Fight Club by cheerful minion

Title: Fight Club 
Author: ocean gazer:
Rating: oh, probably PG-13 
Date: i guess by now it's 8/9/00 
Pairing: S/J established relationship 
Archive: PR 
Summary: Sam fights to save herself and Janet when they are taken prisoner 
Disclaimer: i do not own, nor do i intend to own, these characters-- they belong to Showtime, MGM, Gekko, etc. i am borrowing them for a while and will put them back unharmed...i'm not worth much (...i mean FINANCIALLY) so suing would be, well, pointless. feel free to steal instead :). 
Comments: this is a very rough, spur-of-the-moment vignette which i have barely edited. it was inspired by Phil's musing about Sam in a scene from "Gladiator" (which i have not seen) and by PB's response about the image of Sam and Janet in some piece of fifties pulp fiction. so, thank you both for the inspiration. if it sucks, i'm i said, it's pretty rough. feedback, however, is always welcome.


Samantha Carter stood, dusty and sweat covered, in the middle of a large, shallow, sand-filled pit. She kept the tip of her sword pressed into the throat of the burly man lying supine under her bare foot, and glared as convincingly as she could at the surprised faces around the ring. With her free hand, she wiped a trickle of blood out of her eye.

"I demand that my companion be brought to me, or I will kill this man!" she yelled, anger making her voice come out as a roar. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw two figures back out of the circle-- she hoped they were going to fetch Janet.

At the thought, Sam tightened her grip on the sword, and bent quickly to pick up one of the daggers her foe had dropped. She knew she wouldn't be able to stomach killing the man, but thought she might appear more menacing to the crowd. At least she hoped she looked a lot more intimidating than she felt--wearing only shorts and a tee-shirt, standing wounded and exhausted under a hot sun.

It would not be an overstatement to say she was having one of the worst days of her life...

It had started out well enough, even considering that she and Janet were acting as trainers (or, more accurately, babysitters) to a very green group of field medics on the planet PQ3X47. She and Janet had woken up early, made love quietly in their tent, and had actually had a good training session with their charges.

Then all hell had broken loose.

An army of men, armor clad, and brandishing swords and clubs, had advanced on the group. Sam tried to get the trainees behind her, to keep them out of the way while she talked to the leader, since she was all too aware they would be the losers in any sort of fight. She also wanted to avoid a fight in the first place; the re-con team had assured them that all of the planet's inhabitants were peaceful-- since they had obviously been wrong about that, she wanted to tread carefully in case the rest of their intel was also wrong.

But the group ignored her--all four trainees had picked up weapons and fired wildly, not experienced enough to tell the difference between an advance and an actual attack. Sam ran to knock the weapons from their hands, yelling at them to stop shooting.

Meyers, in a panic, had picked Sam up and thrown her out of his way, managing to send her crashing into Janet. The two lay stunned on the ground while the army attacked the shooters. All four trainees wound up dead; she and Janet wound up prisoners...

Sam grimaced and looked around the pit. The other four men she defeated in battle lay around the edges--all still unconscious. She breathed a quick prayer of thanksgiving that this particular culture did not fight to the death--she'd seen enough dying for one day.

She glanced around the ring of faces, licking her sun-dried lips, hoping at any minute to see Janet. Even though she had won the battle matches--she wasn't sure it would be enough to protect her lover...

Sam had been knocked out when they were captured. She woke in the cell when she heard Janet scream. Sam bolted upright, trying to make sense of her surroundings, and was grabbed in rough hands and held immobile.

She struggled wildly, seeing Janet's clothes ripped from her body, until the brunette stood trembling and naked in front of the leader and his men. The leader took Janet's chin and stroked suggestively at her throat. "You will be a most welcome addition to my harem."

Janet shrank away from the touch, and a furious Sam broke free of the hands holding her to take a protective position in front of her lover. "Stay away from her, you bastard."

One of the men delivered a vicious blow to Sam's head with the butt of his sword, but the leader held up a restraining hand. "Do you dare call challenge on me?"

Sam could hear Janet whisper, "No, Sam, don't." She nodded anyway, unable to bear the thought that Janet would be taken to a harem without a fight. "Yes, I call challenge."

The leader had laughed. "You will then face five of my best warriors in armed combat. If you defeat one, you face another. We do not fight to the death, but the last one standing wins. If you win, you will both be released. If I win--I will have two new additions to my harem."

