FIC: Midnight's Children (chapter 6)
Fandom: Stargate SG-1
Title: Midnight’s Children (chapter 6)
Rating: R
Genre/pairing/warnings: Daniel/Vala, Drama, Action-Adventure, mentions of torture in some chapters
Setting: Post-Ark of Truth
Word count: 4,259
Summary: Daniel and Vala, captured and held prisoner, struggle to survive a dark and painful ordeal. Not to mention each other. The bonds forged through hardship may prove to be the strongest of all, if only they can see them.
Previous: Part 5
Daniel wasn’t sure how much time had passed. It felt like an eternity and it felt like no time at all. There was only unrelenting thirst and a suffocating sensory deprivation. Nothing else was of any consequence.
He couldn’t think. Couldn’t move.
It was too hot, and his thirst was torture.
When the door at his back slid open, it snagged on his clothing and he toppled sideways with it. He hadn’t even heard them coming. Too late now.
The shift from vertical to horizontal barely registered, and anyway, the floor was good. No need to get up again. He’d just rest for a little bit, that was all. He couldn’t feel his fingertips.
His pulse was fluttering in his neck, sweat pouring down his face. He couldn’t get enough air.
He felt sick, and like he might pass out.
Somewhere, someone was panting weakly.
His arms were floating, one at a time. There was a persistent tugging sensation and the sweep of fabric on skin. Someone was threading his hands through the sleeves of his jacket, undressing him. How inappropriate.
He shut his eyes.
At some point, something cool and bulky lodged itself under each of his armpits. Then there was a cold trickling sensation over his scalp and through his hair. This was significant. Somehow.
He drifted.
Water. He could smell it. Somewhere, there was water.
He thought maybe that was Vala just by his shoulder. He could see her. He couldn’t remember why that was odd. She was wafting his jacket back and forth over him. Was she fanning him? He blinked rapidly and she stopped.
“Back with me?” she asked teasingly, leaning closer. He knew her well enough to hear the concern and relief beneath her words. “I have something for you if you sit up a bit.”
Easier said than done, but with her help he managed to prop his shoulders awkwardly against the wall. Then there was water, glorious and sublime and delicious, and everything else ceased to exist.
He’d have drowned himself in it if she’d have let him, but all too soon she was cautioning patience, and he lay gasping in the aftermath of his desperate need.
“There’s more in a minute,” she assured him. “Don’t worry.”
She removed the bunched up rolls of material from under his arms and rewet one of them, unfurling it and draping it around his neck. It felt wonderful. It pulled some of the heat from his scorching skin.
He luxuriated in that cooling sensation for a while, and as strength and awareness began to return to him, she let him have more water.
“Better?” she asked.
He let a grateful blink of affirmative answer for him and continued just to breathe, in and out.
Vala shucked her damp t-shirt back over her head, tugging it down and flipping her hair out from the neck at the back. She caught him looking and threw him a saucy wink. He frowned. When had that happened?
“I suppose this makes us even now, darling,” she said.
He let his eyes wander over the room and noticed several things. Firstly, there was light; the guards who’d returned Vala to the cell must have left a torch outside for them this time. Second, he appeared to have lost his boots. His socks were also missing. They lay haphazardly to one side, discarded in haste and forgotten. Lastly, Vala appeared to be in possession of two small containers, the contents of which were unknown. Where had they come from?
Vala followed his gaze and patted the objects proudly. “When you’ve finished swooning, I’ll show you,” she promised.
She certainly seemed chipper for someone who, not too long ago, had been teetering on the edge of heat exhaustion right along with him. He found that if he moved very slowly, he could plant his hands on the floor and inch himself upright that little bit more. It was the most effort he had been able to manage for some time, and not needing to lie right back down again felt like a significant achievement.
Vala seemed pleased by this development too and patted his knee in encouragement. Perhaps he had really scared her. She busied herself folding his jacket into a neat little parcel, then turned to line his boots against the wall. She didn’t seem concerned about drinking anything herself, and he suddenly feared he’d blindly monopolized their only supply.
“I had plenty outside,” Vala said, as if reading his expression. “They fed me too. Seems they need me up and about if I’m going to be of any use to them.”
Daniel felt a growing sense of alarm that must have shown on his face. What did that mean? What had she agreed to? Vala hurried to reassure him.
“It’s not what you think. Turns out they don’t want me for my brain after all.” She smiled wanly at his frown. “They had some sick men, and they don’t have anything even approaching a doctor. Apparently they’ve had this big stash of Goa’uld devices lying about with absolutely no hope of using any of them. Until now.”
The healing device. Of course. Daniel cleared his throat, determined to find his voice again. “That’s--“ He coughed. “That’s it?”
She nodded. “That’s it.”
Daniel searched her face for even the slightest hint of deception, for anything at all that might suggest she was shielding him from an unpleasant truth, but he could find nothing. She was being honest. He was sure.
“And look,” she continued quickly, eager to avoid acknowledging his obvious moment of doubt, “they let me bring this back for you.”
A rich and savoury aroma rose from the pot Vala brought around in front of her. The other must be where the water had come from. The mere thought of food made his gorge rise, and he blew out a controlled breath.
