Author: Geonn

Email: neil_j_miser@yahoo.com

Special Thanks to Mesh Felvegi for the banner.

Chapter Seven,

Sam woke at three-thirty in the middle of a half-remembered nightmare to discover she had migrated to the center of the bed. She was laying at an angle, her legs firmly entrenched on her side. Her head and arms, however, were sprawled across Janet's side. Sam rose off the mattress, frightened as if she had broken some high law. She tucked the covers firmly around herself, rolling onto her side and curling up once more. 'Just a side of the bed,' she told herself. 'No reason to get all bent out of shape...' She closed her eyes, repeating the mantra as she fell asleep once more.

---

While Sam slept, Janet ran. Her chest rose and fell with each labored breath, her arms and legs pumping madly. When it came time to choose a direction, she blindly swung one way or the other without bothering to make a note of the way back to the palace. Her face burned, her cheeks wet with the residue of many, many tears. Everything she knew. Everything she loved. Gone. Finally, after running for who knew how long, she stopped and rested against a tree. Everything ached. She slid into a crouch, hugging her knees as she finally allowed herself to think about what was actually happening.

Sam was a Goa'uld. Earth was being taken over. The SGC had failed.

How could everything have gone so cataclysmically *wrong* so fast? Sam had no doubt been distracted... Osiris had said that SG-1 was captured on a mission to find their kidnapped teammate, right? So Sam had let her guard down and been captured. SG-1 had run in to save the day, only fate had finally caught up with them. And the rest, as they say, is history.

She wondered what was happening among the Tok'ra? The Tollan and the Asgard? Maybe even the Nox would be affected by the end of Earth. She knew many Tok'ra would probably welcome the end of the SGC; they despised how SG teams had rushed in and started doing in four years what the Tok'ra hadn't been able to do in centuries. The Tollan? Narim would certainly shed a tear for his beloved Samantha. Janet scoffed at the thought of the shovel-faced Tollan. The Asgard... now *they* would be crushed. That is, if they could tear themselves away from the war with the Replicators long enough to give a damn...

Earth was gone. It had lasted four years in a battle of galactic proportions, a battle that had raged for millenia. Barely even a footnote in the history books. Not that there would be any more history books...

For a while, she thought about continuing her run. But then, where would she go? Her entire life, she had been rushed. Rushed to get ready for school, rushed to get homework done... sign up for the Air Force, get a medical degree. Everything seemed to be a step to the next accomplishment. Just one more rung on the ladder. Here she was at the top, nowhere else to go... so now what?

Why run? There was no place to run to. There was nothing to run from. Just a whole lot of nothing ahead of her and a whole lot of heartache behind her. She leaned against the tree, staring up through the canopy at the creatures that scurried amongst the branches. After a few moments, one of the creatures spotted her staring up and bravely began a downward journey. It clung to the trunk of the tree with black paws, yellow claws holding it against the rotting wood of the tree.

The creature's fur was cherry red, matted in places with mud and things she didn't care to picture. It was teddy-bear sized, staring at her with a friendly, white fur-trimmed face. It landed with a 'clop' in a pile of leaves and sat upright, watching her. She smiled, but didn't extend a hand to the creature. She'd heard enough 'It looked so harmless!' stories from returning SG teams. A few of the teams had kept all of their limbs after encounters with "harmless" creatures. This particular safe animal watched her with wide, black eyes that swam with intelligence. "Hi, there," Janet said, thinking it might just be okay.

"Chik-chik," the creature replied.

Janet chuckled, brushing a hair out of her face. "Pleased to meet you, Chik-chik. I'm Janet."

The creature cooed, then dropped onto all fours. It watched her for a moment, then began to methodically wash it's face like a housecat would; licking the front paws and then sweeping it over it's head. She smiled, a bit nervous. "Hope you're not cleaning up for dinner. I'm an endangered species, you know. Last of my kind." She sniffled at that, picking at the hem of her robe. "Nikes and an ancient Goa'uld robe. I'm quite the fashion plate, don't you think, Chikky?"

"Chik."

She rolled her eyes and scanned the horizon. She was absolutely, totally lost. The temple was somewhere to the north... or was it the south? It didn't really matter as she didn't know which way south was. She stood, leaning against the tree and trying to find a landmark through the underbrush. Chik-chik rose as well, watching her curiously. "I don't suppose you saw which way I came from, huh?"

It happened a few seconds after she stepped away from the tree. Something whizzed through the air, taking a huge chunk of bark as it moved past her. She jumped, falling into a crouch and searching for what had sent the projectile her way. Chik-chik had jumped up onto it's hind legs, the fur around it's face bristling and standing on end. It searched the woods quickly, then turned and vanished into a small copse of bushes. "Don't leave me like that, Chik-chik," Janet said, her voice wavering. "Makes me nervous to be out here all alone... with creatures throwing stuff at me."

Another projectile tore through the air, this time imbedding itself in the tree trunk. Janet amended her previous statement: There *was* something to run from. She turned and followed Chik-chik's lead, pushing through a wall of leaves and finding herself faced with a steep incline. The ground resumed about thirty feet below her current position, and the space between was littered with tiny rocks. As she considered rolling to safety, the thick tip of someone's finger pressed painfully against the back of her neck.

She gasped, reaching up to swat away the offending touch, only to find nothing there. She brushed her skin, glancing at her fingers. Blood. She was bleeding. One of those projectiles had found it's mark and had either skimmed the surface or was buried in her throat. A quick examination of the wound revealed that there was a hollow cork-like object in her flesh. She'd been hit. She moved towards the drop, her knees already becoming weak. The spear had been treated with some kind of poison and she was currently feeling it's effects in her extremities.

It was nearly an accident when she tipped forward, going limp as she rolled down the hill. Her body seemed to impact every stone on the hillside, tearing angrily at the robe she wore and the flesh below. When she finally came to a stop at the bottom of the hill, she was laying flat on her back and staring up at a blue, clear sky. No clouds visible, not even the hint of rain. She couldn't push herself up or even scream for help; everything seemed... locked up.

Her vision was suddenly obscured by a face. An ugly face, covered with scars and mud that looked like it had never seen a razor. Or soap. Or a mirror. The man knelt, squinting down at her as if trying to decide what she was. It pulled her mouth open, slipping filthy fingers into her mouth and pushing her tongue down so he could look down her throat. He proceeded to grope her body, his meaty paws squeezing her breasts and poking her stomach.

Finally, it stood and hoisted her up by her hair. She wanted to howl with pain, scream at this neanderthal to release her, but nothing in her body seemed to be responding. The Cro-Magnon man held her up like a rag doll and stared into her eyes. It grunted, then rocked it's sloped forehead towards her face. With a sickening impact, Janet was knocked unconscious, her body going limp in the man's arms. He dropped her to the ground, keeping hold of one hand to drag her back to his camp.

He would eat well tonight.

---

Dacia had always dressed to please whoever happened to look in her direction. As Sam approached the beauty in the crowded cafe, she counted seven pairs of eyes trying to sneak a covert peek at the woman seated below the canopy in the outdoor portion of the restaurant. Sam couldn't help but admire her friend's attire as well; black slacks hugged her perfect legs, topped with a crisp white blouse that hinted at the bra below. She was wearing black suspenders that kept the waist of her pants attached to her trim hips and a bright blue tie. She brushed her hair out of her face and stood, indicating the seat in front of her.

"You look great, Dash," Sam said, unnecessarily.

Dacia merely shrugged, taking a sip of her coffee. An over-eager waiter approached, smiling at the new arrival. Dacia ordered for Sam. "Diet Coke, no ice, please." The waiter nodded and scurried off.

Sam smirked. "You remembered my favorite drink after all these years?"

The other woman shrugged, her hand once again going to her hair. "You wanted to talk? Again... business or social?"

The waiter returned with Sam's drink, giving her a chance to form her response. When they were alone again, Sam said, "Um... a little of both, I guess. Cassandra has been telling me a bit about your sessions with her. About how you say that it's not wrong to expect the worst?"

Dacia nodded. "I hate to sound dismal, but there's a good chance Janet won't return. And even if she does, there's no guarantee that she'll be the same woman you love."

Sam nodded. "I know. I know all of that. Last night, I woke up and I was sleeping in the center of the bed." She swirled her straw in her soda, watching the bubbles as they danced. Amazing how something as simple as a straw could disrupt the entire existence of the bubbles... one little swish of the plastic tube and every single bubble was altered. She closed her eyes. "I felt like I had betrayed Janet somehow by inching towards her side of the bed."

"Or you could've been reaching out to her," Dacia offered. "You couldn't find her, so you kept moving closer and closer. That's one way you could've ended up in the middle of the bed."

Sam raised an eyebrow. She hadn't considered that.

"What do you want to do, Sam?"

"I don't know," Sam sighed heavily, turning her gaze to the street that ran alongside the cafe. They were on the very border of a storm system, which meant they received no rain. The reward, though, was cool temperatures and slate-gray skies. Sam inhaled the moist air and turned back to Dacia. "I... think I'd like to go out. On..." She bit her lip. "Not a date. But... just go out. With someone intelligent and friendly. Someone who understands my situation and wouldn't try to take advantage of me. Someone who knows me and someone I trust. Someone who--"

Dacia interrupted, "Drop a few more hints, Sam. I'm still a little vague." She smiled at her companion over her glass. "What should we do?"

Sam shrugged. "It's been a while since I went out with anyone but Janet. Dinner?"

"Dinner sounds great. I know a nice little restaurant near your place."

"Oh. Oh, I don't live there anymore. I moved in with Janet."

Dacia nodded. "Okay. Should I give you directions?"

"Yeah, please." Dacia pulled a pen from her purse and wrote some quick directions on a napkin.

---

Napoxcypharin.

Janet had heard of the drug, but had never personally administered it to a patient. To tell the truth, she didn't see the *need* for such a drug. Other than torture. The purpose was to render a patient completely immobile. It was a muscle relaxant that paralyzed the voluntary muscles of the human body but allowed the lungs to work and the heart to beat. Someone under the influence of napoxcypharin could see and feel... but they couldn't speak. Or scream, as the case may be.

At the moment, it was the only thing she could think of that would produce this effect in her. She had regained consciousness halfway back to the caveman's palatial estate. He had roughly dragged her through puddles, over rocks, across branches and had, at one point, kept her head underwater while he crossed a river. She had been able to take a deep breath before submerging, but the near-drowning had frightened the hell out of her.

When they had arrived at the literal hole-in-the-wall, Caveman had tossed her onto a mound of dry sticks and twigs and disappeared deeper into the cave. She was unable to move, her body refusing to listen to the demands she made of it. She remained crumpled in the corner, abandoned like a doll some child had tired of playing with. Her gown had been ripped and torn nearly completely off her body, the skin below scratched and raw. The shower she'd taken at the farmhouse seemed like a distant memory.

After what seemed like ages, Caveman returned with Mrs. Caveman in tow. He gestured at Janet in the corner, grunting something that probably translated to, 'My love! Look at the lovely specimen which I have secured! Is it not a lovely specimen for our evening meal? Whatever do you make of this acquisition, my dear wife?'

The female said something that was probably neanderthal-speak for, 'Oh, heavens! I simply must save some for the dinner party this weekend. The Groggs would be simply red with envy!'

Janet tried to smile, but couldn't make her lips cooperate. Caveman walked over to the doctor's limp form, plucking the remaining shreds of clothing from her body and tossing them aside. He sniffed her thoroughly, his nose inches from her skin. She could smell the stench of his skin, the acrid cloud of his breath settling in her mouth and making her tongue feel like it was growing cotton. His fingers left dirty smudges where it came in contact with her flesh. When she thought he was about to back off, he suddenly lurched forward and sank his teeth into her shoulder.

She couldn't scream, but her mind was ablaze. Tears swam in her eyes, obscuring her vision as the primitive man tried to gnaw away her flesh and muscle. She could feel his razor-sharp incisors working on her shoulder, drawing blood. His tongue swept over her skin, tasting her. 'My God, no... no, please...' The man pulled back, her blood wet on his lips as he looked into her eyes. Janet suddenly realized what she had been tossed onto. 'Dry sticks and twigs. Oh, my God, I'm on the stove...'

The man-ape rose, his shoulders hunched forward and his eyes glassy. He grunted something and moved towards the back of the cave. Within seconds he was out of Janet's sight.

