Disclaimer

Really? Again? Don't own. Wish I did.

Edit: Missed some scene breaks - oops.

Part Two (Continued)

Jack only managed to spend half the day with Nidna. At least he'd managed to pass the blasted test on what he'd retained. Nidna had, however, realized quite quickly that he was overtiring and hadn't protested his leave taking. He retired to his quarters after lunch, sporting a splitting headache from the information overload. He settled on the bed for a nap.

It was less than a half an hour later when a quiet chime woke him. "Come in."

Ba'al, resplendent in dark olive robes and carrying a glass of something, strode in. "I am told that you are in pain."

He sat up, wincing as his head tried to fall off his neck. "Just a bit."

The Goa'uld moved closer and sat on the edge of the bed before holding out the frosty glass. "This is an extract of... I believe you call it willow bark? It contains a few other ingredients as well, but it is quite good for dealing with pain that is not suitable for other healing methods."

Jack eyed the glass with a frown. Willow bark... "Oh, aspirin." He took the glass and sipped, grimacing at the bitter taste. The coolness was welcome, though. "Thank you."

Ba'al nodded and stood to leave, pausing as he caught sight of Jack's wallet on the nearby table. It was open, exposing a picture. He leaned forward to inspect it, but didn't touch. "Is this your son?"

Jack fiddled with the drinking glass, his fingers drawing patterns in the condensation. "His name was Charlie."

Ba'al straightened and their eyes met. "Was... You have my condolences."

Jack nodded his head, not quite able to look at the man.. Goa'uld... man... whatever. He sipped the infusion again. "It was an accident. My weapon was improperly secured and he was playing with it."

He looked up and was surprised to see the understanding in Ba'al's face. "Whether an accident or caused by someone's deliberate action, the death of one's child is always painful. No matter how many centuries pass."

"You?"

"Before we blended, my wife bore five children. Two died of diseases, as was normal at the time..." He moved to sit back on the bed. When he'd done so earlier, it had felt like an intrusion on Jack's personal space. Now, it felt natural. "The other three... My people had begun working with bronze, perhaps just a century prior. We were relatively peaceful, for humans. We'd had a few skirmishes between neighboring city-states or occasional bands of raiders. That didn't matter when the Tok'ra and the Goa'uld began their battle in our airspace. A Tok'ra ship crashed on our world."

It was Ba'al's turn not to meet his gaze. The powerful man was picking at a piece of imaginary lint on his robes. "The crash killed my wife and children nearly instantly. It would have killed me... An almost larval symbiote found me and joined with my dying body in desperation. I was – am – his first and only host."

Jack blinked. "So... How much time have we spent talking to you, and how much time talking to him?"

Ba'al smiled a bit, recognizing and accepting the sidestep. Neither of them wanted to get too caught up in the emotions of their past. "Both, usually. We're in agreement on most things."

"Oh." Jack downed the last of the medicinal liquid. "It still hurts."

The Goa'uld smiled sadly, knowing that he didn't mean the headache. "It always will."

Sam was having the time of her life. Abi had pulled apart one of the relays and was showing her the circuits involved. She was sitting on the floor, her head maybe a foot from the panel, and far too involved in what she was seeing to notice the approaching footsteps. Then Abi spoke. "My Lord."

"Abi. I see Major Carter is engrossed in her studies."

Sam looked up to see Ba'al. He seemed amused, though there was a lingering sadness in his eyes that she couldn't place. "This is... amazing."

Ba'al smiled. "I am gladdened to see you enjoying the opportunity, Major. However, like me, the two of you missed lunch. Would you both care to join me?"

Abi nodded. "We'd be honored, My Lord."

The technician leaned down and reassembled the circuit almost faster than she could follow. Ba'al waited until it was done and then turned to lead the way out of the engine room. She caught up to walk next to him. "Thank you."

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, not quite sure whether her gratitude was for food or for the educational experience. Possibly both. "You're quite welcome. A starving body leads to irritability and an inability to process information, which leads to a starving mind."

She couldn't help the grin. "Which leads to a starving kingdom?"

He chuckled. "I see my Jaffa have been repeating my favorite sayings."

She nodded. "Yep."

He paused at a doorway and gestured her in with a slight bow. "In that case, let me prove that I am no hypocrite. Our meal awaits."

She also paused and looked at him. "How did you know that we skipped lunch if you did, too?"