“There’s no rush,” Vala said, putting it to one side again. “When you’re ready. And we have water, lots of water. I think…” She trailed off, a false smile forced onto her lips. “I think we’re going to be okay.”
He wished he could believe her, but Daniel wasn’t so sure. He knew what this was, and he could see she knew it too. They were using him as leverage against her, and she was letting it work. He hoped she knew what she was doing.
He let his eyes slip closed again and rested his head back against the wall. He was already feeling a hundred times better and was beginning to realise just how close he’d been to danger. He wondered idly if their captors had been monitoring him, or if it had just been luck that Vala had been returned when she was. He rather suspected it was the latter, which wasn’t a particularly comforting thought.
After some time, Vala nudged him to drink again, and he took the opportunity to study her in the flickering light. She sensed his eyes on her and produced a nervous smile for him. She was anticipating a lecture and trying to head him off. He wouldn’t be deterred.
“I’m not sure you should be helping them,” he began softly, hoping the tremor in his voice wasn’t as obvious to Vala as it sounded to him. As expected, she pulled back from him, defences slamming firmly in place.
“What do you mean?”
He waved a hand weakly in her direction. “With this… this… you know. Playing doctor. You’re giving them what they want.”
“I’m healing the sick. They’re people.”
A little thrill of indignant anger lent strength to his voice. “I know that! Don’t you think I know that? It just doesn’t feel right. We’ve talked about this.”
“Yes, and we agreed not to help them kill. This is the opposite of that.” Vala crossed her arms in front of her, battle lines drawn.
“Is it? Isn’t it enabling them to continue to fight, to continue to kill more of their enemy and prolong the bloodshed? Not to mention giving them a reason to keep us here.”
Vala’s eyebrows rose. “Never did I think I’d see the day. The great Daniel Jackson, philanthropist, idealist, seeker of the common ground and peacemaker extraordinaire, counsels against forgiving thine enemy. I knew you could be hard when you wanted to be, but this seems a bit ruthless, even for you.”
“And you’re usually the one I’d count on to be practical. We need to find a way out of here, not play nursemaid to people who’d kill us as soon as look at us if we had nothing they wanted.”
“I’m doing this to survive, Daniel. To keep you alive.”
“And all the good that’s going to do us if all we have to look forward to is a short lifetime rotting in this cell.”
Vala narrowed her eyes at him.
“What’s the real issue here?” she challenged. “Are you angry that I get to go out and you don’t? Are you projecting your frustrated sense of nobility onto me? Because we both know you’d do the exact same thing if you were in my position.”
He was losing ground. He could feel the argument slipping through his fingers. He marshalled his last salvo. “Okay. Okay. You’re probably right. I would. And what would you be saying to me? To get my priorities straight. To not let this place take over. To not give in to their demands.”
There was an awkward silence that made the skin between Daniel’s shoulder blades itch. She was right, of course. He’d no more ignore people in need than she would, but something in him couldn’t let this go, felt the futile need to be contrary, to play devil’s advocate, to capitulate to the selfish, frightened, human part of him that wanted out of this place, like, yesterday. To defy their captors at all costs.
It was a lost cause, but then he’d always been a champion of those.
“I’m not going to let people die, Daniel.”
There was a steely finality in that statement that said checkmate. Her logic was simple, but indisputable. In other circumstances it would be his own, of which she was well aware.
He sighed, defeated. “I know.”
“They’re suffering. And I can stop it. I’m probably the only one who can.”
It slipped out before he could stop himself. “But for how long?”
Vala paused, perhaps sensing they’d reached the real crux of the matter. Her smile was sad, understanding gentling her words. “I can handle it. I’ll be fine.”
Can you? Daniel wanted to ask. At what price? Can you promise me you won’t push yourself beyond your strength, let them use you up for a brutal war that’s not our own, for nothing? For me? He wasn’t sure why he couldn’t get the words out or allow himself to reach out to her. The way she was looking at him made it hard to meet her eyes.
She took pity on him and settled herself against the wall beside him, effectively putting an end to the conversation. Daniel told himself he wasn’t at his best just now and that this slip was not one he would repeat. Vala would chalk it up as a victory, but he wouldn’t let her hold it against him. It hadn’t been a fair fight.
When he felt strong enough to sit unsupported, he accepted the oily stew from Vala with shaking hands, not at all sure he could manage it. Then when the scent reached him, he fell on it ravenously, bolting it down and barely tasting it.
It was only when he’d finished the whole thing that he realised Vala had removed his t-shirt at some point, and that he was naked from the waist up.
---
They would come every couple of days to take Vala from the cell, and each time she returned she brought with her more rations. Daniel recovered some of his condition with regular meals and plenty of water, and Vala was kept well provisioned for her duties. Some days they would even be left with light in the corridor outside.
She would be gone for an hour or so each time, describing to Daniel on her return her ministrations to the sick. The confines of the complex, the unsanitary conditions and the poor diet had affected men their captors couldn’t afford to lose, and sickness ran rife among their ranks. From what Vala told him, Daniel began to think they were both better off isolated down in their cell.
