Title: Turning Tables

Author: AC
Email: acheek@insightbb.com
Status: complete
Category: Jack/Sam/Jonas

Rating: NC-17 (sex)

Archive: SJA, Heliopolis, my site

Season/Sequel Info: 6th season

Spoilers: none

CONTENT WARNING: nonconsensual sexual situations, violence

Summary: What should have been a routine mission results in Jack, Sam, and Jonas having a terrible secret to keep.

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and places are the property of MGM, World Gekko Corp and Double Secret Productions. This piece of fan fiction was created for
entertainment not monetary purposes and no infringement on copyrights or trademarks was intended. Previously unrecognized characters and places, and this story, are copyrighted to the author. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the
author.

Author’s Notes: Okay. This is a plot bunny cliché of the highest order. But other people write them, so why can’t I? This originally was to be a fluff piece, as an answer to the challenge "write Jack/Sam/Jonas smut." But the characters flatly refused to get drunk and have a meaningless fling. *shrug* I tried, but they wouldn’t go for it. This is what I ended up with. Feedback would be very much appreciated. Copyright A. Cheek July 2002.

* * * *

"Teal’c should return in another day or so, Colonel," General Hammond replied. "Now, what can you tell me about the mission to P9Y-392?"

Jack grimaced and shuffled his notes. "I recommend no further contact, General," he said, taking care not to meet Carter or Jonas’ gaze. "They have nothing to offer us."

"I see. The soil analysis came up empty?" Hammond directed his question towards Major Carter.

Sam set down her coffee mug and shook her head. "They don’t have any trinium or naquadah, sir," she told the general. "They’re mostly an agrarian society."

"Not to mention that their political structure is ruled by a barbaric--"

Jack cut Jonas off with a glare. "It’s a dictatorship, General. The society as a whole is heavily dependent upon slavery."

Hammond nodded quickly in apparent understanding as the three team mates scowled almost in unison. "I see. Well, our guidelines do make it customary that we not deal with such societies unless absolutely necessary." Pushing his chair back from the table, he stood, mentally tallying all the other things he had to do before the end of the day. Probably another late night, especially if any teams returned ahead of schedule. "I’ll have the coordinates noted as a hostile planet. Dismissed."

Jonas stared at his hands. "Bastards," he whispered under his breath.

"Snap out of it," Jack said, unable to keep the harsh tone from his voice. Fortunately, Hammond was already out of the room.

Sam drained her coffee mug, then rose to pour herself another cup. Her mouth twisted bitterly. "Jonas, you can’t dwell on this."

"I can’t believe you, of all people, are saying that, Major!" Jonas said intently, keeping his voice low. "What Azrien make us do--"

"Keep talking, Jonas, and you’ll talk us right into a court-martial," Jack warned him. "The whole mission would read like some idiotic Star Trek episode. The Pentagon would not understand this. So we’ve got to let it go."

"He’s right," Sam agreed in disgust, setting her mug down. Her hands were shaking. "We don’t say anything about this. To anybody. And I’m not going to discuss it with either of you," she concluded bleakly.

"Carter--"

Sam came to attention. "Permission to be excused, sir?" she replied, painfully polite.

Jack nodded in understanding. Things were going to be completely by the book between them for the foreseeable future, until they could put this... episode out of their minds.

"Granted, Major," he said softly. "Good night."

Sam nodded at both the men as she left the room.

"I’m going to go home and get some sleep," Jack told Jonas. "I suggest you do the same."

The younger man stared off into space, heedless of the other man waiting for him to stand up. "I can’t go home," he mused. "And I don’t know if I can sleep."

Jack just grimaced and nodded. He just hoped they didn’t get handed a new mission first thing tomorrow morning, because he was pretty sure none of them were going to sleep well tonight.

* * * *

Azrien frowned down at the trio from his ornate throne.

Jack scowled right back. "No, we will not be recommending further contact between your planet and ours."

"For what reason?" the blonde man sneered.

"We don’t do business with societies that condone slavery, or attack their visitors," Jack said tersely. "We’re leaving as soon as we retrieve our belongings."

"Ah, yes," Azrien mused. "Such interesting weapons. Those were my favorite of the items you brought. My artisans cannot recreate them. Yet. I’ll be keeping them."

"Will you now?"

"Yes. You may leave," the dictator drawled, "as soon as you have satisfied my curiosity."

