.
"She's mine and I'll-"
"You won't do a thing," Sam interrupted before he could get any farther. She didn't plan a speech, just knew she couldn't stand there and listen to that particular brand of madness. Phillips snarled something incomprehensible and braced himself as if to leap, but Sam ignored the threat as she stabbed a finger in his direction. "Because that's not you talking, Airman," she snapped. "That's Hathor."
The accusation seemed to pull him up short, knocking the rage out of him almost instantly. "Hathor," he exhaled very softly, his breath coming in quick, shallow pants.
"Hathor," Sam repeated, her voice softer this time, trying to reach the man who clearly loathed what he'd done and who was trying to find himself again. "That's the kind of thing she likes...but you know better. You know you can't own people...not Janet...not anyone."
The young airman seemed to deflate, sagging into the chair, his head down, shoulders slumped. "Hathor," he repeated. "She wants everyone to suffer." He looked up then, fastening a surprisingly clear gaze on Sam. "You...her...." No question who 'her' referred to as his eyes went liquid with adoration, and something darker and more possessive.
"But you don't want that," Sam said, in hopes of reinforcing the saner side of his personality.
Phillips shook his head, the look in his eyes softening. "No," he croaked. "I never wanted to hurt anybody." His frown deepened as he struggled with his demons.
"What was it you wanted to tell me?" Sam prompted as gently as she was able.
He looked up, his gaze unfocused, expression slightly confused.
"About Janet and the Beta Team?" Sam clarified, fear sending runners up and down her spine in spite of her efforts to convince herself it was nothing.
"Doctor Fraiser?" Phillips exhaled. "Hathor hates her...that's why she sent me to..." He choked to a halt, tension running through his muscles. After a moment, he focused on Sam again, some of the bitter rage back in place. "No, it's you she hates...you're why she..." His lip curled with disgust. "She saw it too...how to hurt you-"
"Airman," Sam said sharply, not knowing what else to do. "Hathor hates us all."
"No, she..." he started to deny the charge, some of the old worship of the Goa'uld showing in his expression. Another violent twitch. "No!" he snarled abruptly. "I won't let you!"
Sam backed up a step, her movement drawing his attention back to her.
"She knows," he whispered, the words coming out ragged and forced as though he had to fight the devil himself to get them out.
With no idea what he was referring to, Sam could only shake her head.
"Hathor knows about the Beta Team," he said, his tone one of pure dread.
"No." Sam shook her head. That couldn't be. "She can't...that's not possible." It was just one more delusion. It had to be. No way in hell Hathor could possibly know. Because if Hathor knew, that meant that Sam had sent Janet and Cassie straight into hell. "That information was encrypted...hidden-"
"And I showed it to her!" Phillips exploded, shaking the table again. "I showed her everything." He ducked his head to wipe at tears. "I was trying to please her."
Sam couldn't think, couldn't function, couldn't even breathe. Sheer terror made her heart race and her skin run with panicked sweat. It wasn't possible. Just one more delusion. It had to be. "Airman, you shouldn't have even known about it..." Nails digging into her palms as she fought the urge to shake him, Sam took a half step forward. "How?" she demanded, her throat so tight she couldn't get out any more than that.
"I liked hacking the system...I found that stuff...and I just wanted to please her..." he whimpered, the energy draining out of him almost as quickly as it had surged. "And it did...she was so happy..." he breathed, his tone a perverse mix of horror and sheer joy at the memory of Hathor's love. He sank back down, his hands shaking badly where they rested on the tabletop. "That's why she rewarded me...promised me that Janet was mine...." he whispered raggedly, barely even aware of Carter.
Sam did grab him then, hands digging into his collar as she shook him. "Tell me you didn't do this," she roared. "Tell me it's just one more goddamned delusion!"
Then he looked up, the madness momentarily held at bay as he whispered what she least wanted to hear...the gate address.
Sam let him go and stumbled back several steps.
"I didn't mean to hurt anyone," Phillips said again." I just wanted to make Hathor happy."
Reeling, Sam spun toward the door, already fumbling for her cell phone as she pounded for the attendant to let her out.
"You've gotta save her," Phillips called at her retreating back. "You're the only one...who...can...who loves…loves her…like I do...."
Then the attendant was there, throwing the lock and opening the door for her. With Tony Phillips' pleas still ringing in her ears, Sam darted through the door the moment it was open, then slid to a stop as it swept over her that her efforts to secure Janet and Cassie’s safety might well have put them in even worse danger.
Because if Hathor knew where they were…
She fought the urge to be sick.
If Hathor knew where they were, her mind insisted on finishing the thought, she would take great delight in making them suffer as much as possible.
Sam could feel her pulse racing and sweat running a river down her center back.