Mrs. Caveman approached, lowering her head as her husband had. 'Go ahead, lady,' Janet wanted to dare. 'Take a taste. It's Sample Day at Wal-Mart and Fraiser is the meal of choice.'

But the female ape never got to taste the human's flesh.

Her chest exploded in an amazing orange flame, igniting the hair that grew between the ape-woman's breasts. The primitive housewife roared and fell forward. There was another quick sound - a sort of 'chuck-whoosh' that Janet recognized as a staff weapon - and the male of the house screamed in agony. A few quiet seconds passed and then, by some miracle, Janet saw the face of Osiris. The Goa'uld peered down at the female ape, her face twisted in anger as she fired a second shot to the ape-woman's head.

That done, Osiris turned and knelt next to Janet, brushing the doctor's hair out of her face. "Janet? Are you alive?"

She had never been so happy to see a Goa'uld in her life. She tried to find the strength to nod, but was unable to get her muscles working properly. Instead, she blinked rapidly and hoped Osiris got the message. "Good," the woman said. "Can you walk? No, of course not." She stood and removed her shawl, draping it over Janet's nude and battered body. Moving with a caring touch that surprised Janet, Osiris lifted the brunette from the kindling and carried her from the cave.

'I owe my life to a Goa'uld. A Goa'uld that owes it's life to me. I've seen it all,' Janet decided as she was carried back to the temple.

---

When they returned to the temple, Osiris placed Janet in the bed she'd been using and disappeared. The relaxant was still coursing through her veins, so Janet was unable to do anything on her own. She sat on the edge of the bed, slumped forward to keep from collapsing onto the mattress. Her hands were resting on the mattress next to her, palm up. She felt like a marionette with it's string cut. 'Is she just going to leave me here?' she wondered. 'Make me wait for the drug to wear off? Couldn't she have at least covered me up? It's freezing in here.'

Her questions were answered when Osiris returned a few minutes later, carrying a large bowl of water in front of her. She placed the dish on the floor next to the bed, kneeling in front of Janet. The Goa'uld wet a square cloth, wringing it out before turning back to Janet. With slow, caring strokes, she cleaned the grime from her prisoner's face, making sure not to aggravate the many cuts and scrapes that marred the brunette's cheeks. She managed to clean most of the filth from Janet's cheeks and forehead, giving her chin a quick rub before continuing to her throat.

The sponge bath lasted at least forty-five minutes. By the time Osiris finished, the drugs had mostly worn off. Janet could've completed the bath herself, but... she wasn't sure she wanted to. The Goa'uld dropped the rag into the bowl of now-murky water and stood, straightening Janet's back. She helped the doctor raise her legs, laying her gently onto the mattress. She moved to the armoire, pulling aside the loose doors and peering inside. Finally, she found a thick wool blanket and carried it to the bed, draping it over Janet's body and tucking the petite woman in.

As Osiris headed to the door, Janet whispered, "Thank you."

Osiris said nothing, but she paused a moment before she disappeared. Janet closed her eyes, a single tear rolling down her cheek before she fell asleep. 'Good-bye, Sam. Good-bye, Cassandra. I'll always love you both.'

Chapter Eight,

During their short but eventful relationship, Sam had realized something about the beautiful woman sitting across from her. Dacia Abraham had connections. Everywhere they went, some waiter or maitre'd or bartender happened to recognize her and offer her the best of the best. Several times, they hadn't ordered drinks with their dinner because they were certain someone would send over a bottle. And someone always would. Waitresses referred to the psychiatrist as Dacia, maitre'd's referred to her as Ms. Abraham. Often, the greetings would fall into the 'doctor' and 'ma'am' category.

And while these quick exchanges were going on, like some sort of secret club handshake, Sam had sat quietly and waited to resume their date. She would nibble on her salad or sip her water politely as Dacia sent the well-wishers away offering an immediate apology for the interruption.

And of course there were the reactions. "Dr. Abraham is sitting with a woman. You don't think they're..." "Dr. Abraham having a romantic dinner with another woman? Certainly not! A woman like that would certainly not be... one of *them*."

 But Sam had taken all of this in stride. It was simply something attached to Dacia. The years hadn't changed Dacia's impact in the community. The tuxedo-clad maitre'd at Lockley's Dinner Club perked up immediately upon seeing the black-haired woman walk confidantly into the front room of the private club. "Mees Eebree-hum!" he said, his accent utterly overdone and absolutely unrelated to any language Sam had ever heard. "You have come bik to me!"

"Hi there, Claude," Dacia offered. "Your finest table?"

"Muh-duhm!" Claude growled, leaning away from her as if he'd been insulted. "Any table at which you sit will be our finest!"

Dacia rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah. I'm trying to impress... a lady friend."

Sam tensed slightly, but didn't let it bother her. This wasn't a date. Just two old friends going out for dinner. Reminiscing, drinking, laughing, talking. Not a date.

Claude turned to her. "Oooh, and a lovely lady friend she is as well!" He took Sam's hand and held it limply as he pressed his lips to the knuckles. "It is my pleasure, my lovely." His spine snapped suddenly, forcing him upright. He stood rigidly, indicating the dining room. "This way, ladies! I shall escort you personally to the finest table in the restaurant."

Sam followed the hauty glorified waiter and accepted her seat, smoothing her black dress before she sat down. Dacia thanked him and ordered two glasses of sparkling water with a twist of lime in each. He scurried off and Dacia leaned forward. "God, this is so embarrassing. I'm thinking of getting a facelift just so no one will recognize me."

"Oh, sure," Sam laughed. "Little Miss 'Give-Me-Your-Finest-Table-Claude' wants to be incognito."

"I do!" Dacia insisted. "Do you have any idea what it's like to go out to eat and be treated like royalty?" She brushed her hair, tucking a wave of it behind her ear. Her voice lowered when she said, "Do you have any idea what it's like to sit in a room and know the intimate secrets of half the people around you?"

Sam's eyes widened and she turned, scanning the crowd.

"Don't look!" Dacia chastised. "I'm not telling you which ones are patients - though, you could probably tell by the way they refuse to look in this direction - but I feel it. It's not the most relaxed situation."

Sam picked up a roll from the breadbasket and picked a little of the crust off. "Do you remember Georgie-Porgie?"

Dacia's face turned deep crimson, her eyes widening. "Sam," she hissed, looking around to see if anyone might've heard what the blonde had said. It didn't really matter; no one would know what she meant even if they *had* overheard her. Georgie-Porgie was the nickname they had given to the battery-powered relationship aide they kept in a shoebox under the bed. The nursery rhyme had turned into secret code. If one of them was feeling amorous, she would simply sing a bit of the song. If the feeling was mutual, they didn't leave the bedroom for several hours. If it wasn't, the D batteries got a work out.

"Why would you bring *that* up?" Dacia asked, still giggling.

Sam shrugged. "Trying to lighten the mood. You know, I never did ask what happened to Georgie. Wasn't I supposed to get him in the break-up?"

"You got Janet," Dacia argued. "I was left to my own devices. Georgie saved my life a couple of times."

"Oh, poor baby," Sam said, leaning back as Claude deposited their drinks on the table.

Dacia smiled up at him and said, "Hello again. We would like the baked salmon, with the house salad. Ranch dressing on one, Italian on the other. Baked potatoes, no sour cream on either, please. Thank you."

Claude bowed to each woman, then scurried away.

"Ordering for both of us? That's bad etiquette for a da--" She kicked herself for the slip.

"Bad etiquette for a date?" Dacia asked, sipping her water. Claude had added a twist of lemon, not lime. She wrinkled her nose, but decided not to make a big deal out of it. "I thought this wasn't supposed to be a date?"

Sam drummed her fingers on the table. "So, anyway, Georgie-Porgie. Is he still around? Still active?"

"The subject has been changed, Sammy. This is either a date or an innocent dinner. Which do you want it to be?"

Sam massaged the bridge of her nose, wishing Dacia wouldn't keep pestering her about this. They had been out three times, all of them innocent little get-togethers. Now, the fancy club with the nice dresses and the "pick-me-up-at-seven" had led to what could only be described as a date. She took a deep breath, blowing it out as slowly as possible. Finally, she admitted, "It's a date."

Dacia nodded slowly. "So. Here we are on a date."

Sam looked away, scanning the other tables. She caught a couple looking at them curiously. Their looks made Sam angry; made her want to stand up and shout, 'I'm here on a romantic evening with my female love interest. If you don't like it, you can leave. If you're indifferent, stop staring. Just let us be alone!' She hung her head and examined her fingernails.

"You feel like you're cheating on Janet?" Dacia ventured.

"Goddamnit, Dash, do you have to *always* be a psychiatrist?"

Dacia raised her eyebrows. "Odds are, she isn't coming back, Sam. I've said that before."

"What do you know? You're probably just trying to get in my pants."

"I've been in your pants. It's nothing to write home about," she smirked. "Seriously, though, Sam. Cassandra isn't the only one who needs to deal with the fact that Janet is gone." Sam jerked as if Dacia had physically struck her. Dacia leaned forward. "Janet was taken hostage by a fierce and evil... thing. The person holding Janet had no qualms about fairness. She used Janet. She took what she needed, maybe raped Janet--"

SHUT THE FUCK UP! Sam wanted to yell. Her fingers had demolished the biscuit in her hands, raining crumbs on the black material of her dress. She was shaking, her eyes wet with tears she couldn't bear to shed. Tears meant acceptance.

"--then killed her. Janet is either dead or she's a Goa'uld. Which would you prefer, Sammy? Those are the choices. Because this isn't a fairy tale. She won't come back smiling and ready to step back into the shoes she left behind. If she does come back, she will be dead inside. I can guarantee you won't like what she's turned into."

Sam rose so quickly that her chair tipped over. Everyone who hadn't been looking at them before suddenly turned in their seats. "Shut your goddamned mouth. Just shut the fuck up!" She picked up her glass of water and splashed it in Dacia's face, just like she'd seen in so many movies. It wasn't as satisfying as the starlets made it appear. She turned and stormed out of the restaurant, maliciously knocking a stack of menus off Claude's podium as she passed it.

---

Dacia opened the door at a little past midnight, already wearing her Bart Simpson t-shirt and preparing for bed. Sam didn't offer an apology. She didn't say anything. She stepped into the entry way, pressing her tear-wettened lips against Dacia's. By the time they separated, they were both crying. Sam brushed Dacia's hair out of her face and stepped fully into the house, allowing Dacia to close the door behind her.

---

Jacob Carter pushed his way into General Hammond's office, searching for his old friend. The technician, an airman named Bert, was close behind. "I told you, Sir, the General went home hours ago. It's almost two in the morning."

The Tok'ra sighed, then turned. "I need you to get him on the phone. Now. It's an emergency."

"Sir, it's the middle of the night. We can't just call him up... Surely it can wait until morning--"

"A few hours ago, one of our operatives spotted Osiris. This could be the break we need to find out where Dr. Fraiser is being held. Do you want to sit here and talk about manners or do you want to get the General on the phone?"

Bert wavered for only a second before heading to his phone.

---

Janet sat cross-legged at the foot of her bed, her hands hanging limply off her knees as she stared blindly forward. The window was within her line of sight, so she had a perfect view of the day passing. Birds occasionally paused to perch on the windowsill, chirping at the new occupants of the long-dormant palace. Janet ignored their songs. She blinked every now and then, sometimes took a deep breath, but for the most part she hadn't moved.

The sun had risen at least four times since Osiris had rescued her from the cannibals in the woods. She wasn't sure exactly how long it had been since her world had ended. Literally. She forced herself not to think of anything specifically to do with SG-1 or the Goa'uld or Sam or Cassandra. It was next to impossible. She focused instead on music and arts. Two things the Goa'uld could *never* steal no matter how many humans they blended. There would never be a Goa'uld Beethoven. There would never be a Mona Lisa or a David sculpted by a snakehead. That gave Janet a bit of comfort.

"There won't be any trumpets blowin' on the judgement day, on the bloody morning after... one tin soldier rides away."

She remembered the song from the seventies, an anti-war anthem from a movie that she couldn't remember ever seeing. Quite appropriate, she thought. Earth had fallen without her knowing it and she was the 'one tin soldier' left after judgement day. In her wildest dreams, she never would have imagined herself the last human alive.

After thanking Osiris for rescuing her, Janet hadn't said a single thing since her ordeal with the cannibals. There was no need to speak. Speaking would only betray how sad she felt and that would only start the tears anew. And she was tired of crying.

