Chapter 9

USAGE NOTE: Words and sentences surrounded by single quotes indicate internal dialogue between Garin and Janet. Phrases in double quotes indicate actual dialogue.

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'I didn't mean to frighten you,' Garin apologized as Janet examined the bloody laceration marring her knuckles.

She didn't answer, instead bringing her wounded hand to her mouth as she turned away from the mess of shattered glass on the floor. No convincing herself she was in some horrible nightmare. Not that she'd been actively doing that, but a bout of good, old-fashioned denial would be pretty welcome right about now, she decided.

'I guess the sooner we get started on those exercises you mentioned, the better.' Her comment was accompanied a deep sense of reluctance, as a part of her regretted the necessity of moving past anger and denial.

'After dinner,' Garin promised. 'We should get dressed.'

Janet glanced down at herself, having forgotten for a moment that she was wrapped only in a towel. Her eyes sought out the pile of clothing Henna had carefully laid across the foot of the bed. Lifting the heavy bundle of cloth, Janet quickly sorted through it. There was a light, cotton-like short-sleeved shirt and shorts that Janet assumed were underclothes. Over that, went the beige tunic and leather pants. Some of the fastening and direction of the garments were puzzling, and Garin proved to be little help, but finally she was more or less dressed in what she hoped was an appropriate fashion. The only things left were a pair of boots and a heavy brown cloak. Pulling the boots on, Janet fingered the hood of the cloak, noting that it felt like wool and guessed the material had come off the backs of those goat-camel creatures she'd seen on her way in.

'These look like Jedi robes,' Janet observed, wondering why she hadn't noticed it before. Not that she'd been a little distracted by other things over the last couple of days, she reminded herself ruefully. Returning the cloak to the bed and fastening her utility belt around her waist, she wished she hadn't destroyed the mirror. 'All I need is a lightsaber.'

Garin didn't comment, but she could sense him probing her memories, attempting to figure out what a lightsaber was. 'Nevermind,' she said when there was a sharp rap on the door. Before she could call out, it swung inward to reveal Salla.

"Olla sent me to fetch you for the evening meal," she said. Without waiting for an answer, she turned on her heel and began striding down the hall, long legs carrying her to the first corner before Janet could even moved from the room.

They did not return to the surface as she surmised they would, but instead, traveled downward, even deeper into the bunker, finally emerging into an cavernous cafeteria. In the entranceway Janet paused for a moment, taking in the huge room and the equally huge crowd already filling nearly every seat. If there was some kind of system to the seating arrangements, she couldn't figure it out. Given the fact that this culture's familial rituals included polygamy with respect to both husbands and wives, seating people by family group had to be nearly impossible. An anthropologist trying to create a family tree of this settlement would find themselves with an incomprehensibly tangled roadmap of relationships, she was certain.

Olla was seated at the head of a table near the far end of the cafeteria, though the table was no more prominent than the rest. Bram was nowhere to be seen, but there were empty chairs on either side of Olla. As Janet followed Salla across the room she heard the din and murmur of voices become more and more hushed.

'As I said,' Garin observed dryly. 'They don't get many visitors.'

Janet's eyes swept across the room, too quickly to make direct contact with the hundreds of pairs of eyes, most of them male, staring unabashedly at her. It made her feel uncomfortable, exposed. 'I feel like I'm back in high school and I just dropped my tray,' she told Garin. 'Except that nobody's applauding.' In fact, there was dead silence in the room now. 'And speaking of high school,' she added, looking more closely at the assembly of people, 'Why is everyone here over the age of sixteen? Do they keep the children locked up somewhere?'

'I have no idea,' Garin told her, and she sensed that he was just as puzzled by that as she was.

'I take it it wasn't this way before?'

'No. There weren't many children, but there were a few.'

'Maybe there's some kind of environmental agent here that causes the women to have trouble conceiving,' Janet observed, Garin's words piquing her interest. 'Or causes low sperm counts in the men. God knows what's stored here given that this used to be a military installation.' And that probably explained the peculiar marital arrangements, now that she thought about it.

'Possibly,' Garin said quietly. 'But that's really none of our concern.'

'That's right, I forgot,' she said sarcastically. 'You're out of the good deeds business.'

'I hope you like being the center of attention,' Garin said, abruptly changing the subject as they approached Olla's table. The twins who had been with Bram and Salla on the trail were seated at the table, and began nudging and smiling suggestively at each other as she pulled her chair out and sat down, nodding once to Olla before she did so.

Taking the seat opposite her, Janet noted that while both women appeared oblivious to the attention, they both had a studiously nonchalant air about them. Which was hardly surprising, Janet decided upon reflection. If they were both leaders of the settlement, then everyone would be taking their cue from them. They didn't have the luxury of appearing unduly anxious or curious.

The meal was simple and bland, vegetable stew ladled from a large pot in the center of the table and sopped up with heavy, greasy bread. But Janet ate her portion gratefully, having had nothing but the MREs from her equipment pack to eat for the last several days.

'You don't need to eat quite so often anymore,' Garin reminded her.

