This story is SLASH and contains references to violence.  Do not read if you are offended by either one.

The Will of the Gods

Rook takes Queen

-October 1999-

Some days it just doesn't pay to wake up. And if I knew that day would have been one of those days, I think I would have slept in. Maybe taken more time shaving. Stopped off at the new coffee shop down the street and grabbed a cappuccino. Took a walk around the block. Got a dog. A really big dog.

And even if I'd known it would go down the way it did, I still would have tried. Not that chains are my favorite fashion statement, but Jacob is Carter's dad. I couldn't let that slimy snakehead have him. Even if he weren't related to the Major, I'd have saved him. I wouldn't wish time in a Goa'uld prison on anyone. A little beating, a little blood, fry a few brain cells with the Goa'uld version of a palm pilot...just your average day in a torture chamber.

You really have to wonder if the evil, dark overlords of the universe work from the same handbook. What, do they have a club somewhere that they share the secrets of dungeon building? Oh, I know. It's a yearly convention in Las Vegas. They gather for a good game of poker, spend time in meetings on the best ways to break a prisoner for fun, and compare notes on how to rule the galaxy. Or is that universe?

Things get confusing when it's always dark, and you haven't eaten, and your body hurts like a son of a bitch.

I wonder how long I get to hang around here today? The old arm muscles are still a bit tender from yesterday. I don't remember anything past taunting Apophis as he ran from the Asgard. How's that saying go? It's not nice to tease Evil Overlords. Another thing that must be in the handbook.

It's quiet here. Too damn quiet. How long have I been here now? A week, two weeks? Feels more like a year. I can barely stand on my own. Spasms in my legs, in my arms, in hurts to just breathe. My hair hurts. And this room, it can't be any bigger than a large closet. I didn't think the Goa'uld knew how to build something smaller than a stadium. Must have run out of money when they got to this part of the ship. No gold writing on the wall. The only time there's light is when Huey, Louie, and Dewey come to visit.

How long can a person survive in solitary before going totally insane? Each day it's the same...a glass of some vile liquid (probably scraps saved from breakfast ten days ago and evolved into God knows what), soapy water tossed on me, and scrubbed with a brush. Then...

Nothing but...

Pain.

~~~

Pain.  Thirst.  Barely able to feel my hands this time, the swelling causing the manacles to cut into my wrists. Every little shift adding yet another cut and the strain is almost more than my arms can take.  Barely able to stand up.  Barely able to breathe.  I'm beginning to think I've got at least one broken rib. 

The worst part is the boredom, the horrible, mind-numbing boredom. You hang around for hours with nothing to do, pain your constant companion. The only weapon you have against it is your memories and thoughts of escape.

That's when the snakehead started using drugs.  As if the torture wasn't enough, robbing me of control of my body and my pride.  He wanted my mind.  One stick and the world went dark except for the pain.  That's all I could think about.

The pain.

How to Survive Life as a Prisoner of War...

Step One: Don't get caught.

Step Two: Remember it's all in your head.

Step Three: Escape.

Step Four: Refer to Step One.

Step one is very important.  Very, very important.  Too bad I fucked that part up.  Guess I'll have to move on to step two. 

A sense of humour is essential to surviving in a POW camp. Along with making contact with your fellow prisoners. Horror, for some odd reason, is always better when the guy in the next cell is suffering along with you. Just my luck, I'm the only poor bastard in this prison.

Star Wars if it was written by a redneck: Luke, use the truck!

I crack myself up. 

One-two, buckle my shoe.  Three-four, shut the door.  Five-six, pixie sticks!

God, I just don't think that anyone expected the Goa'uld when they were teaching those survival courses. Assuming you managed to live after your first hour of captivity, you are assured of a life of living hell. No, make that a death of everlasting hell.

There is no such thing as 'life' in the Goa'uld vocabulary. There are the Goa'uld and then there's everyone else.

~~~

"Awaken, O'Neill."

Fuck! When did *he* come in? And why is he so goddamn cheerful?  

"Well if it isn't Apophis, scourge of the universe." Back handed and taste of blood in my mouth.  Touch a nerve there, Apophis? Now is probably not the best time to goad him, but hey, I've got nothing better to do. What's one more split lip? Gloat while you can, Apophis. I'm not going to be here long enough for you enjoy it.

"Insolent Tau'ri. You will suffer." Back off bug breath.

"Whoa! What did you have for lunch?" No sense of humour, these Goa'uld.  Their capacity for hatred is only exceeded by their pleasure of pain on the scale of the Marquis de Sade.  Really have to learn to control my mouth. 

"Now, Colonel.  Is that anyway to speak to your God."

"You're not any god of mine."  If I could have found a way to do it, I would have spit in his face. 

"That is your mistake, Colonel."

"What's that?"

"Thinking I care."  Fucking mocking bastard turned away.  "I want those codes, Colonel, and you will give them to me or die."

"Hate to disappoint you, but I'm not telling you crap."

"You must have another way to get back."

"I don't know the schedule."

"Then you are of no use to me." First I'm useful, now I'm not.  Just some fucking pawn in a game of chess where I'm not even sure there is a White Queen.  At least on Sokar's ship, I had a fighting chance. 

Uh oh, he's showing teeth. "Let me know when he dies."

Is there an echo in here? I could have sworn I've heard those words before. Oh that's right, I have. I said it to Apophis, when he was dying. Really bad choice of words there. Oh well, it's still a good day to die.  Damn who said that?  Teal'c?  No, Daniel, it was yet another one of his endless lectures.  What was he going on about?  Apache? Cherokee?  No, Sioux.  That's it. 

It's a good day die.  Sorry, Daniel.  I didn't get a chance to say goodbye.

~~~