Sam’s skin crawled. She shifted from one foot to another, wondering if she should draw the knife hidden in her vest. All their other weapons had been confiscated. Of course, several guards surrounded them, all armed with bows. She glanced surreptitiously at her CO. He shook his head almost imperceptibly.

"Curiosity about what?" Jonas asked, rubbing his bruised jaw.

Azrien stood, shaking out his ornate robes and running his hands through his long curls. "Slaves are a vital part of our society," he told them, walking down the steps. "They provide our labor. Tend our fields. Work in our mines. And some," he continued, his gaze proprietary, "are meant for my entertainment. I find myself wondering how the three of you would fare."

"If we don’t return, others of our kind will come in greater force to rescue us," Jack warned. "You might get the jump on three people, but our friends would come through the gate ready to kick your asses."

"You mistake me, Colonel," Azrien smiled. "You will be released. After I have been satisfied."

"How so?" Jonas asked, his tense posture mirroring that of his team mates.

"The three of you will perform for my amusement," the ruler told them, raising his eyebrows in mock innocence.

"Damn, and I left my juggling gear at home," Sam quipped, glaring at the guards who merely stared back, impassive.

Azrien gestured, and a petite woman entered the throne room. "Mariel will prepare you," he said.

"For what?" Jack asked bluntly.

The blonde man smiled, but the warm expression did not reach his eyes. "The two of you will take the woman," he stated confidently.

"Like hell!" Sam shouted, outraged. Jack and Jonas were already shaking their heads in agreement.

Azrien moved closer to her. "You are proud," he whispered. "Proud as a slave taken from the Benshat continent. Breaking them is always a rare entertainment. Seeing you humbled will, I think, be an even greater joy."

"We won’t do it," Jack snarled.

"You will," Azrien corrected him. "I know your friends will come for you eventually, but if you are already dead, it will serve them little purpose, no?" He gestured, and two guards aimed their bows at the men’s hearts. "You will do as I wish, or the alternative shall be that I give Major Carter to my guards for their amusement. I will invite a few dozen of my nobles to watch. I would, of course, release you and Jonas Quinn. Your friend, however, will likely not survive the experience."

Sam straightened her spine and spat at the ruler’s feet. He merely stared back, smug in the knowledge that he had her trapped either way.

Sam knew the colonel was trying to meet her eyes, but she refused to acknowledge him. Past her shoulder, Jonas stared at Azrien in horror.

At the dictator’s signal, the guards dragged them out of the throne room, giving them no time to reply.

* * * *

Sam paced the room in desperate thought, doing her best to find some way out of their situation. Unfortunately, she didn’t have telepathy, so her wish that SG-5 come charging to their rescue wasn’t yielding any results. General Hammond wasn’t expecting them back for another day.

How did things go to hell so quickly? The Zintier had put on a welcoming facade, only to turn on their guests with frightening ease. The back of her head still throbbed where she’d been struck unconscious.

She grimaced with distaste at the robes she was wearing. The workshops of this country -- likely all populated by slaves -- produced fabric of extraordinary quality. Unfortunately, her garment was also almost completely see-through. Only a few scatterings of embroidery kept her shredded modesty intact.

The door creaked. Preparing herself to flee, she was instead pushed back into the room by two guards. Jack and Jonas were shoved inside unceremoniously, each dressed as outlandishly as herself.

"Prepare yourselves," one man told them brusquely. "The High Lord Azrien will be here shortly."

Jack muttered something obscene under his breath.

"It will avail you nothing to fight," the other guard told them. "Although," he leered, "I almost hope you do. We haven’t had a new slave to break in weeks."

Sam shuddered involuntarily, and the men laughed as they exited the room.

"Carter?" Jack didn’t touch her, for which she was grateful. She was doing her best not to look at either of them, as if by not meeting their eyes she could deny the reality of their situation.

"Sir," she said miserably.

Jack inclined his head at Jonas, indicating that the younger man should give them what little privacy he could.

"Look, Carter--"

"You might as well just call me Sam," she said bitterly. "I don’t think rank covers scenarios like this. I feel like I’m in a really bad adult film."

"I know," he said softly, sharing her dismay.

"This is the better option," she said haltingly, her cheeks staining crimson. To her horror, she could feel tears prickling beneath her eyelids. "Better you and Jonas than--" she broke off, shivering.