"Don't you know? I am a God." Ba'al smirked and ignored Abi's snort, though his amused gaze invited her to share the joke. "I'm all knowing... And, Babati... tattled. That is the correct term?"

She laughed and nodded.

Teal'c watched the training Jaffa with great interest. Most were running through various forms with the staff weapon. A few were actually sparring with each other, and a minor Goa'uld by the name of Namzu was observing the bouts. The effeminate host had a healing device strapped to his hand in case of accidental injury.

Teal'c had never personally met Ra but – from Daniel's descriptions – the male was very similar in appearance. He was fine boned and graceful, with unblemished skin. His unbound hair flowed down his back, and a Goa'uld glyph for healer was hanging from a chain around his neck. His white linen skirt was embroidered with black and green symbols of health and well-being.

On Apophis' ship, he had to suffer through any injury received in training. Healing was only for the Goa'uld, and injury made the Jaffa stronger. Here, he was told that any injury to the guards might make them ineffective when needed... Apophis certainly didn't have dedicated healing staff.

It was a definite difference of philosophy.

Sidu had provided Daniel with a small device that allowed him to read anywhere on the ship. The data pad, as Sidu called it, would have fascinated Sam. It could access just about anything if the user had the correct credentials. Daniel was more interested in the information stored.

He was so wrapped up in what he was reading that he completely missed that he'd sat down to dinner with it still in front of him. Sam snickered lightly, and Teal'c's lips lifted in what passed for a smile. Ba'al smirked and took a bite of his lightly spiced meat.

Jack reminded himself not to ask what he was eating and rolled his eyes at his friend. "Daniel, I'm pretty sure that reading at the table is rude even here."

"Huh?" The archaeologist looked up, noticed everyone eying him and blushed. "Oh. Sorry. It's just I... Jack, there's so much to learn. Did you know...?"

The colonel cut him off. "I'm very sure that you will put all of it in your report. As I'm going to have to read all five hundred pages anyway, I'd rather avoid spoilers."

"I've never turned in a five hundred page report!"

"No, just thirty pages with four hundred and some of supplemental reading..."

Ba'al tilted his head towards Teal'c, ignoring the bickering between the two humans. "Spoilers?"

Teal'c gave the slight motion of eyebrow and shoulder that indicated he had no idea. Sam shook her head with a grin. "It's like if you were reading a piece of fiction and someone told you the ending."

The Goa'uld nodded. "I see." He held out a hand to Daniel. "May I?"

Daniel blinked as he was pulled from his argument. He passed over the data pad. Ba'al brought up a database for English, noted down the new meaning, created the correct annotation links and sealed it with his personal code. Daniel just observed this wide eyes. "Just like that?"

Ba'al nodded. "Just like that." He cleared his code and passed the interface back to Daniel. "Have you been enjoying yourself?"

Daniel nodded and then Jack's eyes suddenly widened. He checked his watch. "Hell!"

Both of Ba'al's eyebrows raised. "Is there a problem?"

"Our check-in is due in five minutes."

"Well, we wouldn't want to upset your superiors." Ba'al turned to his First Prime. "Take the Colonel down to the Stargate and dial the Tau'ri home world so that he may... perform his 'check-in.'"

Babati and Jack left the table and Sam smiled. "That easy?"

Ba'al shrugged. "I would be a poor host if I forced you to violate your safety protocols."

General Hammond's eyes bugged out slightly. "Colonel, you're telling me that this Goa'uld wants to be friends? Why don't I believe that?"

"Believe it or not, General. He's been letting Daniel dig through his archives. Sam has torn apart half his ship by now, if I had to give an estimate. T's been wandering all over and sparring with his Jaffa. I told him I had to check in with you and he didn't even bat an eyelash. He just sent me down to the Stargate with no arguments." Jack's snort came clearly across the radio link. "Hell, he found out I had a headache and personally brought me aspirin... Well, their version."

George exchanged a look with Major Davis. Neither one was buying this. "And he hasn't tried anything?"

"...He's flirted a little with Carter, but he hasn't pushed anything. Oh, and he's offered Daniel his entire language database if he can find enough data crystals to hold it."

George blinked. "You're serious."

"Yes, sir. He says he wants a treaty, or perhaps for Earth to swear allegiance, but he seems to be trying to court us as opposed to threatening. He's also been pretty upfront about it."

