CHAPTER 12 - SERPENT'S SONG
Out with the old, in with the new
Part 1 - Prologue
Journal Entry, Earth
I wish we could get a break from the mission-a-day syndrome we've fallen into. I know it drives Jack crazy when we're on stand-down, but I've got so much translation work piling up that part of me is always back here worrying over untranslated texts even while I'm on the other side of the Gate. What I wouldn't give to be able to spend a few uninterrupted days in my lab doing what I've been trained to do. Sometimes I think the military has forgotten why they hired me in the first place.
Despite the terrible scare it gave us, at least some good came from Jack's experience with the Ancients' knowledge being downloaded into his brain. He was able to give me enough information on the alien transcription from P3R272 that I actually have a point of reference for this language, something I didn't have before. Now, if I only had the time to get back to it and actually translate it.
D. Jackson
***
Part 2 - "If you don't tell me where she is, I'll kill you right here."
*Daniel Jackson*
Standing in the infirmary doorway, I take a good, long look at the Serpent God, Apophis, comparing this broken, dying shell to the vibrant, evil, and powerful System Lord who stole my wife.
Not so tough now, are you? As soon as the words whisper in my mind, I push them firmly away. I have to stay focused, there's no room for any stray emotions here. This is the one person who can tell me where Sha're is, and I must get that information. We've got him where we want him, he's weak, helpless, our prisoner. I'll never have a better chance than I do right now.
I ask the nurse, "Is he conscious?"
Before she can answer, Apophis commands, "Come, Daniel."
I stare at him, at first too stunned to move. How... did he know...? I take a deep breath, hold it for a moment, then slowly walk over to his side. The closer I get, the more I become aware of the tug of his forceful personality. This is the man I thought was weak and helpless? "You know my name?" I ask, careful to keep my tone neutral.
He looks at me with the arrogance that comes so easily to the Goa'uld. "Because of what we hold in common: Amaunet, my queen."
Your queen. "Her name is Sha're," I correct. I manage somehow to keep my tone even and low, but I can't bring myself to look at him. I will not let him goad me. "She is my wife."
"They are one and the same."
Keeping the emotion out of my voice with an effort, I say, "Amaunet possesses her. Sha're is a prisoner. But she is somewhere. I want you to tell me where."
He smiles, and there's something so inherently evil in his smile I feel my hands begin to clench. "Amaunet." He draws her name out. "I loved her." I drop my eyes, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing what his words are doing to me. "You do not believe me?"
"No. No, I don't think that's possible." It cannot be possible for a being so corrupt and so depraved to have the ability to love.
"How could you? Our minds, our knowledge, our very being is so much greater, so much more."
Where have I heard that arrogance before? Oh, right, heard much the same speech from Ra. Just before Jack and I blew him out of the sky. In a softly taunting voice, I reveal, "I know where your child is."
That surprises him, and he quickly looks away, but not before I see a flash of emotion in his eyes. "My son?"
"Yes. I brought him into the world with my own hands. On Abydos," I add, with emphasis.
"He was taken by Heru'ur."
That's what you think. "No," I say flatly, watching him closely. "By me."
His eyes snap back to my face. There is a moment of silence in which I hold my breath. This is it. The child is my bait. Take it, you son of a bitch. There is a flicker of something in his eyes... "I have no use for the child now." I can't breathe. Oh, God, that was it. That was my only shot. The location of the child is the only thing I have to trade. Oh, God... "Amaunet." He repeats the name with a casual propriety that slices through me like a knife. "I knew the moment I laid eyes on her she was a vessel for a queen."
Hatred like I've never felt before for another living being rushes through me. Leaning so close he can feel my breath on his skin, with every cell of my body screaming my loathing for this monster, I whisper, "If you don't tell me where she is, I'll kill you right here."
He looks at me for only a moment, then says with complete certainty, "You have neither the strength nor the will."
I want to. I want to kill him right here. Jack would do it. Jack could take a gun and put it to Apophis' head and pull the trigger without a moment's hesitation or regret. He'd have the strength and the will. Why can't I --
"Daniel."
