Janet's eyes snapped open at the sharp rap on her door.  She hadn't even been aware of falling asleep.  In the aftermath of Garin's little exercise, they'd fallen into a tense and moody silence as Janet contemplated the ramifications of everything he'd told her.

She must've dozed off at some point, she thought, emotionally exhausted from the whole thing.  This was the first time she'd slept since encountering Garin, she realized.

Garin was awake and alert as well, but chose to remain silent as she swung her legs over the side of her bed, and opened the door.  Henna hovered in the doorway.

"The morning meal will begin shortly.  You have time to wash, if you wish. I will be waiting for you by the lift."  As she spoke, the other woman's eyes swept past Janet's shoulder, taking in the room, including the shards of broken mirror still littering the corner.

Not giving Janet any time to answer, she nodded curtly, and then left. Shaking her head, Janet closed the door.  "Good morning to you, too.  I slept just fine, thanks for asking," she added sarcastically under her breath.  This was the first time Henna had actually spoken to her; yesterday, when she'd brought clean clothes, she simply left them on the bed and departed without speaking a word.  If she didn't know better, she'd think Henna was some kind of maid or something.

The thought brought her up short, frowning.  If she didn't know better?

After Olla, Henna was perhaps the most powerful woman in the settlement. Olla obviously trusted her a great deal, or she would not have allowed Henna to have any contact with her.

In thinking about it further, Janet realized she had a pretty clear idea of the power structure and relationships in the settlement.  It spread out before her almost like a map.

'I did spend nearly a year here,' Garin interjected gently.

'This is your knowledge, but it feels like mine,' Janet said, marveling at the realization.

'That's because it's our knowledge now,' he said simply.  'Last night may have seemed like a confrontation to you, but it was a breakthrough.  We are nearly fully integrated now.'

The revelation didn't make her feel nearly as uneasy as she thought it should.  Instead, she felt an odd sort of relief. They now shared each other's knowledge, yet she still had a strong sense of herself as an entity separate and apart from Garin.  That had been her biggest fear, she realized.  Losing her identity to him.  But that fear, at least so far, had proven to be unwarranted.

'It look so long,' she observed.

'For the Tok'ra, because blending with a host almost always involves some period of healing, there is time to integrate.  For the Goa'uld, they simply take over, without bothering to integrate with their host.  They simply take what they need and want.'

'When Jolinar took Sam as a host, she didn't fully integrate with her.'

'Most likely not,' Garin said.  'She was so desperate she probably simply took over and took whatever information she needed from Samantha's mind.'

Garin's words sent a chill through her.  Her memories of Garin's initial invasion gave her a strong sense of how violating that had to have been.

'Our situation was a little more complicated than normal,' Garin continued. Janet nodded; she understood it better now.

'You didn't trust me,' she said.

'And you resisted me fiercely for the same reason,' Garin added.

She didn't add that he'd had secrets he'd initially wanted to keep from her, and full integration would've made that impossible.  There was no need to say it; they were both aware of it.

They continued to contemplate each other and the change in their relationship for a few moments longer, then Janet turned toward the small bathroom.  As she did, her eyes fell on mess in the corner. 'What do you think Henna's going to tell Olla about the mirror?' Janet asked, thinking she should probably have cleaned that up last night.  Now it was too late.

'That it's broken,' Garin said dryly.

'Boy, nothing gets past you, does it,' Janet said but smiled good-humoredly. She rummaged through her pack, hoping fervently for a toothbrush and toothpaste.  Last night's stew had left an awful-tasting residue in her mouth.  Finding none, she finally settled for rinsing her mouth out several times with water, then splashed hot water on her face and neck.

In the aftermath of last night's confrontation with Garin she'd fallen into an exhausted and thankfully dreamless sleep.  This morning she felt revitalized and almost looking forward to the trip to the port city now. She dressed quickly, then repacked her few belongings into her swamp-stained backpack and slipped out of the room and made her way to the lift where Henna stood waiting for her. 

---

Breakfast was a silent affair, served in the same cafeteria as the evening meal but attended by far fewer people.  For her part, Janet concentrated on the hard biscuits and bowl of weak tea she was given and spoke to no one. 

Out of habit, she wondered what time it was.  She'd realized some time ago that her watch was useless here.  The compass built into the band would probably be useful, which is why she continued to wear it, and out of habit glanced down at it. 