As she stared out the window, Janet became aware of a presence behind her. Osiris again, no doubt. The Goa'uld had insisted on bringing Janet meals and forcing her to drink water from the stream. Several times she had practically had to force Janet's mouth open and pour the water inside. She simply didn't feel like eating or drinking. 'Just my luck,' Janet said. 'One other person on this planet and I *still* can't find time to myself.'

"Were you planning to speak today?" the Goa'uld asked.

Janet let her silence be her response.

Osiris sighed heavily, laying something on the bed and moving to the window. She leaned outside, partially obscuring Janet's view and took a deep breath. "This morning air is remarkable. It smells like rain, don't you think so?"

Apparently the Goa'uld was accessing the portions of Sarah's brain regarding small talk. Janet didn't fall for the conversational trap. She pursed her lips, staring past the Goa'uld at the bright blue sky. 'Rain,' Janet scoffed. 'It won't rain.'

"You are one of the most stubborn humans I have ever met," Osiris growled, pushing away from the window and heading for the door. Janet was about to believe she was alone again when suddenly a pair of powerful hands grabbed her from behind, lifting her from the bed and tossing her back down. Janet jumped, surprised by this assault and attempted to escape her captor's quick hands. Osiris scrambled onto the bed, displacing the tray of food she had rested on the mattress a few moments earlier.

She straddled Janet's hips, keeping the smaller woman from kicking her. She grabbed the brunette's wrists and held them out to either side, fighting the doctor until they were both teetering on the edge of exhaustion. Janet growled angrily, throwing her head back and gritting her teeth. Finally, she hissed, "Let me go."

"You speak!" Osiris said, sounding genuinely shocked. "I will release you if you promise to speak to me."

"Why?" Janet snapped, turning away from her captor. "You feeling lonely?"

Osiris climbed off the bed, straightening her robe. "I simply wish to speak with you. I wish to know how you are feeling."

"How I'm feeling? How I'm *feeling*?" Janet rose, approaching the Goa'uld. "I'm feeling... I'm feeling..." She brought her fists up to her face, pressing them against her temple as if trying to squeeze the right words out of her brain. "My people are dead! My world is dead! My lover, my child, my parents, my friends, my neighbors, my favorite singer, my favorite writer, the kid who blasts his stereo all night long, the people I work with... everyone I ever met is DEAD or ENSLAVED and you want to know how I FEEL? I *feel* alone. I *feel* like tossing myself out of this window. I FEEL LIKE DYING!" she screamed, tears finally pouring from her eyes.

She punched at the air and screamed, "Why did you have to save me? Those cannibals would've finished the job. A nice clean sweep of the human race." She sobbed, trying to catch her breath. She hated trying to talk while she cried. She had nearly perfected the art while married to Michael. She sniffed, shaking her head. "Why should I live? Why should I survive when-when so many other people died? So many people more worthy to live than I am are dead."

"That does not mean you should die, Janet Fraiser."

Janet nearly laughed at that. A Goa'uld playing head-shrinker.

"You are not the only one that has been abandoned. You are not the only one left to remember those that have passed on. I, too, am mourning the loss of everything I cherished. When I was banished to oblivion, I was a ruler. I held court next to my queen, the lovely goddess Isis. People bowed and prayed to me. Now... now I am merely a forgotten relic from a vague past. The System Lords I once knew no longer exist. No one conquers and reigns anymore. Everyone is always moving to the next conquest. Fighting a war that there can be no end to. The Goa'uld have been slamming their heads into a brick wall for centuries. There is no place among their ranks for me.

"You and I are relics, Janet Fraiser. Relics on a dead world..." She stepped towards Janet, her eyes revealing the sadness in her words. "I meant what I said when we arrived on this world. I do wish to be allies. Perhaps... even more than allies." She brushed the doctor's cheek, letting her fingers hestitate on Janet's skin. She leaned forward, their faces inches apart.

"What do you think you're doing?" Janet asked, her voice low.

Osiris licked her lips. "I am preparing to kiss you."

Janet pulled away from the Goa'uld's touch, grimacing. "Kiss yourself," she mumbled. She walked to the tray of food, picking it up off the floor and examining the assorted fruits. Osiris remained where she was, looking as if she had been kicked in the stomach. She closed her eyes, rubbing her bare arms before she quietly slipped out of the room.

---

George Hammond had been in the Air Force for most of his life. His life before that had been merely preparation to join. His father and grandfather had both been pilots. It only made sense that the oldest boy carried on the legacy. Hammond had lived and breathed the Air Force since he was a child, waking when his father woke and often staying up until he went to bed. Therefore, he was accustomed to being pulled out of bed in the middle of the night for some emergency or another. It had become a larger part of his life after being assigned to the SGC, a 24-hour a day operation if ever there was one. Still, just because he was accustomed to it didn't mean he enjoyed it.

It was thirteen minutes after two in the morning when he left his bedroom, heading downstairs and hoping to get to the phone before it woke one of the three girls in his care that evening. Sam had asked him to watch Cassandra, which Hammond was more than happy to do. Unfortunately, her stay meant that the den became a guest room and the only other phone in the house was downstairs in the living room.

He sat in his recliner, not bothering to turn on the lights. Snatching the phone from it's cradle, he barked, "This is Hammond."

"General," came a relieved voice. "Jacob Carter just arrived, Sir. He says he has information regarding the Osiris situation."

Hammond thanked the airman and headed back upstairs, pulling a clean uniform from his closet as he wondered who he knew that would be willing to watch three girls on such short notice.

Chapter Nine,

Jacob Carter stood as General Hammond entered the office. "George," he sighed, noting the bags under the other man's eyes. "I apologize for pulling you out of bed at this hour..."

"It's quite all right," Hammond said, taking a seat. "You have information concerning Dr. Fraiser?"

Jacob took his seat. When he spoke again, it was with Selmac's voice. "I do. One of our operatives was in the middle of an undercover mission as a de'breto dealer when she overheard a conversation between someone claiming to be Osiris and what Jacob Carter refers to as a 'snitch'. The woman claiming to be Osiris was asking questions concerning Earth and received much information; information about the iris, GDOs, SG teams. The informant also specifically named each member of SG-1."

"Each member?" Hammond frowned. "Why was that important?"

"It is unclear," Selmac said. "Osiris received the information and left as quickly as she arrived. She told the informant that she would return as soon as possible for more information."

Hammond understood, leaning back in his chair. "So there's a chance..."

Selmac nodded. "A chance that Osiris will make another meeting in order to gain more information or simply to procure supplies and our operative will be able to trail her back to wherever Dr. Fraiser is being held. Unfortunately..."

Hammond rubbed the back of his neck. "Your operative is in the middle of another assignment and can't just run off wherever she pleases."

"You have to understand, General Hammond. She cannot abandon her post. Our surveillance would suffer. In addition, de'breto dealers are forbidden from leaving their posts until the last dice is rolled. It would compromise her credibility if she were to run out of the room on a whim."

"Who you were planning on for the surveillance?"

Selmac returned control to Jacob Carter. "I want you to know that I agree with the High Council on this decision, General. They think that Sam is the best..."

"Not a chance in hell," Hammond barked.

"George," Jacob sighed, shaking his head. "She knows what Osiris looks like. She can handle herself under pressure, you know that. This isn't a Tok'ra decision, George. This is me. Jacob. I think Sam would be the best person to follow Osiris."

Hammond stood. "Dr. Jackson could identify Osiris on sight even better than Sam could; he dated the woman the Goa'uld took over. You don't know what Major Carter's been through since Dr. Fraiser's abduction. She's barely holding herself together. SG-1 hasn't gone on any missions as a full team for--"

Jacob stood as well, leaning on Hammond's desk and cutting the other man off. "I think we should leave it up to Sam."

"She's in no condition to make a decision--"

"--Call her and ask--"

"--I will do no such--"

"--if she wants to do this. I assure you, General--"

"--thing! If you think for a second she'd agree to--"

"They're in love, George!"

Both men stopped talking, falling back into a relaxed stance. Jacob looked down at the desk top, kicking himself for blurting out his daughter's most intimate secret. Finally, he said, "If she learned that there was a mission and she wasn't even considered for it..."

Hammond fell into his chair, looking up at Jacob. "What you just told me..."

"...Has nothing to do with the kind of officers they are. Don't turn into a bureaucrat now, George."

The General pondered everything he'd learned. Finally, he sighed and rubbed his cheek with the back of his hand. "I'm not agreeing to anything until I speak to Major Carter myself."

Jacob simply nodded.

---

Sam woke to the shrill beeping and immediately swatted at her alarm clock. Unfortunately, Dacia's head was where the alarm clock would have been. Sam's hand came down, lightly smacking the other woman on top of her head. "Ow!" Dacia muttered, ducking her head under the pillow.

The beeping stopped, as if striking the brunette had activated some kind of snooze alarm. For a brief, half-awake moment, Sam let herself believe that it was Janet with her in the bed. That the abduction had never happened; that everything was going to be fine. Slowly, though, she realized where she was. In the bed of her ex-lover, seeking comfort after finally admitting to herself that Janet was gone. Likely gone for good. Sam laid down, pulling the blankets up to her chin. She couldn't see a clock, but it was still dark outside. She could probably get in another few hours. She and Dacia hadn't slept together. Well... they had *slept* together, but that was it. After their kissing and groping session in the hall, they had agreed that it would go no further. Just sleeping.

Sam was grateful Dacia had made the suggestion. She brushed her face, wondering why she had woken up. Her answer came a second later when she heard another series of loud beeps. "Yer pager's beepin'," Dacia informed her, still buried under the pillow.

Sam scrambled out of bed, tugging her oversized t-shirt down and kneeling next to her pants. The small window on the front of the pager was aglow with a sickly green light that washed onto Sam's face as she pressed the RECALL button. 'The base,' she realized. 'What...' She gasped when she realized the numbers following the base number indicated her father's birthday. It was their secret code. She stood and grabbed her pants, hoping Dacia would understand why she was running out so quickly.

---

Osiris had taken most of the plates and platters from the kitchen and deposited them in the river, saving the ones that were worth saving and letting the others sink. After four or five washings, she was ready to eat off of them. She had saved only four plates, allowing two for herself and two for Janet. That is, if Janet ever decided to eat.

She had grown so used to eating alone, it was a bit of a shock to see Janet shuffle into the kitchen, her feet dragging on the dusty floor. Osiris picked up a fruit, extending it to the doctor. Janet reluctantly took it, looking down at the blue skin before she began to peel it. "What're we makin'?"

"Ak'jina," the Goa'uld replied. "For our evening meal. I shall show you how to prepare it properly, if you wish."

Janet simply nodded, putting the peeled fruit on a tray. "Okay," she said softly, brushing her hair out of her face.

"Will you be eating with me this evening?"

A pause. Then, "Uh-huh."

Osiris smiled and handed Janet a small basket of almonds.

---

After hearing the mission details, Sam readily agreed to go. They arranged for Cassandra to have quarters on the base to keep her in the loop regarding her mother's situation. It was also a chance to show the girl how much she was trusted; no real baby-sitter to keep an eye on her, but she wasn't exactly alone, either. Sam dropped the girl off at her temporary quarters and wished her sweet dreams before heading to the lockers to gear up. She was checking the supplies in her backpack when there was a knock on the door. "Carter?" Colonel O'Neill called. "You decent?"

"Yes, Sir," she said, shoving a roll of toilet paper into the bag.

He stuck his head inside, then shrugged. "I'll come in anyway." He stepped into the locker room, eyeing the bag. He shoved his hands into his pockets and took a deep breath. "Quite a day, huh? Downright balmy outside. Kinda odd for Colorado." His right boot skipped lazily across the floor. "You sure you wanna be going this alone?"

"Yes, Sir," she said, slinging the backpack over her shoulder.

Taking a cue from Teal'c, he raised an eyebrow. "No back-up. No back-up means no Plan B. You might be stranded."

"I'm well aware of that, Sir," she said. "Could I please get to the door?"

She tried to step around him, but he moved so that he still blocked her way. They were close now, close enough that he could whisper to her. He leaned forward and said, "Carter... if you truly think there's a chance to save Janet, I'm all for it. But if you're going on this thing just because it sounds like a suicide mission..."

"Janet's alive, Sir," she said, throwing away what she had accepted a few short hours ago. "I'm sure of that."

He pressed his lips together, obviously wanting to further pursue the issue. "You're sure."

