Come On, Come Out | Stargate SG-1
Fandom: Stargate SG-1
Characters: Sam Carter, Baal
Prompts: #373 - Cultivate [tamingthemuse], Acceptance [10_hurt_comfort]
Rating: PG-13
It turns out to be early morning and dawn breaks just as the wagon reaches the top of the hill it’s been climbing for a good twenty minutes. The structure is not unlike Atlantis; if that it were built from tawny-coloured stone. Time and weather have taken their toll - the central tower has collapsed in on itself while ivy tangles over the shattered windows.
Sam takes it all in, then twists on the bench to look at Baal. “Are you sure this is the place?”
“There is technology protecting something of note,” he replies, though his eyes reflect the uncertainty she feels. “Whether that is note-worthy in our opinion is another matter.”
“I hope it is. I’d hate for you to have gone into the trouble of kidnapping me for nothing.”
He huffs and wraps the reins around the iron bar between them. Sam watches him jump down, the motion smooth and graceful, and knows she can’t ape it. Not with her hands tied behind her back. He probably wants to see her face down in the dirt.
She’s barely finished the thought when Baal rounds the wagon. He reaches for her, his gaze meeting hers in silent question. Unless she wants to end up in the dirt, there’s little choice but to wiggle her way to the edge of the bench and let him lift her down.
His hands span her waist. Sam’s a little surprised that they don’t wander, but her feet touch the ground without him touching her up. He then spins her round and the rope at her wrists finally loosens. Any thought she might have as to an escape dies at the electrical zing of a ’zat being charged.
“This way,” is all he says, motioning with the ’zat.
Rubbing at her wrists, Sam dodges the chunks of building on her way to the gaping entrance. Double doors in faded gold dangle from their hinges. She steps through the archway into the hall beyond, looks around the dilapidated room, then drops her gaze to Baal.
“Coming, then?”
He gives the arch a wary glance and steps in. Or at least he tries to - what actually happens is a red web of light flares and he hits an invisible wall. A wall that promptly throws him backwards. Sam winces as he crashes to the ground a good ten foot away from the building.
“Baal?”
He doesn’t move. Sam would be normally be pleased and use the opportunity to make a run for freedom, but she’s no idea where the Stargate is. If there is one - for all she knows, he brought her here by ship and there’s no way off the planet unless he allows it.
It’s this thought that propels her to his side. His eyes are closed, but the rictus of pain on his face tells her that he’s conscious.
“Don’t try to move,” she orders quietly, hands already feeling for broken bones. Can a symbiote heal a ruptured spinal column? She’s no idea and isn’t in a hurry to find out. “Can you feel your legs?”
One eye cracks open. “I’d rather you feel them,” he says, trademark smirk in place. It’s mildly spoilt by the whiteness of his lips. “I’m fine, Samantha, though your concern in touching.”
“Don’t!” she yelps as he puts one hand on the grass, but it’s too late and he pushes himself up. Relief battles with irritation that she was worried in the first place. She smacks him on the arm. “Idiot.”
“It would seem there are measures to stop my kind from entering the building.”
Baal gets to his feet and brushes grass off his clothing. Sam notes he’s a little unsteady, but bites her lip - she’s no intention of making herself look more concerned than she already has.
“I thought the Ancients here were more worried about the Ori,” she says. “So why’s there a Goa’uld lock?”
“That might not have been put in place by the Ancients. Or they were keeping their options open. I do not care about the whys but rather the how we’re going to get in.”
“I don’t appear to have a problem.” Sam grins at his dirty glare. “What?”
“You don’t know what you’re looking for.”
“And you do?”
“Of course.” Baal squares his shoulders with a sniff. “I am a God.”
Sam rolls her eyes. “A god who’s just had his ass handed to him by Ancient technology.”
This wins her a withering look, then he heads back to the doorway. Sam stands and follows him, curious as to whether he’s going to try the entrance again. But all he does is pore over the script engraved into the frame. The sight oddly reminds Sam of Daniel and she feels a pang.
“You do realise my team going to be looking for me.”
“I do.”
“They’re going to be pissed off with you.”
“I believe I can cope with their censure. It’s not as if we were ever on reasonable terms.”
There’s something vaguely wistful in his voice. Sam tilts her head. “Would you rather be?”
Baal stills. “It’s far too late to change things now.”
“That’s not an answer.”
He glances at her. “It’s the only one you’re going to get, Samantha.”
She purses her lips. There are few Goa’uld left, with Baal being the last major player. As the Ori are pushing ever further into the galaxy, an alliance with him would be far more sensible than fighting a war on two fronts. Pity neither the SGC nor the IOA would ever go for such a plan.
At least not officially. He doesn’t trust her an more than she does him, but perhaps she can turn this whole affair to her advantage. Show him that she is willing to work with him. Cultivate a little trust.
Get him on their side.
Sam shoulders him over. “Let me see. There has to be a way of disabling that device.”
She ignores the incredulous look this gains her. Let him wonder. It’ll do him some good to be less sure of the situation for once.