Nineteen-twenty-three.  It was after seven in the evening on Earth, she thought.  If it were a normal day, and Sam wasn't off-world, she'd be sitting in the living room with Cassie getting all the answers right on Jeopardy right now... 

The pain welled up so abruptly at the familiar image that she nearly dropped the bowl containing her tea. 

'Easy...' Garin soothed.  Hands shaking, Janet placed the bowl carefully onto the table, and then dropped her head into her hands, trying desperately to compose herself. 

'Warner is the best surgeon there is,' Garin reminded her.  'You got her out of there in time,' he added.  'He took care of the rest.' 

'Not before the damage path was contaminated,' Janet countered.  'Perforated intestine, probably a cracked pelvis, shock and blood loss...'  It was too much; nobody could've survived that kind of damage, not without immediate treatment. 

'She was stable and conscious when we sent her to safety.  You had the bleeding under control and were treating her for shock. You did everything possible and then some to save her.  She survived, and she has you to thank for it.' 

'I wish I had your confidence,' she said, feeling sick inside.  What if Sam was dead, what would she do then? 

Before she could contemplate an answer to that question a hand landed lightly on her shoulder. Janet flinched away violently, pushing away from the table and standing, knocking the chair over in the process. Salla stared at her, one hand outstretched. 

"Are you ill?" she asked. 

"No," Janet managed to gasp, backing away.  "I just-"  On top of everything else was overwhelmed with Garin's sensory memories of Salla, taste, and touch, smell, all painfully intimate and unwanted at the moment.  "I just need some air," she said hoarsely. 

"I'll take you to the surface," Salla offered and tried to take her arm. 

'No," Janet said, pulling away before the other woman could touch her. "No," she added in a quieter voice.  "I know the way."  When Salla continued to look dubious, Janet added "Please..." 

She didn't wait for a response, turning and making her way to the lift instead. Thankfully, Salla did not follow her, and once inside the lift, Janet leaned back against the wall, scrubbing a hand across her face. 

'I'm sorry about that,' Garin said.  'I thought I had my feelings and memories under control, but...' 

'It's all right,' Janet said, still feeling shaky.  'The timing was bad, that's all,' she added, thinking they couldn't get under way to the port city soon enough as far as she was concerned.  'But I would appreciate it, if we encounter any of your other lovers in the future, if you could keep things from being quite so vivid.' 

'I'll try,' he promised.  Janet didn't bother adding that Salla had ended up distracting her from her dark concerns about Sam, so it had at least one good side effect.  Her pulse was still racing from her brief encounter with the young woman and her subsequent flight, and when she got to the surface she made her way to the public well in the center of the settlement, splashing cold water on her face for several moments before sitting heavily on the stone wall of the well. She'd thought things had been bad yesterday where Salla was concerned.  Obviously, despite the fact that they'd made progress, there were still a few things she needed to get used to about being a host. 

As she sat composing herself a small group of people, Olla and Henna at the head of it, emerged from the bunker and started toward them. 

'Salla said you were ill," Olla said.  There was little concern in her voice, and it was not posed as a question. "The transport will be leaving in a few minutes, and sick or not, you'll have to be on it." 

Janet rose to her feet and shook her head.  It seemed like an odd thing for Olla to say; it was almost as if she were being ordered away from the settlement. "I just needed a little air," she explained.  "I'm fine." 

This seemed to satisfy the other woman, who immediately turned away and headed toward a small gate on the wall opposite the large main gate they'd entered through yesterday. It opened into an empty field with a well-worn path running through it into a distant tree line.  Beyond that, Janet could see a cloud of white steam billowing up above the treetops. 

'Are you sure this thing will get us to the port city?' she asked.  She knew from Garin that the transport was dilapidated at best. 

'It will break down at least once,' he said.  'If they can't repair it, we can.  Besides, it would take us too long to walk.' 

'It's going to take us three or four days as it is," she said.  'We can't afford too many breakdowns if we want to meet with our contact in time.' 

If anything, Janet thought with some dismay, the transport, which resembled an old-fashioned steam engine, was even more rusted an rattletrap than Garin remembered. At least that's the way it seemed to her.  A massive engine headed up two dilapidated boxcars.  There were at least half a dozen patches on each of the wheels. 

"I have a bad feeling about this," she muttered aloud, earning a sharp look over her shoulder from Henna. Janet smirked back at her, then her attention was drawn to the engine as an enormous cloud of sooty steam rolled out from beneath it. 