"Yeah," Jack replied almost inaudibly. "I’m so sorry, Sam. Those guys got the drop on me. I never even saw them coming," he reproached himself.

Sam wiped her cheeks hurriedly. "Me neither," she told him. "Don’t blame yourself."

"Look, Jonas and I were talking," he said, cringing. "We’ll follow your lead, Sam. But they’ve taken all our supplies--"

"I’m on birth control," she whispered in reassurance. "And I don’t imagine Azrien will be satisfied with anything less than full compliance."

"I’m aware of that," he replied. "But we need to establish some boundaries."

Sam stifled a gasp of laughter, aware she was on the verge of hysteria. "Fine. You do know that any amount of planning could all be for nothing if Azrien decides he wants to direct the scenario." He nodded uncomfortably. "I don’t want Jonas to touch me below the waist."

"And me?" Jack managed to ask her, his voice catching in his throat.

Her face grew even redder. "You can do whatever’s necessary." She couldn’t bring herself to call him Jack, but calling him ‘sir’ while deciding she’d have sex with him just wasn’t possible. Turning away from him, she stared at her bare feet, unable to stop her tears.

Tentatively, he touched her shoulder. "Sam, I’m so sorry," he told her again. "This is never how I imagined..." He bit his tongue.

Shocked, she turned back to face him. "You mean... you still--" She stepped closer to him, trembling. "Oh, God," she said in despair, dropping her head to his bare shoulder. He stroked her back gently. She breathed in the warm scent of his skin, grateful that Jonas was deliberately studying a wall hanging across the room. "I thought I was the only one who still cared, who actually wanted..." she whispered against his skin.

"No," he said softly into her hair. "But I never would have--"

The door opened, and Mariel slipped back inside, carrying a tray with three goblets. She kept her eyes downcast out of respect for their appearance. "If it pleases you, I have prepared a potion that will ease your ordeal," she said quietly, so as not to alert the guards outside.

"What is it?" Jonas asked her, turning back towards his team mates.

"It contains a powerful aphrodisiac," the woman explained. "It will relax your inhibitions."

Sam shook her head emphatically. "No." Likewise, Jack refused to take the drink.

"How long is it effective?" Jonas asked quietly.

"It will take affect within minutes," she explained. "It will wear off in a few hours."

His brow furrowed in thought. "I can always claim I was drugged prior to being attacked if Dr. Fraiser asks me about it," he told Jack and Sam.

"Jonas, you don’t know if it has any side effects," Sam argued.

"Maybe not. But I’ve got one of the worst cases of performance anxiety ever, and I’m not going to get you killed because I can’t do what’s required," he replied bluntly, taking the goblet and downing its contents.

Nodding to them, the slave quickly slipped from the room. "Azrien will be here shortly," she told them on her way out.

Sam steeled herself. "Okay. Jonas, don’t worry, the colonel and I will be the main attraction. You’ll be assisting," she cringed at her choice of words. "Please... oh hell," she floundered, unable to do anything but phrase her request bluntly. "Nothing between my legs," she said, turning crimson again.

He nodded unhappily. "I’m sorry," he whispered, his expression one of horrified understanding.

"I know," the major replied. "Me, too. But we need to get ourselves under control. Azrien wants to humble us," she said angrily. "I suggest we turn the tables on him."

"How?" Jack asked her.

"We don’t act ashamed," she stated simply. "We do our best to ignore he’s watching. We get through this."

After a few more minutes of nervous pacing, the trio saw the wall hanging whisked away, revealing Azrien in an alcove high above their heads. Aside from the guards flanking him, he was alone.

He granted them a lascivious smile. "Begin," he told them, leaning forward with anticipation.

"Here?" Jack whispered to his team mates, looking around the room in obvious confusion.

Sam nodded abruptly, pointing out a low, wide platform. She mentally chastised herself for not realizing its purpose earlier, but then again, she’d been somewhat preoccupied. They’d been so certain that they’d be moved elsewhere -- no doubt part of Azrien’s plan to keep them off-guard.

Screw that, Sam thought viciously. As her mother had often told her when she was a child, it was time to make a virtue out of necessity. Gently, she ran her hand up Jack’s chest, moving closer to him. Meeting his eyes, she paused for a moment, nearly undone by his look of apologetic sorrow.