"Captain Carter?" McKenzie questioned as he stepped out of a side door to a nearby observation room. Apparently he'd heard everything, but Sam didn't have time to care. "Is there anything we can do to-"
"Keep talking to him," she bit out. "See if you can learn anything else." She already had her cell open, only to curse as it came up with no signal. "Goddammit!" She speared a hard look at McKenzie. "I've gotta get out of here ASAP!" she growled. The psych facility was a maze of locked doors and checkpoints, and she didn't have time for it.
He nodded. "I'll make sure you're cleared through."
Sam didn't wait to find out what else he might have to say. She was already moving, running, long legs eating up the floor under her feet. Dead bolts and doors clanged open ahead of her, but she paid little to no attention to the orderlies and guards. So long as they weren't in her way, she didn't care. Her attention was reserved for her still non-responsive cell phone and the fight not to panic over what Phillips had told her.
”Please, let it be just one more delusion,” she begged no one in particular, pushing her stride even harder as desperation swept through her.
She stumbled out into the chilly night air in record time and saw the cell register a signal a moment later, dialed, waited while it rang, heard the familiar sound of General Hammond's secretary. A quick demand to speak to the general resulted in the news that he wasn't available.
"Get him...now!" Sam snarled impatiently as she broke into a run again, terrified that she might have to return to the base before anyone would listen to her. Things were probably quiet for the night while they pulled the Alpha Team back and by the sound of it, Hammond had retired to his quarters on base.
"Of course, Captain Carter," came back the flustered reply.
Despite the temptation to hurl the phone, Sam kept it in hand as she was put on hold, fumbling for her keys with her other hand and piling into her car. She pulled out of the parking lot, driving far too fast and unevenly, her concentration on everything but her own health and safety. Thankfully, it was late and the roads were quiet or she likely wouldn't have made it more than a few blocks.
She was more than halfway back to the base when Hammond came on the line sounding muzzy and more than a little annoyed. "What's the problem, Captain Carter?"
She explained as quickly and as succinctly as she was able, ending with, "We've got to stop the offload of the Alpha Team and bring Beta Team back ASAP."
The general didn't argue. "That'll take some time," he said, his tone worried. "We'll need to secure the base first. We can’t risk letting anything get in here."
" Hathor wasn't expecting the base to be a factor," Sam ground out. She reached the SGC parking lot and grabbed the first open space, not giving a damn who it was assigned to. "She won't have-"
"Nonetheless, Captain," Hammond interrupted, his tone obdurate. "The security of this base must be our first concern."
Even knowing he was right, Sam wanted to rage and scream. "I know, sir," she admitted, her voice tight with stress. "I just-"
"I know, Captain," Hammond said, his tone kindly this time. "I'm worried about them too...and we'll move as quickly as possible. You have my word."
Moments later, her cell lost its signal as she stepped inside the mountain, moving as fast as she could between all the elevators and security check points in place.
* * * * * *
TBC
Author: Pink Rabbit Productions
Fandom: Stargate SG-1
Pairing: Sam/Janet
Part: 7
Date: 28 August, 2012
Author's Note: Yes, this is actually still alive.
Earlier Parts: Earlier stories at altfic.com ( Bits and Pieces Series )
Bits and Pieces #14: | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 |
Bits and Pieces #15: | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 |
When last we saw our heroes: SG1 had just arrived safely at the base, while the Janet, Cassie and the Beta Team were attacked by a Jaffa that left a Goa'uld surprise which put a wall of ice over the gate, and started a freezing cold, green snowfall.
Bits and Pieces: #15 The Serpent's Bite
Part 7
Still pleasantly buzzed, Sam unlocked Janet's front door and heaved a sigh of relief as she stepped inside her friend's home. The familiar peace that always came over her in the other woman's presence washed over and through her. One beer with Jack and the team had turned into three in spite of her protests, but the alcohol and friendly companionship hadn't done for her what simply entering Janet’s home had.
Debriefings, reports, praise from the general, even a friendly drink with the guys had all just seemed like more of the same, a brief lull in the storm rather than a change in circumstances.
Not like this. This was real and it calmed her frayed nerves almost instantly.
She checked and found a note to the effect that Simon had indeed been picked up and kenneled. Ironic, the need to see to such mundane details even when faced with imminent doom. But perhaps that was a great deal of what families were about. As she thought about it, she recalled her mother had always handled such things when she was a child, seamlessly seeing to hearth and home even as her father had focused on other, more high-flying concerns. She'd resented him even then, jealous and hurt that everything but his family seemed to have a priority in his life. And after her mother died....
She shied from that memory, the pain still too raw for her to face alone.
But even as she shoved it aside, the unwanted idea occurred that she wasn't so different from her father -- pushing everything but her own concerns aside until it was too late, running scared from any kind of emotional demands, and too often losing track of those she claimed to love when their needs conflicted with hers.
Now there was a dark thought.
Particularly when the world had been saved, she reminded herself. It was a time for celebration, not depression.
She'd almost lost everything, but there was still time to fix the mess she’d made of things. The SGC would bring Janet, Cassie, and the rest of the Beta team home once the Alpha team was back---only a few more days to wait. Then she'd have a chance to make her apologies in person rather than through emails written on the run.