With a loud shriek of metal against metal the locomotive shuddered then lurched forward haltingly. Several young men who'd walked with them from the settlement snatched cloth bundles carried by the women and hopped up into the boxcar.  Janet did the same, followed by Salla. 

As she turned to look out, her eyes met Olla's.  The other woman did not wave farewell, just stared at Janet, her expression hard.  Janet held her gaze, leaning out of the boxcar, until Olla slipped from view as the locomotive turned a corner. 

'There's definitely something going on here,' she said to Garin, sensing his agreement. Glancing over her shoulder, she took note of the half dozen young men milling around the dusty boxcar, mentally adding them to the dozen or so she'd seen on top of the cars as they'd passed through the tree line earlier.  There was no telling how many were in the other car or in the locomotive, but by her most conservative estimate, there were at least two dozen armed men from the settlement traveling with them. 

One dozen too many, she knew.

It filled her with a sense of unease as she realized Bram and Olla had decided the defense of the settlement was far less important than whatever was going to happen either on the way to the port city, or once they got there.  It was too late for her to say anything about it, and it probably would've been too suspicious had she even broached the subject before the train left, but this was definitely not good. 

The ribbon device and her sidearm were concealed within easy reach inside her cloak, tucked into her utility belt.  Janet fought the urge to check them, just to be safe.  There was no point in calling unnecessary attention to herself, particularly when they hadn't demanded that she turn over any weapons when she'd entered the settlement.  There'd be no sleep for on this trip, she realized.  They'd have to be on guard and ready for anything the whole time. 

Glancing around the interior of the car again, her eyes rested on Salla. 'She may be in on it,' she told Garin. 

'I know,' he said quietly, and she felt a great wave of sadness from him. 

'Maybe she doesn't have a choice,' she said, hoping to lighten his mood slightly. 

'Of that I'm certain.  But it doesn't change the fact that we'll have to kill her if she gets in the way,' he said grimly. 'Any of them, if necessary,' he added. 

She wanted to say that he couldn't kill the young woman, not given the depth of his feelings for her, but she now knew he was more than capable of it if the circumstances warranted it.  It made her sick inside to realize he'd use her hands to do the deed, no matter how much she might object. 

'It doesn't have to come to that,' she told him shakily.  'Salla is supposed to give you the things Parker left with her. There's a z'at in there.' Maybe she could reason with him. 

She felt him back off, most likely for her sake.  'We'll see,' he said noncommittally.  'We have the next couple of days to discuss it. First, lets get our things from Salla.' 

She and Salla were on the only women on the transport, and as Janet moved from one car to the next in search of the woman she studied each face she encountered carefully. It did little good, because nearly half a dozen were unfamiliar to her from Garin's time here.  That meant nothing, she realized as she made her way between the boxcars.  However unusual it might be for a woman to travel, it was common for men to emigrate from one settlement to another.  Five young men had joined Bram's community while Garin and Parker were there recuperating. 

Basically, they had no way of knowing if anyone traveling with them to the port city was a bounty hunter, at least not by sight.  Maybe she could tell by watching their behavior; they had at least three days before they reached their destination.  She might find some clue in how the men on the transport interacted with one another. 

Deciding that this course of action made sense, since anything that was going to happen was almost certainly not going to happen until they reached the port city Janet spied Salla standing on the small balcony at the end of the rear car of the train. The car that she passed through did look like it had been quite opulent at one time.  Plush couches, the dusky red covering worn threadbare in places, lined the walls.  An ornate desk sat in one corner, and what looked like a dusty bar stood in the other.  It made her think of the robber barons of the last century on earth. 

Salla, noting her presence, turned and gestured toward a bench about halfway down the car. Once Janet had taken a seat, Salla moved to the door.  "Wait here.  I'll be right back," she said, then slipped out. 

She returned in a few minutes carrying a small cloth bundle, similar to the ones the women had given to the men as they boarded the train.  Instead of handing her the bundle, however, Salla stood at the end of the bench, regarding her carefully.  Janet waited for her to speak. 

"If Parker sent you, then you know what's in here," Salla said without preamble, the challenge evident in her voice. 

Janet nodded slowly; she knew exactly what was in the bundle in the other woman's hands. "A book," she began, then hastily continued at Salla's confused frown. "Papers bound together, with writing on them," at which Salla's expression relaxed. 