"May I please go? My father is waiting for me in the Gate Room."

He reluctantly stepped aside and let her out of the locker room.

---

Janet sipped the water Osiris had boiled, surprised that it actually had flavor to it. She turned to the Goa'uld. "What is this?"

"Water. I added a fruit from the grove on the far side of the palace. Is it satisfactory?"

"Tastes like strawberrys," Janet said, taking another sip. After drinking nothing but plain, room-temperature water for who-knew how long, the strawberry drink was downright intoxicating. She took another sip and nodded. Picking up a small patty, she asked, "What is this called again?"

"Ak'jina. It is not truly the actual product, I am afraid. This world lacked several key ingredients and I was forced to substitute." She took another sip. "I was planning an off-world venture tomorrow. Would you care to join me?"

Janet was shocked. Off-world? The phrase was almost foreign to her now. The knapsack she had worm in Egypt was now laying in the corner of her room, the supplies distributed to easy-to-reach places. She was nesting. Subconsciously, she had known she was never going back to Earth. Now, the idea of actually leaving the planet... She blinked and took another bite of the ak'jina. "I... don't know. But I appreciate the offer."

Osiris nodded, returning to her own dinner. "I am pleased you chose to join me this evening. Sarah Gardner was beginning to miss hearing another person talk."

Sarah? "You're in communication with the host?"

"Unfortunately," Osiris said, offering a half-smile. "My symbiote was originally too weak to exert full control over her mind. I allowed her to remain in control during her reunion with Daniel Jackson, but I insisted she submit her body to me. She has been... less than accommodating. I have resigned to the fact that I must share my mind with her and she must share her body with me."

"Wow," Janet said shaking her head. "Quite a change compared to most of the Goa'uld I've heard of."

"Besides," Osiris said. "I needed to talk to someone. You were silent for nearly a week."

Janet nodded. "I was... in shock, I suppose. Hearing that your entire planet was destroyed will do that to a person." She shook her head. "I still... can't believe everything is gone."

She touched her plate, but found her appetite was rapidly diminishing.

"You... mentioned a daughter. During your outburst earlier. Would you like to tell me about her?"

Janet looked up, half-wondering if this was some sort of Goa'uld trick. "So you could... what? Use information about her against me?"

"Nothing of the sort. I simply wish to know about your life. Your life, that is, before I forever altered it."

She smiled. "Her name is Cassandra. SG-1 found her on this world that had been all-but destroyed by a Goa'uld named Nirrti. As it turns out--"

She continued her story as they ate their ak'jina, finished as they worked through their drinks, and began another story as they walked the halls of the palace. The second story was a bit sadder; it was the tale of her ill-fated marriage to Michael. The tears, the anger, the sadness, the pain... and finally the liberating divorce that left Janet feeling alone and abandoned in the world.

Osiris led Janet to a tall tower that the doctor hadn't seen before; the stairs used to access it were hidden behind a tapestry. They sat on a rug in the middle of an observatory, watching as the sun set in the forests of Nizana. Where there weren't windows, the walls of the room were covered with large rugs and tapestries that Janet guessed would be worth a fortune on Earth... they'd most likely have been hanging in a museum somewhere.

Janet finished her strawberry water and placed her cup on the floor, stretching her arms above her head and rolling her neck. She reached up to massage the sore muscles, only to find Osiris' hands already there. She jumped at the touch, half-turning to face the Goa'uld. "Relax," Osiris said.

Janet closed her eyes and, to her own amazement, felt herself relax.

Slender fingers closed around Janet's shoulders, massaging the tension from the doctor's neck with practiced expertise. Janet rolled her head forward, holding her hair out of the way and allowing Osiris more room to work. "That feels good," Janet whispered, licking her lips. She couldn't believe she was getting a neckrub from a Goa'uld. 'Wait'll Sam hears this...' she thought. The idea had already formed before she realized Sam wouldn't hear about this. Sam *was* a Goa'uld. Janet trembled, her head dropping and her hand coming up to her face.

"Janet?"

The Goa'uld's voice was unbelievably soft. Janet turned her head, finding Osiris' green eyes locked on hers. Janet blinked back her tears, trying to find the words to explain what she felt. "I... I just... they're all gone."

Osiris wrapped her arms around the doctor, pulling her close and squeezing her shoulders. The brunette hesitated, her hands hovering over Osiris' back before she finally made contact. Janet felt the tension ease from her body, everything in her body leaning towards the embrace. She pulled back, brushing a few curls out of Osiris' face. The sun was nearly out of the sky now, creating an orange glow that burned into the tower chamber like the dying flames of a fire. Osiris touched her fingers to Janet's cheek, tracing the lines of the doctor's jaw. "I wish to kiss you, Janet," Osiris said, simply.

To her utter shock, Janet leaned forward and pressed her lips to the Goa'uld's. Their bodies slid closer together, the kiss becoming more passionate as their body temperature rose. Janet brushed Osiris' cheeks, burying her hands in the strawberry blonde hair. She pulled back, breathing heavily as she considered what she had just done. Before she could map out any other plans of action, Osiris grabbed the brunette's hand and placed a kiss in the palm, letting her tongue trail up to the tip of Janet's thumb. She locked eyes with Janet and breathed, "I beg of you, Janet. Will you stay with me this evening?"

With only a moments hesitation, Janet said, "Yes."

Osiris leaned forward again, reclaiming Janet's mouth with a passionate moan. Janet twisted her body, moving the Goa'uld so that she was laying on the ground. Breaking the kiss for only a moment, Janet straddled the other woman and ran her hands down Osiris' body. She traced the curves she had consciously avoided during her previous exams. Finally, she grabbed a handful of the gown and pulled it up, eager to bare the Goa'uld's skin.

Even as she was being undressed, Osiris' fingers were working under the hem of Janet's own robe. Her strong hands gripped the doctor's buttocks, squeezing and gently kneading the cheeks. Janet moaned, tilting her head up for another kiss. The kiss was brief, Janet quickly moving on to explore the contours of her new lover's face. She placed wide, open-mouthed kisses on Osiris' cheek, tasting the salty sweat of the other woman on her tongue. Osiris growled low in her throat, her hands traveling up Janet's back until the dress was bunched around the doctor's shoulders.

Janet rose, shedding the intrusive garment and tossing it across the room. Osiris' eyes widened at the sight of her lover. She sat up, cupping Janet's face before she began to trail hungry kisses along the brunette's collarbone. Janet leaned forward, draping her arms over Osiris' shoulders and prodding the other woman on. She moaned when she felt a pair of lips close around her left nipples, tenderly biting the nub before switching to it's twin. "Your breasts are perfect, Janet Fraiser."

She spread her fingers over Osiris' back, feeling the heat of her lover. Janet spread her legs a little farther, planting her bare feet on either side of their impromptu bed. She dug her heels into the stone floor, clutching Osiris' shoulders and gently rocking her hips against the other woman. She could feel her center rubbing intimately against Osiris' stomach. She closed her eyes, biting her lip as she tried to work herself to climax. She pulled her head back a bit, just far enough that her lips were next to Osiris' ear. She nibbled on the lobe for a moment, then asked, "Does... does Sarah know any..." She was embarrassed at her request; she'd never had to specifically ask for this with any of her lovers. Especially Sam... Finally, she asked, "Does Sarah know any dirty talk?"

"Any what?" Osiris asked, her voice low and strained. She was concentrating on the sensations broiling below her waist, as well as the movement against her stomach.

"Dirty talk," Janet repeated, sweeping her tongue into the other woman's ear. "Talk dirty to me..."

Osiris closed her eyes and licked her lips, leaning down to kiss Janet's shoulder. Finally, in the softer tones of Sarah Gardner, she said, "C-cum all over me... I want you so bad. So bad... You feel so good... can't wait to taste that sweet pussy."

Janet bit back a laugh. Sarah Gardner apparently got a lot of her pillow talk from late-night movies on Showtime.

Apparently realizing that her attempt at dirty talk had failed, Osiris moved her hands from Janet's back and slipped one between their bodies, pausing to squeeze Janet's breast before sliding downward. Her slender fingers moved through the doctor's trimmed pubic hair, locking onto the sensitive bud that was resting at the juncture of Janet's legs. The brunette gasped as she felt the other woman's hand come in contact with that particular area, her eyes opening momentarily. She bit her lip and continued to thrust against Osiris' body.

She moved one hand from Osiris' back and slipped it between their bodies, her arm tangling momentarily with the other woman's. Finally, Janet found the moist slit between Osiris' legs and rubbed two of her fingers over the opening. She felt her lover's body tremble and moved her arm slightly, moving her body so that she could accomplish what she wanted to do. She pulled back and looking into Osiris' eyes, grinding herself against the blonde as her finger slipped inside of her new lover.

Osiris gasped and threw her head back, her lips parted in passion. Janet twisted her hand slowly, screwing her fingers deeper. After a few minutes of gentle thrusting, Osiris lifted her head and slit her eyes. "I..." She swallowed sharply. "I believe..." The groaned and threw her head forward, burying Janet's face in a mane of golden curls. When she looked up again, Osiris reported, "I believe I am close to a climax, Janet Fraiser."

Janet pressed her lips to Osiris' ear and hissed, "Cum for me."

Osiris groaned, her body tensing as she obeyed the command. Janet dug the fingers of her free hand into Osiris' back, keeping her other hand firmly in place between the Goa'uld's legs. Janet closed her eyes as she felt herself approaching the brink. Osiris pressed her fingers deeper, burying them in Janet's core. The doctor cried out with her climax, her fingernails digging into the Goa'uld's shoulderblades and leaving four blood-red trails in their wake.

They held each other after their orgasms, trying to catch their breath. Finally, Osiris extricated herself from Janet and picked up the blanket, pulling it over their nude bodies. Janet felt an urge to kiss her new lover good-night, but fought it. She bundled up the robe she'd been wearing and used it as a pillow, closing her eyes and dismissing all possibilities of a second round. She felt Osiris place a feather-soft kiss on her cheek before laying down next to her.

Janet didn't fall asleep for several hours afterward.

Chapter Ten,

Colonel O'Neill paced the length of the control room. He'd spent the last twenty minutes arguing with General Hammond about this mission; trying to convince the older man that Sam shouldn't be going it alone. The battle had been lost before it had even started, leaving the colonel increasingly frustrated. It was no secret that Sam had been acting differently since Dr. Fraiser's abduction. No doubt she was feeling guilty. In Daniel's version of the story, Osiris had practically forced Sam to put down her weapon while Janet was taken prisoner.

With Daniel recovering from his brain-fry, Sam must've felt it was her responsibility to make sure Janet stayed safe. In her eyes, she failed. But that was no reason to go on a suicide mission in Goa'uld territory. O'Neill glanced at his watch and grimaced. It was a bad idea. He hated the idea of her out there with no back-up.

"You think this endeavor is ill-conceived?"

Jack turned to see Teal'c in the doorway of the control room, hands clasped behind his back in a signature stance. "Yeah, you could say that," the colonel said, turning back to the scene before him. "I think it's a very ill-conceived endeavor."

In the Gate Room, Sam was standing on the ramp in what looked like a standard off-duty jumpsuit. The blue material was badly faded, hanging loosely on her in several places while fitting snugly to her body in others. The front of the jumpsuit hung open, revealing a soiled t-shirt and a black vest. While the vest appeared to be ordinary to the casual observer, several hidden pockets held various weapons to fend off attacks; two small razors and a handgun, to be exact. The handgun was hidden in the small of the Major's back, where the baggy material of the jumpsuit hid it.

She saw her teammates watching from the control room, but made an effort not to look at them. Her father was standing a few feet away, testing the two-way radio she would be carrying into the bar. He handed it to her and said, "This is unfortunately a one-way radio... we won't be able to contact you through it, but it will pick up most any conversation you happen to get into. Hopefully Osiris won't notice you right off, but if she does I want you to let us know you've been made. We'll have you out of there ASAP."

"How?" she asked.

"As a matter of convenience for travelers, there's a ring receiver within the bar. You give the signal, I'll be there in a flash with a couple of Tok'ra back-ups to get you out."

Sam smiled. "My hero. But it probably won't be necessary. I doubt Osiris will really be able to pick me out of a crowd." The final piece of her disguise had been a red wig that Jack O'Neill had offered her as long as she didn't ask why he had it. She promised that the origin of the wig would remain a mystery. She wished it had been black or even brown... the red hair made her look like Dana Scully.