Precisely what to say was still something of a mystery. Her distance and coldness had been a decision made with an eye to the harsh realities of their situation, not to mention a whole lot of panic. There were careers and a child to consider when calculating the military's stance on certain issues. Not to mention emotions, drives, wants, needs, and all of the things that went into any relationship; all things at which she'd long since proven her hopeless incompetence. It had seemed so much safer to just step away, let things cool down, and maintain the walls she'd long kept between herself and any more earthbound temptations.
Nearly dying and losing an entire world could change a person's view on such things, alter priorities, and bring emotions into crystal cut clarity.
All of which was almost too terrifying to contemplate without winding up in a corner somewhere sucking her thumb and babbling like an idiot because she honestly couldn't see an easy path for any of them. Accepting her own emotions and knowing what to do with them were two very different things.
Easier to just water some plants.
Much, much easier.
She turned a hose on the flower garden in the back first, then checked on the hanging baskets in the kitchen and the planter in the foyer. It was make-work, if she was honest. Janet hadn't been gone long enough for anything green to be in dire danger. Still, the mindless chores helped ease some of the tension threatening to turn her stomach into the proverbial Gordian knot. By the time she stepped into Janet's bedroom to check on the spider lily hanging in one corner.
Other than needing a larger pot, the plant was fine, the soft loamy earth in which it was planted still faintly moist.
Which meant Sam should just move along.
Only she didn't. Instead, she silently set the watering can aside, simply drinking in the sense of the other woman that surrounded her. It suddenly occurred to Sam that she was exhausted. She'd been running for what seemed like days, then capped off the insane volume of activity with a healthy measure of beer. Really, she'd had no business driving and she felt a burst of shame for not seeing that earlier. Not to mention a fair degree of annoyance as it struck her that O'Neill was the one who'd pressured her to have just one more.
No more of that in the future, she chastised herself. Saving the world was no damned excuse for driving drunk or even mildly tipsy.
She sat on the edge of Janet's bed, sinking into the pillow-topped mattress with a soft sigh.
Janet had never begrudged her a clean bed when she was in need, she justified the decision she hadn't quite consciously made, but was well on the way to.
And she was so damned tired.
Flopping back, she closed her eyes, a thousand thoughts and images running, unbidden, through her head. Laughing together, astronomy lessons, the sybaritic confines of a harem bed that was meant for one thing and one thing only, desperate escapes, and a more desperate kiss.
And it had been desperate.
Even Captain Samantha Carter wasn't so blinkered that she didn't realize just how raw and wanton that blending of mouths and bodies had been. Enticing as it was to simply chalk it up to the temptations of the forbidden, she had to admit there was a lot more to it. Without planning to, she considered her relationship with the other woman: the months of growing closeness; the attraction that, in hindsight, existed at so many levels; all the times they'd talked and laughed for hours on end, and it still hadn't been enough; and finally the kiss, and her own ridiculous overreaction to it. She'd hurt the other woman, her unreasonableness threatening to damage a level of trust that was so special and unusual. Whatever else, she should never have allowed that to happen and maybe....
Maybe she was being paranoid. The SGC wasn't like Washington D.C. where a person was under constant scrutiny and any tiny mistake could cost an officer their career. Folding an arm across her face, she simply let her mind float, not focusing on anything, but subconsciously aware of where she was lying, the soft scent of Janet's shampoo and perfume still clinging to the sheets and pillows.
She was still drifting, rerunning the night they’d kissed and musing on what might have happened if she hadn’t run, when the dream she'd had on the Goa'uld mothership came flooding back, the emotions and sensations swirling through her with unexpected intensity. Without thinking, she reached up to outline her own lips, memories of kisses---both real and imagined---playing in her mind. Guilty arousal raised goose bumps on her skin, drawing blood to the surface, and causing a deep, heated flush. Slow, deep breathing shifted, catching ever so slightly at irregular intervals. The fingers stroking her lips slid over her chin, then down her throat, trailing along the faint corrugation of her windpipe in a slow, languid caress that didn't end until she reached the collar of her blouse, the fabric feeling icy cold in contrast to her own skin.
A quick roll onto her stomach and she lay with her face buried in Janet's pillow, arms wrapped tightly around its downy softness, painfully aware of the blood running like melted lead in her veins.
Without planning to, she envisioned the dream taking place in this bed, melding it with a fantasy in which she didn't leave the other woman behind in a panicked flight after that first, wanton kiss, but rather drew her close, continuing the hungry lovemaking. A ragged sigh escaped her lips and she clung more tightly to the pillow, muscles rippling across her back and shoulders, her mind racing, mentally painting the sort of image she didn't usually allow herself to even remotely contemplate.
She was still lost in the fantasy, her body aching so badly she could barely think straight, when her cell phone rang. The sound barely penetrated on the first couple of rings, and the soft vibration at her hip only added to the rush of sensations making her body shudder. Then suddenly, she recognized the sound and rolled, fumbling to clear the phone from its holster.