Janet ignored him and accepted another bowl of the stew from Olla, who was serving the twins their third helping.

'Or quite so much,' he added. 'I can sustain your body for quite some time.'

Few people spoke much during the meal, but toward the end Janet did catch the quiet beginnings of conversation from nearby tables. The voices were too low to make out any words but she had no doubt the topic of conversation centered around her appearance in the settlement and the impending trip to the port city.

"Tell us about the settlement you come from," Olla said as Janet was finishing her second bowl of stew. The other woman pitched her voice to be casual, but there was an underlying note of tension. The inquisition was about to recommence, Janet thought.

"Well," Janet began, assuming Garin would intervene if necessary. "It's quite a ways from here." If they only knew, she thought. "But it's a lot like this. We even," she added indicating the room, "have a meal hall much like this. Not as big, of course."

"There are fewer people in your settlement, then?"

Olla seemed very interested in the other settlements on this planet. "Not everyone eats at the same tine."

"And why is it that you left?" Olla asked. "Are you hoping to find a husband in the port city?"

As if, Janet thought disdainfully. "No, I have business in the port city."

The other woman leaned back and appraised Janet carefully, nodding. "Business, yes. What did you say your business there was again?"

Janet decided turnabout was fair play when it came to the nosy questions game. "Where are all the children?" she asked, wiping up the last of the stew from the bottom of the bowl with the last of her bread and popping it in her mouth. As she chewed, she looked over at Olla expectantly.

She wasn't sure exactly the kind of reaction she'd been anticipating, but as she watched a brief flare of panic passed across Olla's coarse features. Glancing over at Salla, Janet observed absolutely no reaction other than curiosity directed at her from the other woman. Whatever was going on with the children here, Salla at least gave the appearance of apparently knowing nothing about it. "Our children live in a crèche until they are fifteen seasons," Olla said, her voice calm. "The second woman in each family takes a turn at caring for and teaching them. Children in your settlement live with their parents?"

That woman had the most annoying way of turning the conversation around, Janet decided irritably. She was not going to think of Cassie right now, she told herself sternly; she was not." Janet simply nodded. She wanted to ask when they'd instituted that policy, but realized Garin would not allow her to give so much away.

"What time will we be leaving tomorrow?" Janet asked instead, hoping to steer away from this particular topic of conversation, sorry now that she'd brought it up. To Garin she added, 'Something's going on here. I don't like it.'

'I tried to tell you that before, but you were more interested in taking a bath.'

'Well, I'm clean now. And worried.'

'I agree. We should be careful. Perhaps Salla could be persuaded to tell us more on the way back to our quarters.'

"Just after the morning meal," Olla told her, interrupting Janet's internal conversation with Garin. "I'll send Salla for you."

"If that's the case," Janet began, pushing her bowl away. "I should retire. I've had a long journey."

"Of course," Olla said immediately. "Salla?"

"Follow me," the young woman said, rising. As Janet stood, she noticed that nobody had yet left the hall, though many were obviously finished with their meal. A few rose and started walking in her direction as she followed Salla toward the exit.

'Great, just great,' she said as four tall, broad-shouldered youths approached her, all of them smiling widely. 'Do you think they'd believe me if I told them I was a nun?'

Garin snorted. 'These people wouldn't understand the concept of celibacy if it came up and seduced them,' he told her. 'If your theories about their reproductive difficulties are correct, they can't afford to.' Then Garin continued, his manner half-teasing, half-serious. 'I know your tastes don't normally run to the males of your species, but they are all rather attractive.'

'Don't even think about it,' Janet informed him, still uncomfortable with Garin in her head but recognizing that he was attempting to lighten her mood by engaging her in banter. 'Besides,' she added. 'Your dance card's full tonight, remember?'

'We could do that after,' he said, hopefully. "We do have incredible stamina, in case you haven't already noticed. Not to mention a number of other enhancements that--'

'Hundreds of symbiotes in the galaxy and I get the sex fiend,' she interrupted. 'They will take no for an answer, won't they?' The sight of those large males bearing down on her made her a little nervous.

'They won't force themselves on you,' Garin said, sensing her fear and sobering immediately. 'They have no need to take something that can be found freely elsewhere. And, Olla and Salla would never stand for it. They're interested in you because you're something new, and you might be good breeding stock.'

'Oh, that makes me feel so much better,' Janet said sarcastically, though she was reassured by Garin's words. 'Is that why Olla was asking me all those questions? Trying to find out if I was attached to someone, maybe willing to stay here?'

'Possibly.'

Janet solved her would-be suitors problem by ducking in front of Salla at the exit, using the other woman to block the advancing males as she hurried down the hallway toward the elevator. They followed the two women into the hallway a short distance, then obviously seemed to get the message and turned back. Janet was only too glad to see them go, not only because she wasn't interested, but because she wanted to talk to Salla alone.

'Let me handle this,' Garin said as they stepped into the elevator that would take them back up to the level where Janet's temporary quarters were located.

"Tell me more about the crèche." Yet again, Garin proved he was not one for subtly, Janet thought. If she could've rolled her eyes, she would have.