Characters: Sam Carter, Baal
Prompts: #373 - Cultivate [tamingthemuse], Acceptance [10_hurt_comfort]
Rating: PG-13
It turns out to be early morning and dawn breaks just as the wagon reaches the top of the hill it’s been climbing for a good twenty minutes. The structure is not unlike Atlantis; if that it were built from tawny-coloured stone. Time and weather have taken their toll - the central tower has collapsed in on itself while ivy tangles over the shattered windows.
Sam takes it all in, then twists on the bench to look at Baal. “Are you sure this is the place?”
“There is technology protecting something of note,” he replies, though his eyes reflect the uncertainty she feels. “Whether that is note-worthy in our opinion is another matter.”
“I hope it is. I’d hate for you to have gone into the trouble of kidnapping me for nothing.”
He huffs and wraps the reins around the iron bar between them. Sam watches him jump down, the motion smooth and graceful, and knows she can’t ape it. Not with her hands tied behind her back. He probably wants to see her face down in the dirt.
She’s barely finished the thought when Baal rounds the wagon. He reaches for her, his gaze meeting hers in silent question. Unless she wants to end up in the dirt, there’s little choice but to wiggle her way to the edge of the bench and let him lift her down.
His hands span her waist. Sam’s a little surprised that they don’t wander, but her feet touch the ground without him touching her up. He then spins her round and the rope at her wrists finally loosens. Any thought she might have as to an escape dies at the electrical zing of a ’zat being charged.
“This way,” is all he says, motioning with the ’zat.
Rubbing at her wrists, Sam dodges the chunks of building on her way to the gaping entrance. Double doors in faded gold dangle from their hinges. She steps through the archway into the hall beyond, looks around the dilapidated room, then drops her gaze to Baal.
“Coming, then?”
He gives the arch a wary glance and steps in. Or at least he tries to - what actually happens is a red web of light flares and he hits an invisible wall. A wall that promptly throws him backwards. Sam winces as he crashes to the ground a good ten foot away from the building.
“Baal?”
He doesn’t move. Sam would be normally be pleased and use the opportunity to make a run for freedom, but she’s no idea where the Stargate is. If there is one - for all she knows, he brought her here by ship and there’s no way off the planet unless he allows it.
It’s this thought that propels her to his side. His eyes are closed, but the rictus of pain on his face tells her that he’s conscious.
“Don’t try to move,” she orders quietly, hands already feeling for broken bones. Can a symbiote heal a ruptured spinal column? She’s no idea and isn’t in a hurry to find out. “Can you feel your legs?”
One eye cracks open. “I’d rather you feel them,” he says, trademark smirk in place. It’s mildly spoilt by the whiteness of his lips. “I’m fine, Samantha, though your concern in touching.”
“Don’t!” she yelps as he puts one hand on the grass, but it’s too late and he pushes himself up. Relief battles with irritation that she was worried in the first place. She smacks him on the arm. “Idiot.”
“It would seem there are measures to stop my kind from entering the building.”
Baal gets to his feet and brushes grass off his clothing. Sam notes he’s a little unsteady, but bites her lip - she’s no intention of making herself look more concerned than she already has.
“I thought the Ancients here were more worried about the Ori,” she says. “So why’s there a Goa’uld lock?”
“That might not have been put in place by the Ancients. Or they were keeping their options open. I do not care about the whys but rather the how we’re going to get in.”
“I don’t appear to have a problem.” Sam grins at his dirty glare. “What?”
“You don’t know what you’re looking for.”
“And you do?”
“Of course.” Baal squares his shoulders with a sniff. “I am a God.”
Sam rolls her eyes. “A god who’s just had his ass handed to him by Ancient technology.”
This wins her a withering look, then he heads back to the doorway. Sam stands and follows him, curious as to whether he’s going to try the entrance again. But all he does is pore over the script engraved into the frame. The sight oddly reminds Sam of Daniel and she feels a pang.
“You do realise my team going to be looking for me.”
“I do.”
“They’re going to be pissed off with you.”
“I believe I can cope with their censure. It’s not as if we were ever on reasonable terms.”
There’s something vaguely wistful in his voice. Sam tilts her head. “Would you rather be?”
Baal stills. “It’s far too late to change things now.”
“That’s not an answer.”
He glances at her. “It’s the only one you’re going to get, Samantha.”
She purses her lips. There are few Goa’uld left, with Baal being the last major player. As the Ori are pushing ever further into the galaxy, an alliance with him would be far more sensible than fighting a war on two fronts. Pity neither the SGC nor the IOA would ever go for such a plan.
At least not officially. He doesn’t trust her an more than she does him, but perhaps she can turn this whole affair to her advantage. Show him that she is willing to work with him. Cultivate a little trust.
Get him on their side.
Sam shoulders him over. “Let me see. There has to be a way of disabling that device.”
She ignores the incredulous look this gains her. Let him wonder. It’ll do him some good to be less sure of the situation for once.