“I overheard something today,” Vala confided several days in as he scooped the last remnants of softened root vegetables from the bottom of the pot with his fingers. She scuttled quickly to the door to peer through the hatch, but their guards had long left. Satisfied they were alone, she returned to his side.
“They send out raiding parties, like the one that brought us here,” she told him. “That’s how they replenish their provisions. It’s hit and miss, but it’s how they’ve kept going so long.”
Daniel considered this. So much for a timely end to the fighting.
Vala stretched out next to him. “One of them’s a ‘gate party. They have a way of hijacking passing matter streams. They cause a wormhole to redirect to their ‘gate, then ambush the unsuspecting travellers as they arrive. We didn’t dial wrong; they pulled us off course.”
“Which means the SGC has no way of knowing where we are.”
“Maybe not, but I think they’re trying. One of the men said they snared a metal creature they’d never seen before, but that it stopped moving when the ‘gate disengaged.”
“A MALP.”
Vala nodded. “I think so too.”
The others were looking. Just having that confirmed was enough to bolster Daniel’s admittedly flagging spirits.
“They’re starting to trust me,” Vala continued. “They’re not exactly leaving me alone, but they’re easily distracted and less clingy than they were at first. I had enough time to try to strike up a conversation with one of my patients until I realised he couldn’t understand me. I’ll try again with another one next time.”
“Be careful,” Daniel interjected, reluctant to dampen Vala’s hopeful enthusiasm yet needing to voice his unease. Hadn’t he been the one pushing for Vala to try something, to look for a way out? He pushed that thought away. “If you get caught…”
“Oh please, give me some credit. I’m not an idiot.”
“I just worry, that’s all.”
“I know, and it’s very sweet of you.”
Daniel snorted.
“But honestly,” she forged on, “I take my work very seriously. You happen to be sharing a cell with one of the foremost con artists of this galaxy, and if anyone can infiltrate this slap-dash operation with only charm and wit to their name, it’s yours truly.”
Daniel forced himself to relax, a small smile tugging at his mouth despite himself. “They haven’t a hope in hell,” he teased lightly, and Vala preened obligingly. “Just watch your back, okay? I happen to like water.”
“Hmph. Well, as pliant as you are half dead with heat stroke, you’re certainly not as much fun to trade verbal barbs with. It would get terribly boring here without your company, paltry though it is.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“Really? I’m not sure I would if our positions were reversed, but it’s your prerogative, I suppose.”
Daniel felt his eyes crinkle in response to her infectious, irreverent humour. He nudged her in the side with his elbow, just hard enough to push her off balance.
“Hey!” she protested, thumping him in the shoulder. “Bully.”
“Baby.”
“Be nice,” she replied with mock-sulkiness, tucking herself in closer to his side.
Daniel tried not to dwell on just how comforting it was to have her there.
---
…twenty three. Twenty four. Twenty five.
A bead of sweat rolled down the bridge of his nose and was snapped free with the force of the next dip and lift.
Twenty six. Twenty seven.
His muscles burned. The overheated air resisted every pull of his lungs with a syrupy lethargy.
Twenty eight. Twenty nine.
He wished he had a way to measure the time. His own protracted sense of timekeeping, that inner clock that admittedly had never been quite as keen as it should, would be unreliable in this place. The darkness, the monotony of this narrowed existence, his physical condition, the only distractions those in his own head… It would all conspire to skew his perception of time. To stretch it out, torturous as it was unquantifiable. He was never very good at waiting.
Thirty. Thirty one. Thirty two.
The fine tremble was beginning already. The onset of muscle fatigue shouldn’t be hitting him so soon. He should be worried.
Thirty three. Thirty four.
How long had she been gone? It had been several hours at least. It certainly felt that way. No point in getting worked up about it; there was nothing he could do. He was calm. He would just try to stop thinking about it. God, he was thirsty.
Thirty five. Thirty six.
Maybe he shouldn’t be doing this. It had seemed like such a good idea before. A bit of stretching to ease the ache of the constant crouch, the hunch of shoulders, the repositioning of limbs curled against the unforgiving floor. If he laid flat on his back and reached, he could almost touch both walls at once.
Thirty seven. Thirty eight.
Some light exercises to get the blood flowing back into cramped limbs. Something to do to pass the time. A small measure of control over the situation.
Thirty nine.
A way to keep his mind off his solitude. The unnatural confines. The walls pressing in on him.
Forty.
Sweat in his eyes this time. His biceps really starting to complain. A clean burn, pushing back the cloying, dull ache in his head that never really seemed to go away.
Forty one.
Really thirsty now. Making himself sweat was probably a bad idea.
Forty two. Forty three.
Keeping in shape was going to be crucial as the days passed. There was barely enough room to stoop in here. He was going to have to figure out a way to effectively exercise his leg muscles.
Forty four.
He’d speak with Vala about it. She would have some ingenious suggestions. They could even make a game of it. He wasn’t sure his sanity could survive another round of Twenty Questions.
Forty five. Forty six.
He wondered where they had taken her. It had been a long time. Longer than usual, he was almost sure of that. He had a new story ready for her, a plot he’d rehearsed to himself until he was sure he’d gotten it right. One that he was sure would appeal, borrowed from a book he’d read, a film he was pretty sure she was yet to see. Characters he thought she might like. He’d use enough creative license that he could keep the retelling satisfyingly lengthy. He was getting better at the delivery. She had said so.