"An ornamental weapon."  Janet tensed at that, wondering if Salla would actually give it to her or not.  Thought there were no overt signs of it, Janet was sure she was being watched.  But there was no way to avoid giving the weapon's presence away since, even to an untrained eye, it was obvious what it was. At least the ribbon device was still a secret.  "And a leather pouch containing some coins.  That's all." 

Salla regarded her for a moment, then slowly handed her the bundle.  "It's as you say," she said, then sat beside Janet.  "You can tell me what has happened to Parker now," she added softly. 

Her tone confirmed what Janet had suspected all along, that Salla knew Parker was dead. But some part of the other woman, even knowing the truth deep inside, still needed to hear the words to make them real.  Janet's heart ached for her. 

Garin was trying to decide what to tell Salla, and Janet realized he was running through a number of lies, trying to decide which one sounded the most plausible. Annoyed, she interrupted. 'You have to tell her the truth,' she said. 

Garin was silent for a moment.  'Which truth?' he asked bitterly. 

'That he's dead," Janet replied.  Garin had obviously expected her to say something about the reasons why Parker was dead.  When she sensed him about to challenge her she held her ground.  'She deserves to know why he's never coming back,' she said. 

'A lie would serve her better,' he said.  'It would cause her less pain.' 

'You don't know that,' Janet told him sadly, amazed yet again at how easily his thoughts turned from cold-blooded murders of necessity to protectiveness and compassion, no matter how misguided.  Mackenzie would have a field day with her symbiote, she decided.  'You love her.  How can you think so little of her?'  When he didn't answer she continued.  'Your desire to protect her from pain is admirable, but misguided.  Trust me on this. I know.' 

'Would it make you feel better to know that Samantha is dead?'  He asked the question bluntly, though she sensed that he did not do so to cause her pain. 

'It would tear me apart,' Janet said, feeling something begin to tremble deep inside her at the words.  'But then I would know.  That would be better than worrying constantly, or living with false hope.'  Of this she was certain.  The knowledge would be devastating, but nothing was worse than the consuming worry of not knowing.  'I would want to know, no matter how bad the news.' 

Still, Garin hesitated, his need to protect Salla from pain at war with the wisdom of her words. "You were the one who insisted that I had to face the truth last night," Janet continued. "As much as I didn't want to hear it, you were right." 

She could feel his resolve weakening.  He thought about it for several long moments, then acquiesced.  'I'm being a hypocrite, I know," he admitted finally.  "My feelings for her are clouding my judgment."  He paused for a moment, then Janet felt him begin to withdraw.  "I can't tell her," he whispered, his sense of shame and anguish so palpable it nearly left her shaken. 

Janet realized Salla was staring at her with a confused and worried expression on her face. Guiltily, Janet gave a small shrug and tried to smile.  "Just...having a little debate with myself," she offered as an explanation. 

Sobering immediately, she leaned forward, but did not touch the other woman. "I'm afraid I have some sad news." 

Salla nodded and waited for her to continue. 

"Parker's dead," Janet said, deciding that it would be best just to get it over with, with as few platitudes as possible.  "He died helping some slaves escape." 

Salla frowned again.  "Slaves?" 

Taken aback, it took Janet a moment to realize that Salla had absolutely no concept of what a slave was.  "Slaves are people who are forced to work for other people.  They're...owned by them."  She didn't really want to get into a philosophical discussion about slavery, and was grateful when Salla, though horrified at her definition, didn't question her further. 

"How long ago?" she asked instead. 

"A few days."  Had it really only been a few days, Janet wondered in shock. It felt like a lifetime had passed since she'd been in that cell. "I'm so sorry," she added sincerely. 

"I knew the minute I heard you say my name," Salla said, looking away.  Her voice was steady, the expression in her eyes unreadable.  Whatever she was feeling, Janet decided, she was good at hiding it. 

Her next words surprised Janet.  Salla turned abruptly, and fixed her with a hard stare.  "There's danger for you, in the Port City." 

"What sort of danger?" So Salla was a part of what was going on, Janet realized with a pang.  And her words confirmed what she'd observed about the number of men accompanying them. 

"I will watch out for you," Salla said instead of answering her question. "In return, when I ask, you must help me." 

"Help you do what?" Janet asked, definitely confused now. 