Sam's voice pulls me back to the moment. I turn slightly to acknowledge her, and a spasm of pain convulses Apophis' body. I watch him dispassionately as he struggles against the agony tearing him apart. Suffer, you son of a bitch. There's not enough pain in the world to punish you for what you've done to Sha're and Skaara and so many others.
Turning away, my face as expressionless as I can make it, I walk over to join Sam. But as I reach the doorway, my careful mask begins to slip and I have to sink back against the wall for support. Sam doesn't say anything, but I feel her hand on my arm, giving it a quick squeeze in sympathy. I can't deal with anything more right now and she seems to sense that.
"We think that thud was a Sagan box; its radioactive signature matches the one we gave the Tok'ra. They're coming here."
She steps into the corridor, waiting for me to follow. I give one last look back at Apophis, then join her. But I only go a few steps when I suddenly change direction.
Sam turns immediately, concern in her eyes. "Daniel?"
"I need to stop by my office," I mumble, waving her on. "I'll catch up with you." Before she can ask any questions, I stride quickly away. All I can think of is getting away from everyone, shutting myself in a room and smashing everything in sight.
*****
*Jack O'Neill*
I'm not surprised when I see Carter heading for the control room without Daniel. There was no way I could have turned down Daniel's request to 'interrogate' Apophis, despite the fact that, as ideas went, that one sucked, but right now that doesn't make me feel any better. I'd slipped into the infirmary observation room and saw enough to know what the confrontation with Snake Boy did to Daniel, and I don't need one of his fancy diplomas to be able to take an educated guess where he is now: he's where he always goes to be alone when he's trying to deal with another one of life's nasty little smacks to the head.
I reach his pointedly closed office door and have my hand on the knob (no way am I going to do the polite thing and knock; that would only give him the opportunity to tell me to go away) when something crashes against the door inside and apparently smashes into a thousand pieces.
Shit. I fling the door open and shout his name, ready to duck in case any other missiles come flying my way. But there are no more. Daniel is sitting on the edge of his desk, his shoulders slumped, staring at the pieces of the coffee pot glittering on the floor. Glass crunches under my shoes as I enter and carefully shut the door behind me, then walk over to sit beside him, shoulder-to-shoulder.
"Mr. Coffee do something to annoy you?" I ask casually.
Daniel is still staring at the floor. "It was the only breakable thing in the room that wasn't an artifact."
"Ah." I nod my understanding. Even lost in the throes of rage or despair, Daniel wouldn't deliberately destroy something as precious as an artifact. "You okay?"
The silence stretches on until I turn to look at him and see his hands clenched into fists on his thighs. "I wanted to kill him," he says in a fierce whisper.
"I want to kill him, too," I assure him.
He raises his head and looks at me, his face a picture of misery and self-disgust. "But that's the difference between us, Jack. You could walk in there right now and empty a clip into him, couldn't you?"
I can't deny that, so I nod. "Yep." And with more pleasure than I will ever admit to him.
He looks back down, his hair spilling down to shadow his face. "I can't. I want to, but I can't. He knew that. I tried to bluff him, tried to get him to tell me where Sha're is, but he knew I couldn't go through with it."
Only Daniel could be upset at the realization that he's not a cold-blooded killer. "Hell, Daniel, anyone who knows you for five minutes knows you couldn't do that. This is a Goa'uld, for crying out loud. He's got a few thousand years' experience on you and, believe it or not, he's been up against a lot tougher opponents than you. You didn't really think he was just going to hand over Sha're's whereabouts, did you?"
His mouth firms for a moment, then he shakes his head. "No, I guess not. But..."
"It was worth a shot," I tell him quietly. "And we're not out of options yet. The Tok'ra are on their way, and they may have some technology we can use to make him talk." He nods, but he still has an aura of defeat around him. We need to get to the control room and be ready when the Tok'ra arrive -- whenever that may be -- but I hesitate. I think there's something Daniel may have lost sight of, and I want him to regain sight of it, right now.