Forty seven.
What if they didn’t bring her back this time?
Forty eight.
No. Not thinking about that. They always brought her back. They wouldn’t allow anything to happen to her. She was too valuable.
Forty nine.
They could move her elsewhere, though. Nothing to stop them doing that.
Forty…
Would they leave him here alone?
Forty…
Shit. What number was he on?
He let his trembling arms give out and deposit him face down on the floor, his breath puffing against the damp surface.
Time to switch to something else. Sit ups. He shuffled over onto his back, reaching over his head to check the distance to the wall behind him. Plenty of space. An almost obscene amount of room. Lots and lots of space.
He crooked his knees slightly, keeping them loose. Hands up to either side of his head, only just touching behind each ear. Neck straight. He blew out a long breath and began.
One.
The satisfying constriction of taut muscle. Smooth movement up and forward, a controlled descent not quite touching the ground.
Two.
Long exhale on the upswing. Muscle memory keeping his movements steady and precise, no need for visual cues to guide his progress.
Three.
They would probably bring her back. It could be any time now. He was her incentive to remain cooperative, and she would demand to be returned to him. Of course she would.
Four.
Unless something had happened. Would she piss them off to the point where they hurt her? Or worse? Would they kill her?
Five.
No. Vala was smart. She would do what it took to survive. She wouldn’t risk herself like that. She wasn’t him.
Six.
She was resourceful. She’d find a way out of this, somehow. All he had to do was be ready to help her when the time came. To not be as completely useless as he had been up until this point.
Seven.
She’d be better off on her own. Without him to hold her back, she could already have gotten herself out of here. She had a history as dark as it was colourful. She had no doubt escaped situations worse than this before.
Ei…
Wait.
She wouldn’t leave without him, would she?
Fuck.
He let his back melt into the slimy floor.
What if she’d had an opening? An opportunity too good to let slide? He’d be the first person to urge her to take it. Absolutely. If she had a chance, she should get out of here, find her way back to the ‘gate and call for help. Perhaps their captors would be too busy to worry about one escaped prisoner. Perhaps she’d have a chance.
It all made sense now. Of course. She hadn’t just been gone for longer than usual. She’d escaped.
A ringing clang echoed from along the tunnel outside the cell door and every hair follicle Daniel possessed sprang to attention. Sitting upright, he shuffled to the farthest corner of the room and prepared to cover his eyes.
This was it. They’d discovered Vala missing. She’d done well. She’d had a good chunk of time to get far. If he could give her a bit longer, perhaps that would make all the difference. He would try. They would interrogate him, but it would be fuelled by frustration more than anything else. He had no information he could give them even if he’d wanted to. But he could at least delay them in their search. A few more precious minutes could be all she needed.
The sickly glow of torch light outlined the seams of the cell door, becoming gradually brighter as footsteps approached. The hatch was examined, and that welcome glow became a piercing shaft of too-bright light that poured into the cell and sought out Daniel’s sensitive retinas. He squinted between his fingers as a solid shape blocked the light for a moment, the guards shuffling about outside.
The pneumatic whir of the door mechanism was deafening after so much nothingness. A figure was pushed into the room before it had even opened all the way, and it was quickly closed behind them.
Daniel recognised a fleeting desire to surge forward and reach for her face, if only to confirm her presence. But caution made him hang back and wait.
“Vala?” he asked tentatively, praying he was right and praying that he was wrong.
“Who else?” she replied brightly.
He allowed himself to feel relieved, the absurd hope of a rescue attempt already dissolving into the air. He moved towards her, their hands meeting clumsily in the void between them.
“Are you okay?” he asked as he pulled her to settle against him, already a ritual that marked each reunion.
“Same old same old,” she assured him, the squeeze to his wrists the most welcome greeting he could imagine.
“You were gone a long time.”
“Was I?” she replied almost distractedly. “I suppose I’m not keeping quite as on top of things as I thought. It probably took a couple of hours longer than usual.”
Daniel relaxed back against the wall, ignoring the unpleasant sensation of wet slime seeping into his clothing. “Felt longer.”
Vala trailed her fingers up and down each of his forearms, snugging them more tightly around her until they were arranged to her satisfaction. “Are you okay?” she asked him pointedly.
He nodded, his cheek brushing the tangled nest of her hair. “Fine.”
“Hmm. Because you sound so convincing.” She sniffed. “And what have you been doing in here? You’re drenched in sweat.”
“Sorry.” He moved to unwind his arms and allow her to escape, but she tugged on him impatiently until he sat still. “Just, you know. Push ups.”
Vala squeezed his left bicep teasingly and made an appreciative sound. The hum of vibration that travelled from her through his chest eased a tight coil of something inside him he couldn’t quite name.
He should be sorry she was here. He should want her miles from here, the wind in her hair and the dappled sunlight streaking across her back, her feet eating up the soft earth as she raced for the ‘gate. He should--
“I’ll always come back, you know.”
He didn’t ask how she’d read his thoughts. She didn’t comment on his silence. And she didn’t push him away when he tightened his arms just slightly, his face finding its way into the crook of her neck.