"It’s okay," she whispered, bringing her lips to his throat, tracing the line of his neck as she’d done so often in her dreams.

Tentatively, he took her hands in his, their fingers entwining. He shivered as she opened her mouth against his skin, expelling his breath in a sudden gasp. "God, Sam," he sighed as she nipped at him, careful not to leave any marks.

At the first touch of Jonas’ hands along her back, Sam tensed uncontrollably, then forced herself to relax. Lifting her head, she met Jack’s gaze once more, relieved at the desire she saw there. This was going to be very bad indeed for their professional relationship, but they both wanted each other enough that they would survive this. Although turning the situation into a threesome? Sam just prayed that no one ever found out about this; even if she prevailed in a court martial, she’d be laughed out of the Air Force just the same.

With a heart-stopping smile, Jack lowered his lips to hers. Eagerly, she surrendered to him, letting the soft caress of his mouth lull her into a feeling of safety. Sam closed her eyes, shutting out any chance of seeing Azrien. Jonas had buried his head against her hair, softly whispering, "It’s all right. It’s going to be all right, Sam." Both men were doing their best to reassure her; to shield her from the reality of what was happening. It was a fragile veil of unreality, but for the moment it held.

Dazed and breathless from Jack’s kisses, Sam didn’t realize that he had opened the front of her robe until his hands brushed lightly against her breasts. Gasping with the sudden intense sensation, she retaliated, attacking the knot that held the drape of scarlet fabric around his hips.

When Jonas carefully slid her garment from her shoulders and tossed it aside, Sam shivered once, then pressed herself against Jack’s warm skin. His arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her close. Jonas remained where he was, slowly rubbing his hands over her shoulders and doing his part to shield them.

"All of you can lie down now," Azrien’s oily voice interrupted them. "And turn about ninety degrees -- I can’t see much from this angle."

"That was the point," Jonas grumbled softly.

Sam’s lips tightened to a thin line. "We do as he commands, then we ignore him," she whispered fiercely. Schooling her expression to neutrality, she lay down on the bed, then motioned for the two men to join her.

* * * *

The haze of desire clouding Jack’s mind was enough to make him wonder if he’d drunk Mariel’s love potion after all -- but as he’d suspected, it hadn’t been necessary. Rising up on his elbows, he brushed his fingers across Sam’s cheek, smiling as she nipped at them playfully.

On her other side, Jonas pressed up against her, doing his best to remain unobtrusive while at the same time being involved enough that Azrien didn’t start barking more orders at them. Jack glanced at the younger man surreptitiously. Jonas’ eyes were almost black, and he was quite obviously aroused. Nonetheless, he’d confined himself to stroking Sam’s arms and legs, and a few quick kisses along her shoulder.

"Sam?" Jack slid one hand between her legs to test her readiness. He didn’t want to go so quickly that he caused her pain, but had decided that drawing out their lovemaking would simply be giving Azrien more than was required. To his relief, Sam let out a soft moan, then opened her eyes to meet his gaze.

"I’m okay," she replied softly, pressing a kiss against his chest. "You won’t hurt me," she added, sliding closer to him.

Positioning himself over her, still he hesitated. "I’m so sorry, Sam," he said softly.

"I know," she replied, "Same here."

Tensing his shoulders, he gasped helplessly as she grasped him in her hands and guided his entry. Relax, he commanded himself desperately. Skittishness wouldn’t improve the situation, and could get them killed. Involuntarily, he turned his head to the side, seeing Azrien’s smug face out of the corner of his eye.

"Don’t," Jonas whispered harshly, burying his face against Sam’s shoulder. "Don’t pay any attention to him. Look at Sam."

Jack nodded, but settled for lowering his head against Sam’s other shoulder as he began moving within her. He couldn’t meet her eyes just yet. Just pretend, Jack. There’s no one here but you and Sam.

As he gently thrust into her, he felt Sam’s arms wrap around his shoulders. Pressing a kiss against his neck, she whimpered and opened herself further to him.

"Oh, God," Jack gasped, momentarily lost in the ecstasy of Sam’s embrace. She was clinging to him desperately, rising her hips to meet his. Surrendering to his longing for her, he sped his pace, whispering in her ear how beautiful she was, how much he wanted her.

