Fic | Films About Ghosts | Sam/Baal (SG1) [FRT]
Fandom: Stargate SG1
Characters: Sam Carter, Baal
Pairing: Sam/Baal
Rating: FRT
Written for: 10_hurt_comfort and for querulouspeg who demanded that Sam deal with Baal's torture of Jack.
Prompt: #7 Remember
Word Count: 2,400
Author's Note: Follows on from Eighteen to One
Baal puts the bottle of wine on the bench, startling Sam. She looks at the bottle, then at him. Puzzlement creases her forehead.
“I'm not allowed to drink on base,” she says.
“You are today. I have a special dispensation.”
Her eyebrows lift. “Do you now? What's the occasion?”
He places a wine glass in front of her, then kicks the lab door shut before seating across the bench. Sam watches his every move, eyes curious.
“No occasion,” he says and unscrews the cap off the bottle. “But I... I have something of a deal for you, Samantha. You want to know about Anubis and what occurred between us that I abandoned everything to come to Earth. I will tell you on condition that you...” He pauses as he poured wine into her glass. “Tell me why you haven’t brought up the subject of Jack O'Neil.”
Sam is halfway to her mouth with the glass, but at this she puts the glass back down. She gives him a startled look.
“J-Jack?”
“You know what I mean, Samantha.” And she clearly does, because her face pales. “I believe it is something we should talk about.”
She takes a large swallow of her wine and lets out a shaky breath. “Why now?” she manages after a moment.
“You wanted me to tell you.” He tilts his head. “By which I presume you meant trusting you enough. I do, Samantha. Do you trust me?”
“To tell you about Jack?”
“Yes.”
Her forehead creases again, and he knows she's wondering why he thinks it'll need trust, but then her eyes jerk up to his face again and he sees understanding.
“I... see,” she says, voice faint. Then nods at the bottle. “One might not be enough.”
“If you do not wish to continue this discussion, I can leave now.” He flashes her a quick smile. “But I'll take the bottle with me.”
“No.” It's slow, uncertain, and she takes another deep swig of wine. “You can stay. I think.”
“Sam-”
“We probably should talk about it,” she interrupts. “Considering...”
Her eyes are on the bench. She is still pale, visibly shaken. Baal wonders if this was such a good idea, but even as he considers calling it off, he knows that it does need dealing with.
“I was sent to Dakara to regain the weapon and to put down the Jaffa rebellion. In the end I did neither of those things. To add to my... crimes, I not only allowed those Tau'ri on the planet to live but also aided them against the Replicators.”
“I remember.” Her smiles falters. “Sent? By Anubis?”
“Yes, and he was... most disappointed by my failures.” Baal can no longer look at her. The memories surface and his symbiote stirs uneasily. “Very much... so.”
Phantoms of pain make him shudder and his hand shakes as he pours wine into his own glass. He catches a glance of Sam's face as he lifts the glass, closes his eyes against the concern etched there.
“I never thought,” she says. “I always assumed it was your choice.”
“To help? It was. I knew what I was doing.” He places the glass down with careful deliberation and looks at her with a sigh. “I also knew there would be... consequences.”
She swallows and reaches for him. He denies her with a shake of his head: if he lets her comfort him now, he will never get through this.
“W-what did he do?”
Oh, so very much. He shuts her out again, concentrating on the glass as he toys with it.
“Goa'ulds are not terribly inventive when it comes to inflicting pain for pain's sake. A painstick lacks... finesse, but it does what it is designed for.”
“He had you tortured?”
He hears an echo, knows she's thinking about Jack now. She might even imagine that he deserved what had happened. Perhaps he did, but that doesn't make the recollection any easier to narrate.
“Yes.”
“But not killed.” Her voice carries an underlying tension. A censure. He looks at her and manages a wry smile.
“If he killed me then I would not be able to witness him eradicate all life in the galaxy. Only once I had seen that would I have died.”
“But you would have done that.” She's frowning again. “That was your plan.”
He smirks at her. “Do you really believe that, Samantha?”
Her eyes clear. “No. Actually, I don't. Not now.”
“Why not?”
“Because you care more than that.” Her lips twitch. “I think you always did.”
“Then, knowing that, you might consider how whatever torture Anubis inflicted was nothing on the realisation that he would destroy everything and I would be helpless to prevent it.”
“I... see,” she says and her knuckles are white. “But then he was destroyed or... killed. By the Ancients and you...” She looks up. “Came here.”
“The System Lords do have something of a code of honour. None of them would attempt an attack whilst I was on the planet.”