"Hey." I tap his knee to get his attention. He raises his head, but doesn’t look at me. "It's not your job to kill Apophis, Daniel. I know you do a lot of things that archaeologists and linguists aren't supposed to have to do -- like defending yourself and defending the members of your team if we're in danger -- but we don't want you to have to kill. I don't want you to have to kill. The day you tell me you can walk into the infirmary and blow Apophis' head off is the day you're off SG-1 because I won't know who you are. And I have to know who you are to trust you." I pause for a moment, trying to see from his profile whether any of this is sinking in. "We all trust you to do what you have to do on a mission to protect any of us, but murder -- or execution -- is not in your job description, Doctor Jackson, and it never will be."
He draws a deep breath and lets it out slowly and I see him swallow hard. "I hate him so much, Jack," he says in a hoarse whisper, as if confessing some dark, hidden secret.
Maybe for Daniel it is some hidden secret just now coming to light. Maybe he's only now finding out what it is to hate. I wish he could have gone the rest of his life without knowing what that's like. "Yeah, I know you do. I do, too." We really need to get up to the control room, but I don't want to urge him out of here until I know he's okay, or at least as okay as he can be under the circumstances.
As if reading my mind, he offers in a strained, but nearly normal voice, "Sam said the Tok'ra are coming. We'd better get to the control room."
I hold out my arm, inviting him to lead the way, then follow him to the door. Neither of us comments on the glass crunching underneath our shoes on the way out.
***
Part 3 - "And now he awakens only to die again."
*Daniel Jackson*
"You're needed in the infirmary, sir."
I turn away from the sight of the embattled gate room to the Airman who has suddenly appeared at my elbow. "Apophis?"
He nods sharply. "Yes, sir."
"Is he dead?" I want him to be dead, but part of me is still clinging to the hope that we can get information out of him about Sha're.
"No, sir. Colonel O'Neill said on the double, sir."
I feel a sudden surge of hope. Maybe Jack managed to... I take off for the infirmary, the Airman hard pressed to keep up with me.
By the time I reach the secured area where Apophis is being held my heart is pounding so hard it feels like it's about to explode. Jack is standing by Apophis, arms folded, and he looks up as I burst in, his face somber.
My eyes flick to Apophis, who has aged incredibly since my last visit, then fasten hopefully on Jack's face. "Jack? Did he tell you --"
"No," Jack interrupts quickly, then grimaces as if suddenly realizing something. "Shit. I'm sorry, Daniel. I wasn't thinking when I sent for you..."
My carefully nurtured hope dies a painful death, and I close my eyes as I try to steel myself to face yet another failed attempt to find Sha're. I feel a light touch on my arm and when I open my eyes, my vision is filled with Jack's concerned face.
"I'm sorry, Daniel," he says quietly. "I sent for you because..." He glances over his shoulder at Apophis, then back at me. "It's the host."
"The host?" I repeat dully.
Jack nods, his expression apologetic. "You're the only one who can talk to him."
I look around Jack, seeing the hated face of the being that stole my wife, and for an instant I want to refuse. Jack won't force me, I know that. But if that were my Sha're, alone and afraid, I'd want someone to be by her side, to talk to her, to reassure her. I swallow, nodding, "Okay." I feel a hand on my shoulder and a quick, supporting squeeze, then slowly walk around to the other side of the bed. The host's dark eyes, wide with confusion and fear, follow me. Stopping by his side, I lean over so he can see me, but before I can think of what to say, he asks me who I am.
Slipping easily into the beautiful language I learned to speak on Abydos, I tell him I am Daniel. Then, on impulse, I add, a scribe.
He studies me for a long moment, then nods. Haltingly, painfully, he begins to speak. Janet joins Jack on the other side of the bed, and I translate his faltering narrative, "He says he's been in an unending dream. He hoped to awaken from it to see his wife and his children." As I listen to his story, the full horror of it fills me with pity for this educated, intelligent man whose life was stolen from him as Sha're's was stolen from her. "He was a scribe in the temple of Amun in Karnak, but that was another lifetime ago, before the nightmare." My god, thousands of years trapped inside his own body, forced to witness the atrocities Apophis committed. I look up at Jack. "And now he awakens only to die again." There is nothing I can do for Sha're at this moment, but there is something I can do for this dying scribe to ease his journey.