"Carter here," she stuttered when she finally got the phone open, only a ring or two ahead of her voice mail picking up.
"Captain Carter?" Professionally polite, the man's voice was unfamiliar, instantly snapping Sam out of any fantasies and back into the real world. Her cell was SGC issue, which tended to keep spam calls to a minimum, and meant that even voices she didn't know probably had important matters to discuss.
"Speaking."
"This is Dr. McKenzie at psych. I've been treating Tony Phillips. I think you know about his case."
A shudder slid through Sam as she remembered the young airmen. Hathor had left him with a time bomb ticking in his head, her programming driving him to attack Fraiser in the mistaken belief that she was somehow his. Sam had barely managed to get back in time to help the other woman, and Phillips had been locked up in an effort to deprogram him. "I remember," she said simply. From what she'd heard, the poor bastard might never be sane again; though given what he'd tried to do, she was hard-pressed to feel much sympathy.
McKenzie must have heard the anger in her voice, because his tone took on the same soothing note she’d heard Janet use when working to get her way with patients she knew would resist following orders. "I'm calling because Airman Phillips became extremely agitated earlier tonight. Apparently, he overheard enough to realize there was trouble at the ...base...and the general nature of it." Even over scrambled transmissions, team members tended to talk around things to maintain some semblance of security.
Sam shook her head in confusion. "I don't understand," she admitted, wondering why this was her concern.
"He's asking to speak to you," McKenzie explained. "Begging really." There was a brief pause as though he was debating how much to say. "He says it's important."
Muscles clenching along her jawline, Sam ran a hand through her hair and fought the impulse to lose her temper. The notion that she was supposed to do anything for Phillips after what he’d try to do to Janet enough to set her teeth. Maybe it was illogical and maybe she should have been more sympathetic, but she just couldn’t quite manage the trick. "Is he still obsessed?"
"He has...issues," McKenzie said softly, then paused before continuing, "and definitely still has very strong feelings where Dr. Fraiser is concerned."
Sam just bet he did. "Did he tell you what this was about?" she demanded, less than eager to pay a visit to the man who'd come so close to destroying someone dear to her. Phillips and his delusions were Psych's problems, not hers.
McKenzie apparently sensed her mood, because he went on using that same soothing, manipulative tone. "No...and he won't. He refuses to talk to anyone but you...says you're the only one he can trust to care for her the way he does...that's what he said. Just you ..." But they both knew exactly who Phillips would be referring to, the woman he was still obsessed with.
Sam shivered as though someone had walked over her grave. One part of her wanted to just chalk it up to Phillips' insanity. But....
But....
But Hathor had gotten through before, and she'd taken a tiptoe through the tulips of Tony Phillips' mind.
She was still considering that factor when McKenzie continued a little hesitantly. "Normally, I wouldn't bother you with this, but he's extremely upset...worse than he's been in quite some time...and if there's any chance that he knows something...."
"Yeah," Carter said abruptly as she pushed to her feet. She'd already come to the same conclusion. "I'm on my way."
She had the house locked up and was jogging to her car by the time McKenzie finished his goodbyes and hung up. Once in her car, she gunned the engine hard, and broke every speed limit as she weaved through the late night traffic.
* * * * * *
The universe was fresh out of miracles.
That thought went through Janet Fraiser's head as she accepted that she'd failed. While Makepeace and the marines had moved anything that might help keep them warm inside the glittering cage surrounding the gate, she and the science team had continued their efforts.
All for naught.
She swallowed hard as she looked up from the laptop computer she was using to study one of the crystalline snowflakes. A high-powered microscanner was connected to the computer, which allowed her to use what looked like a large pen to study the tiny flake, but the Goa'uld creation was tightfisted with its secrets. She had some sense of the crystal lattice, but no idea what had created it or made it so strong. Melting the damn things hadn't been possible with anything short of a blowtorch and by then, there was no data to be had. Brute force could shatter the tiny crystals, but when broken, they quickly dissipated and left nothing available for study. Spectrographic analysis suggested it was simple ice, microscopic analysis revealed nothing unusual, and chemical analysis came back as H20.
In short, with the tools they had at hand, all they could tell was that it was ice.
Only it didn't act like any ice she'd ever encountered before.
She uttered a soft curse and scrunched lower over her equipment, using her body to shield it as best she could. Makepeace's men had started disassembling the tarps a short while before, so she was working without protection.
As if summoned by that thought, a deep voice broke in. "Doc?"
Fraiser looked up from her work, gaze swinging over to the broad figure standing a short distance away, his expression grim.
"It's almost time," Makepeace informed her.
She nodded. "I know." She took a deep breath, then exhaled it in an effort to release the tension knotting her shoulders. With him watching her that way, she had to fight the urge to apologize, though for what she wasn't entirely certain: not pulling a rabbit out of a hat, not helping with more mundane matters when they clearly weren't going to find a miracle, or simply for not having Sam's knack for fixing everything.