“You were protecting us?”
Baal laughs. “No, my dear. I was protecting you.”
Her eyes go wide and she blinks rapidly. “Oh.”
“Had you not realised that? You held my attention from the first time we met. I had believed you felt... similarly affected.”
“Well, yes, but...” She shakes her head and drains the last of her wine. “Everything you did, afterwards... that was for me?”
She looks stunned, and a little uncomfortable. He smiles and holds her gaze.
“Mostly.”
“Oh.” Then a plaintive expression crosses her face, “Why?”
“Why not? Even the least of reasons is still a reason. It might have been better, in retrospect, had Anubis not known about it, though.”
“He tortured you by threatening me?”
He sighs and folds his hands.
“Were you aware that an Ascended being is capable of great power? They can literally get inside one's head and the pain they can inflict surpasses anything else. Not that there wasn't a plentiful supply of external sources, but in the midst of it...” He shivers, pulls his mind back from the memories. “He was very explicit about what would happen to... those I cared about.”
Understanding lit Samantha's face. “That's why you were loathe to tell me what had happened. Because it involved me.”
“Sort of, yes.”
She reaches out and this time he lets her touch his hand. Her fingers are tight on his.
“And you were worried?”
He looks at her. “Jack.”
“What?”
“Now tell me about him.”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
It's a sudden change in subject, yet she's known it was coming so it's not that great a surprise. Sam still doesn't know what to say, though.
“What did you want to know?” she asks, playing for time. Baal's eyes burn into hers, intense and determined.
“I want to know how you felt when you read his report.”
How she felt? She's fairly sure he doesn't want to know that, doesn't want to hear how she'd planned his death in a variety of interesting ways. Then again, given the expression on his face, he might have guessed at that anyway.
She eyes the mostly empty wine bottle. “Can I get another drink first?”
“Please, just... tell me, Samantha.”
His tone is terse, tense. Whatever his reason for wanting to know, it's clearly important. She sighs.
“I was angry with you. I hated you. For a very long time.”
“Not that. Not what you felt about me. About what... what you knew.”
“About what? The torture?” she asks, angry and confused. He nods once. She takes a deep breath and launches in. “I felt... helpless. Watching him recover from it was awful. I wondered how it must have been for him, to go through that and-”
She can't do this. Not now and probably not ever. She's past hating him, doesn't want to rake up those older feelings. “Please don't make me do this,” she begs him.
His expression is apologetic, but he still asks, “Did you ever imagine witnessing it?”
He's kidding, right? She glares and pulls her hand back. “Damn right I did. And I imagined killing you for what you did.”
She hasn't meant to admit that, not that he looks surprised by this admission. He nods, accepting it. Then meets her eyes with a quiet pain she doesn't understand.
“Anubis had a sarcophagus.”
“What? What's that got-” She stops, realising precisely what his statement has to do with the conversation. So that's why he's pushed her on this. Her hand shakes as she pours another glass of wine. “I get you.”
She empties the glass in three deep swallows and then drops her head into her hands.
“You are reasonably intelligent,” he remarks and smirks at the quick glare she shoots in his direction. “Sorry, bad habit.”
“Yes, it is.” Licking her lips, she puts her thoughts into words. “That's what he threatened you with, then? Hurting me over as over as you just Jack?”
“With the addition that I got to watch.”
His expression tells her actually what he though about that - what he still thinks. More than before she understands the point of the exchange.
“But that didn't happen,” she points out.
“My imagination is as good as yours, Samantha,” he returns. “Like I mentioned before, he was very explicit in his descriptions of what would happen to you, time and again. What I would be forced to witness.”
She supposes that it's easier feeling emotions when one is used to doing so, and wonders what that little epiphany was like for him. It sits better know; she knows that, but he is still reticent and admitting being anything that makes him ever more human doesn't come without a long struggle.
“So you got out and you came here. To make sure he didn't carry out that threat.”
It's not a question, but he nods anyway. “I'm not saying that there were no other reasons, but that was the driving need.”
“No other ones?” She snorts. “Like taking over the Trust and gathering yourself a small fortune.”
“I was used to a certain level of comfort. I am not going to apologise for that.”
“No, you wouldn't,” she says and gives the bottle a wistful look. “I told you that one wouldn't be enough.”
Baal hitches a shoulder. “You can yell at me now, if you so desire.”
Once she would have. Now she doesn't have the energy or the will. She shakes her head. “It seems a little late for that.”
“Do you forgive me, then?”
His eyes give away a vulnerability she'd once never have believed possible. But she knows him better than that these days.
