The Taught - Part 4 of 'An Education'
Disclaimer: Stargate SG-1 and its characters are the property of Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. I have written this story for entertainment purposes only and no money whatsoever has exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the author(s).
It was cold and wet.
It was sticky.
It clotted in her hair, gluing her to the hard concrete floor.
And it was red.
Blood. Jack's blood. A pool of it extended out from where her head rested. Her
eyelids stuck together, eyelashes caked and peeling away as they were forced open.
Jack was gone.
The discarded ropes ignited her hope, a jubilation that rushed through her stolen body
like a shudder of pure pleasure. He had a chance. He had escaped.
She might not have to kill him after all.
Hope gave her energy. Where there had been despair, there was now determination.
She had fought, but now she waged war, flinging herself into the battle for her own
mind with everything she had. The bastard Goa'uld no longer held a hostage against
God, she hoped he was far away.
The Goa'uld fought back.
It was merciless.
It took each piece of that which made her herself and crushed it against the power of
its own intellect. She was nothing. Nothing but muscle and bone, a vessel bred for
one purpose only. As far as it was concerned, she as an entity did not exist and her
body was its own.
She fought nonetheless.
The heat began in her toes, travelling up her legs, her spine, her neck, a wave of
intensity that finally focused on her eyes. The flash of white light reflected off the
pool of red.
Her body moved, taking her with it. The ache of the bruise on her forehead
disappearing as it stood.
Jack was gone.
But unfortunately he hadn't gone far enough.
The sound of a voice at the top of the staircase caused the Goa'uld to turn in that
direction. The trail of blood told its tale.
Her body moved to follow, stealth itself in the silence.
She heard his voice. And another.
Oh, god, please no.
She struggled still further, desperate to cry out a warning.
Yet again she failed.
Her eyes caught sight of a pair of familiar legs at the top still dangling through the
open door, their mangled agony all too apparent.
No, no, no, nonononononooooooo......
The Goa'uld climbed the stairs.
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