Warning: Major spoilers for Moebius 2. Content warning - character death.

This is a fic written with SGC Gategirl. Her fics are also posted here. If you haven't read her other stories you should go look at them as soon as you've finished this one. They are some of the best SG fanfics around. - Flatkatsi

Of Gods and Men

They found them in the middle of the night, dug them out from their hiding place, not caring who they'd killed to find them.

He had fought—fought hard, but to no avail. They had been so outnumbered it was laughable.

He remembered that final revelation, that moment he knew there was nothing left for him to give, no sense in continuing to fight, the odds against them at this very moment too high. They may have lost the battle, but the war had only begun. They'd have another chance and he knew SG-1, he knew their record for getting out in the nick of time. And if they played their cards right, they had all the time in the world.

But it was hard. It wasn't in his nature to give up easily, especially when so many innocent souls would be damned because of him—so many more victims for Ra to use and discard. Not to mention his team. And they were a team. SG-1 was back, these months in the desert knowing there was no way home had bound them tightly together. Yes, they were a team, and they would go out as one.

Even as they dragged them from their secret compartment, manhandling them the entire way, Jack was thankful that one of the team would survive. Someone would be left to carry on if things went south.

And, being thrown at the feet of the Sun God, Ra, it looked as if things had not just gone south. They'd gone pear-shaped and were about to explode right in their faces. What he wouldn't have given for his P-90.

Wipe the complacent smirk off that bastard's face, that's what he would have done.

But of course his P-90 was hidden away in their safe house, miles and villages away from where they'd been hiding and in another direction entirely from where Daniel had meandered, recruiting more participants to their cause.

"Kneel before your God."

The dialogue was old, and he couldn't help the small laugh that escaped his lips.

Should he refuse? Teal'c and Carter expected him to if the looks on their faces were anything to go by.

But like the dialogue, the staff weapon blow to the knees was becoming old too, and he really couldn't be bothered protesting.

That choice, however, was taken from him, as would many other things in the following days.

As the Jaffa shoved them down to their knees, holding them firmly in place with hands and armed staffs, Jack had to admit that Ra knew how to make an entrance, how to use his "God-hood" to the full. The torchlight illuminated more than it hid this night—a sea of cowering Egyptians, some bloodied and bruised, others simply scared.

But Jack knew he'd survive the night. If they were to die, Ra would want to make sure it was in public for all to see. In just a few months SG-1 had done some serious damage to Ra's reputation. It was personal. They'd challenged his sovereignty, his right to rule here on earth. It wasn't outright, not yet, but the quiet words spoken in the right ears had helped to escalate events even more than Jack had originally hoped.

It was always the little things that took the greatest toll.

This was the first time Jack had been close to His Royal Snakiness since their arrival in the past. Carter had insisted they keep as far from the Goa'uld as possible to avoid messing with the timeline any more than they already had.

As if their little uprising wouldn't already screw with the timeline enough.

But it was getting harder and harder to just sit by and watch these people live their lives in fear of a snake who would be god.

Apparently it had happened anyway—or so Daniel told them. That small fact had been enough to set them on their path, Jack not being one to just sit back and watch as events unfolded. He had jumped at the chance, arguing that maybe their help had been what caused the uprising to succeed.

They had big plans.

Daniel urged him to take it slow, to make sure Ra didn't find out, didn't notice.

The beatings a week ago had been the final straw.

They were kids—barely in their teens. With the sort of rebellious hot-headedness that had been getting kids like them into trouble for generations. Or would be. Or was.

He hated this time travel stuff. It so messed with his brain, and just made him angry.

Sit back. Watch. Don't interfere.

As if!

He was a man of action.

Always had been. Always would be—no matter what century he found himself in.

And so he'd waded into the fray, taking out the two Jaffa warriors meting out their punishment.

The kills had been clean, the boys melding into the mass of villagers looking on while he stood staring down at the fallen warriors, a familiar feeling stirring in his body and his mind.

Daniel had complained and whined, quite bitterly, when the news had reached the group, but Jack didn't care.

He had missed this. Missed the action. He was sick of skulking around, hiding.

He needed to DO something.

And look where it had gotten them. Sure, someone must have betrayed them to Ra, probably one of the many locals they had approached to join them, but had his actions been the catalyst? Had his open defiance been too much for a people that had been under the thumb of the snakes for generations?

Was the rebellion finished now? Could Daniel do it alone, or had his actions changed history. Would the next thousands of years see the Goa'uld rule Earth, and all because of him?

Had he doomed his planet to years of slavery?

Staring up at Ra, the first stirrings of doubt filtered into his mind. What if Daniel had been right? This was so not the time to find out.

But then, they weren't dead yet.

There was still plenty of time to get things back on track. They'd find a way out of this and then they'd have the uprising that they could write home about—or at least make sure it got into the history books.

There was no way he was going to back out of this now. They were in too deep and the plans too far along. They had to escape. Things still needed to be done. And he wasn't about ready to leave them in the hands of an archeologist.

He kept his head high, struggling against the hands trying to press it into a properly subservient bow and looked Ra straight in the eyes.

Every hurt he had suffered over the years, every innocent lost, every drop of blood spilled showed in the contemptuous gaze he fixed on the unholy god.

Jack smiled. He saw a look of confusion flash across the Goa'uld's face. "Ah, Ra—proof positive that your brother really shouldn't have had sex with your mother."

There was a moment of silence so total that he could hear his own breath whistling through his bruised lips.

Like a lightning bolt, it hit him seconds after the sound registered.

The pain radiated through his skull and down his spine, the nerve endings exploding like small supernovas as it traveled until it reached his heart and the blackness claimed him.