“I forgave you a long time ago,” she admits. “It was easy to hate you... right up to the point I actually met you. As annoying as you were, I still realised that you were... different.” She can remember the curiosity that had shone through his irritation at being summoned and... coerced into helping. Only now she knew he'd not been as reluctant as he'd pretended to be. “It was easier to hate you when I wasn't aware of how good looking you were.”
He grins at that and she laughs, feeling the break of a tension she'd not been aware of forming. It occurs to her this conversation could have gone a totally different way, but she had... she had trusted him not to go there. As he'd clearly trusted her.
“If you must know, I found you as attractive,” he says then, a rather backhanded compliment but she's used to those.
“That's nice to know. Especially since it inspired you to save Earth instead of attempting to conquer it.”
“You have inspired several such changes.”
His gaze is steady and only the slightest smirk touches his lips. It is Baal at his most serious, as it gets when he's getting personal anyway. Her cheeks heat at his knowing look and she has to clear her throat twice before she can speak again.
“I'm glad to have,” she murmurs. “And I'm glad you felt able to share... this. Even if it took alcohol.”
“You drunk more than I did.” He grins, then sobers. “I believed it was time. I... trust you, Samantha. More than I have trusted anyone in a very long time.”
She has no idea what to make of that confession. It's humbling and rather scary to be that responsible. Managing a weak smile, she takes his hand again. His fingers squeeze hers lightly, but enough that she's more aware than ever of his strength. Of how much he is controlling himself.
For her.
Sam rises to her feet, not releasing his hand as she moves around the table and to his side. She touches his cheek with her free hand, then bends to kiss him lightly on the lips.
“I'm very glad you do.”
It has come rather left of field, but she is glad the air is cleared between them, that they had laid their ghosts to rest. Oh she knows that there are other things, but they'll deal with them in the future. A future she's beginning to believe in the more she trusts him. She smiles wider.
“Very glad indeed,” she murmurs and kisses him again, lingering and slow. His free hand settles on her hip and he pulls her closer. She laughs softly, then asks, “Does the special compensation cover what you have in mind now?”
“Perhaps not.”
“Then maybe-” Sam reaches down to his left arm and slides the cuff of his sleeve back to reveal the vambrace encircling his lower arm. “We should go somewhere else.”
She echoes his smirk and presses the activation button.
Characters: Sam Carter, Baal
Pairing: Sam/Baal
Rating: FRT
Written for: 10_hurt_comfort and for querulouspeg who demanded that Sam deal with Baal's torture of Jack.
Prompt: #7 Remember
Word Count: 2,400
Author's Note: Follows on from Eighteen to One
Baal puts the bottle of wine on the bench, startling Sam. She looks at the bottle, then at him. Puzzlement creases her forehead.
“I'm not allowed to drink on base,” she says.
“You are today. I have a special dispensation.”
Her eyebrows lift. “Do you now? What's the occasion?”
He places a wine glass in front of her, then kicks the lab door shut before seating across the bench. Sam watches his every move, eyes curious.
“No occasion,” he says and unscrews the cap off the bottle. “But I... I have something of a deal for you, Samantha. You want to know about Anubis and what occurred between us that I abandoned everything to come to Earth. I will tell you on condition that you...” He pauses as he poured wine into her glass. “Tell me why you haven’t brought up the subject of Jack O'Neil.”
Sam is halfway to her mouth with the glass, but at this she puts the glass back down. She gives him a startled look.
“J-Jack?”
“You know what I mean, Samantha.” And she clearly does, because her face pales. “I believe it is something we should talk about.”
She takes a large swallow of her wine and lets out a shaky breath. “Why now?” she manages after a moment.
“You wanted me to tell you.” He tilts his head. “By which I presume you meant trusting you enough. I do, Samantha. Do you trust me?”
“To tell you about Jack?”
“Yes.”
Her forehead creases again, and he knows she's wondering why he thinks it'll need trust, but then her eyes jerk up to his face again and he sees understanding.
“I... see,” she says, voice faint. Then nods at the bottle. “One might not be enough.”
“If you do not wish to continue this discussion, I can leave now.” He flashes her a quick smile. “But I'll take the bottle with me.”
“No.” It's slow, uncertain, and she takes another deep swig of wine. “You can stay. I think.”
“Sam-”
“We probably should talk about it,” she interrupts. “Considering...”
Her eyes are on the bench. She is still pale, visibly shaken. Baal wonders if this was such a good idea, but even as he considers calling it off, he knows that it does need dealing with.