Chapter 7
Title: Midnight’s Children (chapter 6)
Rating: R
Genre/pairing/warnings: Daniel/Vala, Drama, Action-Adventure, mentions of torture in some chapters
Setting: Post-Ark of Truth
Word count: 4,259
Summary: Daniel and Vala, captured and held prisoner, struggle to survive a dark and painful ordeal. Not to mention each other. The bonds forged through hardship may prove to be the strongest of all, if only they can see them.
Previous: Part 5
Daniel wasn’t sure how much time had passed. It felt like an eternity and it felt like no time at all. There was only unrelenting thirst and a suffocating sensory deprivation. Nothing else was of any consequence.
He couldn’t think. Couldn’t move.
It was too hot, and his thirst was torture.
When the door at his back slid open, it snagged on his clothing and he toppled sideways with it. He hadn’t even heard them coming. Too late now.
The shift from vertical to horizontal barely registered, and anyway, the floor was good. No need to get up again. He’d just rest for a little bit, that was all. He couldn’t feel his fingertips.
His pulse was fluttering in his neck, sweat pouring down his face. He couldn’t get enough air.
He felt sick, and like he might pass out.
Somewhere, someone was panting weakly.
His arms were floating, one at a time. There was a persistent tugging sensation and the sweep of fabric on skin. Someone was threading his hands through the sleeves of his jacket, undressing him. How inappropriate.
He shut his eyes.
At some point, something cool and bulky lodged itself under each of his armpits. Then there was a cold trickling sensation over his scalp and through his hair. This was significant. Somehow.
He drifted.
Water. He could smell it. Somewhere, there was water.
He thought maybe that was Vala just by his shoulder. He could see her. He couldn’t remember why that was odd. She was wafting his jacket back and forth over him. Was she fanning him? He blinked rapidly and she stopped.
“Back with me?” she asked teasingly, leaning closer. He knew her well enough to hear the concern and relief beneath her words. “I have something for you if you sit up a bit.”
Easier said than done, but with her help he managed to prop his shoulders awkwardly against the wall. Then there was water, glorious and sublime and delicious, and everything else ceased to exist.
He’d have drowned himself in it if she’d have let him, but all too soon she was cautioning patience, and he lay gasping in the aftermath of his desperate need.
“There’s more in a minute,” she assured him. “Don’t worry.”
She removed the bunched up rolls of material from under his arms and rewet one of them, unfurling it and draping it around his neck. It felt wonderful. It pulled some of the heat from his scorching skin.
He luxuriated in that cooling sensation for a while, and as strength and awareness began to return to him, she let him have more water.
“Better?” she asked.
He let a grateful blink of affirmative answer for him and continued just to breathe, in and out.
Vala shucked her damp t-shirt back over her head, tugging it down and flipping her hair out from the neck at the back. She caught him looking and threw him a saucy wink. He frowned. When had that happened?
“I suppose this makes us even now, darling,” she said.
He let his eyes wander over the room and noticed several things. Firstly, there was light; the guards who’d returned Vala to the cell must have left a torch outside for them this time. Second, he appeared to have lost his boots. His socks were also missing. They lay haphazardly to one side, discarded in haste and forgotten. Lastly, Vala appeared to be in possession of two small containers, the contents of which were unknown. Where had they come from?
Vala followed his gaze and patted the objects proudly. “When you’ve finished swooning, I’ll show you,” she promised.
She certainly seemed chipper for someone who, not too long ago, had been teetering on the edge of heat exhaustion right along with him. He found that if he moved very slowly, he could plant his hands on the floor and inch himself upright that little bit more. It was the most effort he had been able to manage for some time, and not needing to lie right back down again felt like a significant achievement.
Vala seemed pleased by this development too and patted his knee in encouragement. Perhaps he had really scared her. She busied herself folding his jacket into a neat little parcel, then turned to line his boots against the wall. She didn’t seem concerned about drinking anything herself, and he suddenly feared he’d blindly monopolized their only supply.
“I had plenty outside,” Vala said, as if reading his expression. “They fed me too. Seems they need me up and about if I’m going to be of any use to them.”
Daniel felt a growing sense of alarm that must have shown on his face. What did that mean? What had she agreed to? Vala hurried to reassure him.
“It’s not what you think. Turns out they don’t want me for my brain after all.” She smiled wanly at his frown. “They had some sick men, and they don’t have anything even approaching a doctor. Apparently they’ve had this big stash of Goa’uld devices lying about with absolutely no hope of using any of them. Until now.”
The healing device. Of course. Daniel cleared his throat, determined to find his voice again. “That’s--“ He coughed. “That’s it?”
She nodded. “That’s it.”
Daniel searched her face for even the slightest hint of deception, for anything at all that might suggest she was shielding him from an unpleasant truth, but he could find nothing. She was being honest. He was sure.
“And look,” she continued quickly, eager to avoid acknowledging his obvious moment of doubt, “they let me bring this back for you.”
A rich and savoury aroma rose from the pot Vala brought around in front of her. The other must be where the water had come from. The mere thought of food made his gorge rise, and he blew out a controlled breath.