'How long ago were you here, anyway?' Janet asked curiously. She took a stab at probing Garin's memories for the answer while he talked to Salla. He and his host had been badly wounded, and had come here to heal. That had been, by his estimation, two seasons, possibly two years ago. She made a note to remind herself to ask Garin about this in more detail later since she sensed it was something important.

Salla glanced over at her, but didn't answer, simply operated the elevator.

"Did something--"

Before Garin could continue, Salla turned to face her, and held up one hand. "Not here," she hissed.

"Then where?" Garin didn't miss a beat.

"On the transport."

"You'll bring the bag Parker left with you?"

"I'll bring it," Salla assured her. The doors to the elevator slid open. "Two rights, two lefts, third door on the right. I'll see you in the morning."

Effectively dismissed, Garin had no choice but to step out of the elevator which closed immediately.

'Well, that pretty much confirms it,' Janet said. 'Something fishy is going on here.'

'Yes,' Garin said thoughtfully. 'I wouldn't care, except that I have the distinct impression it has something to do with us.'

'With you, you mean. I'm just a tourist.'

'With us,' Garin said firmly. 'What happens to me happens to you now too.'

'You think someone's caught up with you? Bounty hunters, or the Goa'uld?'

'Or the Tok'ra. But I don't see how. Nobody knew I was coming here except my contact.'

'Have you thought about the possibility that your contact is a red herring? A trap?'

'Janet, I think everything is a trap,' Garin informed her as he pushed the door to their quarters open and stepped inside. 'That's how I've managed to stay alive for this long.'

'So,' Janet said slowly. 'What are you going to do?'

'We are going to wait and see what happens. And be ready for anything.' Garin relinquished control of her body to her. 'Are you ready?'

At first, Janet wasn't quite sure what he was talking about, then it dawned on her. The truth was she wasn't sure she was ready for this, but she knew she didn't really have any choice in the matter. If it would help, it had to be done. 'Yes,' she told him.

'Lie down on the bed,' he instructed. 'Make yourself comfortable.'

Janet hung the cloak on the hook on the back of the door, then sat down on the bed, noting that if there was a mattress it was awfully thin, and removed her boots. Since they hadn't provided her with any nightclothes, she slipped her utility belt off, then shrugged out of the tunic, stripping down to the short sleeved undershirt.

'Lie down.'

Stretching out on the mattress, Janet folded her hands across her belly and sighed deeply. This was the first time she'd laid down in days. 'Now what?'

'Close your eyes. Relax. I'm going to put us into a mild trance.'

'Is it safe?'

'It was safe enough for you to take a bath,' he reassured her. 'It's only a mildly hypnotic state. I'll be aware of our surroundings the whole time.'

'Wait a minute,' Janet said suspiciously, opening her eyes. 'Hypnotic state?' Visions of herself acting out Garin's post-hypnotic suggestions while he did as he pleased ran through her mind.

'Don't be an idiot,' Garin admonished. 'I certainly don't need to hypnotize you to make you do whatever I want. This will only work if you trust me.'

Reluctantly she closed her eyes and tried to relax, willing herself to trust him though all her instincts told her not to.

Garin didn't say anything further, but she felt her mind slowly let go of the room around her and float off into a warm black void. She was a disembodied consciousness, moving without form or purpose. Everything was soft and warm, muffled.

Gradually, she became aware of the sense of drifting toward something, though she had no idea what. There was no sense of urgency, just the notion that she was going someplace familiar.

Familiar and safe.

The urge to open her eyes, to see where she was, was overwhelming, and she didn't try to fight it. Her eyes fluttered open, slowly taking in the place where she was.

She was almost disappointed to discover that the room where she now sat was not in the least bit familiar. It was featureless; white walls, white floor, white ceiling. The desk upon which her forearms rested was white. She knew that if she looked at the chair she was sitting on, it too would be white. Despite the complete anonymity of the room, somehow it felt familiar, right.

Safe.

'This room is a template. It can be any place you want it to be,' Garin told her. But instead of sounding inside her head, her sense of his voice whispered softly around her, almost caressing her. 'All you have to do is imagine it.'

Experimentally, she imagined her office, just off the SGC's infirmary. The second she thought about the room, the walls around her suddenly sprang to life, the dull beige interior of the SGC washing across the surfaces. There on her desk in front of her were the charts she'd been updating when the call from O'Neill had come in. To her left were the banks of monitors that feed video in from the infirmary or any of the observation rooms. Janet knew if she looked over at the filing cabinet in the corner, she'd see Makepeace's decommissioned rifle resting on top of it. Maybe if she concentrated hard enough, Sam would come walking through the door, alive and healthy…

The image around her shimmered, wavered momentarily then stabilized as she felt a surge of pain at the thought of her lover.

'Strong emotions make this more difficult. Perhaps something a little more removed from Samantha,' Garin suggested. 'Someplace full of happy memories."

The problem was, Janet decided, most of her most recent happy memories centered very firmly on Sam and Cassie and the places where they could be found. That her current separation from them, not to mention her intense concern over Sam's health, made finding a suitable memory of a place difficult.

