Author's Notes: -Sigh.- I don't know how this happened. I really don't. I had a plot line, and then suddenly, it became this. I swear it's good if I can just hold it together. No beta, so expect me to have missed some idiot mistake that won't correct for seven hours. Ahem. Um. Enjoy!

[Seven Hours Earlier…

Silent, abandoned eyes aimlessly stared out from beneath a stream of black bangs that nearly hid the mismatched gaze entirely. A fragile chin leaned against a white palm, long wisps of ebony trailing over a slim build and effeminate features that were uncharacteristically bored for a Goa'uld. Eyes were lined black and Hebrew written like a dark scar beneath the right, which was a feral shade of unnatural yellow in any human. The left was an icy, crystallized blue and free of inscription with a more elaborate curve pattern leading off the eyelid. Lips painted to match pursed as the stranger finally gave notice to Daniel and Jack who were being ushered by a dozen Jaffa into the white throne room.

In the customary fashion, they were thrown to their knees before the supposed God with snarling staffs at their throats, something that Jack made comment on by rolling his eyes with a sigh and complying. Daniel did likewise, with a slight smile hiding as he watched Jack's grimaces of annoyance. They waited for the melodramatic and long-winded death threats, but the quiet only continued. Jack tilted his head forward, eyes widened with an irritated and anticipating expression.

Still, there was nothing. The scarlet robed God remained sprawled out on his throne, elbow rested against an elaborately carved silver arm while legs draped over the other, crossed at the knees and black boots lightly swaying in the air. His chin tilted, leaning forwards and glancing over the two at his own leisure, a bracelet adorned wrist lifting from his side to twist in the air, the faint crack of air release heard.

"Well, your queenship?" Jack said with a broad, clearly false smile and received a blow to the face by the flat of a staff immediately, knocking his backwards where he lifted his hands in feeble defense. "Geeze, I was just starting to like this one," He muttered, the same Jaffa that had delivered the first strike stepping forward to extenuate the punishment. The same delicate hand that had idly played in the air brought a halt to his action by a simple motion and the warrior resumed his silent, intense stare forwards to his God.

"Jack, that's not a woman," Daniel whispered, eyes squinting to read the writing on the Goa'uld's face, but the distance was too far to distinguish it. "Daniel, I've seen a woman before." Jack continued, eyebrow arching as he spoke. "That is definitely a woman."

"Femininity was believed to hold special power in some ancient cultures…" He had slipped into conversation so easily, he'd nearly forgotten where he was, and it seemed O'Neill was guilty of this as well.

"Why are you here?" A familiar aspect of its kind, the voice was warped deeply and effectively ended the banter between the two, where Jack set his sights on a new comedy special.

"Oh, you know, just like to get together at these little meet and greets." Goading was a talent that man was born with. It hadn't failed yet, and there was doubt it ever would until that moment. An eyelash didn't bat, the same dead expression remained and suddenly, the situation which had seemed quirky and casual turned cold and dangerous.

".. Nice dress." That didn't necessarily change O'Neill tactics.

"Why are you here?" He repeated, the utter lack of interest in their antics was almost diplomatic to Daniel, and downright insulting to Jack who prided himself on the ability to degrade the holier-than-thou snakes. Daniel, sensing that continued silence would do no good and they weren't leaving without answering, spoke quickly and uncertainly. "We actually didn't mean to, I mean, we were studying the artifacts and saw no sign of recent activity…"

"…We're really just here by accident, you see, and we have no problems just leaving." Jack continued with that arrogant smile that for once Daniel wished he'd back off of – this Goa'uld wasn't the classic over-the-top and even on Earth, the quiet ones did the greater damage. The stranger paused; he even seemed to be considering it, the first show of expression finally there.

"When I have finished with you, you will leave." There was no promise in that statement, but there was no deceit – he seemed honest, and in that honesty, dangerous. An important lack of information was left out – in just what state they would leave in. The calm was the quiet walk along the edge of the building, seventy-stories below with destination pavement.

"What?" Jack asked, now crouching on the ground with arms folded over his chest, eyebrow tilted up in disbelief.

Something about this one was dead, a shell, something old in a fresh face. That kind of corruption, so deeply seeded, it was human.

"…Jack, I don't think he's a Goa'uld." Daniel whispered, glancing up to brown eyes that looked almost as exasperated with him as the Goa'uld. It made sense, didn't it? There were Tok'ra, and life is more complicated than good or evil, why couldn't there be another sect? It was a fleeting thought, and unlikely, but the difference couldn't be ignored.

"Glowing eyes, creepy voice, dress, Daniel," Yes, Jack. Because everyone is the same if they aren't us.

"No… I'm quite worse." Or not. They turned towards the other like he was intruding on a private conversation, and he was, but a famous proverb dictated that he with the largest weapons has the most to say. At least, there should have been.

"Oh, I'm sure." O'Neill sighed, convinced enough that there was nothing odd about this aside eccentricity. It had happened before, and a God Complex was an assured way to further mental deterioration.

"Lord Shahar, I will prepare your interrogation chambers." A name, finally, given by a blonde haired soldier that had walked furthest on their merry escort. Shahar was the god of dawn, twin brother to Shalim in the pantheon of Ugarit, the Phoenician equivalent of night and day.