“I was sent to Dakara to regain the weapon and to put down the Jaffa rebellion. In the end I did neither of those things. To add to my... crimes, I not only allowed those Tau'ri on the planet to live but also aided them against the Replicators.”
“I remember.” Her smiles falters. “Sent? By Anubis?”
“Yes, and he was... most disappointed by my failures.” Baal can no longer look at her. The memories surface and his symbiote stirs uneasily. “Very much... so.”
Phantoms of pain make him shudder and his hand shakes as he pours wine into his own glass. He catches a glance of Sam's face as he lifts the glass, closes his eyes against the concern etched there.
“I never thought,” she says. “I always assumed it was your choice.”
“To help? It was. I knew what I was doing.” He places the glass down with careful deliberation and looks at her with a sigh. “I also knew there would be... consequences.”
She swallows and reaches for him. He denies her with a shake of his head: if he lets her comfort him now, he will never get through this.
“W-what did he do?”
Oh, so very much. He shuts her out again, concentrating on the glass as he toys with it.
“Goa'ulds are not terribly inventive when it comes to inflicting pain for pain's sake. A painstick lacks... finesse, but it does what it is designed for.”
“He had you tortured?”
He hears an echo, knows she's thinking about Jack now. She might even imagine that he deserved what had happened. Perhaps he did, but that doesn't make the recollection any easier to narrate.
“Yes.”
“But not killed.” Her voice carries an underlying tension. A censure. He looks at her and manages a wry smile.
“If he killed me then I would not be able to witness him eradicate all life in the galaxy. Only once I had seen that would I have died.”
“But you would have done that.” She's frowning again. “That was your plan.”
He smirks at her. “Do you really believe that, Samantha?”
Her eyes clear. “No. Actually, I don't. Not now.”
“Why not?”
“Because you care more than that.” Her lips twitch. “I think you always did.”
“Then, knowing that, you might consider how whatever torture Anubis inflicted was nothing on the realisation that he would destroy everything and I would be helpless to prevent it.”
“I... see,” she says and her knuckles are white. “But then he was destroyed or... killed. By the Ancients and you...” She looks up. “Came here.”
“The System Lords do have something of a code of honour. None of them would attempt an attack whilst I was on the planet.”
“You were protecting us?”
Baal laughs. “No, my dear. I was protecting you.”
Her eyes go wide and she blinks rapidly. “Oh.”
“Had you not realised that? You held my attention from the first time we met. I had believed you felt... similarly affected.”
“Well, yes, but...” She shakes her head and drains the last of her wine. “Everything you did, afterwards... that was for me?”
She looks stunned, and a little uncomfortable. He smiles and holds her gaze.
“Mostly.”
“Oh.” Then a plaintive expression crosses her face, “Why?”
“Why not? Even the least of reasons is still a reason. It might have been better, in retrospect, had Anubis not known about it, though.”
“He tortured you by threatening me?”
He sighs and folds his hands.
“Were you aware that an Ascended being is capable of great power? They can literally get inside one's head and the pain they can inflict surpasses anything else. Not that there wasn't a plentiful supply of external sources, but in the midst of it...” He shivers, pulls his mind back from the memories. “He was very explicit about what would happen to... those I cared about.”
Understanding lit Samantha's face. “That's why you were loathe to tell me what had happened. Because it involved me.”
“Sort of, yes.”
She reaches out and this time he lets her touch his hand. Her fingers are tight on his.
“And you were worried?”
He looks at her. “Jack.”
“What?”
“Now tell me about him.”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
It's a sudden change in subject, yet she's known it was coming so it's not that great a surprise. Sam still doesn't know what to say, though.
“What did you want to know?” she asks, playing for time. Baal's eyes burn into hers, intense and determined.
“I want to know how you felt when you read his report.”
How she felt? She's fairly sure he doesn't want to know that, doesn't want to hear how she'd planned his death in a variety of interesting ways. Then again, given the expression on his face, he might have guessed at that anyway.
She eyes the mostly empty wine bottle. “Can I get another drink first?”
“Please, just... tell me, Samantha.”
His tone is terse, tense. Whatever his reason for wanting to know, it's clearly important. She sighs.
“I was angry with you. I hated you. For a very long time.”
“Not that. Not what you felt about me. About what... what you knew.”
“About what? The torture?” she asks, angry and confused. He nods once. She takes a deep breath and launches in. “I felt... helpless. Watching him recover from it was awful. I wondered how it must have been for him, to go through that and-”
She can't do this. Not now and probably not ever. She's past hating him, doesn't want to rake up those older feelings. “Please don't make me do this,” she begs him.