Softly, I speak to him in his own language, and I see a spark of hope light his eyes for probably the first time since he was taken as a host those thousands of years ago. He nods his understanding, and I can sense his relief at my words. Not looking up, I quietly repeat them in English for Jack. "I said I will speak the words of power and do the rites. You will be returned to Egypt and buried with honor. You will pass through the seven gates and see your wife and children again and rejoice with them forever." And I make a silent vow to this scribe, and myself, that I will keep this promise. But first, there is something I need from my office, and I must hurry; he doesn't have much time left. "I'll be back."
***
Part 3 - "The goa'uld is dead. But the host... he's still alive."
*Jack O'Neill*
I'm waiting for Daniel in the doorway when he comes hurrying back, a blanket and some kind of statue in his arms. He skids to a stop when he sees me, his eyes widening in dismay.
"Am I too late?"
"Apophis is dead," I tell him, "but the host is still alive." A number of emotions chase across his face, and I wonder which one will dominate. He should be happy the son of a bitch is dead, but then again, we just lost possibly the only person who can tell us where Sha're is. He looks past me to the host, whose breathing has become wheezy and labored, then back at me. I want to tell him he doesn't have to do this, that he can turn and walk away from this dying stranger and no one will think the worse of him, but I can see he's already made up his mind. He gives me a little nod, then slips around me to the other side of the bed.
I watch as he spreads out the blanket with its strange markings and begins speaking in the language I remember from my time on Abydos. No matter how many times I see him do this, it always takes me a little by surprise. How many different languages does he have stored in that amazing brain of his? Most of us have our struggles with just one; as far as I know, we haven't come across a language yet that Daniel can't speak, or at least figure out with a little time.
I said it once and I'll say it again: he never ceases to amaze me. Like now.
I can only shake my head in wonder as he leans closer to the poor bastard who wears the face of probably the only man he has ever hated, and softly speaks words that have not been heard on this planet in thousands of years, giving this man what peace he can. How does he do that? How does he manage to put aside his own anger, grief and hatred in order to give solace to a dying stranger?
Daniel looks up at me, his eyes seeming unusually large behind his lenses. "I told him this funerary statue would take his last breath and carry his soul back to Egypt." Then he returns his gaze to the Egyptian on the bed.
It's easier now to think of this man as... a man, a victim, who had a life he probably enjoyed, and was at the wrong place at the wrong time and got a snake in his head as a result. Just like Sha're. As that thought sneaks up and smacks me, I look up quickly to find Daniel's intent eyes on the dying host, a look of sorrow on his face. Through everything that has happened to him, he has never lost his humanity. Thank God.
Together, we watch as this nameless man takes his last breath, and I think I finally understand what it is Daniel sees.
After a moment, he silently raises the blanket and drapes it reverently over the still face. He looks at me as if to say something, but just then Teal'c practically bursts into the infirmary and announces with as much excitement as I've ever heard from him, "Captain Carter has succeeded in creating an outgoing wormhole. Sokar cannot attack at this time."
"That's good," is all I can think of to say.
Teal'c walks all the way in and slowly approaches the bed. Without hesitation, he pulls down the blanket and stares at the face as if to assure himself Apophis really is dead. On the other side, Daniel flinches and quickly looks away. A puzzled frown touches Teal'c's face as he sees Daniel's reaction; he knows he's upset Daniel for some reason, but doesn’t know why. How the hell did all this get so complicated so fast? We should be throwing a party because there's one less snake head in the universe to enslave innocent people and cause widespread death and terror; instead, I find myself thinking about a poor, unsuspecting scribe who had his body hijacked by a Goa'uld thousands of years ago and was ripped away from his wife and kids.
"We must prepare his body to send through the wormhole," Teal'c says quietly. He has replaced the blanket over the scribe's face, and is looking at Daniel, still puzzled, but obviously wishing to make amends for whatever it is he did or said.
Fraiser gives herself a little shake. "I'll arrange for a body bag --"
"No." Daniel's voice is quiet, but emphatic, and he immediately gets the attention of everyone in the room. Arms wrapped around his chest, steadfastly refusing to meet anyone's eyes, he plows on. "There's a... ritual to wrapping the body..."