In desperation, she focused on a time rather than a place. She'd been very young, only a few years old. Too young to be concerned about anything, she realized. There was a vague memory of sitting in a sunny kitchen.

The sun abruptly streamed into her office, and the walls shifted into painted yellow dry wall and tan wooden kitchen cabinets. The desk changed into a cheap Formica table.

'Good,' Garin said, voice laced with satisfaction. 'This is perfect.'

'What now?' she asked. Though she knew she was in a trance, she had the distinct impression of speaking out loud, felt the movement of her lips and tongue as she spoke the words.

'We are separate here. We can sit down together and talk, face to face. I'm just trying to decide what appearance to take. Do you have any suggestions?'

Janet thought about it for a moment. 'Show me as you truly are," she said.

She sensed Garin's surprise at the request, as well as his hesitation. 'All right,' he said after a few moments, then the coiled form of a symbiote appeared before her on the table. Immediately the plumed head rose to eye level, red eyes regarding her warily as the tail coiled and uncoiled, flicked back and forth across the table.

Swallowing, Janet forced herself to sit very still, carefully examining the symbiote as the four folds of skin that made up its mouth worked soundlessly. There were lighter colored scars running across the dark surface, she realized, as she tried to distract herself from the realization that this thing was inside her.

'You were tortured,' she observed, leaning forward for a closer look. Jolinar had had similar lesions after the Ash'rak's attack. She wanted to touch the symbiote, run her fingers across the marred flesh, but she didn't dare.

'The hara'kesh is only used on my kind when we have been condemned to death by one of the System Lords.' Janet was surprised that the voice did not come from the symbiote, but continued to echo all around her. She couldn't take her eyes off the writhing creature in front of her.

'Obviously you didn't die from it,' she said, thinking once again of Jolinar.

'I was rescued before the damage became irreparable,' Garin said.

Before she could question Garin about this further, the symbiote reared back, then faded away. 'But this is not as I truly am,' he told her. She frowned in confusion as a chair appeared opposite her. 'This is as I truly am, now,' he added, and Janet found herself staring into her own face looking back at her from across the newly conjured chair.

This time she did recoil, and would have risen in panic, but the other Janet reached out, placing one hand firmly on her forearm, holding her in place. 'This is the truth. Running from it won't do you any good.' Her voice now, not coming from her or from all around her; coming instead from the being opposite her, in the distinct distortion of a Goa'uld.

She remembered the mirror in her quarters, remembered how it had shattered when she struck it. She had an insane urge to do the same, smash her fist into the other Janet's face to see if she, too, would shatter into a thousand pieces. The fingers covering hers tightened fractionally, as if the other Janet knew what she was thinking. Which, Janet supposed, she did.

'You're not making this very easy for me,' she finally managed to choke out, forcing herself to be calm.

'When you have to tell a patient bad news, is it better to coddle them, to gently whisper false platitudes and false assurances to them? Or is it better to tell them the truth so they can begin to accept the situation?'

'This isn't the same thing,' Janet said harshly, shaking off the other Janet's grip. Garin's grip, she reminded herself sternly. That wasn't some phantom Janet, she thought angrily. Just Garin playing mind games with her.

'This is exactly the same thing. You are laboring under the delusion that I'm somehow, someday soon, going away. But the truth is, I'm never going away. I am a part of you now. We are a part of each other. You have to stop fighting me."

Janet released the breath she wasn't, until that moment, aware that she'd been holding, and nodded reluctantly. A part of her was amazed at how real this construct of Garin's was, how real it felt. It felt as real as if she were sitting in her grandmother's kitchen. Having a conversation with her evil twin, she thought giddily, and nearly smiled.

'Your evil twin," Garin murmured, leaning back in his chair. He still wore her face, but Janet doggedly thought of the apparition across the table from her as a him, as Garin. 'Perhaps.' He studied her solemnly for a moment, then nodded. 'You had a question you wanted to ask me earlier. Ask.'

It took her a moment to figure out what he was talking about; she was certain she was never going to get used to being a step or two behind him. Then she remembered. 'Why did you come here?'

'I wanted to keep that from you,' he said after a moment's hesitation. 'You weren't aware of it, though you are aware that I can control the flow of information between us.'

'Why did you want to keep it from me?' she asked.

He looked away, and Janet found it distinctly disturbing to see an expression of self-loathing cross her own features. 'Because it is so painful,' he said. 'And because I am ashamed.' Turning to pin her with a hard gaze, he continued. 'But I meant what I said about being a part of each other. You should know about it. And knowing it will answer a number of other questions for you.'

'All right,' she said slowly, tamping down hard on the wave of sympathy for him that passed through her at the pain in his eyes.

He stood, and as Janet watched her body rise from the chair it slowly morphed into a male form. She stared at the figure standing across from her now, a dark haired man in his late thirties, dressed in the clothing reminiscent of the Tok'ra's desert uniform, but the tunic was dark, colored green and brown. She recognized him as Garin's former host, Parker. He held a hand out to her. 'It is easier if you experience it as I did,' he said simply, grasping her fingers gently.