Airman Alberts began the dialing sequence. "You ready?" Jacob asked.

"Ready as I'll ever be."

---

Janet woke at sunrise, a bit disappointed to find that she was alone in the observation room. She remembered Osiris mentioning something about going off-world. 'Guess she decided she didn't want the company.' She stretched, throwing off her covers and walking to the window, rubbing her eyes as she tried to wake up. She hadn't seen any mysterious fires burning in the night lately; she assumed that the cannibals that had tried to turn her into dinner had been the ones making the camps. She yawned and hugged herself, her naked flesh forming goosebumps in the cool morning air.

She was about to pull on her robe when she realized there was no need. There was only one other person on this world and that person had seen her naked. That person had made love to her the night before. She dropped the robe, deciding that - at least until Osiris returned - clothing was unnecessary. Smiling at her newfound freedom, she picked up the wine glasses from the night before and headed down to the kitchen.

---

The canteen had been dubbed Refuge by the owner many years ago for good reason. It was the last chance for water and relaxation for fifty miles in any direction. It was the most god-awful place for a business, and yet it thrived due to the Goa'uld transport rings that were located just outside it's doors. The rings not only guaranteed customers, it guaranteed that the customers were almost all thieves or criminals on the run. Therefore, someone had come up with the brilliant idea of adding a gambling section to the bar. After all, thieves and criminals were always ready to play the odds.

De'breto was a complex game involving a deck of numbered cards and seven dice carved out of stone. Once the desired exchanges were made, the hands were displayed. Whoever held the highest amount placed his cards in the center of the table. The dealer would then take the dice and toss them, taking the number rolled and adding it to the sum of the cards. If the resulting number was even, the player won. If it was odd, the player lost. It was a ridiculous waste of time, but there had been countless deaths attributed to gamblers who had lost at de'breto.

Fortunately Vessa had yet to witness any violence at her table. The players were all either too drunk or too stupid to realize when they were being swindled. That was another thing about de'breto; ninety-five percent of the dealers were crooks. The other five percent had a secret in their past that they wanted to remain buried. Vessa's secret was that she was a Tok'ra.

Vessa leaned against the wall of Refuge, waiting for her contact to arrive. The sun had set and plunged the desert into bone-chilling temperatures. She was eager to meet the Tau'ri and get this whole situation over with. She was beginning to wish she'd never reported the Osiris contact to Selmac. She cupped her hands, blowing into them to keep herself warm. Her uniform as a de'breto dealer left absolutely nothing to the imagination; the leggings were so tight she didn't dare wear anything beneath them and the top was mesh.

As she waited, she worked a small device into her ear and activated it, sighing in pleasure as the narcotic worked it's way into her system. Earwig, a popular drug among the dregs that frequented the canteen, had started out as part of her cover. Her symbiote wouldn't allow her to become dangerously addicted to anything, so she felt it was safe to use as much as she needed. What she didn't know, however, was that Earwig damaged the protective properties of the symbiote. She was hooked on the stuff with no way to ease her addictions. But at that particular moment, she could've cared less.

Her mind was wandering when the rings finally activated, depositing the woman she had been assigned to keep an eye on. Vessa pushed aside the cloud enveloping her mind and straightened, pushing herself away from the wall and approaching the redhead. "Hello," she called. "I am Vessa."

Sam turned, approaching the woman who appeared to only be wearing a thin Kleenex. "Vessa. Hello. I'm Tew," she said, giving the agreed-upon cover name.

"You want to learn about the game of de'breto?" Vessa asked, blinking away the last remaining shreds of her trip.

Sam nodded. "That's right."

"Very good," Vessa smiled. "Right this way."

---

Janet sat cross-legged on the bed she'd used since arriving on Nizana. The contents of her knapsack had been gathered and were now laying around her on the mattress. The medical supplies had been stuffed back into the bag, just in case. She was going through the rest of it, seeing what she could salvage and what could be used as scrap to build whatever they *did* need. She clicked the radio on and off a few times, listening to the static before tossing it towards the pillows. "No need for that," she muttered. After all, where would signals be coming from?

There were bullets, which could prove useful in the future. There was no telling how many cannibals were hiding in the forest. She returned those to the bag as well, storing them next to the emergency handgun she had found in one of the pockets. "Wish I had found that sooner," she thought. Though what good would it have done? The ape-creatures probably would've knocked it out of her hands if she'd had it. Not to mention the fact that when she had fled into the forest, stopping for supplies had been the furthest thing from her mind.

She was nearing the bottom of the bag when she felt something thin and cold. Frowning, she pulled the object out and turned it over in her hands. Her wallet. Heart pounding, she flipped it open. Two twenties, a ten and three ones. The ten had been for Cassandra's allowance. She bit her lip, opening the flap that contained the pictures. The first one she saw was Sam, sitting on the edge of their bed glaring into the camera. She was wearing one sneaker and one sock, half-bent over trying to put the other sock on. Janet had caught her and snapped the picture. Sam's blue eyes were crossed and the tip of her tongue was touching her nose. Janet didn't have to look to see that, written on the back in red ink were the words "My Hero!!!"

She turned to the next picture. Cassandra's school photo; smiling and looking slightly to the left as the kids had been instructed to do. On the back of this one were the words: "Cass, 14 years, 1999."

The third picture was of Janet standing next to a window with Sam behind her, hands resting on the brunette's shoulders. Cassie had labelled the back of this one: "My moms."

Janet sobbed, dropping the wallet and covering her face. "I'm sorry, Cass," she wept, hugging herself as she let her tears fall. "God, I'm so sorry. I'm sorry..." She rocked herself slowly, shaking her head and whispering apologies to her daughter.

---

Sam dropped her cards in frustration, pushing away the currency tabs that had been given to her. De'breto was the most ridiculous game she had ever lost. As she turned away from the table, a drunken trader grabbed her arm. He had been on a winning streak, taking most of Sam's money during the course of the evening. "Hey, ah... hey," he said, leaning a bit too close for comfort. "How 'bout I let ya try ta earn summa yer money back? I'm pos'tive we could come up wit'... some kinda barter system."

Fighting the urge to break every bone in the man's face, Sam said, "Well, how could you possibly do what you're promising if you don't have a penis?"

The man laughed loudly. "Oh, sweetheart. I promise ya, I gots the goods."

"If your hand is still on me in three seconds," she smiled, "you definitely won't."

The man pulled his hand back as if he'd been burnt. He shrank back into his place, glancing warily at Sam. "I's jes' tryin' ta give summa yer money back. Gotta go 'n' threaten me like that."

Sam slipped off of her stool, shaking her head as she walked to the bar. She motioned the bartender and asked, "Can you give me something that won't give me a headache tomorrow?" He nodded and reached under the bar, grabbing a bottle of a milky white liquid. As he poured, Sam felt a pair of hands mold themselves to her rear end, slowly sliding up to her back. She groaned and said, "Look, you son of a--" She turned and her retort was swallowed by a sudden, powerful kiss.

She put her hands up to fend off the attacker, only to find a pair of full breasts beneath a leather top. The kiss broke and Sam found herself looking into a familiar, and only partially welcome, face. "Anise."

"Come with me." She pulled Sam off the stool, leading her through the crowded bar to a dark alcove in the back. Anise drew the beaded curtains and tilted her head, revealing her neck to the blonde. "Kiss me. I must tell you something, but no one can know I am giving you information."

Reluctantly, Sam lowered her head to the Tok'ra's throat. She smelled wonderful and Sam found herself enjoying the impromptu make-out session.

Anise ran her hands through Sam's red hair and whispered, "Osiris' ship was seen entering the solar system. We engaged a cloaking device, but she may have spotted us before we dropped out of sight. She has remained at the fringes of the system for almost an hour, waiting."

Sam nibbled on Anise's throat, then whispered, "Why... why all this covert stuff?"

"It was your father's idea that we sneak the information to you in this manner."

"My *father* told you to come down here and neck with me?"

Anise frowned. "I do not know what 'neck' means, but the manner in which I approached you was my own idea. I am very attracted to you, Major Carter."

'Ah, great,' Sam thought. 'Another Tok'ra who wants to get into my pants...' She chuckled and said, "I thought you wanted to, um, lo'machen with Colonel O'Neill."

Anise shrugged. "I preferred Colonel O'Neill, while my symbiote preferred Dr. Jackson. You, however, represent the best of both men." She pulled back and softly kissed Sam's lips. The Major raised her eyebrows, a bit surprised at how much she enjoyed the kiss. Finally, the Tok'ra pulled back. "I must go. We will inform you if there are any further developments." She slipped out of the alcove, hurrying out of the canteen.

When Sam returned to the bar, she was aware of several pairs of eyes locked on her. She took her drink from the bartender and took a long swig of it. 'Come on, Osiris. Stop playing possum and get your ass in here. I want Janet back.'

---

Anise returned to Selmak's side, wondering why he was grumbling angrily. "What is wrong?" she asked, looking at the instruments. She immediately saw the source of his anger. "Where has Osiris gone?"

Selmak grit his teeth. "The ship moved just after you left. She's already on the surface."

---

Sam was downing her third milky white drink - called pa'ma'te - when Osiris entered the bar. She was wearing a different robe and looked a bit thinner, but there was no mistaking her. Sam raised one hand, covering the bottom half of her face and averting her gaze. Janet had been gone for three weeks; almost long enough for Sam to admit that the doctor was gone for good. And now, she was a few feet away from the person who had taken her. She finished her glass and handed it back to the bartender, waving him away when he offered her a fourth.

She turned on her barstool, suddenly afraid that the wig was a terrible disguise. She slid off the stood and hesitantly approached Osiris. "You the, uh... the Goa'uld?" she asked, shoving her hands into the pockets of her jumpsuit to hide their trembling.

Osiris turned, examining the woman before her. "That is a ridiculous question to ask someone. Who are you?"

"I... have information. Whatever you need."

"Supplies. I need supplies."

Sam shrugged. Improv time... "Sure. I got whatever you need."

Osiris narrowed her eyes and turned to fully face the 'redhead'. "Have we met before?"

Sam laughed. "No. No, I-I don't think so."

"You look terribly familiar," she said, her voice low. After a moment, she asked, "Where are your supplies? Aboard your vessel?" Unable to find her voice, Sam simply nodded dumbly. "Lead the way. I shall accompany you to your ship and take what I need."

"Um... okay. Yeah. Okay." She indicated the door and led the way out of the canteen.

As they left the building, Osiris casually asked, "Are you traveling alone? I saw a ship in orbit, but it engaged a cloaking device before I was able to identify it. Was that your vessel?"

Sam turned, walking backwards. "Yeah. Uh, yeah, that was me. I'm traveling with my father."

Osiris' next move was so quick that Sam almost didn't see it in time. The Goa'uld closed the distance between them, her fingers closing around Sam's throat as the two women fell to the ground. Osiris rose above the other woman, trying to choke the life from her. "You are blended. I felt it the moment you approached me in the bar." The fight had knocked Sam's red wig askew. Osiris grabbed the hairpiece, violently ripping the bobby pins from Sam's real hair. Sam cried out in pain, kicking futilely at the woman above her.

Osiris' eyes widened as she realized who she was fighting. "The blonde from the temple," she whispered reverentially. "You are the one called Samantha."

'God, how does she know that? Did Janet...' Sam growled, "If you hurt Janet, I swear that I will--"

"You are," Osiris said, apparently in shock. Her grip on Sam's throat eased and the Major was able to pull herself free. Once she had scrambled out from beneath the Goa'uld, the blonde called out, "Need a little help, Dad!"

---

Jacob Carter brushed his hand over his face and glared angrily at the radio receiver. "If you want help," he grunted, "then get off of the transport rings." Activating the rings would simply force them to trade places; it would bring Sam and Osiris to the ship while sending Jacob to the surface. And then there was the possibility that he would activate the rings while Sam wasn't completely inside of them, thus performing an impromptu amputation. "C'mon sweety," he said. "Get off of the damn rings."

---

Sam pulled the knife from her vest and gripped it tightly, her knuckles turning pale. "Come on, bitch," she hissed. "Looks like it's just you and me."

"Your father," Osiris said, standing slowly. She had heard Sam call for 'Dad' over the radio. "Why did you bring your father?"