Oh, shit. "Daniel." I try to keep my tone reasonable. "We don't have time --"
"We have thirty-eight minutes," he says stubbornly. "It won't take that long." He chooses that moment to turn those pleading eyes on me. "Please, Jack."
"I shall assist you, Daniel Jackson," Teal'c states in a voice rumbling with quiet determination.
Daniel gives him a slight, grateful nod and I sense Teal'c draw himself up a little straighter at my side. Well, that's that. Then all eyes are on me, like I have any say in this at all. "All right, Daniel, but make it quick," I agree, irritated with myself for caving in and with him for being -- what? For being Daniel? "We've got a time limit here."
"We shall accomplish the ritual in time, O'Neill."
I give Teal'c a sour look, then turn and leave the room.
***
Part 4 - "What now?"
"We wait."
*Jack O'Neill*
We all stand at the bottom of the ramp watching as Teal'c slowly feeds Apophis' ritually-wrapped body through the wormhole. Is the body of his enemy enough for Sokar? Or is it a case of too little too late? Oh, I'll really hate it if Martouf is right about that.
When the wormhole shuts down, the silence in the gate room is deafening. Without a word, Fraiser leaves, her heels making a loud clicking sound on the floor. When that fades, Daniel, who hasn't said a word since leaving the infirmary with Teal'c and the body, asks quietly, "What now?"
Only one thing we can do. "We wait."
Carter points out, "If Sokar wanted him alive, he'll just start up the attack again."
"No, I don't believe he will," Martouf says matter-of-factly. "Sokar has a sarcophagus in his possession." He's looking at us like we're a class of slow-witted children he's trying to educate. "With it he can revive Apophis even from death and torture him as long as he pleases. Surely a fate he justly deserves."
You'd think so, wouldn't you? Yesterday, I probably would have agreed with that. But now... I look to my left: Teal'c's face is expressionless, it's hard to guess what he's thinking; Daniel looks sick, I mean ready to hurl, and I see him take a couple of quick, deep breaths and swallow hard; even General Hammond looks a little ill.
I try to focus on the thought of Apophis, the alien who has destroyed so many lives and deserves everything ol' Beelzebub can hand out. But all I see is the face of that scared, dying scribe, and all I can hear is Daniel's soft voice, promising to send his soul back to Egypt.
***
The Tok'ra are gone, the debriefing is over and all's quiet for the moment. It looks like Sokar was happy enough with the body of Apophis and the base is off alert. Daniel slipped away right after the debriefing and hasn't been seen since. Since I already checked with the main gate, I know he's still on base, and in memory of the late Mr. Coffee, I collect two cups of coffee from the cafeteria before making my way to Daniel's office to see how he's doing.
His office door is half open, but it's dim inside, the only illumination coming from his desk light. Silently pushing the door all the way open, I stand in the doorway and take in the scene. The glass fragments that littered the floor have been swept into a pile along the wall, and Daniel is sitting behind his desk, staring at the little statue that is now sitting amid the open books and piles of paper that cover his desk top.
I clear my throat. "Hey." He looks up, smiling faintly when I walk across the room and hold out one of the cups. "Thought you might need this."
He accepts the coffee gratefully and takes a cautious sip of the steaming liquid. "Thanks. Next time I'll smash one of the artifacts."
I grin as I drop into the chair across from him, knowing full well that's not going to happen, but glad he can at least joke about it. We sit in silence for a few minutes, drinking our coffee, and then I nod toward the statue.
"What are you planning to do with that?"
He picks up a pen from his desk and spends a long time frowning at it as if it were something dug up from Pompeii. "Do you think the general would approve my request for a short leave to go to Egypt?" he asks without much hope.
With a newly discovered Goa'uld out there who just spent a day banging at our door? With what we have on our plate here even without Sokar? With the missions we've got lined up, not to mention the translation work Daniel has piled on his desk? I heave a sigh. "Daniel..."
"No, I didn't think so." He touches the statue lightly. "Well, I still have some friends over there..."
"I'll arrange transportation," I say quietly.
He looks up, surprised. "Really?"