Still laughing, he led his men out of the cell. Contemptuously, he tossed a skimpy set of clothes at Janet, since hers were in shreds on the floor.

Sam had helped Janet dress in the clothes--a short skirt, artfully ripped on either side, and a sleeveless top that barely covered Janet's breasts. Both garments were, of course, thin, white, and essentially see-through.

Then Janet did what she could to clean the bloody cut on Sam's temple. They curled up in each other's arms in a corner of the cell, trying to draw strength from the embrace as they awaited their fate...

A flash of movement caught Sam's eye, and she turned warily to see what was happening, stifling a groan as her battered body protested the movement. She had defeated the five warriors, true, but had taken some nasty blows in the process. The only things keeping her upright were the adrenaline pumping through her veins, and the knowledge that showing weakness would doom not just herself, but Janet as well.

She took a relieved breath, seeing Janet's familiar face. Two men escorted her to stand next to the leader. At any other time, seeing the sensual curves of Janet's body through the flimsy, clinging garmets would have aroused Sam immensely. Now it sparked a flame of fury--giving her the strength to glare up at the leader.

She knew the man was enraged that a mere woman had beaten his best fighters--and she mentally crossed her fingers that he would honor his word to release them if she won.

At the leader's signal, one of the men shoved Janet into the sandy circle, sending her sprawling at Sam's feet. Weighing her options, and not liking any of them, Sam released the man lying under the point of her sword, figuring he was one less thing to keep an eye on. He scrambled away, cursing, and climbed out of the pit.

Janet grabbed hold of one of Sam's bare legs, clinging like a scared child. Her eyes were glossy with shock. Sam could see bruises marking Janet's face--the injuries had not been there when Sam left the cell to come and fight.

Sam took the dagger clutched in her left hand and carefully placed it in the waistband of her shorts. She reached down to stroke Janet's hair in a brief, comforting gesture.

The leader opened his mouth to speak, but the words Sam heard were in Colonel O'Neill's voice. "Ok boys, we've got the guns--so put down the swords and let our two officers go."

Sam watched the crowd part to let SG-1, SG-3, and SG-8 through. The leader looked at the weapons, then shot a glance at Sam and Janet, measuring his options. He addressed O'Neill in the imperious tones of someone trying to hide his fear.

"Your officer has won challenge. They are free to go." He glared at Sam, a silent threat that their next encounter would be less cordial (an encounter Sam vowed never to have). Then he stalked off, his men trailing uncertainly in his wake.

O'Neill approached the edge of the pit. Sam still had the sword clutched in one hand and the other hand gently twined in Janet's hair.

A Major, whose name Sam never could remember, appeared next to O'Neill. "We got a bit concerned about you, since you never checked in as expected. We were sent here to investigate and Dr. Jackson played back the video you were using in your training. It has the full scene of this alien army attacking you."

Sam bit her lip in vexation at the reminder of the carnage, and O'Neill dismissed the other man with a curt, "Michaels!"

O'Neill squatted down close to the ground and spoke quietly. "You did your best to save those officers, Carter. No way in hell anyone will blame this mess on you."

She took a deep, steadying breath. O'Neill noticed the way her eyes glistened, and resorted to his usual manner, hoping to distract her from the memory. "Ya know, Carter, the two of you look like you came straight off the set of a really low-budget tv movie--you know the kind they show at three in the morning."

The tactic worked. Sam shot him a glare, which was nearly as impressive as any of his. He smiled and raised his hands in mock surrender. "I'll send down a couple of doctors to take a look at you," he called as he turned away from the scene.

Sam dropped the suddenly heavy sword and practically fell to her knees next to Janet. Janet looked up into Sam's eyes, her own bright with tears. Feeling a wave of tenderness, Sam folded her lover into an embrace, resting her head against Janet's.

Sam felt her strength failing as the pain of her injuries finally broke through the adrenaline. She slumped against Janet, noting that the other woman quickly moved to support her weight. The last thing she was aware of before unconsciousness claimed her, was Janet's breath, warm against her ear. "I always knew you were my hero." 

the end

Return to Summary Page


You Are On
The Pink Rabbit Consortium
(click the above link to break out of frames)
Send Comments or Questions to Pink Rabbit Productions

| Home | Subtext Zone Art Gallery | Subtext LinksWhat's New |
 | Xena Fanfic Archive | Buffy Fanfic Archive | In Process |