Disclaimer: The events of this story revolve around the season three episode: Into the Fire. The dialog within this fic is taken from that episode, and is not my own. All characters from Stargate SG-1 are property of the Stargate franchise, and I do not receive any form of monetary gain for their use in my writing.
Eternal Prison:
He was trapped, and he knew it, trapped between the Goa'uld towering over him and the Jaffa guards with their weapons trained in his friends. Fear welled up in his throat. He had been in bad situations before, but this was worse. There was no way out. He was about to become a prisoner in his own mind.
There was suddenly so much he wanted to do, so much he wanted to say. He wanted to plead, to beg to be spared, but he would not give the Goa'uld the pleasure. His mind raced. He lost track of what was going on around him. Each second became an agonizing eternity.
He forced his mind to refocus. There must be some way out of all this. He could see his two companions, standing helpless under the Jaffa guards' keen eyes and carefully aimed weapons. For a moment, he was thankful that they would not have to endure what he was about to go through. You're just going to kill them when that thing takes over, he thought to himself. But death is still better than this, another part of his mind whispered.
His attention was drawn back to the reptilian creature being held over him. Just a few precious inches separated him from an eternity of torture.
His mind raced. He thought the wife he had left behind, so long ago now it seemed. He thought of the family he had once tried so hard to protect. He thought of his son, how he had failed his only child. Everyone who was dear to him flashed through his mind, those who were with him most of all. They were his closest friends, the closest thing he had had to a family now. He thought again of home. What would happen now? Would they be able to survive the Goa'uld, or would all he held dear be wiped out using the information that would be taken from his mind?
He cleared his mind, once more, struggling to focus on what he could do to escape this fate. The symbiode above him squirmed in the grasp of its master, eager to take its new host. The bejeweled hand holding it back relaxed its grip, and the precious space between him and his fears was gone.
He felt it wrap around his neck. Cold terror gripped him. The struggle for his mind had begun. He could feel the other mind trying to get inside of his own. The struggle was painful, but he would be damned before he would give up without a fight. It was strange; he could feel the presence trying to force its way into his mind. He could hear the other's voice taunting him, trying to persuade him to give up. He fought on.
Weapons fire sounded from somewhere beyond the pain of his struggle. He wondered vaguely if it were help coming for them. Maybe there was still time, maybe they would make it out after all. All but one of the people around him left.
The pain was gnawing at him now. His resolve began to weaken. It was hopeless. Nothing could save him. He felt his mind begin to slip. Little by little, the monster vying for power over him began to take hold. He didn't really want to fight it anymore. He was so tired.
"You must fight it O'Neill."
The woman's voice pierced through the haze of pain that shrouded Jack's mind. Why fight? What was the point? No matter what he did, he would loose.
"I am Tok'ra," the voice told him urgently.
Tok'ra? How could the Tok'ra help him now?
"The cryogenic process will prevent the melding; the Goa'uld within will die, but until then you must fight it."
The freeze. He could still be free. He wanted to respond, to thank this woman, but he could not. The pain was too much. Darkness overtook him as the stasis pod closed. He fought on, striving against the enemy within him with renewed strength. Coldness swallowed him as he struggled. As dark unconsciousness swept over his mind, he prayed that he would wake up as himself.
Bright lights were the first thing O'Neill was aware of as he came to. He was cold. He could not remember where he was or how he had come to be there. His head throbbed sharply as he squinted against the barrage of light filtering into his eyes.
"Sir, I don't feel its presence. You're gonna be alright."
Jack knew that voice. Carter. What was she talking about? Memories began to find their way back into O'Neill's mind. The Goal'uld, Hathor, the Tok'ra who had saved him. The events of the last several days swirled in his memory. It had worked. The Goa'uld who had tried to posses him was gone.
Suddenly, Carter was gone. O'Neill tried to sit up, but he couldn't move. A small scream reached his ears. Mustering the last ounce of strength he could find, he braced his arms against the sides of the stasis pod and forced himself upright.
Hathor towered over Sam. Bright orange waves of energy poured out in a deadly stream from the Goa'uld's ribbon device. Anger seized O'Neill, breaking through the pain and weakness. As adrenaline coursed through him, he pushed himself out of the pod and stumbled up behind Hathor. He gripped her hand and wrapped his other hand around her throat, disrupting the deadly beam that threatened Sam.
"We will destroy you for this," Hathor screamed as O'Neill maneuvered her towards the pool of freezing chemicals.
He had had enough of Hathor and her threats. She had almost killed them all for a second time. This would end. He would finish it now, forever. "We would just like you to go away!" With the last ounce of strength he could muster, Jack shoved the Goa'uld over the edge of the cryogenic pool. The swirling vapors of frigid gasses swallowed her form as she sank into the tank of icy liquid.
Jack rested there against the barrier for a moment, regaining his balance and strength. He felt lighter, knowing that Hathor would no longer be a threat. Then, for a moment, he felt a twinge of guilt. Surely, the woman Hathor had taken for host had been as unwilling as he himself had been. Jack wondered who she had been, what she had been forced to leave behind.
A chill crept down his spine, coldness deeper than the cryogenic freeze he had been through. It could have been him. He had come desperately close to the same fate that Hathor's host had suffered. You would rather die than go through that. A voice in his mind confided. It was true. Deep down, Jack knew that nothing could have saved the host of a Goa'uld so ancient as Hathor. He had given that woman the only freedom she could know.
O'Neill forced himself to straiten and look around. A woman lay slumped against the far wall. This must be the Tok'ra who had saved him. Suddenly, he remembered that Carter had been there. She was crumpled over on the floor, where she had fallen when Jack grabbed Hathor. For a moment, he feared she was dead.
As he knelt down, Carter began to come to. She was all right. They both were. Relief swept over him. They would be fine. All they had to do now was get home. They were free.