I smile wryly. "I have friends, too," I point out, knowing that none were more important than the one sitting across from me. Do I believe the scribe's soul is residing in this statue? No. Do I believe that Daniel needs to get this statue to Egypt before he can even begin to move past what's happened here today? You bet.
He nods, and even in the dim lighting I see the gratitude in his eyes. "Thanks, Jack." He looks back at the statue. "I promised him."
"I know." Promises are important. I remember a promise I made to Daniel when we got back from Chulak: I promised him we'd find Sha're. He's never reminded me of that promise, has never once thrown You promised! at me, even after all this time and so little to show for it. I wonder sometimes how much hope he has left, then I remember: this is Daniel. He's always going to have some hope.
"Have you eaten?" I ask suddenly.
He blinks at the sudden change in topic, then shakes his head. "Didn't feel much like eating."
"Not surprising, considering the menu in the cafeteria tonight," I comment, even though I know that's not what he's referring to. I really want to get away from here for a while, and I really think Daniel can use the break, too. "I was thinking of driving into town, grabbing a decent meal at O'Malley's. How about it?"
"O'Malley's?" He gives me a dubious look. "That's a sports bar, Jack."
"You say that like it's a bad thing. Oh, come on, Daniel," I coax. "O'Malley's has the best burgers in town." I can see he's not entirely sold, so I add the clincher: "I can use the company." Okay, I'm not above a little emotional blackmail at a time like this. The truth is, I can use the company, and more and more, I find it's Daniel I seek out when I don't want to be alone. But more than that, Daniel needs to put some space between himself and what happened here today. Naturally I can see that far better than he can.
"Okay," he agrees immediately, proving once again how well I've come to know him. And, I add with scrupulous honesty, just what a good friend he is. He sets a high standard.
As we walk to the door and I step into the corridor, he pauses for a moment in the doorway and looks back at the statue. Then, without a word, he closes the door behind him and we head for the nearest elevator.
***
Part 5 - Epilog
Journal Entry, Earth
It's been so long since I've been able to spend a whole week in my lab without worrying about getting ready for a mission that I'd forgotten what it was like. After the debriefing on the whole Apophis/Sokar episode, General Hammond put SG-1 on stand-down for a week. I expected Jack to kick and scream about a week without any missions, but all he did was make a comment that it looked like I was going to have some time to play with the Ancients' language now.
It took Sam to clue me in later that Jack was the one who requested the stand-down so I would have a chance to work on those translations. Jack hasn't talked about his experience with Thor's race outside of the debriefing after he came back, but I think he has finally begun to understand the importance of the language and what we may be able to learn from it. Not that he'll ever tell me that, but it's nice to know.
I won't let him know that I know who I have to thank for this little respite, either, but I think I owe him at least a meal at his favorite sports bar.
I owe him for more than this down time, too. Three days ago, the funerary statue was sent on its way to Egypt with very little fuss. I don't know how Jack did it, but he had transportation arranged almost before I'd been able to contact Jason Mallory in Cairo and call in an old favor. I got word from him yesterday that the statue had been buried as I'd asked.
I know Jack didn't believe that statue was anything more than an old hunk of clay, but I'll always be grateful to him for his support. No wisecracks, no arguments, no trying to talk me out of it; he just went about arranging everything with his usual military efficiency. All I had to do was pack it in a crate and he took care of the rest.
If Sokar is even half the monster the Tok'ra have described, then I have no doubt he has already revived Apophis and is even now tormenting him. I can only hope that some part of that poor scribe's soul really has found some peace back in Egypt.
D. Jackson
© February 7, 2000 The characters mentioned in this story are the property of Showtime and Gekko Film Corp. The Stargate, SG-I, the Goa’uld and all other characters who have appeared in the series STARGATE SG-1 together with the names, titles and backstory are the sole copyright property of MGM-UA Worldwide Television, Gekko Film Corp, Glassner/Wright Double Secret Productions and Stargate SG-I Prod. Ltd. Partnership. This fanfic is not intended as an infringement upon those rights and solely meant for entertainment. All other characters, the story idea and the story itself are the sole property of the author.