Sam lunged at the other woman, ignoring the question. Osiris effortlessly grabbed the other woman's wrists, twisting them violently until the knife fell to the sandy ground. Disarmed, Sam fell back and groped for the handgun in the small of her back. She whipped the small pistol out, aiming it at Osiris' mid-section. The Goa'uld growled and stepped to one side, bringing her arm down and knocking the gun from Sam's hand. The blonde grunted, bringing her other hand up to punch Osiris in the face.

The Goa'uld barked in pain, her head jerking back as blood began to pour from her nose. Sam fell to her knees, scrambling in the sand for her knife. As she closed her hand around the hilt, she discovered why her father hadn't responded to her cries for help. 'Kind of hard when we're running in and out of the rings...' She turned and swung the knife towards Osiris. 'I just have to get her away from this particular spot and Dad'll come running. Then we'll see who has the upper hand.'

She lunched with the knife, aiming for the Goa'uld's heart. Osiris jumped back, avoiding the blade but leaving the area of the rings. 'So far, so good.' Sam switched the knife from one hand to the other, then vaulted at Janet's kidnapper. The blade sunk deep into Osiris' shoulder, causing the Goa'uld to yell out in agony. Sam grit her teeth, tightening her grip to twist the blade in the wound. Osiris grabbed a handful of Sam's hair pulling the blonde's head violently to one side and baring her neck. With a growl, she bit down on Sam's throat.

The two women fell away from each other, both of them bleeding, but neither one exhausted. Osiris feinted a move to the right and Sam fell for it. The Goa'uld spun in the sand, kicking up a dust devil as she managed to get behind Sam, grabbing a handful of the Major's jumpsuit and throwing her to the ground. Sam cried out as she momentarily went weightless. The impact of the ground knocked the wind from her, forcing her to roll to one side to catch her breath again. Osiris, now having the upper hand, kicked the blonde, sending her sprawling.

Sam grabbed her stomach, the kick once again knocking her to the ground. The cold strip of metal against her stomach told her that she had fallen onto the rings. If Selmac activated the rings now, she'd be cut neatly down the center. Unable to move due to Osiris' proximity, Sam rolled onto her back and lifted her legs in a wrestling move that had always worked on her brother. She locked her ankles around Osiris' lower leg and bent her knees, pulling the Goa'uld's leg forward.

As Osiris fell, Sam scrambled to her feet and dove for the knife she'd lost earlier. She found the blade, grabbing it. The blade sliced into her hand and she bit down on her tongue to keep from crying out. Grabbing the hilt of the weapon with her free hand, Sam rushed to Osiris. The Goa'uld was beginning to rise again, blood dripping from her nose and the gaping hole in her shoulder. The Major swept the other woman's feet out from under her, climbing on top of her enemy and pressing the blade of her sand-covered knife to Osiris' throat.

Osiris swallowed carefully, green eyes locking on Sam's. Her lip remained a firm line of indignance. Finally, she hissed, "You will... kill me?"

"No," Sam relucantly admitted. "I'll wait until you take me to Janet. Then I'll kill you."

Osiris smirked. "There is nothing of her left."

It took a moment for the words to register in Sam's mind. She rose slightly, her grip on the Goa'uld weakening. Osiris reached up, quickly disarming the Major once more and shoving Sam violently from her body. Sam landed with a thud a few feet away, rolling onto her side and pushing herself halfway up. Osiris moved to the blonde's side, taking a handful of the human's blonde hair and violently yanking her to her feet. Once Sam was upright again, Osiris twisted her wrist, the Major's head tilting back as far as the tendons in her neck would allow.

Osiris raised the stolen knife and pressed the cool blade to Sam's throat. She increased the pressure slightly and a bead of red appeared at the tip. Osiris smiled evilly as the rings activated. She turned, using Sam as a shield and keeping the blade precariously aimed at the Major's jugular. Jacob Carter was standing a few feet away, zat gun trained on Osiris. "Let her go," he demanded, the voice that of Selmac.

"Return to your ship," Osiris demaned. "Or you will see this woman buried. I believe she is your daughter, is she not?"

Selmac growled, "She's Jacob Carter's daughter. Not mine."

'Damn Tok'ra,' Sam thought. 'Colonel O'Neill was right about them...'

Osiris pressed a little harder. "You will have no qualms if I kill her then? Right now?" She drew the blade carefully across Sam's throat. Sam could feel the trickle of warm blood, but the blade was too sharp for her to feel the actual cutting.

"Stop it!" Jacob shouted. He lowered the zat gun, stepping back. "I'm leaving," he said, sounding more than a little defeated. He touched a communicator and contacted his ship. "Bring me back up." He hung his head, turning away from Sam as the rings returned and zapped him back to orbit.

Osiris' grip on the Major weakened. She thrust her elbow back, burying it in the soft skin of the Goa'uld's stomach. She moved quickly, avoiding the blade of the knife and dropping to her knees. Kneeling in the sand, she looked up at Osiris. "Janet... Janet is dead?"

"Indeed. I attempted to save her, but it was too late. The natives on the world where we took refuge had a taste for... the odd cuisine. I salvaged what I could and attempted to give her a proper burial."

"You bitch," Sam said, weeping openly now.

Osiris' smile vanished. She walked past Sam, intentionally stepping on the blonde's right hand. Sam cried out in pain as she felt the bones shift and crack under the weight of the other woman. Osiris stood in the center of the rings and regarded the woman crumpled in front of her. "She is dead. Stop trying to find her. Move on with your life." With a single command to a device on her wrist, the rings rose out of the sand and returned Osiris to her ship.

She laid down, crying, as she tried to force herself to do her duty: Stop Osiris. Just because Janet was dead, the mission didn't change.

But it had. Nothing mattered anymore. Sam couldn't bring herself to care that a Goa'uld was getting away. She pushed herself up, standing in the middle of the empty field of sand. No one had come out of the Refuge to see what the commotion was all about. Brawls were probably commonplace here. She brushed her face, feeling the grit and gravel sticking to the tracks of her tears. She pulled the radio from her jumpsuit, holding down the button to make a report. Nothing came to mind.

Finally, Sam dropped the radio in the sand and returned to the canteen. She was in the mood for a drink that would help her forget, regardless of whether she felt it in the morning or not.

Chapter Eleven,

Never sit through a briefing with a hangover. That's one of the first things Sam had learned in the Academy. But the drink she had gone back for after her fight with Osiris had resulted in one horrific headache that was pounding it's way through her skull as General Hammond berated her. The mission had been clear-cut from the beginning; Sam was simply supposed to confirm that the Goa'uld was Osiris. They would allow her to make the trade and then Jacob would trail her back to wherever Janet was being held. Hammond sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Just what were you thinking, Major?"

"That it didn't matter," Sam said, her voice barely more than a whisper.

Hammond frowned. "What?"

"It didn't matter. Janet is dead, Sir." She blinked back the tears that were forming and stared at her hands. Her knuckles were sore from her fight with Osiris and she felt like death warmed over. She just wanted to go home and sleep for the rest of her life. "Where's Cassandra?"

"School," Hammond sighed. "I've already had Siler call and let her know you're back. She'll ride the bus home today."

Sam nodded. "May I be excused, Sir?"

He shook his head slowly, then said, "Dismissed, Major. But before you go... Your actions were inexcusable. Your relieved of duty until further notice. SG-1 will be assigned a temporary team member for the duration of your suspension."

In the past, Sam would've contested the punishment. Instead, she nodded slowly and said, "Yes, Sir." She didn't bother to acknowledge him as he left the room.

---

Sam sat in the uncomfortable red chair, her arms tense on the wooden armrests as she waited for her name to be called. It had been four days since she learned the awful truth about Janet's fate. Four days she had spent in bed listening to sad songs on the radio. She had finally pulled herself together and headed for the one place she felt she had to go. The table next to the chair was stacked with old issues of People and Time. She tried to thumb through one, but found it pointless and tossed it aside. She was alone in the waiting room, except for the terse secretary that had angrily informed Sam that 'Dr. Abraham was with a patient at the moment.'

She ran a hand through her uncombed and unwashed hair, wondering if she should've worn her dress uniform. It generally demanded more respect than the flannel shirt and jeans she was currently wearing. After forty-five minutes of waiting, she finally shoved herself up and walked up to the desk. "Is she about done with her patient?"

"Dr. Abraham is--"

The door next to the secretary's desk swung open and a man casually exited, a coat draped over his arm. He nodded politely at Sam as he passed, quickly leaving the room. He had the look of someone who would rather die than be seen in a psychiatrist's office. Without waiting for the secretary's permission, Sam caught the door before it closed and slipped inside. For soundproofing purposes, there was a small hallway leading to Dacia's actual office. Sam went to the second door, pulling it open and stepping into the room.

Dacia was seated at her desk, making quick notes about the patient that had just left. In her right hand was a half-eaten Nutri-Grain bar. The secretary plodded into the office, apparently out of breath after the short trip. "I'm sorry, Dr. Abraham. She stormed right past me and--"

"It's all right, Lucy," Dacia said, waving the overweight woman away. Lucy glared at Sam as she left, closing the door behind her.

Sam tugged at her leather jacket, shifting her weight from one foot to the other as she waited for Dacia to say something. Anything. She hugged herself, running her hands up and down her upper arms as she searched the paintings on the wall. Dacia swore that one of the paintings had a cat hidden in the bushes; Sam had never found it. She chewed her lip, pacing nervously. She looked up, watching as Dacia finished her notes and slipped them into a buff-colored folder. Moving with exquisite slowness, she opened the filing cabinet and placed the notes in the appropriate holder.

That done, she stood and walked to the window. She turned her back to Sam as she surveyed the parking lot, chewing lazily on her snack.

The silence was unbearable. Finally, Sam held her arms out and said, "Well? Aren't you going to say something?"

Dacia turned. "Oh! Oh, you *can* see me?" She tossed the wrapper of her candy in the trash. "I'm *not* invisible? You're sure?"

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about you disappearing in the middle of the night. I'm talking about you coming back almost a week later with bandages all over your hands and neck." She frowned a bit, as if wanting to ask what had happened. Her anger won over and she snapped, "I don't even care where the hell you were or what the hell you were doing. You should've picked up the phone and told me you were gone. I was worried sick about you."

"Janet's dead."

Dacia paused, her eyes closing. She shook her head and sighed. "I'm sorry about that. I really am." She rubbed the back of her neck and said, "We shouldn't see each other, Sam."

Sam looked up. "What? Why?"

"Why? Isn't it obvious? Janet may be dead, but she still has your heart. I couldn't compete with her when you first fell in love with her. I can't compete with her now. You and I were doomed from the start because you don't love me."

"But I do--"

Dacia cut her off, holding her hand up. "Don't try to psych-out the psychiatrist."

Sam closed her eyes. "Will you keep seeing Cassandra?"

"For as long as needed. Or until your checks start bouncing, in which case I have to declare her fully cured." She smirked and looked down at her hands. "I am sorry, Samantha."

Sam nodded, trying to hold back her tears. Finally, she just waved good-bye and slipped out of the office.

---

On their first date, Sam and Janet hadn't gone to bed together. But they *had* both ended up naked...

At Sam's insistence, they had gone to a party celebrating the one-hundreth anniversary of a park near Janet's house. They had walked hand-in-hand to the event, talking about mundane things and laughing at unfunny jokes. When they finally arrived, they had binged on cotton candy and sodas and corn dogs, swearing that the diet started the very next day. On a whim, towards the end of the festivities, Sam had the brilliant idea to rent a rowboat. They had climbed into an ancient vessel, with Janet at the stern and Sam at the bow.

They had rowed without incident for about twenty minutes when it happened. From nowhere, a massive wave rocked their boat, causing both women to scramble for the oars. As they crested the wave, Janet brought her oar down hard and caused a huge splash, covering them both with water. Sam had attempted to return the favor, but succeeded only in tilting the boat further. Janet had screamed as the boat rolled, dropping them both into the freezing water of the lake.

They argued the entire way home. Sam blamed Janet for starting the splash fight. Janet blamed Sam for being childish and seeking revenge for what had been, after all, an accident. Soaking wet, they arrived on Janet's front porch, still arguing about blame. Janet had been in the middle of a harsh retort when Sam had bent down and kissed the beautiful doctor's lips, pulling her in for their first kiss. All anger and accusations faded away as they went inside, stripping out of their wet clothes and cuddling in front of the fire. Sam had held Janet that entire night, just talking and doing her best not to mention lakes or swimming. That night, 'rowboat' had become their codeword for anything involving the two of them getting together. Other than the people at the base thinking they had an unusual affinity for boating, it had worked out quite well.