Sam moved fluidly beneath him, muffling her cries against his skin. When she wrapped her legs more firmly around his hips, Jonas got shoved out of the way rather abruptly. Jack dropped his lips to her neck, delighting in her responsiveness and doing his best to put their audience out of his mind. Azrien’s main objective wasn’t prurient, but the desire for their humiliation. Jack hadn’t been able to find a way out of their current situation without endangering their lives, but he’d be damned if he’d blush and cringe for the dictator’s amusement.

A keening wail met his ears as Sam trembled in his arms, her muscles contracting around him. Jack cried out, his voice loud and shaken as she drew him along with her. Arching his back, he rode the waves of his orgasm and then collapsed into her awaiting arms. Finally daring to look at her, he was gratified to be met with a dazzling smile. Lifting her head, she kissed him passionately, then relaxed, gasping for breath.

* * * *

Jonas looked at his team mates in astonishment as they drew away from each other. Although the colonel and major had always adhered to the regulations that the Air Force held them to, he had nonetheless been aware of the attraction and deep friendship between the two of them. But now, as he watched wide-eyed, he saw something more in their expressions.

Love. It couldn’t have been anything else. Jonas choked back an angry shout at how perfectly cruel Azrien’s scenario was for them. The dictator had forced them to make love to each other in front of an audience. While they might have desired each other, their current situation was a vile parody of what could have been had their professional relationship been different. And forcing him to perform beside them was an added humiliation. Sam was beautiful, truly; but she was also a respected friend. He’d never have wanted to hurt her like this. He swallowed, the sweet aftertaste of Mariel’s aphrodisiac turning to gall in his throat.

He shook his head, fighting off a wave of dizziness. His own lust still tormented him, but he didn’t want to treat Sam as Azrien had dictated, as just another female body to serve his needs. Catching her attention, he raised his eyebrows. "What now?" he whispered.

Sam sighed, obviously reluctant to begin the next stage of the entertainment. "Lie back," she told him. He complied apprehensively, wishing he were anywhere else in the universe. From the expression on her face, she wasn’t in a very sympathetic mood. Which was, he supposed, understandable. "Relax, Jonas," she reassured him. "Just... relax, okay?"

"Yes, ma’am," he muttered, and almost broke into hysterical laughter when he heard a quiet snort from Jack.

Sam glared at him again. The situation was taking its toll on all of them. Over her shoulder, he could see Jack frowning and clenching his fists as if he wanted to tear the room apart. But it was Sam’s bad luck that Azrien wanted to hurt her more than anyone else. Bracing herself, she straddled his waist. Automatically, his arms came up towards her, grasping her hips.

Leaning forward, Sam brushed a soft kiss across his lips. He responded frantically, and she had to catch his lower lip between her teeth to get his attention. "Arms down," she hissed under her breath. "I’ve got everything under control, Jonas. Don’t even try and take over."

Jonas flinched at the quiet rage in her voice, even with the knowledge that it wasn’t him she hated. His head swam with desire and the drugs he’d taken. A part of his mind screamed at him to take control -- to roll over, hold her down beneath him and pound his way into her. Horrified at his thoughts, he forced himself to lie still, twisting his fingers into the sheets.

Moving her lips to his neck, Sam kissed and sucked her way down to his shoulders. Jonas grasped the fabric beneath him as if it were a life preserver. Closing his eyes, he did his best to imagine Zoari in Sam’s place as the major worked her way down his torso as quickly as possible. Spinning the fantasy, he imagined what his former lover’s hands would look like on his body, her dark skin contrasting against his own and her husky contralto voice murmuring against his skin. Then Sam grasped his cock, and his toes curled and he lost the ability to think much of anything.

She knelt between his legs, took a deep breath and sucked his shaft into her mouth. Jonas cried out so loudly that he was surprised the ceiling didn’t collapse on them. When she reached up and pinched his nipples, he felt the jolt of sensation all the way down to his toes.

Jonas writhed on the bed, powerless under the major’s ministrations. After enduring the potion’s affects for so long without any relief, the slightest touch would have had him begging for mercy. But Sam was not being slow and gentle with him, and the sudden rush of sensation was almost more than he could bear. Undoubtedly, that was her intention all along. "Please... wait, no--" he gasped, then gave up as a wave of pleasure crashed over him. Arching his head into the bedding, he spasmed uncontrollably as he came. The ecstasy was painfully intense, and when he finally regained his senses he shivered from the sweat cooling on his skin.