She didn't ask him why he'd changed his appearance, though she was grateful for it, or what he meant by that as he led her through a doorway. They stepped from her grandmother's bright kitchen to a dank, cold cave, the air around them filled with the stench of decay. When she glanced behind her, the light and safety of her grandmother's kitchen had vanished.

'See as I saw,' he said, releasing her hand. 'Do as I did. Feel as I felt.'

Janet stood frozen, breath hanging in the frigid air, looking deeper into the gloom of the cave. A figure stepped from the shadows, startling her. She found herself approached him, halting several meters away. Apparently she was going to get a first hand view of whatever it was Garin was so ashamed of. When she glanced down at herself, she saw that she was wearing the Tok'ra uniform she'd just seen on Garin.

Pushing the disturbing thought that if she looked in a mirror right now she'd see a man's face staring back at her, she took a moment to study the newcomer, falling completely into Garin's scenario as she did so.

He was slightly taller than she, with untidy sandy hair and a youthful face, surrounded by such an air of cold menace that Janet felt the small hairs at the back of her neck stand up. He was also a Goa'uld; she could sense the other symbiote inside him, and another one close by. A part of her filed the sensations away for further contemplation.

"Where is she?" Janet asked. A name flashed in her mind, accompanied by a myriad of other emotions too complex to sort out. Mostly there was just fear, all-consuming fear. A voice deep inside her head was speaking to her, and it took her a moment to realize it was her host, Parker. Fearing that he would not understand what she was about to do, she pushed him away, hiding him deep inside, away from the world. His resentment at this burned through her, but she pushed that away, too. Alsha was all that mattered now.

"First the coordinates," he said.

She started to reach to a pouch hanging at her waist, then hesitated as the sense of betrayal rose in her throat like bile. The data crystal contained the coordinates and the plans to the secret Tok'ra base, and she was going to give it to him in return for Alsha's life. "I want to see her," she said, trying to buy a little time. Maybe if she could stall for time, she could find another way to save Alsha without giving him the Tok'ra.

He stepped aside, and she strained her eyes to see. There was a huddle of pale cloth lying on the floor, tucked into a tiny alcove five meters from their position. Heart suddenly hammering in her chest, Janet began to move quickly toward the figure as a sense of overwhelming dread threatened to drive her to her knees. A hard arm across her chest forced her to pull up short, and in horror she looked over at the man blocking her path. "Is she alive?"

"I gave you my word that she would be," he assured her, slowly lowering his arm. "Now, the coordinates?" Though phrased as a question, his tone of voice brooked no arguments. Janet was past caring about any betrayal now, her sole intent was to get to the figure in the back of the cave. Absently, unable to take her eyes off the pale patch of fabric lest it disappear, she reached into her belt and removed the tiny crystal, dropping it into his outstretched hand. "The base plans are here too?" he asked, pocketing it quickly.

"It's all there," Janet said. They'd wanted her to give them the names of all the operatives, but she'd drawn the line there. And she'd sent the Tok'ra a warning, little good that it would do. If they were lucky, her betrayal would merely scatter the Tok'ra, set their plans back several years. At worst…Janet couldn't bring herself to contemplate the worst.

He nodded in satisfaction. "Your bride awaits," he said coldly, holding one arm out in invitation. Janet didn't even spare him another glance, moving hurriedly toward the figure at the back of the cave. She was vaguely aware of her contact fading into the darkness in the opposite direction, away from them.

Fumbling at her belt, she pulled out a flare, lit it, then pressed it into a patch of soft earth. Immediately, the area around them was illuminated. Janet knew, even before she gently turned the small figure over, that she was dying. Deep burns marred her back, and fresh blood oozed from her mouth and nose. He'd kept his word, she thought as bitter tears sprang to her eyes; Alsha was alive, all right, but not for long. She should have known it was all a trick.

Threading her fingers into soft chestnut hair, Janet gently lifted the dying woman, cradling her lightly against her chest. "Alsha?" she whispered. It couldn't end like this, she thought. How could it end like this?

As if in response to her whispered plea, Janet felt Alsha shift slightly. Peering down, she saw Alsha's eyes flutter open. "Garin," she whispered, then shuddered violently. "You're here."

"Shhh, I'm here," Janet said, holding her close again. "Don't try to talk. I'm going to get you out of here." But she didn't move. She simply knelt there, pressing her cheek against Alsha's hair, knowing it was utterly useless. Nothing would save Alsha now.

"What have you done?" Alsha asked.

"It's not important," she said, nearly choking on the words. She'd given Apophis the Tok'ra, all for the torment of having her mate die in her arms in some forsaken cave. Maybe a part of her had even known that it would be like this, that these last moments were all that would be allowed. And then, she wanted to die too, because if given the choice, she'd do it all again without hesitation.

"Garin…" Alsha said again, voice fading. "Listen…"

The gate wasn't far, Janet thought frantically. Maybe she could carry Alsha there, get her to safety somewhere. She shifted, intending to lift the dying woman in her arms and carry her to the Stargate.