“There’s no rush,” Vala said, putting it to one side again. “When you’re ready. And we have water, lots of water. I think…” She trailed off, a false smile forced onto her lips. “I think we’re going to be okay.”
He wished he could believe her, but Daniel wasn’t so sure. He knew what this was, and he could see she knew it too. They were using him as leverage against her, and she was letting it work. He hoped she knew what she was doing.
He let his eyes slip closed again and rested his head back against the wall. He was already feeling a hundred times better and was beginning to realise just how close he’d been to danger. He wondered idly if their captors had been monitoring him, or if it had just been luck that Vala had been returned when she was. He rather suspected it was the latter, which wasn’t a particularly comforting thought.
After some time, Vala nudged him to drink again, and he took the opportunity to study her in the flickering light. She sensed his eyes on her and produced a nervous smile for him. She was anticipating a lecture and trying to head him off. He wouldn’t be deterred.
“I’m not sure you should be helping them,” he began softly, hoping the tremor in his voice wasn’t as obvious to Vala as it sounded to him. As expected, she pulled back from him, defences slamming firmly in place.
“What do you mean?”
He waved a hand weakly in her direction. “With this… this… you know. Playing doctor. You’re giving them what they want.”
“I’m healing the sick. They’re people.”
A little thrill of indignant anger lent strength to his voice. “I know that! Don’t you think I know that? It just doesn’t feel right. We’ve talked about this.”
“Yes, and we agreed not to help them kill. This is the opposite of that.” Vala crossed her arms in front of her, battle lines drawn.
“Is it? Isn’t it enabling them to continue to fight, to continue to kill more of their enemy and prolong the bloodshed? Not to mention giving them a reason to keep us here.”
Vala’s eyebrows rose. “Never did I think I’d see the day. The great Daniel Jackson, philanthropist, idealist, seeker of the common ground and peacemaker extraordinaire, counsels against forgiving thine enemy. I knew you could be hard when you wanted to be, but this seems a bit ruthless, even for you.”
“And you’re usually the one I’d count on to be practical. We need to find a way out of here, not play nursemaid to people who’d kill us as soon as look at us if we had nothing they wanted.”
“I’m doing this to survive, Daniel. To keep you alive.”
“And all the good that’s going to do us if all we have to look forward to is a short lifetime rotting in this cell.”
Vala narrowed her eyes at him.
“What’s the real issue here?” she challenged. “Are you angry that I get to go out and you don’t? Are you projecting your frustrated sense of nobility onto me? Because we both know you’d do the exact same thing if you were in my position.”
He was losing ground. He could feel the argument slipping through his fingers. He marshalled his last salvo. “Okay. Okay. You’re probably right. I would. And what would you be saying to me? To get my priorities straight. To not let this place take over. To not give in to their demands.”
There was an awkward silence that made the skin between Daniel’s shoulder blades itch. She was right, of course. He’d no more ignore people in need than she would, but something in him couldn’t let this go, felt the futile need to be contrary, to play devil’s advocate, to capitulate to the selfish, frightened, human part of him that wanted out of this place, like, yesterday. To defy their captors at all costs.
It was a lost cause, but then he’d always been a champion of those.
“I’m not going to let people die, Daniel.”
There was a steely finality in that statement that said checkmate. Her logic was simple, but indisputable. In other circumstances it would be his own, of which she was well aware.
He sighed, defeated. “I know.”
“They’re suffering. And I can stop it. I’m probably the only one who can.”
It slipped out before he could stop himself. “But for how long?”
Vala paused, perhaps sensing they’d reached the real crux of the matter. Her smile was sad, understanding gentling her words. “I can handle it. I’ll be fine.”
Can you? Daniel wanted to ask. At what price? Can you promise me you won’t push yourself beyond your strength, let them use you up for a brutal war that’s not our own, for nothing? For me? He wasn’t sure why he couldn’t get the words out or allow himself to reach out to her. The way she was looking at him made it hard to meet her eyes.
She took pity on him and settled herself against the wall beside him, effectively putting an end to the conversation. Daniel told himself he wasn’t at his best just now and that this slip was not one he would repeat. Vala would chalk it up as a victory, but he wouldn’t let her hold it against him. It hadn’t been a fair fight.
When he felt strong enough to sit unsupported, he accepted the oily stew from Vala with shaking hands, not at all sure he could manage it. Then when the scent reached him, he fell on it ravenously, bolting it down and barely tasting it.
It was only when he’d finished the whole thing that he realised Vala had removed his t-shirt at some point, and that he was naked from the waist up.
---
They would come every couple of days to take Vala from the cell, and each time she returned she brought with her more rations. Daniel recovered some of his condition with regular meals and plenty of water, and Vala was kept well provisioned for her duties. Some days they would even be left with light in the corridor outside.
She would be gone for an hour or so each time, describing to Daniel on her return her ministrations to the sick. The confines of the complex, the unsanitary conditions and the poor diet had affected men their captors couldn’t afford to lose, and sickness ran rife among their ranks. From what Vala told him, Daniel began to think they were both better off isolated down in their cell.
“I overheard something today,” Vala confided several days in as he scooped the last remnants of softened root vegetables from the bottom of the pot with his fingers. She scuttled quickly to the door to peer through the hatch, but their guards had long left. Satisfied they were alone, she returned to his side.