"You'll understand when it's time," Salla answered cryptically.  "I can't tell you anything more." She began to move away, intending to leave.  "I've already told you more than I should." 

"Wait!" Janet said, springing to her feet and catching Salla by the arm. "Look, you have to give me a little more to go on here." 

Salla turned. "Parker asked you to come to me, to give me the news," she said.  "You did as he asked.  Because of that, I know you are honorable, and will help me when it's time." 

"You're awfully trusting."  Garin slipped into control and uttered the words before she could stop him. Instead of answering, Salla shook Janet's grip off, and quickly left the car. 

Janet started to move after her, but Garin urged her to stop.  'It won't do any good,' he said.  'What are you going to do?  Force her to tell you what you want to know?' 

They pulled up short as Janet realized he was right. Though Salla might be involved in whatever was going on, she'd made it clear to Janet that she would help her as much as possible.  It might not do much in the end, but it certainly meant that Garin would not find it necessary to kill her.

'She's warned us as much as she can,' he said, agreeing with her.  "The rest is up to us.  They'll try to take us alive, if they can.'

Janet didn't like the sound of that.  'Will they?' she asked carefully. 'Take us alive, I mean.'

'Will I let them take us alive?'  He paused to let the question sink in. 'It would be better for both of us if they didn't.' 

Janet definitely didn't like the sound of that. 

'But rest assured I have no intention of being taken at all, dead or alive. I have promises to Alsha and Parker to keep.' Then, as an afterthought, he added, 'And a promise to you.' 

A small measure of relief flooded through her at his words.  'That's a lot of promises,' she said ruefully.

'They say practice makes perfect,' Garin replied. 

---

It was nearly dusk, and Janet sat huddled on the bench, the empty bag beside her.  The items that had once been in it were carefully stowed on her person, either in her pack or on her utility belt. The ribbon device coiled around her wrist, which she kept carefully hidden beneath a fold in the sleeve of her cloak.  Garin had insisted on putting it on after their conversation with Salla, and, truth be told, Janet hadn't argued very much with him about it. 

As they rode by the slowly darkening landscape, the rhythmic lurching of the train almost hypnotizing her, she thought back to some of what had transpired the night before, particularly Garin's cautioning words about what it would be like for them were she ever to make it back to earth. 

He was right, she realized with dismay.  Garin might not be a Goa'uld, but he was public enemy number one as far as the Tok'ra were concerned.  The Tok'ra would probably demand that Garin be handed over to them.  She knew the Tok'ra had methods for extracting a symbiote for a host, but given what little she knew about the procedure, it was extremely risky and extremely painful.  And she knew the Tok'ra only performed the procedure under the most extreme circumstances, since it was unreliable at best. 

If she were to insist on keeping Garin, she would most likely end up sharing his fate. Even if she could somehow find sanctuary with the SGC no one would ever completely trust her again.  There'd be no way anyone from her government would allow her to walk around free.  She'd be consigned to prison, or a research facility, where she and Garin would spend the rest of their lives.  Who better to learn about the Goa'uld from than a physician, she thought bitterly.  She could tell them things no one else could.  And Garin had information of his own to share.  But it would never be enough to buy anyone's trust, or their freedom.  Not with her own people, and certainly not with the Tok'ra. 

She sought out Garin, knowing that he was listening in on her thoughts. He'd wisely kept quiet as she'd turned the options over in her head, but now she felt his sympathy. 

'I can't go home again, can I?' she said at last.  She sank a little bit further into her seat, huddling into her cloak. 

'The Tok'ra can remove me from you,' he offered.  'There is risk involved, but if you survive the procedure, then you could go home.' 

'And what'll happen to you?' 

He didn't say anything, but she knew.  The Tok'ra would remove him and let him die.  They would not put him in another host. 

'Is that concern for me I'm sensing from you?' Garin asked. 'I'd be careful about that,' he chided lightly.  'I might start to think you like me.' 

'Can't have that now, can we?' she replied.  She'd meant it as a retort, to take the same bantering tone he'd used, but the thought was accompanied by a wave of melancholy.  She didn't like him exactly, but she... 

She wasn't quite sure what she was feeling for him at the moment.

'I wouldn't worry about it,' Garin soothed.  'I'm sure I'll do something soon to make you mad, and you'll forget all about this.'

Despite her somber thoughts, that earned him a small laugh.  'You're probably right about that,' she agreed.