"I've seen it," Alsha said. "I've seen the artifact. It's real."

The softly spoken words pulled Janet up short, and she stared down at Alsha in shock. Was she hallucinating, Janet wondered. Had the torture finally caused her mind to snap.

"I didn't tell them," Alsha continued, lifting one hand to weakly clutch at Janet's arm. "That's all they wanted to know, but I didn't tell them."

"It's a myth, Alsha," Janet heard herself say. "Be quiet now. Save your strength."

"It's real," she said firmly, brow furrowing with the effort. "Which means the rest of it is real as well. And you must find it, my love. You're all that's left."

"How?" Janet asked, feeling hot tears slide down her face. She wanted to shake Alsha, demand how she was supposed to do that all alone, having betrayed everyone who had ever mattered, after allowing Alsha to be captured and tortured to death. Just how was she supposed to now hunt down what amounted to the figment of somebody's overactive imagination? "I don't even know where to begin looking. The important thing," she said, shaking her head sharply. "Is to get you out of here. Then we'll find it together."

"Korlan," Alsha said, smiling softly up at her. "You have to begin at Korlan."

"Korlan?" Janet frowned. "I don't--"

Alsha didn't speak, just slowly lifted one hand, brushing her fingertips lightly across Janet's cheek. Reaching up, Janet covered Alsha's smaller hand, holding her there, as she stared down intently into Alsha's eyes. This was happening, and there was nothing she could do to stop it. "Don't leave me," she implored anyway. "I love you."

"I love you, too," Alsha began, then swallowed thickly, summoning up one last reserve of strength. "I'm so sorry that I have to leave you alone with this. I don't want to. But this is more important than the System Lords, or the Tok'ra. Or our lives."

Janet smoothed the sweat-damp hair back from Alsha's brow. There was no more strength left in the dying woman, so Janet simply held her, then leaned forward, pressing her lips to Alsha's, savoring one last kiss as she felt Alsha's life slowly ebb out of her body. Janet felt the exact moment when host and symbiote simply expired.

Quiet settled on the cave like a blanket, muffling everything. Slowly, Janet eased Alsha's body down, pressing one hand gently across her face to close her eyes. She didn't know what to do, or where to go. Maybe she would just sit here until death claimed her as well.

It came as no surprise at all to her when her contact stepped out of the shadows once again. She supposed he'd been there all along, listening. It had probably all been part of the plan. They hadn't been able to force the information from Alsha; better to use her to trick it out of Alsha, Janet thought bitterly.

Slowly he raised one hand, and she saw the bright colors of the hara'kesh flare to life in his palm. Funny, she thought, feeling very outside herself, she'd expected him to taunt her a little. But he seemed to be all business. So typical of the Ash'rak, she thought.

"Garin of Felsh'lim," he intoned. "You have been sentence by the Lord Apophis to die with dishonor by the hara'kesh."

Janet had nothing to say to that. Death would be welcome, she thought to herself. It had to be better than this emptiness. She hadn't actually promised Alsha that she would try to find the artifact. Janet only hoped Alsha wouldn't hold it against her, and even if she did, she'd betrayed so many this day that one more hardly mattered.

The pain defied description, tore through her brain and caused all her organs to seize up. Had she not already been on her knees, she would have fallen to the ground. As it is, she tried to pull away from the torment, but there was nowhere to go. It was just there, burning its way through her, tearing off shards of her very being as it did so.

At some point she became aware that she was screaming, the hoarse sounds of her voice echoing around the close confines of the cave. She somehow found the strength to lift her hands, press them to her temples as her body gave out and she pitched over sideways, face pressing into the shallow dirt that lined the floor of the chamber. This was the moment of death, she thought, as the Ash'rak leaned over her.

'Do something!' Parker's panicked voice filled her mind. 'He's killing me, too!' he screamed.

Her host, she thought dully. She could protect him from the pain. The moment of death would come softly for him, she thought. Gently. So unlike the moment for her.

'No!' Raw terror emanated from Parker in waves, and she felt her control over him weakening. He would do something foolish if she didn't stop him.

But the agony was making her slow, dull-witted, and Parker's finger's curled weakly around a handful of the fine silt before she could stop him. The throw was feeble, but it was enough to catch the Ash'rak full in the face. He instinctively lifted one arm to rub his eyes, the concentration necessary to maintain the deadly beam of the hara'kesh diverted.

Parker pushed her body up and fell into the Ash'rak, the two of them toppling into a shallow pool of water. 'Help me!' he demanded.

The desperation and fear from Parker finally permeated the fog of pain that had settled all around her, and she began to weakly grapple with the Ash'rak. He was taller than she, but slimmer and more delicate. She used Parker's heavier weight to pin the Ash'rak beneath her, holding the hand bearing the hara'kesh down beneath the surface of the water.

With the other, she gripped his lower face, covering his mouth and jaw. Digging her fingers in, she lifted his head and slammed it again and again against the hard surface of the cage floor. With each thrust of her arm, her sense of rage over what had happened to Alsha grew until she knew she was strong enough to snap his neck if she wanted to.