Sitting up, he saw Sam safely enclosed in Jack’s arms. The embrace was no longer sensual, but that of friends giving and receiving comfort. Perhaps she saw an equal need in his eyes, for instead of turning away from him, she held out her hand to his in reassurance.

He grasped it gratefully, only to flinch as Azrien rose, applauding. "Wonderful! I can’t tell you how much I enjoyed the performance." He blithely ignored the glares the trio shot at him. "Your clothes will be brought to you shortly, and we’ll send you on your way." The guards followed him as he exited the alcove.

* * * *

Jack scowled at Azrien with loathing he didn’t even bother to conceal. "This isn’t the way to the Stargate," he growled. "What tricks have you planned now?"

The ruler spread his hands in a gesture of innocence. "No tricks. I have decided that you may take your weapons back with you after all."

Jack quickly glanced at his team mates and noted that their expressions were equally skeptical and unforgiving. The dictator was up to something, for he had to have known the instant they got their weapons back, he’d be the first on their hit list. And if SG-1’s experience with Azrien was typical, no doubt there were plenty of his subjects willing to get in line behind them.

Coming to a halt, three guards came forward with most of the trio’s possessions, including the GDO, to Jack’s relief. His knives and grenades weren’t among them. But a quick examination of his P-90 revealed the reason Azrien was willing to be reasonable. "You kept the ammunition."

"I can be a generous man when it suits my purposes," Azrien told him. "But I am not stupid. Take your weapons and do not return." He gestured to the guards. "Take them to the Stargate."

* * * *

The weight of a gun in her hands was comforting to Sam, even if it was next to useless without any ammunition. She’d deal with what had happened to her and her team mates later, but knowing that they were finally on their way home was enough to make her feel better, at least temporarily.

As the Stargate came into sight, she narrowed her eyes. About twenty feet away from the stone gateway was a large pile that had not been there before. It almost looked like--

"Son of a bitch!" the colonel shouted in horror as he realized what lay before them, echoing her own rage. Azrien hadn’t given them back their ammunition because he had tested its effectiveness on his own people. Dozens of people lay dead in the square.

Sam bit back a cry of furious dismay, as she recognized one of the corpses. "Mariel," she said quietly. She’d wondered why a different woman had returned their clothing. The slave who’d shown them the only bit of compassion they’d had on this godforsaken planet had paid for her mercy with her life.

The captain of the guards shrugged, and gestured for Sam to use the DHD. "Azrien wanted to see your weapons’ capabilities. They were only slaves, you know." His eyes narrowed. "Now leave. You aren’t welcome here."

With trembling hands, Sam handed the GDO to Jonas, then dialed the gate address for home.

* * * *

Putting down his pretzels, Jonas leaned forward to pay attention as the weather forecast for Colorado Springs came across his television screen. The low pressure front was moving off towards the east, bringing clear skies and moderately warm temperatures in its wake. By the looks of things, tomorrow would be a good day to go outside and hike along one of the trails on base.

Listlessly, he tossed his book aside, uncaring as it knocked over a pile of papers. Rubbing his fingers across his forehead, he stared blankly ahead, unable to banish the memories from his mind.

Zoari. Had it been so many weeks since he’d last thought of her? What had his government told her about his disappearance? Did his younger brother wonder why Jonas had vanished, or had his superiors told his relatives that he’d died in an accident? Was he reviled as a traitor, or was he destined to be forgotten?

A wistful smile crept across his face as he thought of his erstwhile lover, wondering how she fared. Probably she was absorbed in her studies and having a marvelous time teaching at the Forums. He’d been so happy for her when she landed such a prestigious position, even knowing that it meant their affair would draw to an inevitable end.

Generations to come would benefit from her knowledge. He’d regretted that she was moving to a faraway city, but he hadn’t envied her at the time; now, jealousy was a fire in his heart. He might have helped prevent further disaster by taking his government’s supply of naquadriah, but due to the nature of his work, he was destined to be unknown. And, he admitted, he was just vain enough to be bothered by that fact.

Gloomily, he took another sip of tea. He hoped his work with SG-1 would be worthwhile, for as long as he could continue. Dr. Fraiser hadn’t been able to give him any definitive answers, but she thought it likely he’d develop cancer within a few more years as a result of his exposure to the radiation that had killed Daniel Jackson. Already one form of immortality was denied him, as the incident had left him unable to father children. Some time in the future, should he survive that long, he’d have to decide between death or the Tok’ra.