"I just thought I should let you know in person," the colonel added, his own tone beaten and a little defensive. He looked away for a moment.
Feeling the need to offer some kind of encouragement, but with little positive to say, she directed a glance toward the shelters set up inside the cage. "Thanks for helping look after Cassie while I-"
"Don't worry about it," he inserted before she could finish. "She's a good kid."
Janet nodded, eyes still on him as she blindly reached for the micro-scanner with an ungloved hand that was numb with cold and stiff from the myriad of cuts and bruises she'd gotten fighting both Makepeace and the Jaffa. She'd stripped off the bandages when they got in the way, then her surgical gloves when they'd stiffened in the cold and begun randomly sticking to things. As a result, every unbruised patch of bare skin was covered in tiny, red marks where blowing snowflakes had touched and momentarily stuck.
Distracted by the colonel, she grabbed the wrong thing with too much force, coming up with a scalpel she'd been using to try and slice open one of the flakes. The blade sliced deep, carving a wake through her fingers and palm, the damage worsened by the fact that numb fingers didn't initially register the pain and she put more pressure on the blade before realizing she'd grabbed the wrong tool. A curse escaped her lips as blood splashed across the computer screen.
"Doc, you okay?" Makepeace questioned and started to take a step forward to help.
She waved him off as she grabbed a towel and wrapped it around her hand. "It's nothing." Which was true enough in the cosmic scheme of things. She retrieved a small bottle of cleaner meant to be used with the various scientific instruments and clumsily squirted a healthy dose onto the screen and half the surrounding instruments. Another curse. Though it didn't really matter, she reminded herself. The computers and most of the science gear would be left behind in the next few minutes.
"Well, I've gotta finish things up...and then no more delays," Makepeace said haltingly and turned away.
He'd only gone a few feet when Janet looked down and froze.
The flakes of snow caught in the sample tray were melting. As she watched, they softened and turned to slush, the greenish glow dying away in seconds. "Colonel," she called out, her voice rising the better part of an octave. "Wait."
He pivoted back, his expression tired and a little impatient. "Look, Doc, I know-"
"It melted the snow," she interrupted before he could say any more. She grabbed for the cleaner and peered at the list of contents. "It's mostly alcohol." She tossed another of the sample containers at him. "Scoop up some of the snow." She was already looking at the melted sample at maximum magnification.
"What the heck is that?" Makepeace asked when he returned with a sample tray mounded with greenish-white crystals. He pointed a finger at the screen which showed clear globules lying unmoving in a transparent landscape. As they watched, the formless shapes began breaking down and dissipating.
"Bacteria," Janet exhaled, then grabbed the tray from him and poured a healthy dose of alcohol over it. In moments, it was melting. "It's bacterial..." She stared at the screen again, watching the way the familiar shapes were starting to spread into the surrounding water, losing their shape so rapidly they would be invisible in moments. “Breaks down almost instantly…that’s why we couldn’t see it before. “She tipped her head up to peer at the Goa'uld device that had started it all. "It must have seeded the entire area in addition to whatever it did around the gate." Her breathing was carefully controlled as she fought the giddiness that threatened to overwhelm her. She looked down at the bottle in her hand. "We tried a disinfectant, but it was water based...probably just froze… but alcohol has a much lower freezing temp, so it actually managed to kill the stuff." She cursed softly, silently kicking herself for not seeing that possibility sooner. She tipped her head back on her shoulders. "It must draw energy and moisture out of the air... uses them to propagate. The ice may just be a side effect."
Makepeace grinned. "So we've got a way to fight this thing?"
Janet could almost see his dream that they could beat it all the way back through the gate to the Goa'uld homeworld. She shook her head. "No," she neatly punctured his hopes, "we don't have enough alcohol...we've only got two, maybe three gallons in medical." Most of their disinfectants were more powerful---and also water based. She glanced toward the Stargate. "Maybe enough to open a small hole in the gate or free up the DHD." Implicit in her statement was her doubt that they had enough to do both.
Makepeace considered that information for a moment, his shoulders deflating as he accepted that her discovery was no magic bullet. He glanced over at his people. "My guess is everybody on this little picnic has a secret stash of some kind," he said thoughtfully after a second. "You figure Jack D. will help?" He'd used it as a disinfectant in the field a few times when that was all he'd had on hand.
She nodded. "It should...anything distilled is probably strong enough."
"Okay," he said, relieved to have even a hint of a plan that let him fight back, even if the weapon he'd been handed wasn't particularly high calibre. "You get your people together and find everything you've got in medical that we can use. I'll deal with my guys and collect whatever we've got. We meet back at the gate ASAP." They could figure out the next step then.
Janet nodded in understanding. "Will do, sir."
With the beginnings of a plan in place, they both hurried to see to their duties.