His expression is apologetic, but he still asks, “Did you ever imagine witnessing it?”
He's kidding, right? She glares and pulls her hand back. “Damn right I did. And I imagined killing you for what you did.”
She hasn't meant to admit that, not that he looks surprised by this admission. He nods, accepting it. Then meets her eyes with a quiet pain she doesn't understand.
“Anubis had a sarcophagus.”
“What? What's that got-” She stops, realising precisely what his statement has to do with the conversation. So that's why he's pushed her on this. Her hand shakes as she pours another glass of wine. “I get you.”
She empties the glass in three deep swallows and then drops her head into her hands.
“You are reasonably intelligent,” he remarks and smirks at the quick glare she shoots in his direction. “Sorry, bad habit.”
“Yes, it is.” Licking her lips, she puts her thoughts into words. “That's what he threatened you with, then? Hurting me over as over as you just Jack?”
“With the addition that I got to watch.”
His expression tells her actually what he though about that - what he still thinks. More than before she understands the point of the exchange.
“But that didn't happen,” she points out.
“My imagination is as good as yours, Samantha,” he returns. “Like I mentioned before, he was very explicit in his descriptions of what would happen to you, time and again. What I would be forced to witness.”
She supposes that it's easier feeling emotions when one is used to doing so, and wonders what that little epiphany was like for him. It sits better know; she knows that, but he is still reticent and admitting being anything that makes him ever more human doesn't come without a long struggle.
“So you got out and you came here. To make sure he didn't carry out that threat.”
It's not a question, but he nods anyway. “I'm not saying that there were no other reasons, but that was the driving need.”
“No other ones?” She snorts. “Like taking over the Trust and gathering yourself a small fortune.”
“I was used to a certain level of comfort. I am not going to apologise for that.”
“No, you wouldn't,” she says and gives the bottle a wistful look. “I told you that one wouldn't be enough.”
Baal hitches a shoulder. “You can yell at me now, if you so desire.”
Once she would have. Now she doesn't have the energy or the will. She shakes her head. “It seems a little late for that.”
“Do you forgive me, then?”
His eyes give away a vulnerability she'd once never have believed possible. But she knows him better than that these days.
“I forgave you a long time ago,” she admits. “It was easy to hate you... right up to the point I actually met you. As annoying as you were, I still realised that you were... different.” She can remember the curiosity that had shone through his irritation at being summoned and... coerced into helping. Only now she knew he'd not been as reluctant as he'd pretended to be. “It was easier to hate you when I wasn't aware of how good looking you were.”
He grins at that and she laughs, feeling the break of a tension she'd not been aware of forming. It occurs to her this conversation could have gone a totally different way, but she had... she had trusted him not to go there. As he'd clearly trusted her.
“If you must know, I found you as attractive,” he says then, a rather backhanded compliment but she's used to those.
“That's nice to know. Especially since it inspired you to save Earth instead of attempting to conquer it.”
“You have inspired several such changes.”
His gaze is steady and only the slightest smirk touches his lips. It is Baal at his most serious, as it gets when he's getting personal anyway. Her cheeks heat at his knowing look and she has to clear her throat twice before she can speak again.
“I'm glad to have,” she murmurs. “And I'm glad you felt able to share... this. Even if it took alcohol.”
“You drunk more than I did.” He grins, then sobers. “I believed it was time. I... trust you, Samantha. More than I have trusted anyone in a very long time.”
She has no idea what to make of that confession. It's humbling and rather scary to be that responsible. Managing a weak smile, she takes his hand again. His fingers squeeze hers lightly, but enough that she's more aware than ever of his strength. Of how much he is controlling himself.
For her.
Sam rises to her feet, not releasing his hand as she moves around the table and to his side. She touches his cheek with her free hand, then bends to kiss him lightly on the lips.
“I'm very glad you do.”
It has come rather left of field, but she is glad the air is cleared between them, that they had laid their ghosts to rest. Oh she knows that there are other things, but they'll deal with them in the future. A future she's beginning to believe in the more she trusts him. She smiles wider.
“Very glad indeed,” she murmurs and kisses him again, lingering and slow. His free hand settles on her hip and he pulls her closer. She laughs softly, then asks, “Does the special compensation cover what you have in mind now?”
“Perhaps not.”
“Then maybe-” Sam reaches down to his left arm and slides the cuff of his sleeve back to reveal the vambrace encircling his lower arm. “We should go somewhere else.”
She echoes his smirk and presses the activation button.