“They send out raiding parties, like the one that brought us here,” she told him. “That’s how they replenish their provisions. It’s hit and miss, but it’s how they’ve kept going so long.”
Daniel considered this. So much for a timely end to the fighting.
Vala stretched out next to him. “One of them’s a ‘gate party. They have a way of hijacking passing matter streams. They cause a wormhole to redirect to their ‘gate, then ambush the unsuspecting travellers as they arrive. We didn’t dial wrong; they pulled us off course.”
“Which means the SGC has no way of knowing where we are.”
“Maybe not, but I think they’re trying. One of the men said they snared a metal creature they’d never seen before, but that it stopped moving when the ‘gate disengaged.”
“A MALP.”
Vala nodded. “I think so too.”
The others were looking. Just having that confirmed was enough to bolster Daniel’s admittedly flagging spirits.
“They’re starting to trust me,” Vala continued. “They’re not exactly leaving me alone, but they’re easily distracted and less clingy than they were at first. I had enough time to try to strike up a conversation with one of my patients until I realised he couldn’t understand me. I’ll try again with another one next time.”
“Be careful,” Daniel interjected, reluctant to dampen Vala’s hopeful enthusiasm yet needing to voice his unease. Hadn’t he been the one pushing for Vala to try something, to look for a way out? He pushed that thought away. “If you get caught…”
“Oh please, give me some credit. I’m not an idiot.”
“I just worry, that’s all.”
“I know, and it’s very sweet of you.”
Daniel snorted.
“But honestly,” she forged on, “I take my work very seriously. You happen to be sharing a cell with one of the foremost con artists of this galaxy, and if anyone can infiltrate this slap-dash operation with only charm and wit to their name, it’s yours truly.”
Daniel forced himself to relax, a small smile tugging at his mouth despite himself. “They haven’t a hope in hell,” he teased lightly, and Vala preened obligingly. “Just watch your back, okay? I happen to like water.”
“Hmph. Well, as pliant as you are half dead with heat stroke, you’re certainly not as much fun to trade verbal barbs with. It would get terribly boring here without your company, paltry though it is.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“Really? I’m not sure I would if our positions were reversed, but it’s your prerogative, I suppose.”
Daniel felt his eyes crinkle in response to her infectious, irreverent humour. He nudged her in the side with his elbow, just hard enough to push her off balance.
“Hey!” she protested, thumping him in the shoulder. “Bully.”
“Baby.”
“Be nice,” she replied with mock-sulkiness, tucking herself in closer to his side.
Daniel tried not to dwell on just how comforting it was to have her there.
---
…twenty three. Twenty four. Twenty five.
A bead of sweat rolled down the bridge of his nose and was snapped free with the force of the next dip and lift.
Twenty six. Twenty seven.
His muscles burned. The overheated air resisted every pull of his lungs with a syrupy lethargy.
Twenty eight. Twenty nine.
He wished he had a way to measure the time. His own protracted sense of timekeeping, that inner clock that admittedly had never been quite as keen as it should, would be unreliable in this place. The darkness, the monotony of this narrowed existence, his physical condition, the only distractions those in his own head… It would all conspire to skew his perception of time. To stretch it out, torturous as it was unquantifiable. He was never very good at waiting.
Thirty. Thirty one. Thirty two.
The fine tremble was beginning already. The onset of muscle fatigue shouldn’t be hitting him so soon. He should be worried.
Thirty three. Thirty four.
How long had she been gone? It had been several hours at least. It certainly felt that way. No point in getting worked up about it; there was nothing he could do. He was calm. He would just try to stop thinking about it. God, he was thirsty.
Thirty five. Thirty six.
Maybe he shouldn’t be doing this. It had seemed like such a good idea before. A bit of stretching to ease the ache of the constant crouch, the hunch of shoulders, the repositioning of limbs curled against the unforgiving floor. If he laid flat on his back and reached, he could almost touch both walls at once.
Thirty seven. Thirty eight.
Some light exercises to get the blood flowing back into cramped limbs. Something to do to pass the time. A small measure of control over the situation.
Thirty nine.
A way to keep his mind off his solitude. The unnatural confines. The walls pressing in on him.
Forty.
Sweat in his eyes this time. His biceps really starting to complain. A clean burn, pushing back the cloying, dull ache in his head that never really seemed to go away.
Forty one.
Really thirsty now. Making himself sweat was probably a bad idea.
Forty two. Forty three.
Keeping in shape was going to be crucial as the days passed. There was barely enough room to stoop in here. He was going to have to figure out a way to effectively exercise his leg muscles.
Forty four.
He’d speak with Vala about it. She would have some ingenious suggestions. They could even make a game of it. He wasn’t sure his sanity could survive another round of Twenty Questions.
Forty five. Forty six.
He wondered where they had taken her. It had been a long time. Longer than usual, he was almost sure of that. He had a new story ready for her, a plot he’d rehearsed to himself until he was sure he’d gotten it right. One that he was sure would appeal, borrowed from a book he’d read, a film he was pretty sure she was yet to see. Characters he thought she might like. He’d use enough creative license that he could keep the retelling satisfyingly lengthy. He was getting better at the delivery. She had said so.