* * * * * *
Tony Phillips looked like he'd seen the bowels of hell itself. Hollow-eyed, shaky, a once-stocky man well on the way to becoming gaunt, he shuffled into the psychiatric facility's visiting room under the care of a burly, closely watching attendant. He took a seat, barely seeming to notice when his caretaker latched his handcuffs to the staple on the edge of the heavy table that dominated the small room. And when his haunted gaze swung up to touch on Sam, she had to fight the urge to run and hide. Not madness precisely, but something even worse.
McKenzie had warned her that the young airman still had serious problems in the aftermath of Hathor's attack, but no warning could have prepared her for what she saw in his expression. He wasn't just broken, he was shattered. She'd been ready to resent, maybe even hate the man for what he'd done, but the destroyed soul in front of her was worthy only of pity.
"Ma'am?" the attendant said on a questioning note.
Sam saw Phillips flick a suspicious look at his guardian. "I'll be all right," she assured the guard as she waved him off. "Go on."
"Don't suppose you have any cigarettes on you?" Phillips asked when they were alone.
Sam shook her head, taking a step farther into the room, but remaining well back from the table as she watched the prisoner with shadowed eyes. Despite the manacles, she had no reason to trust either his actions or his words, and McKenzie had warned her that he was still subject to unpredictable mood swings. The cuffs looked firm and the table they were latched to appeared heavy, but she'd dealt with too many Goa'uld spies to have any faith they'd hold if things went wrong.
Phillips nodded, accepting the news with a grim air. "Too bad," he muttered, ducking his head to run a hand through his hair, further stirring the already askew strands as he stretched his hands as far as the chains would allow. "The doc doesn't approve but they help sometimes...make it easier to...think." He rubbed his eyes, then trailed a hand along his cheek, fingers rasping against skin made rough by the beginnings of a beard. Didn't look like he got to shave very often. Not too surprising. Sam couldn't imagine the doctors were in a hurry to hand him a razor.
That thought still running through her head, she waited a long moment. "Dr. McKenzie said you wanted to speak to me?" she finally prompted when no further comment seemed to be forthcoming.
He looked up as though remembering she was there, and his eyes narrowed. After a moment, he abruptly blinked and shook himself, head tipping to one side while he twitched as though he had a violent earache.
"Airman?" Sam said carefully, uncertain whether to keep her voice soft and sympathetic or to adopt a tone of command to try and reach him.
He didn't look up, instead staring down at his hands with total focus as he spoke. "They try to keep us outta the loop in here. But we hear stuff...orderlies and doctors...they slip up...." His hands abruptly fisted tightly for a second and he tipped his head to one side, a pained flinch creasing his brow. "I heard the docs were prepping for trouble on the base."
So that's it, Sam thought. Hearing about the medical teams must have triggered him. No point in encouraging his obsessions. "There's always something going on," she said without getting into the details.
Dark eyes tipped up, spearing through her with raw intensity. "Big trouble?" he asked softly, "Shipping out trouble?"
"Airman, I can't answer those questions," Sam said, her tone flat, refusing to be baited. If he was looking for information on Janet, she damn well wasn't going to give it to him. "And you should know that."
The muscles along the line of his jaw clenched and his hands fisted tightly again and remained that way this time. "Right," he exhaled bitterly, "I'm a security risk."
Sam didn't bother to confirm what he already knew, just folded her arms across her chest. Clearly, this was just a scouting mission. She might pity him, but whatever was going on in his head, she wasn't buying into it. "If that's all, I have to-"
"No!" Phillips interrupted sharply. He stared up at Sam, raw agony and desperation in his expression. "Is she all right? I just need to know."
Shaking her head, Sam tamped down a curse. Well, chalk her up as a sucker. Not bothering to reply, she pivoted away, intending to ring for the attendant to let her out.
"Just tell me if the Beta Team's back okay!"
That pulled Sam up short and she spun back. "What did you say?"
"Please," Phillips begged. "I just need to know she's back okay."
Sam's heart was suddenly pounding so hard she almost couldn't hear him over the roaring in her ears. "Y-you said the Beta Team." Only Phillips shouldn't have known a Beta Team existed. That information was way over his pay grade.
"I-I..." he verbally stumbled and trailed to a halt, then did another of the strange neck-twisting flinches, his head snapping to one side as his expression momentarily creased with pain. "No," he hissed almost inaudibly as he screwed his eyes tightly shut.
"Airman," Sam said sharply, in an effort to break through whatever held him in its thrall. It was just some kind of coincidence or misunderstanding, she told herself. He couldn't know. And even if he did, that didn't mean Hathor knew anything. She searched her memory desperately, trying to remember exactly when she'd started inputting the initial plans for the Beta Team into the computers.
He showed no sign of hearing as a tiny, half-hysterical whimper escaped his lips. "No, I'm not like that," he whispered raggedly, though Sam was certain it wasn't her he was talking to. Dark eyes snapped open and he stared up at her as though just remembering she was there. "I never hurt a woman in my life...never...never wanted to...."