"Always the ambitious one, Kaizan." Shahar scolded, pulling his legs up and stretch out with feline grace, walking past them without a glance. "Go ahead." He left. That was it. Jack had been expecting a lot more out of this one after the looming little threat.

"Not a Goa'uld?" Jack had no snappy reply for this, and there was no time to wait for one. "Cree, Jaffa!" The first prime turned, and for the first time, Daniel realized that none of them wore an insignia. This, however, like most of his realizations, was put away to deal with the immediate moment as he was separated from Jack and carried down the long, shrouded pathway deeper into the ship.

Golden curls over peach dusted skin, she leaned against a tall pillar, arms swaying idly at her sides. Four or five if she was even human, or even real – dressed ornately, she smiled as he was pushed by her, waving a small hand. "Don't worry!" She called out, Daniel gawking while the guards proceeded without notice. Then she was gone, but her voice remained beyond the edge of hearing within his mind, becoming a screeching whisper. He knew he had seen her before, heard her, felt her – before…

"The star of the morning will deliver you."

Fingers trembling and curling into the handwritten requiem, Daniel's breath had stagnated somewhere and all at once came rushing out as he stared, fixated by the grime of the cell. He had figured out it was a virtually constructed environment by the second trip to Shahar's interrogation chambers, likely designed for the sake of creating further psychological damage in addition to the bloodletting. He adjusted to it eventually, though he couldn't exactly remember when anymore. Time in itself was no longer in effect and he had retreated to the safety of his mind long ago, breaking away only when the Jaffa came to exchange prisoners. These Jaffa, this ship, in every way spoke of an enemy from something darker than they had faced. His eyes were blindfolded each time the door slid open and his hands were bound, though he could only identify it by the inability to move. No weight rested against his wrists, paralysis flowing into fingers and rendering the most highly evolved limbs of humanity useless. It could've been through any means, he was never granted his sight that long.

Dark, cold walls and slick floors, the cell was wide enough to lie down but too short to walk more than four paces. The light, which was dim enough to make his vision blur but bright enough to keep some sense of focus when necessary, seemed to come from no where and everywhere at once with no clear point of origin. This aided his theory that it was an advanced form of holographic imagery. He sat against the wall, Jack's journal to the left of his thigh and the separated notes held pointlessly in a choked crutch. Daniel's mind ran rapidly of ideas and slowly of comprehension, wanting to believe for all of him that it was only a means of deception, that surely Shahar had implanted this to break him. The risk, however, of the consequences that would result cleared any doubt. Even if he was wrong, and it was false, he couldn't take the chance of losing Jack.

His rational judgment, however, was considerably impaired and strategizing escape would've taken too long. Their arrival into Shahar's humble abode had been purely accidental, purely his fault – he just had to see the relics, find one more secret. The area had shown no recent activity and the planet was barren of anything but history and its stargate, they had no reason to question their safety. Carter had been commenting about functionality of an artifact recovered when the rings enveloped Jack and Daniel, white light flashing and relocating them into the typical golden walls of an unexpected visitor. No one had seen their arrival, for this, they were fortunate.

Carter and Teal'c, however, was not gifted with this luck. The skirmish had been won, however, and the halves of SG-1 tucked themselves away into the shadows of their respective places. Radio contact had remained at first, talking about possible escape routes while Carter relayed all of the information she knew about the layout and began planning her return to the gate to retrieve help. Whatever O'Neill's reply or the conversation that proceeded for the five minutes after that, Daniel couldn't remember. After that, Jack had been frantically whispering into his radio and listening to static as his reply.

From the behind the bend of a pillar, a giggle had erupted, echoing through the room and down the tunnels that led out, a flash of brilliant blonde hair seen whipping over the turn and footsteps caught his attention, though none of these things had alerted Jack. In fact, Jack had checked his temperature and assured him that no one was there, eyes creased in quiet concern or suspicion - it was hard to tell which. Daniel assumed this lapse was where that damn hero had gotten enough information to plan a suicide mission that would likely only succeed in the suicide itself. Daniel had faith in Jack, naturally, but he knew his own mind had began to deteriorate and the last time he'd seen the Colonel, things hadn't looked so great for him either.

If Jack was going through with this, he was going to do it quickly while being escorted – he'd probably even wrote about their first time meeting just for the distraction. He had been right, however, Daniel did read too fast. There was a pang of hurt at the realization that he was expected to just accept it, that he would fall in line and agree to allow the sacrifice of another life, Jack's life, for his own.

All at once, his decision was made.

"I'm ready to talk." Quiet, first. "I'm ready, do you hear me? Come get it, it's now or never and I'm not waiting any longer!" He climbed to his feet, ending in a shout and bracing hands against the wall. No reply came, nothing but silence followed. "I'll tell Shahar everything, just let me out of here. Can you hear me? I want to come out! Take me to see Shahar!" Fists banged against the smooth surface, bones shuddering with pain.

No one answered.

In the darkness of his murky mind, the realization occurred.

"HELEL!"

The wall slid back and the environment shifted, the room growing equal in length and width and the cold disappearing. The child had returned, standing beneath the gold doorway with wide green eyes. She opened her mouth to speak, terror writing her features as darkness overflowed from her lips, creating black rot that spread through her flesh. She screamed, or Daniel did – or no one at all, it all spun away into black.