Now, three and a half years later, Sam sat in the quiet house and reminisced about the woman she'd loved more than she thought possible. Daniel and Colonel O'Neill had picked up Cassie almost three hours earlier, leaving Sam by herself. They'd invited her to come with them, but she had turned them down cold. The fire was burning in the fireplace, even though it was barely eighty degrees outside. Sam hugged herself, watching the flames and thumbing through a photo album. "God, Janet," Sam whispered, tracing the curve of her lover's cheek. "I miss you so much..." She brushed her cheek and turned the page, smiling at the photo of them that had been taken at the State Fair.

The front door opened and she turned, craning her neck to look down the short entry hall. Cassandra entered, her face wet with tears, and hurried up the stairs. Sam stood and reached the foot of the stairs just as Daniel came into the house. He was still wearing his jacket, but his tie had vanished and the top button of his shirt was undone. He smiled, sticking his hands into his pockets. "Hey, Sam."

"Hi," she said, looking up the stairs. "Is... Cassie all right?"

Daniel nodded, following her gaze. "Yeah. She cried herself out at the funeral... Jack promised to take her out for ice cream, but she wanted to change clothes first." He rubbed the back of his neck. "People asked about you... wondering if you were okay."

Sam turned away from him, going back into the living room. "I'm fine," she said softly. "How was it? The funeral, I mean."

"It was... nice. Jack spoke about her 'big, honking needles' and referred to her as a Napoleonic Power-Monger." He smirked.

Sam closed her eyes, shaking her head slowly. "She hated when he called her that. She said it made her feel about two inches tall."

Daniel winced. "I didn't know. I'm pretty sure Jack didn't know either or else he would've--"

"Forget it," Sam said. "No one knew; she didn't tell anyone besides me. What about the rest of the service?"

"It was your basic military funeral. They played Taps, Jack and Hammond released a wreath through the Stargate. Her parents were sent an American Flag."

"Oh, God," Sam turned. "Her parents..."

Cassandra returned, now wearing a pair of jeans and a sweater. She smiled at Sam, her eyes now free of tears. "Hey, Sam," the girl said. "Wanna go have ice cream? Uncle Jack is paying."

Sam forced a smile. "No. No thanks, sweetheart."

Daniel rubbed Cassie's shoulder. "Why don't you go wait in the car, 'kay?" Cassandra nodded and went to Sam, hugging her tightly before going back outside. Daniel scratched his cheek, then said, "If you want to talk about what you're feeling... I'm here. I know what you're going through."

Sam shrugged. "She was just my roommate, right? Just a friend."

"She was more than that, Sam."

"You know?"

He shrugged. "For a while now. I think Jack suspects, but he's not pushing it. Teal'c... well, you know how observant Teal'c is. I think he's known since the beginning." He took a step forward. "But none of that matters, Sam. What matters is you've lost someone who meant everything to you. Just like I lost Sha're. Like Jack lost Charlie." She winced. "We're here. If you want to talk." He embraced her, pulling her close. "We miss you on the team. We got some idiot fresh out of the academy who thinks an 'Event Horizon' is a crappy James Spader movie." She chuckled at that and he pulled back. "Want me to bring you back some ice cream?"

"Rocky Road," Sam said, smiling. "Janet loved Rocky Road."

Daniel nodded and kissed her forehead before slipping out of the house. Once he was gone, Sam returned to the fireplace and sat cross-legged in front of the photo album. As she turned the last page, she saw a single sheet of notebook paper, folded four times and slipped between two photos. Sam frowned, pinching and tugging and finally extricating the paper. The word 'Sam' was written across the front of one side.

With trembling fingers, she unfolded the note. Rows of Janet's perfect script filled several lines and Sam almost cried out. She moved closer to the fire in order to see the words and read aloud, "Sam. I know you only look at these pictures when you're feeling sad or sentimental, so I thought it would slip this note into the album. I want you to know that I love you as much as I know how. You're my soul mate. I don't know how I survived before I met you and I don't know how I'll live if we're ever apart. I--" Sam choked, blinking away her tears and forcing herself to continue. "I long for the day when you and I can hold hands in public. I want the world to know the love we share. Until that day, however, I'll have to make due with the fact that you and I know. That's all that matters. All my heart, all my soul, Janet Elizabeth Fraiser."

To her surprise, Sam wasn't crying when she finished the letter. She was smiling like mad, her eyes wet but not overflowing. She carefully folded the note again and pulled her wallet out, working the notebook paper into the front compartment. She turned to face the fire, hugging her knees as she watched the embers dance. After a while, she used the poker to snuff the flames and grabbed her jacket. Ice cream suddenly sounded like a terrific idea.

---

Janet propped her bare feet up on the bannister, idly chewing on a fruit she had named a Highup Fruit because it grew on the highest branch of its tree. She had been busy the past ten days, naming things around the world she now considered her home-away-from-Earth. There's was Cassandra's Field, Samantha's Garden and O'Neill Rock. She had started referring to Nizana as Second Eden.

The name was, after all, appropriate. For the most part, she wore as little as possible. There was only one person to see her, and that person had been intimate with her. Why *not* run around naked? What was there to hide if your sole companion had seen and touched and licked everything you had? That particular morning, the temperature had dropped rapidly and Janet was wearing a loose cambric shirt that hung to her mid-thigh, keeping her protected from the rain that threatened.

Osiris was wandering somewhere in the palace. The wounds she had received during her jaunt a week earlier had vanished, a trademark of the rapid healing powers of the symbiote. When Osiris had returned, covered in blood, Janet had thought the worst: that the Goa'uld was dying and she would soon be alone on this world. It was nice to have someone to talk to once in a while; it would be absolute hell by herself. She finished the Highup and tossed the rind over the bannister, leaning back in her make-shift hammock.

For the first time in days, she allowed herself to think about Earth; to really ponder what had happened. SG-1 had been captured, Sam and O'Neill blended with Goa'uld symbiotes. Teal'c, labelled a shol'va by his people, had been tortured. Daniel had been murdered outright. Newly blended, Sam and O'Neill had gladly handed over the iris codes to Apophis. The Goa'uld had penetrated the SGC and the body count had started rising. Ships came, distributing Jaffa to the surface to herd humans into massive corrals where they could be used for slave labor or hosts.

And that was all she wrote. Earth had crumbled in a matter of days. It made sense, really... Sam had been caught off-guard because she was searching for her kidnapped lover. She had taken unnecessary risks and gotten herself captured. With the iris codes, the SGC would've been expecting SG-1 to return. Instead, they were met with Jaffa. Presumably angry Jaffa, with staff weapons blazing. She tried not to imagine the massacre that had to have taken place in the bowels of Cheyenne Mountain, but found it impossible.

Or maybe SG-1 *had* returned. Maybe Sam and O'Neill had come through the Gate and cleared the way for invasion. Maybe they had disabled the security protocols and allowed the Jaffa to come through the Stargate unhindered.

Her brain refused to wonder what had happened to Cassandra. She simply wouldn't allow herself to think about that.

She heard the soft footfalls of Osiris behind her, but didn't bother to turn around. "Hello," she said.

"Hello."

Thunder rolled somewhere in the hills to the west. The air was thick with the smell of rain; Janet loved that smell. She inhaled deeply and rested her head on her hand. After a long moment of silence, the brunette said, "I want to go somewhere."

"Where do you wish to go?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. Somewhere that's... not here. I just want to see other sights. Trees get monotonous. You've gone off on your little... supply-gathering missions. I just want... I want to go shopping."

Osiris nodded. "There is a marketplace I know of. I believe you would find it acceptable. When do you wish to go?"

Janet sat up, dropping her feet from the bannister and standing. "Now. I wanna go now."

"Very well." Osiris turned and walked out of the room. Looking over her shoulder at the gathering rainclouds, Janet followed the Goa'uld out of the room.

She was excited, which was understandable, but for some reason she found she was also very nervous. She had been on this world for... well, for a long time, there were no calendars to tell her how long she'd been gone and she had lost count of the days and weeks. Now, she was actually getting ready to ring up to a ship and go someplace else... someplace with actual people! She smiled as Osiris activated the rings. In a matter of milliseconds, she was back on the ship where the whole mess had started.

Chapter Twelve,

Sam parked crookedly in front of Braum's double doors, glancing at herself in the mirror before climbing out of the car. She spotted O'Neill's truck and Daniel's car in the parking lot, along with some other vehicles she remembered seeing parked at the SGC. She just didn't know who they belonged to. She took a deep breath, straightened her leather jacket, and headed into the restaurant. The funeral-goers had gathered in the back corner, taking over three booths and a table. Jack O'Neill was sprawled across in the seat farthest away from the door and spotted the new arrival first. "Carter!" he called, straightening slightly. "'Bout time you showed up."

Everyone turned to face the blonde, making her feel like the main attraction at a carnival sideshow. She smiled warily, lifting a hand in a feeble wave. She scanned the group, noticing that the person she'd come to talk to wasn't present. "Where's Cassie?"

"Play area," Daniel said, pointing to a glassed-in area behind Sam. "She said it was too crowded out here."

"I'll be back," Sam promised, pushing open the door. The play area was a special section that had been set aside for kids. Oversized, plush booths lined the wall and a ball pit stood in the corner. Cassie was sitting at one of the clown tables, picking at a hamburger. Sam approached the girl, looking at the pitiful sandwich. "You come to an ice cream shop and you don't get ice cream? What's up with that?"

Cassie turned, eyes wide. "You came!" She jumped up, rushing into Sam's waiting arms.

"Hey, kiddo," Sam said. "I'm sorry."

The girl pulled back. "For what?"

Sam brushed her daughter's hair and smiled. 'My daughter... I never would've thought...' A tear came to her eye and she looked down, hoping Cassie hadn't seen it. The girl tilted Sam's face up and brushed her hand over the tear. "It's okay to cry, Sam. It's okay if you're sad."

The blonde smiled. "You're right. It is okay to cry if you're sad. But I'm still sorry. You've been... dealing with the same stuff I've been dealing with and I haven't been there for you. I shuttled you off to a shrink when I should've been talking with you about this myself. I'm sorry for not being there for you."

Cassandra shrugged. "You missed Mom. I can't blame you for that," she smiled. "You thought you had to mourn by yourself because you and Mom weren't supposed to be in love. But you don't have to hide your feelings. That just causes a whole lotta bad stuff down the road. You taught me that when you rescued me from Hanka. You and Mom helped me get through that. I wanna help you get through this."

Sam laughed and pressed her forehead to Cassie's. "Are you *sure* you're only fifteen?"

"Fifteen and a half," Cassie corrected.

Sam stood and held her hand out to Cassandra. "Want to go out there and tell some stories about Mom?"

"Sure," the girl said, taking Sam's hand. "Maybe later we can go out to where her memorial will be."

"I'd really like that." She pulled the teenager closer and rejoined the rest of the group in the main dining room.

---

From space, Perro looked like a giant orange ball spinning silently in the void of space. From the ground, it was... well, the spinning was less noticeable. Everything seemed to be tinted a deep red-yellow color. The Stargate stood at the head of a row of buildings, the keystone of the marketplace. Janet arrived quietly via a ring transporter that was tucked between two low buildings. She was protected from sight by stacks and stacks of crates, which had been covered over by blankets. She slipped past these obstacles, looking around to see if anyone noticed her arrival. Everyone seemed too busy watching for pickpockets and trying to find deals to notice an extra shopper in their midst.

She was wearing a heavy wool shawl that covered the cambric shirt and the slacks she was wearing, the deep red color allowing her to blend in with everyone else in the marketplace. She removed the hood, letting her hair fall loose to her shoulders.

Waves of sand shifted in the wind, blowing tiny dust devils around her feet as she slipped through the crowds. Osiris had informed Janet of the Perron market etiquette and equipped her with enough credits to purchase whatever she desired. When Janet had invited the other woman to come along, Osiris had simply said that the local attitude towards the Goa'uld was less than welcoming. Janet had promised to not be too long and went on her way.

She approached a ramshackle display, letting her fingers brush over a lovely weave that hung from the top pole. The merchant saw her interest and leaned forward. "Lovely? Very! My own wife, she created it with bare hands! Two months it took her! Two! I ask only eight credits."

Osiris had given Janet fifteen credits and informed her that was more than enough for anything reasonably priced. "Eight sounds a little high," she told the foul-breathed man.