Something in him was snapping, losing hold of reality and losing it quickly. And Sam couldn't afford to have him slide away, at least not until she knew what was going on. "I believe you, Airman," she said carefully, using all of her self-control to keep from grabbing him. That might just push him the rest of the way 'round the bend, she reminded herself. "But I need to know why you mentioned the Beta Team."
Phillips looked down again, fighting whatever internal demons were tormenting him with such ferocity. "The Beta Team," he repeated unsteadily, his head bobbing jerkily like a poorly controlled marionette. His head tipped up and he focused on her with a strange expression that somehow seemed to meld together more emotions than one human should be able to feel at one time: desperation, fear, barely controlled rage, seething jealousy and something else Sam hadn't expected at all, an all-encompassing kind of hope that made no sense. "I never...I never wanted...." he trailed off, shaking his head, apparently unable to finish. "I hate the thoughts she puts in my head...the images she makes me see...."
Tamping down any frustration, Sam tried to maintain her calm. Whatever was going on in his head, it clearly made coherent thought difficult. "Airman Phillips," she began, her voice low, but firm-a command voice, "I need you to tell me anything you know about the Beta Team." It was probably nothing, but she had to be sure.
He looked up again, gaze sharpening as it fell on her, the resentment and jealousy swelling in his eyes. His jaw clenched. "Carter," he growled, lip curling with dislike.
Okay, so the command voice wasn't necessarily the best way of reaching him.
More of the strange twitches. An unwanted voice whispering in his ear?
"I know what you want...I've seen the way you look at her," he snarled, his mood shifting, the subject leaving Sam to pray that McKenzie wasn't listening in. She'd extracted no promises of privacy, hadn't considered it necessary and suddenly wondered if maybe Phillips was going to blow things all to hell.
No, she reminded herself. He had no secrets of hers to reveal. Hell, she had no real secrets to reveal beyond a single, soul-searing kiss. Anything else was thoughts and feelings---and the military didn't bounce an officer based on those. It did so based on actions.
"But she'll never be yours." Phillips jerked his arms, clanging the manacles against the staple hard enough to rattle the table.
Sam backed up a step and tensed in case he broke free.
"She's mine and I'll-"
"You won't do a thing," Sam interrupted before he could get any farther. She didn't plan a speech, just knew she couldn't stand there and listen to that particular brand of madness. Phillips snarled something incomprehensible and braced himself as if to leap, but Sam ignored the threat as she stabbed a finger in his direction. "Because that's not you talking, Airman," she snapped. "That's Hathor."
The accusation seemed to pull him up short, knocking the rage out of him almost instantly. "Hathor," he exhaled very softly, his breath coming in quick, shallow pants.
"Hathor," Sam repeated, her voice softer this time, trying to reach the man who clearly loathed what he'd done and who was trying to find himself again. "That's the kind of thing she likes...but you know better. You know you can't own people...not Janet...not anyone."
The young airman seemed to deflate, sagging into the chair, his head down, shoulders slumped. "Hathor," he repeated. "She wants everyone to suffer." He looked up then, fastening a surprisingly clear gaze on Sam. "You...her...." No question who 'her' referred to as his eyes went liquid with adoration, and something darker and more possessive.
"But you don't want that," Sam said, in hopes of reinforcing the saner side of his personality.
Phillips shook his head, the look in his eyes softening. "No," he croaked. "I never wanted to hurt anybody." His frown deepened as he struggled with his demons.
"What was it you wanted to tell me?" Sam prompted as gently as she was able.
He looked up, his gaze unfocused, expression slightly confused.
"About Janet and the Beta Team?" Sam clarified, fear sending runners up and down her spine in spite of her efforts to convince herself it was nothing.
"Doctor Fraiser?" Phillips exhaled. "Hathor hates her...that's why she sent me to..." He choked to a halt, tension running through his muscles. After a moment, he focused on Sam again, some of the bitter rage back in place. "No, it's you she hates...you're why she..." His lip curled with disgust. "She saw it too...how to hurt you-"
"Airman," Sam said sharply, not knowing what else to do. "Hathor hates us all."
"No, she..." he started to deny the charge, some of the old worship of the Goa'uld showing in his expression. Another violent twitch. "No!" he snarled abruptly. "I won't let you!"
Sam backed up a step, her movement drawing his attention back to her.
"She knows," he whispered, the words coming out ragged and forced as though he had to fight the devil himself to get them out.
With no idea what he was referring to, Sam could only shake her head.
"Hathor knows about the Beta Team," he said, his tone one of pure dread.
"No." Sam shook her head. That couldn't be. "She can't...that's not possible." It was just one more delusion. It had to be. No way in hell Hathor could possibly know. Because if Hathor knew, that meant that Sam had sent Janet and Cassie straight into hell. "That information was encrypted...hidden-"
"And I showed it to her!" Phillips exploded, shaking the table again. "I showed her everything." He ducked his head to wipe at tears. "I was trying to please her."