But that was too quick, too easy. She locked the muscles of her arm, holding him down as his other hand rose to claw at her back, her shoulder, her face. She suffocated the host, cutting off his air, and felt a thrill of pleasure at suddenly having the strength to do so. For a brief moment she felt the symbiote inside him struggle to get out past her hand through his mouth, before giving up. It would come out one of the ears, she thought; she would be ready for it when it instinctively sought out the nearest orifice through which to escape.

She was so focused on slowly squeezing the life out of the struggling man beneath her that she didn't realize he'd grabbed the flare she'd placed into the dirt with his free hand until the burning end impaled her chest, just to the left of her heart. Her gasp of pain was short-lived; she nearly fell over backwards as blood began to gush around the staff of the flare. But it didn't really matter if she died now, she thought. As long as she took this bastard with her, it didn't matter. Somehow she managed to find the strength to lean into the Ash'rak again, ignoring the agony in her chest.

The rope-like body exploded through sinew and bone on the right side of the host's head. Janet released the hand bearing the hara'kesh, knowing the host was no longer a danger, and snatched the symbiote up. She held it in her fist, suddenly glad that she had lived long enough to savor this moment. It twisted and turned in her palm, tail and mouth alternately snapping ineffectually against her wrist. She didn't squeeze it, crush it or hurt it in any way.

She simply waited.

Outside the host's body, apart from the amniotic fluids produced by the queen, no symbiote could survive for long. An adult Goa'uld had only the most rudimentary nervous system; it sensed heat and light, and most importantly for her purposes at the moment, it felt pain. Pain from atrophied lungs incapable delivering vital molecules into the bloodstream, but which instinctively attempted to do so anyway. Pain from cold which bit into a sensory system incapable of thermoregulation. She could feel the flutter of ineffectual organs beneath her fingertips, aortic arches ill-equipped to compensate for even the most basic of parasympathetic responses.

The symbiote in her hand was dying a slow, horrible death, much like the one Alsha had suffered, much like the one planned for her. As she watched the symbiote weaken in her hand, she felt only a sense of cold satisfaction, of justice.

When it was dead she tossed it away. It landed next to the dead body of its host.

'Thank you,' Parker said, which such relief that Janet felt the barest traces of shame. 'We need to get to the Stargate,' he added.

She didn't want to go to the Stargate, she thought. She was dying; she just wanted to lie down and get on with it.

But she didn't have the strength to stop Parker. He took over as she succumbed to weakness from the damage wrought by the hara'kesh as well as the damage to her host. He was taking her away from Alsha, and the thought of leaving her lying there, so cold and alone in that cave, was pure agony.

'He probably transmitted the data to Apophis,' Parker was saying as they staggered out of the cave. She didn't think she had the strength left to heal this wound, and she tried to tell him. 'I understand why you did it,' Parker said, cutting her off. 'I don't agree with it, but I understand it. And I understand why you had to keep me out of it.' It took her a moment to realize he was talking about her betrayal of the Tok'ra. And of him, she realized, now that she thought about it. Funny, she'd almost forgotten with everything else that had happened. 'But I'll tell you this, Garin,' Parker continued. 'We are damn well going to find that thing she was talking about. Even if it kills us.'

The Stargate was there, looming above them. They were both weak; she was aware of Parker's hand on the device, pressing in a random sequence of glyphs before stepping heedlessly through as soon as the wormhole sprang to life.

Parker somehow managed to keep them going for some time once they reached the other side, before collapsing in a copse of trees nearly two kilometer's from the Stargate. Her last thought, before they both lost consciousness, was that now she could just die in peace.

'A hunting party from Salla's settlement found us two days later,' Garin said. Janet's eyes snapped open, and she looked around, confused. She was sitting once again in her grandmother's kitchen, a mirror image of herself standing in the corner looking at her. Her doppelganger was wearing the tan tunic and leather breaches Olla had provided her with. 'The wound was infected. Parker was delirious with fever, and I was so weak I couldn't help him. We should have died.'

Slowly, Janet pushed the chair in which she was sitting away from the table, rising and stalking across the room to face Garin. 'I should thank you, though,' he added, glancing once in her direction but otherwise not acknowledging her presence. Janet was so angry over what she'd just experienced she was shaking. 'I don't know as much about Goa'uld physiology as you do. I didn't get nearly as much satisfaction out of killing the Ash'rak as you did.'

'You son of a bitch!' she spat at him, lashing out at him with one fist before she could think about it. The blow caught him solidly in the chin, knocking him down. She felt a perverse sense of satisfaction over watching herself topple to the floor. Hands fisted, she stood over her mirror image.

'Did that make you feel better?' Garin asked sarcastically, struggling to his feet, rubbing his jaw. Janet had to fight the urge to knock him down again.

'What was the point of that?' she demanded, feeling like this was the incident in the swamp all over again.

'I wanted you to understand,' he said. 'I could have told you,' he added, brushing himself off. 'But it was important for you to see and experience everything yourself. Now you know.'