"My wife! She make it with hands crippled by bone sickness. Day and night she work, she ask only that I sell for her in market. And you say cost too much? Perhaps you prefer if it stained with my wife's own blood?" He quirked an eyebrow at her. "Seven credits?"

"Five."

The man barked at her. "Five?! My wife made this while pregnant with my seventh child. You insult his birth with your offer! I turn away from you now."

"Five and that's my final offer," Janet said, standing firm.

The man grumbled, then quickly nodded. "Yes, yes, yes, yes, five credits."

Janet handed him the five slips and removed the weave from the pole. Brushing the soft cloth again, she said, "Tell your wife she does lovely work."

The merchant was inspecting his five credits, making sure they weren't fake. "Wife?" he asked, momentarily confused. "Yes! Oh. My wife! Yes!" He laughed and pocketed the five credits. "My wife does wonderful work."

Janet folded the weave and slipped it into her pack, making sure to keep the zipper pulled tight. At these prices, she couldn't be too careful about pickpockets. At the back of the marketplace, she spotted several simmering pots full of some kind of broth. She took a bowl and paid the two credits, eager to taste something that wasn't fruits or nuts. This looked like chili and smelled like ambrosia. She took a wooden spoon from the dealer, thanking her profusely before taking her first bite.

She would never have thought chili could taste so wonderful. She ate quickly, burning her tongue and the roof of her mouth, but she didn't care. Crackers would've been perfection, but this was just as good. It was *delicious*.

Finishing the broth, she returned to the marketplace with her empty bowl in hand. Most people were selling second-hand junk; the Perro equivalent of a garage sale. She saw a few items of interest, but knew that what they needed most was clothing and food. The bare necessities.

She was nearing the Stargate when she found Geren's stand. Geren was an overweight man with a short blonde hair and a pair of tortoise-shell glasses that looked like they'd been fashioned out of the bottoms of Coke bottles. His chin was covered with a dark goatee that hung down to mid-chest, the ends of it tied off with turquoise beads. Next to him was a beautiful brunette girl doodling on a pad, her back to the marketplace. Janet spotted the girl and approached Geren's booth for a chance to see her better. "Hello," she said, smiling up at Geren. "I'm looking for a bargain."

"Then you, m'lady," Geren bellowed, "have come to the wrong planet." He guffawed, holding his massive belly. The girl smiled a bit, glancing over her shoulder at the customer. Her eyes met Janet and the girl turned away shyly. "I enjoy your face. Perhaps you would like my daughter Katrina to capture your portrait?"

"I don't have much money..."

Katrina turned. "I will draw you for free. If you wish."

Janet felt a blush rising in her cheeks and she slowly nodded. "O-Okay. Sure. Should I... should I pose?"

The girl turned, tilting her head for a moment as if taking a photograph of Janet's features. "It is not necessary," Katrina smiled, turning back to her pad.

Geren smiled and said, "While she works, perhaps you would like to peruse some of her other works? She is a remarkable artisan, my daughter." He pulled a sheaf of yellow papers from below the booth, laying them on the counter with a heavy 'thump.' Janet turned the drawings so that they were right-side up and examined the charcoal artwork. The first drawing was of the Stargate, an impressive rendition that fully captured the magnificence of the artifact. Janet put it aside as a possibility. The next few drawings were portraits of Geren and an apparent self-portrait. Janet considered buying one of Katrina's portraits, but decided against it.

She got an idea. "Wait, Katrina." The girl turned. Janet could see that her face was already on the paper and marvelled at the likeness. "Wow. Um... I have a request." She reached into her shawl and withdrew the photos she had taken from her wallet earlier. Handing the pictures to Katrina, she asked, "Can you include them in the drawing, please?"

Katrina examined Sam and Cassandra, then asked, "This is your family?"

"It is..." Janet said, trying not to think of how they had met their end.

"They are lucky," Katrina said, turning back to her drawing.

Janet looked back at the drawings before her. "These are truly remarkable. They're almost photographic. It's almost--" She froze on the next drawing. She recognized the man portrayed; she had treated him numerous times. It was, without a doubt, Sergeant Pierce. She looked up, then tapped the drawing. "T-this man. Who is he? A customer?"

Geren looked, then shook his head. "Oh, I am afraid not. He is a visitor through the Great Ring."

Janet looked back down at the drawing. "This drawing... it's-it's old, right? Very old?"

"No," Geren said, shaking his head in confusion. "No, the essjeesix came through five evenings ago. They said they were explorers. Searching for allies in their battle against the Goa'uld."

Essjeesix... SG-6? No... She shook her head, refusing to believe what the man was telling her. "No. No, the world these people come from was taken over by the Goa'uld.... They wouldn't come through the Gate looking for allies."

"I am afraid you are mistaken," Geren smiled. "They spoke with my daughter for a long length of time. In fact, they used the same peculiar term as you to describe her artwork: Photographic. What is this word?"

Janet shook her head slowly. "It's... it's not important."

Katrina stood, handing Janet her photo and the drawing. Janet absently dropped two credits on the counter and stuck her drawings into her pouch. SG-6 coming through the Gate? Pierce and his team, alive?! That would mean... but that meant...

"That means Osiris lied," she muttered to herself. "You believed a fucking Goa'uld and you got screwed." She shoved her way through the crowds, anxious to return to the rings and confront her kidnapper.

---

"You are back already?" Osiris asked, rising out of her seat.

Janet pulled the yellow paper from her pouch and tossed it across the room, unfolding it so Osiris could see. The Goa'uld frowned, examining the charcoal lines and trying to figure out what was making Janet so angry. "What is this?" the brunette demanded.

"Artwork," Osiris replied.

Janet brushed past the Goa'uld. "Don't play games with me," she growled, dropping into her seat. "This is Sergeant Pierce. He's from Earth. He's a member of SG-6. And, according to the merchants down there on the planet, he was here less than a week ago. Looking for allies *against* the Goa'uld." She glared at the woman who had held her for over what felt like years. "How much of what you told me was a lie?"

Osiris stood in the back of the cockpit for a moment, then walked to the wall and leaned against it. "I feared it would only be a matter of time before you learned the truth. Everything. Everything I told you was false, Janet. And I am truly sorry for the deception."

Janet turned away from the Goa'uld. *Everything* was a lie? "Sam and Cassandra?"

"They are still alive, as far as I know," Osiris said, her voice gentle.

The doctor closed her eyes, leaning forward and covering her face with her hands.

"A few weeks ago, when I returned injured and bleeding, my wounds were inflicted by Major Carter." Janet turned, rising to her feet. "She was attempting to entrap me. I... I could not allow her to rescue you. I was falling in love with you." The brunette snorted, but Osiris didn't allow her a chance to argue. She stepped forward. "Before I met you, I was a ruler. I was accustomed to people bowing before me. I expected nothing but undying loyalty. And then... then I was released from my imprisonment and you are my first real contact with humanity.

"You were a challenge and a curiosity. You intrigued me. Not only did you fight back against me, you inflicted damage on my host. And when I demanded you to heal me as you attempted to heal Steven Rayner, you did not comply. I did not understand this strength; this power that you possessed. I wanted to know you. I wanted to learn what had changed so drastically that humanity could produce someone... as strong-willed as the woman I had captured.

"Intrigue soon turned to... to true feelings. I had always seen a mate as a carrier for my offspring. But in this body, I could not produce an heir. I was forced to look at you as something other than the mother of my children. For the first time in my long life, I felt love for another creature. And it was a Tau'ri! I loved you, Janet. That much was not false. I truly loved you. But I knew that you could not return my feelings. You were sworn to hate everything the Goa'uld stood for. You loved another. I created the lie in order to take your heart. My methods were wrong and I apologize for the agony I caused you."

Janet had fallen back into her seat during this monologue, staring blankly at the stars beyond the glass of the ship. She was chewing on her index finger, tears rolling silently down her face. Osiris knelt next to the doctor, putting her hands on Janet's knee. "I apologize. But remember what we shared together... our intimacy in the observation tower. Is there a... chance you will reconsider your feelings? I wish for you to remain with me."

She choked back a sob, blinking her eyes quickly and brushing a strand of hair out of her eye. Finally, she cleared her throat and looked Osiris in the eye. "Take me home," she said. "Now."

Osiris hung her head, then looked back up at Janet with tears in her eyes. "I swore to you I would... and I shall." She stood and returned to her seat, activating the engines. Janet pulled her feet up into the chair, hugging her knees and rocking slowly as the ship entered hyperspace. 'She's alive. Sam is alive. Cassie is alive. And I'm going home.'

---

This world was as abandoned as Nizana had been. The difference here was that the Stargate was not buried. Janet and Osiris had returned to 'Second Eden' to get Janet's supplies before heading to the nearest Gate-equipped world they could find. Janet dropped the bag in front of the DHD, looking at the massive Gate as if trying to convince herself this was all real. 'I'm going home. HOME!' She brushed her hair out of her face and looked at Osiris. "What are you going to do?"

"Do you care?" Osiris asked.

Janet bit her lip. "I do care. You lied and held me under false pretenses... but I care. What do you plan to do? Rejoin the System Lords? Wreak havoc across the universe?"

Osiris smiled. "No. I meant what I said about the System Lords. It is a petty conglomeration of greed and spite. I believe my time with you has proven beneficial to me. I can see your point of view on Goa'uld aspects. I do not know where that leaves me, but..."

"The Tok'ra," Janet said. "You could talk with the Tok'ra. Maybe... maybe see if they'll allow you into their ranks."

She shook her head. "I doubt they would trust me. And I doubt you would trust me with their location."

"Stay here for one day after I'm gone. I'll get the coordinates to some Tok'ra I'm in contact with and... they can judge for themselves. If you think you can manage fighting the Goa'uld..."

"I shall remain," Osiris said. "Thank you for trusting me, Janet."

Janet smiled and looked at the DHD. "I'm going home," she said, the first time she had said it out loud. Her anger and resentment towards Osiris had all-but vanished. That realization frightened her. She tugged at her shawl and repeated, "I'm going home."

"Home, where your love lies waiting silently for you," Osiris smiled.

Janet laughed out loud at the lyrics. "Something like that." She turned and, hands trembling, pressed the first glyph of her home address. It dawned on her that she might not want to dial Earth in front of Osiris, but the Goa'uld was looking at the mountains in the distance, apparently unconcerned about what Janet was dialing. Janet quickly dialed the remaining six glyphs, the lit shapes burning her eyes as if they were much brighter than they really were. She was crying when she pushed down the red center button and the Stargate roared open. Osiris knelt, pulling something from Janet's pack. The radio. She tossed it to Janet and the doctor caught it effortlessly. There was a squak of static as she pressed down the 'send' button. "Calling the SGC. This is Janet Fraiser attempting to contact the SGC."

Her heart was pounding, sweat building under her arms and in the small of her back with each second of silence that passed. She was about to give up hope when she heard the familiar voice of Airman Walter Davis ask, "Dr. Fraiser? I-Is that you?"

"YES!" she shouted into the speaker. "Yes, it's me! Please, open the iris! I want to come home!"

She turned her teary gaze to Osiris, the radio shaking wildly in her hands. The Goa'uld smiled sadly and held up her hand. Janet bit her lip and nodded. It was good-bye. She had been kidnapped, taken against her will and told her race was dead. She had suffered agony at the hands of the blonde woman in front of her, she had felt her spirit crushed because of the Goa'uld's words. But she couldn't find it within herself to hate the Goa'uld. She had seen Osiris ill. She had eaten with her, cooked for her, drank with her. They had made love. They had, like it or not, bonded. And, when Janet had thought Earth gone (even though Osiris had lied about that), Osiris had helped her get through it. Fed her, helped her drink. For lack of a better word, Osiris had become her friend.

Janet lowered the radio and approached Osiris, sliding her hand through the golden curls and pulling the other woman's head down. They kissed slowly, Janet's salty tears seeping over her lips.

They finally separated when General Hammond's voice came over the radio. "Doctor Fraiser, is that you?"

"It's me, Sir," she said, stepping away from Osiris. She kept her eyes on the other woman, seeing the hurt in Osiris' eyes.

"Damn good to hear your voice, Doc. The iris is open. Come on home... we've missed you."

Janet walked backwards towards the Gate, letting the hand holding the radio drop to her side. She mouthed good-bye, raising her hand and waggling the fingers before she turned and stepped through the event horizon.

A few seconds later, Janet Fraiser was a free woman.

End