Sam couldn't think, couldn't function, couldn't even breathe. Sheer terror made her heart race and her skin run with panicked sweat. It wasn't possible. Just one more delusion. It had to be. "Airman, you shouldn't have even known about it..." Nails digging into her palms as she fought the urge to shake him, Sam took a half step forward. "How?" she demanded, her throat so tight she couldn't get out any more than that.
"I liked hacking the system...I found that stuff...and I just wanted to please her..." he whimpered, the energy draining out of him almost as quickly as it had surged. "And it did...she was so happy..." he breathed, his tone a perverse mix of horror and sheer joy at the memory of Hathor's love. He sank back down, his hands shaking badly where they rested on the tabletop. "That's why she rewarded me...promised me that Janet was mine...." he whispered raggedly, barely even aware of Carter.
Sam did grab him then, hands digging into his collar as she shook him. "Tell me you didn't do this," she roared. "Tell me it's just one more goddamned delusion!"
Then he looked up, the madness momentarily held at bay as he whispered what she least wanted to hear...the gate address.
Sam let him go and stumbled back several steps.
"I didn't mean to hurt anyone," Phillips said again." I just wanted to make Hathor happy."
Reeling, Sam spun toward the door, already fumbling for her cell phone as she pounded for the attendant to let her out.
"You've gotta save her," Phillips called at her retreating back. "You're the only one...who...can...who loves…loves her…like I do...."
Then the attendant was there, throwing the lock and opening the door for her. With Tony Phillips' pleas still ringing in her ears, Sam darted through the door the moment it was open, then slid to a stop as it swept over her that her efforts to secure Janet and Cassie’s safety might well have put them in even worse danger.
Because if Hathor knew where they were…
She fought the urge to be sick.
If Hathor knew where they were, her mind insisted on finishing the thought, she would take great delight in making them suffer as much as possible.
Sam could feel her pulse racing and sweat running a river down her center back.
"Captain Carter?" McKenzie questioned as he stepped out of a side door to a nearby observation room. Apparently he'd heard everything, but Sam didn't have time to care. "Is there anything we can do to-"
"Keep talking to him," she bit out. "See if you can learn anything else." She already had her cell open, only to curse as it came up with no signal. "Goddammit!" She speared a hard look at McKenzie. "I've gotta get out of here ASAP!" she growled. The psych facility was a maze of locked doors and checkpoints, and she didn't have time for it.
He nodded. "I'll make sure you're cleared through."
Sam didn't wait to find out what else he might have to say. She was already moving, running, long legs eating up the floor under her feet. Dead bolts and doors clanged open ahead of her, but she paid little to no attention to the orderlies and guards. So long as they weren't in her way, she didn't care. Her attention was reserved for her still non-responsive cell phone and the fight not to panic over what Phillips had told her.
”Please, let it be just one more delusion,” she begged no one in particular, pushing her stride even harder as desperation swept through her.
She stumbled out into the chilly night air in record time and saw the cell register a signal a moment later, dialed, waited while it rang, heard the familiar sound of General Hammond's secretary. A quick demand to speak to the general resulted in the news that he wasn't available.
"Get him...now!" Sam snarled impatiently as she broke into a run again, terrified that she might have to return to the base before anyone would listen to her. Things were probably quiet for the night while they pulled the Alpha Team back and by the sound of it, Hammond had retired to his quarters on base.
"Of course, Captain Carter," came back the flustered reply.
Despite the temptation to hurl the phone, Sam kept it in hand as she was put on hold, fumbling for her keys with her other hand and piling into her car. She pulled out of the parking lot, driving far too fast and unevenly, her concentration on everything but her own health and safety. Thankfully, it was late and the roads were quiet or she likely wouldn't have made it more than a few blocks.
She was more than halfway back to the base when Hammond came on the line sounding muzzy and more than a little annoyed. "What's the problem, Captain Carter?"
She explained as quickly and as succinctly as she was able, ending with, "We've got to stop the offload of the Alpha Team and bring Beta Team back ASAP."
The general didn't argue. "That'll take some time," he said, his tone worried. "We'll need to secure the base first. We can’t risk letting anything get in here."
" Hathor wasn't expecting the base to be a factor," Sam ground out. She reached the SGC parking lot and grabbed the first open space, not giving a damn who it was assigned to. "She won't have-"
"Nonetheless, Captain," Hammond interrupted, his tone obdurate. "The security of this base must be our first concern."
Even knowing he was right, Sam wanted to rage and scream. "I know, sir," she admitted, her voice tight with stress. "I just-"
"I know, Captain," Hammond said, his tone kindly this time. "I'm worried about them too...and we'll move as quickly as possible. You have my word."
Moments later, her cell lost its signal as she stepped inside the mountain, moving as fast as she could between all the elevators and security check points in place.
* * * * * *
TBC