'Now I know you sold the Tok'ra out.' Sam had had dreams about the Tok'ra base camp being attacked. Now Janet knew that Garin had been responsible for that. Jolinar had probably gone into hiding at that time, and had eventually found her way into Sam. It was all Garin's fault, she thought. All of it.

'Yes, I did,' he said, ducking his head. 'And I can't take that back. But you also now know why I have to find the artifact. You perhaps better than anyone.'

'You used me,' Janet said, unwilling to let go of her anger. 'You knew how far I'd go to save Sam and you used me.'

Garin shook his head emphatically. 'No. I didn't know about your relationship with Samantha until after I entered you. You made that choice on your own.'

'I didn't enjoy killing the symbiote or its host,' she informed Garin harshly. It was suddenly very important to her that he understand that.

He shook his head. 'No, you didn't,' he admitted. 'I have done…things. Unspeakable things. And that, along with that capacity within me, is now a part of you. We, the Tok'ra and the Goa'uld, as a species are ruthless and arrogant regardless of which side we're fighting for. I wish it wasn't that way, but it is. You experienced my memory of events, but embellished them with your own knowledge. My ruthlessness, my need for revenge feeds yours. It always will. But,' Garin added, holding up one hand. 'Your natural compassion will feed mine, just as Parker's did. You will help me make the right choices.'

They glared at one another for several moments. 'I'm sick and tired of object lessons,' Janet said after a moment. 'You can tell yourself whatever you want to make yourself feel better. The truth is you're a traitor.'

She wanted Garin to flinch, to hang his head in shame. Something. Instead, he looked directly back at her and nodded slowly. 'I am. I am a traitor. I betrayed the Tok'ra to save my mate. Alsha never would have done that. You never would have done that. You'd give your own life, yes. But never sacrifice other lives. That's an unforgivable sin. Nothing will ever change the fact that I am a traitor.'

'At least we're in agreement about that,' she murmured.

'You know about the artifact Alsha spoke about before she died?' Garin said.

She did, though she was only now aware of it. Janet nodded slowly. 'It's related to weapon. Of unimaginable magnitude. I thought it was just a legend.' She suddenly knew exactly where this conversation was headed.

'Parker made me promise,' Garin said. 'I couldn't promise Alsha, who died to protect the knowledge. While we were recovering in Salla's village, he kept talking about the artifact, about how we had to find the weapon and destroy it before anyone else could get their hands on it. I didn't care, one way or the other. Salla was…diverting, but Parker was adamant that we had to leave to find the artifact. He began making plans, and I went along with it.'

Janet stood, watching Garin carefully. He was looking away, lost in a memory now, and she could see it with him. There were tears in his eyes.

'We were in the cell, on the transport. We were lying there, and I was certain it was over, that we were finally dying. Maybe a part of me didn't hear the guards as they came up behind us. Maybe a part of me didn't notice until it was too late. Maybe a part of me knew the plan was risky, but I fooled him into thinking I was trying to do the right thing.

'He made me promise. Made me swear. I did, because I thought it didn't matter, because we were dying. I promised him I'd find it because I knew it would make him feel better. I never thought I'd have to keep my word.

'I couldn't promise Alsha that I'd find the artifact and possibly the weapon, though it was clear that's what she wanted. That's what she died for. But I promised Parker. And then you were there, and Parker was so insistent. So insistent. I didn't think you'd agree, so I went along with it, just to make him feel better. But then you did agree, and I knew I had to keep my promise to Parker. Because he'd know if I didn't.

'The thing is, Alsha would understand why I couldn't promise her, but I'd keep my word to Parker. We're closer to our hosts than to anyone; closer than we are to our mates. That's how it is for us and I think when Alsha made her plea to find the artifact, she was making it to Parker, because she knew Parker would make me do it, even when I didn't want to. Even when I wanted to give up.'

The words were tumbling out of Garin's mouth now, and he wasn't looking at her. But they were totally in synch. She understood everything he said, everything he was feeling, and even as she struggled against it, not wanting to empathize with him, she did understand. She understood his pain, his sense of loss, his feelings of complete inadequacy and utter failure better than she had before.

'I want to go home,' Janet said, breaking into Garin's narrative. 'I just want to go home.'

'I know,' Garin said, glancing up at her, without missing a beat. 'And I want to keep my word to Parker. I have to keep my word to him.'

'I know,' Janet echoed. 'But your suicidal tendencies don't make the chances of me getting home, or you keeping your word to Parker, very likely,' she observed, feeling defeat settle heavily on her shoulders.

'I'm not suicidal anymore. But I have to be honest with you. I don't think the chances of us surviving this are very high. But, if we do, we'll go to your home. I promise. I just want you to consider exactly what that's going to entail,' he added.

Janet had a sudden image of endless tests, endless inquires, endless questions. Endless doubts and mistrust about her loyalties. Who better to document the experineces of being a host than a physician, she thought. She could almost hear NID making the argument, which filled her with a cold sense of dread. Undoubtedly there would be problems if she suddenly showed up, complete with symbiote.

But at the moment she couldn't bring herself to care too much. Garin had promised her they'd go home and for the moment she believed him.

Maybe she could worry about the rest later.

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