Bitterly, he reflected that Sam had little to worry about if she feared he’d be unable to work with her after the day’s horrors. All of them had been assaulted by Azrien. To look upon her with anything but respect and compassion would diminish the sacrifice she’d made to save their lives.

Closing his eyes, Jonas rested his head on his arms, welcoming the fatigue that suddenly enveloped him. Surely things wouldn’t be so bad if he could get some rest?

* * * *

Jack sat in the darkness, paying no attention to the flickering television screen. He’d muted the volume almost an hour ago, when it became evident he couldn’t concentrate.

Damn, he’d been so good for so long, then something like this had to happen. He’d knocked down the love he felt for Sam back into a small corner of his heart, where he could safely ignore it most of the time.

If Hammond hadn’t designated the planet hostile territory, he’d had been sorely tempted to take an entire squadron through and kill that son of a bitch Azrien. As it was, he had to live with the fact that some times the bad guys won, and dragged the good guys down into the mud.

God, he wanted a beer. It was a bad idea.

He also wanted to see Sam, which was an even worse idea. What was he going to do, he wondered bitterly, ask her straight out if having sex with him in front of an audience had been everything she’d dreamed about? Or see if she’d like to try it again with just the two of them?

She hadn’t just saved herself -- she’d saved all of them. Jack knew perfectly well that neither he nor Jonas would have abandoned her to be raped by Azrien’s guards. They’d have died trying, and it wouldn’t have changed her fate.

What a sick joke, that his dream of being with her had been perverted in such a manner. Every sweet memory of making love to her had an appalling counterpart, from Azrien’s smug commands to her momentarily meeting his eyes while she brought Jonas to completion. She’d looked so desolate, so terribly bereft.

Jack’s stomach clenched as his traitorous mind conjured thoughts of just the two of them. He’d be so slow, so gentle, without the need to get it over with as soon as humanly possible. He’d kiss every inch of her body, taste between her legs, hold her above him as they brought each other to rapturous fulfillment.

Biting down on his lip, he realized he was breathing faster and rubbing his hand back and forth over his groin. Cursing, he stood and headed for the shower, already cringing at the thought of the cold shower that awaited him.

* * * *

Turning on the tap, Sam mechanically washed her wine glass and set it on the drain board. She’d have drunk the whole bottle but for the fact that she had to be back at work tomorrow morning. As it was, she’d be lucky to get much sleep at all.

Her house was empty and silent. She wished her mind could be the same, be free of the knowledge of what she’d done that day.

The thought of facing the rest of SG-1 the following day was enough to make her feel sick to her stomach. And when Teal’c returned from visiting his son, it would be even worse. Their secret was safe only so long as they told no one else, but Sam had little confidence in their ability to lock it away forever.

Moving to her bathroom, she set about brushing her teeth, lost in thought. Wasn’t there a saying that if rape were inevitable, the best thing to do was lie back and enjoy it? She’d always thought that was a particularly vile statement.

Azrien had raped her. But he hadn’t been content to use his own body for such an act, preferring to make her and her team mates his proxies in order to make the degradation that much more horrifying. Jack and Jonas had done their best to follow her lead by projecting a facade of indifference and lack of shame, but even that had not protected her from the dictator’s revenge. There had been no escaping that, no matter what actions they’d taken. Now, instead of being angry with the men because they’d hurt her, she loathed herself because they hadn’t.

This was the true humiliation that Azrien had subjected her to -- not that he’d made her have sex with her team mates with him looking on, but that part of her had enjoyed it. She’d loved Jack for so long now, and resigned herself to denying such feelings. Then some despot came along and gave her almost exactly what she’d wanted.

Almost. There was a world of irony in that word. The manner of Azrien granting her wish all but nailed the coffin shut on any chance of her and Jack ever being together. Would he even be able to look her in the eyes again without dwelling on what they’d had to do?

For that matter, would she?

Closing her eyes as she scrubbed a washcloth over her reddened face, Sam did her best to banish all of the memories. Especially the look of love and tenderness on Jack’s face as she lay beneath him, her body still quivering with release, warm and replete.

Gritting her teeth, she tossed the washcloth aside, not caring where it fell. Marching into the darkness of her bedroom, she prepared herself for the long vigil until dawn.

--fin.