DISCLAIMER: All publicly recognisable characters and property of Stargate SG-1 belong to MGM/UA, World Gekko Corp. and Double Secret Productions.  This fan fiction was created solely for entertainment purposes and no money was made from it.  Also, no copyright or trademark infringement was intended.  Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.  Any other characters, the storyline and the actual story are the property of the author.  Not to be archived without permission of the author(s).

Part One: by PHO

Teal'c smiled at the rag tag group on the deck in front of him. Martouf knelt on the floor, already occupied with tending the wounds of his companions. The Jaffa locked eyes with Jack O'Neill, sprawled awkwardly on the floor. "We have escaped."

A slow smile embellished the Colonel's face. "Iced tea, air conditioning, ... water."

Teal'c moved gracefully to retrieve a canteen. Jack nodded his gratitude as he pulled it to his face, too bone weary to do more than just enjoy the cool comfort of the flask. Moving past his friends, Teal'c paused in front of the Tok'ra, Aldwin, holding out the device he had purloined earlier.

Guilt-ridden eyes looked back at him. "I'm sorry I doubted you."

Teal'c nodded in a gesture of understanding. "I am as surprised as you that we survived." Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Daniel Jackson, physically exhausted, but otherwise unharmed, except... Teal'c surreptitiously watched the young archaeologist as Martouf tended Jack O'Neill's wounds, and Samantha Carter lovingly cared for her father.

Daniel Jackson had set himself apart from the others, leaning against the outer hull of the Tok'ra ship. He sat directly above Jack O'Neill on a low cabinet that supported Jack's back. But Teal'c was not certain the young man was mentally with his friends. Even a mask of dirt could not hide the ghost-white pallor of his young friend. And the Jaffa did not like the way Daniel Jackson kept rubbing his head, as though he were in great pain.

Moving toward his friend, Teal'c ignored the Carters as they planned a father / daughter trip to Alaska. Inwardly, he laughed, make that a father / daughter / Tok'ra trip to Alaska, though he knew Sel'mac would respect their privacy as much as possible. O'Neill traded barbs with a somewhat outgunned Martouf as Teal'c slipped closer to Daniel.

"Daniel Jackson, are you in pain?" His question brought instant silence to the chamber. All eyes turned toward the young man, and Jack struggled to get to his feet.

"No, no. Jack, don't ... your leg. Stay there. I...I'm fine. Just tired."

"You are rubbing your head, Daniel Jackson. I have noticed in my time with humans, that this is usually indicative of a pain in the head."

"That's headache, Teal'c." O'Neill frowned as he finally, with the aid of Martouf, made it to his feet and turned to face the youngest member of his team. "Danny?"

"It's nothing, Jack." Daniel leaned his head against the inner hull and closed his eyes.

"Daniel." The faint hint of command had replaced the question in the Colonel's voice.

"Jack, it's ..." Daniel stopped, "I guess, I'm just trying to remove a memory."

A solitary eye stared out of a dreadfully scarred face, watching impassively as the night sky came alive with light. Somewhere out there was a Tok'ra ship, temporary home to the Chu'va. Even mentally he spat the word. All in all, his plan was on schedule. The fireball that had been his prison had succeeded in annihilating his enemy. Sokar was dead, and his minions now served him, Apophis. A tall, muscular Jaffa approached and bowed low in reverence. "My lord."

"Report, Lo'wn."

"My Lord, a transmission has been intercepted from the Tok'ra ship."

Apophis eyed his First Prime calmly. "Continue."

"My Lord, the Tau'ri successfully transported to the Tok'ra ship."

"You are certain?"

"Yes, my Lord. Teal'c..."

"Do not speak his name in my presence."

"Yes, my Lord."

"Continue."

The First Prime bowed low again. "He positioned the ship to intercept the transport beam. A risky but successful maneuver, as all of them arrived safely on board. O'Neill, Carter, the Tok'ra - Sel'mac and Martouf,... and Jackson."

Apophis turned to face the window again. "You are certain Daniel Jackson was on the Tok'ra vessel?"

"Yes, my Lord."

A wave of his hand and the newly appointed First Prime melted into the background. A slow smile edged its way across Apophis' face as he fingered an amulet around his neck. Amaunet's amulet. A gift to him before she went into the long sleep that would allow her child ... his future host, to be born alive. He'd worn it in her honor until it had been torn from his neck by Sokar. His smile increased as he recalled its presence when he'd been dying in the Tau'ri's Stargate base. Daniel Jackson had spoken to him of his wife, never knowing that the amulet had left her hand for Apophis' own. She'd been so beautiful, so loyal, but yet ... she had not been his alone. Jackson held the love, and loyalty, of Amaunet's host. A frown replaced the smile as the Goa'uld lord recalled the rare occasions when that love, that loyalty, had defeated his queen, allowing the host to emerge, if only for a brief moment. To be sure, Amaunet had made certain that the pathetic little creature known as Sha're had suffered greatly for these little lapses. Still, the Goa'uld Pharaoh recalled with displeasure the humiliation of her revulsion at his touch.

Now, both his queen, and her host, were dead; murdered by the traitor who'd abandoned his side three years before. And both Jackson and the traitor still lived. As did the obnoxious Jack O'Neill and the beautiful Samantha Carter. Oh, this would not do. Here he was, forced to rebuild his empire, bit by painful bit and SG-1 survived, unharmed as far as he was concerned.

Apophis absently rubbed the scar on his face. The scar that would never leave him. A sarcophagus could work miracles on a newly injured body, but past a certain point, the damage was set into the cellular structure, rendering the sarcophagus useless. He touched the metal plate that concealed the worst of the scarring. Sokar had taken much pleasure in ensuring his enemy's once handsome face was disfigured beyond repair. Apophis truly hoped that Sokar's ship had not disintegrated immediately. The idea of his rival's skin shriveling as the flames from the burning vessel fed upon his body, greatly appealed to the Goa'uld. He could almost hear Sokar's screams as he died.

His hand tapped the metal plate, then his undamaged eye lit up, and his smile returned. Perhaps it was time for a new host. One who knew the secrets of the SGC, and the Tau'ri home world. One whom he could torment for eternity with memories of Amaunet, and her pathetic little host. And perhaps, just perhaps, it was also time to claim a new queen.

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