Forty seven.
What if they didn’t bring her back this time?
Forty eight.
No. Not thinking about that. They always brought her back. They wouldn’t allow anything to happen to her. She was too valuable.
Forty nine.
They could move her elsewhere, though. Nothing to stop them doing that.
Forty…
Would they leave him here alone?
Forty…
Shit. What number was he on?
He let his trembling arms give out and deposit him face down on the floor, his breath puffing against the damp surface.
Time to switch to something else. Sit ups. He shuffled over onto his back, reaching over his head to check the distance to the wall behind him. Plenty of space. An almost obscene amount of room. Lots and lots of space.
He crooked his knees slightly, keeping them loose. Hands up to either side of his head, only just touching behind each ear. Neck straight. He blew out a long breath and began.
One.
The satisfying constriction of taut muscle. Smooth movement up and forward, a controlled descent not quite touching the ground.
Two.
Long exhale on the upswing. Muscle memory keeping his movements steady and precise, no need for visual cues to guide his progress.
Three.
They would probably bring her back. It could be any time now. He was her incentive to remain cooperative, and she would demand to be returned to him. Of course she would.
Four.
Unless something had happened. Would she piss them off to the point where they hurt her? Or worse? Would they kill her?
Five.
No. Vala was smart. She would do what it took to survive. She wouldn’t risk herself like that. She wasn’t him.
Six.
She was resourceful. She’d find a way out of this, somehow. All he had to do was be ready to help her when the time came. To not be as completely useless as he had been up until this point.
Seven.
She’d be better off on her own. Without him to hold her back, she could already have gotten herself out of here. She had a history as dark as it was colourful. She had no doubt escaped situations worse than this before.
Ei…
Wait.
She wouldn’t leave without him, would she?
Fuck.
He let his back melt into the slimy floor.
What if she’d had an opening? An opportunity too good to let slide? He’d be the first person to urge her to take it. Absolutely. If she had a chance, she should get out of here, find her way back to the ‘gate and call for help. Perhaps their captors would be too busy to worry about one escaped prisoner. Perhaps she’d have a chance.
It all made sense now. Of course. She hadn’t just been gone for longer than usual. She’d escaped.
A ringing clang echoed from along the tunnel outside the cell door and every hair follicle Daniel possessed sprang to attention. Sitting upright, he shuffled to the farthest corner of the room and prepared to cover his eyes.
This was it. They’d discovered Vala missing. She’d done well. She’d had a good chunk of time to get far. If he could give her a bit longer, perhaps that would make all the difference. He would try. They would interrogate him, but it would be fuelled by frustration more than anything else. He had no information he could give them even if he’d wanted to. But he could at least delay them in their search. A few more precious minutes could be all she needed.
The sickly glow of torch light outlined the seams of the cell door, becoming gradually brighter as footsteps approached. The hatch was examined, and that welcome glow became a piercing shaft of too-bright light that poured into the cell and sought out Daniel’s sensitive retinas. He squinted between his fingers as a solid shape blocked the light for a moment, the guards shuffling about outside.
The pneumatic whir of the door mechanism was deafening after so much nothingness. A figure was pushed into the room before it had even opened all the way, and it was quickly closed behind them.
Daniel recognised a fleeting desire to surge forward and reach for her face, if only to confirm her presence. But caution made him hang back and wait.
“Vala?” he asked tentatively, praying he was right and praying that he was wrong.
“Who else?” she replied brightly.
He allowed himself to feel relieved, the absurd hope of a rescue attempt already dissolving into the air. He moved towards her, their hands meeting clumsily in the void between them.
“Are you okay?” he asked as he pulled her to settle against him, already a ritual that marked each reunion.
“Same old same old,” she assured him, the squeeze to his wrists the most welcome greeting he could imagine.
“You were gone a long time.”
“Was I?” she replied almost distractedly. “I suppose I’m not keeping quite as on top of things as I thought. It probably took a couple of hours longer than usual.”
Daniel relaxed back against the wall, ignoring the unpleasant sensation of wet slime seeping into his clothing. “Felt longer.”
Vala trailed her fingers up and down each of his forearms, snugging them more tightly around her until they were arranged to her satisfaction. “Are you okay?” she asked him pointedly.
He nodded, his cheek brushing the tangled nest of her hair. “Fine.”
“Hmm. Because you sound so convincing.” She sniffed. “And what have you been doing in here? You’re drenched in sweat.”
“Sorry.” He moved to unwind his arms and allow her to escape, but she tugged on him impatiently until he sat still. “Just, you know. Push ups.”
Vala squeezed his left bicep teasingly and made an appreciative sound. The hum of vibration that travelled from her through his chest eased a tight coil of something inside him he couldn’t quite name.
He should be sorry she was here. He should want her miles from here, the wind in her hair and the dappled sunlight streaking across her back, her feet eating up the soft earth as she raced for the ‘gate. He should--
“I’ll always come back, you know.”
He didn’t ask how she’d read his thoughts. She didn’t comment on his silence. And she didn’t push him away when he tightened his arms just slightly, his face finding its way into the crook of her neck.
Chapter 7