The general shook his head. "Allegiance isn't going to happen. A treaty isn't out of the question, but we'd have to work out the details."

"Shall I tell him that, Sir?"

He gave a decisive nod. "Do. I'll expect another call same time tomorrow. When can we expect you back?"

"Not sure. I suppose either when he gets tired of us, tries to kill us, or gives Daniel his pretty rocks."

"Keep us updated, Colonel."

"Yes, Sir."

The Stargate shut down and Hammond sighed. "I don't like this."

Davis looked up at him. "Yes, sir. SG-1 never has an easy mission."

Part Three

SG-1 had been back on Earth for three days, having spent over a week with Ba'al. Daniel was embroiled in a custody battle with the 'legitimate' portion of the NID – they wanted the data crystals he'd brought back with him. Sam was buried in her labs trying to replicate some of what she'd learned with native technology. Teal'c was quiet, but that was just Teal'c.

Jack was having a hard time coming to terms with the idea of a Goa'uld as a loving parent. Every time he started to have a conversation with someone about Ba'al, he found himself remembering the expression on his face during their discussion. Jack knew that look, having seen it in the mirror more than once. It spoke of nights spent wondering, 'What if I had done something different?' The loss wasn't faked.

He watched various airmen scurry past him as he moved down the hall. Some were carrying samples of bunting. Others were debating menu proposals. Jack was fairly certain that the System Lord could care less about bunting choices and that – as long as it was edible – food wasn't that big a deal. He hadn't seemed to be very choosy about what he ate while they were on his ship, at least.

Ba'al was going to be arriving the next day, to discuss treaty negotiations. Hammond was determined to provide him the same level of courtesy that SG-1 had received. He'd even gone so far as to gain permission to take him out and about on the surface. That permission was rarely given, and had taken Teal'c months to obtain. Siler had apparently been ordered to compile a list of possible places to visit.

He wandered into Sam's lab, hoping to drag her out for lunch. Of the two, Daniel was the hardest to get moving and he hoped to have Sam's help in the attempt. She was bent over plans for... something, so he picked up a random item. Normally, that would be enough to get her attention. She didn't want him to accidentally activate a bomb or something similar.

Today, it took four doohickeys, three clearings of his throat and a "What'cha doin'?" before she looked up.

"Oh! Sir... I was just working on this hyperspace wave generator."

"O-kay." He drew the syllables out a bit, not wanting her to know that he did understand at least part of that sentence. If she found out, he'd be sitting there for hours while she tried to explain the rest. "Have you considered lunch?"

Sam blinked at him. "But, I just got star..." She looked at the clock and deflated. "Oh. It's two."

"Yep. Are you going to come eat?"

She started packing away the half-complete plans. "I know it seems kinda silly, and that we've only been back for a few days, but I want to make sure that I've made some sort of progress."

"Oh?"

"Well, yes, Sir." She smiled. "Ba'al gave us so much information. I... I want him to know that we appreciate it and we're using it."

Jack shrugged. "Makes sense, I guess. Let's go get Daniel."

Daniel was buried in work when they walked in. He had the language database up and running, and was using it translate a dozen or so artifacts. Jack stopped in the door and looked at Sam. They shared an eye-roll and a smile as they heard Daniel muttering to himself in Egyptian.

The archaeologist was studiously ignoring the grumbling coming from his midsection. "Danny-boy, I see food in your near future."

He looked up, blinking as he was brought back to reality. "Oh. Hi. Am I missing something?"

"Lunch, Daniel. It's traditional."

Daniel blinked as his stomach let out it's most vigorous complaint yet. "Right... Jack, you have to see some of this..."

Jack held up his hand, then used it to pull his friend along. "While we eat, okay?"

The whoosh of the Stargate settled into the typical blue pool. Four Jaffa stepped out onto the ramp and stationed themselves as an honor guard – two at each side. Jack was actually slightly frightened to see Nidna there. He hoped that he wasn't going to have an impromptu quiz thrown at him sometime in the next few days.

Babati came through and surveyed the area for a moment, before moving a pace to his left. The First Prime's armor, like those of the other Jaffa, was polished to gleaming perfection. It was obvious that they were taking this visit seriously as a Matter of State. Jack winced when he realized that he'd actually capitalized it in his head. He surreptitiously tugged at the neck of his dress uniform.

"Jaffa, Kree!" Babati's command had them snapping even more to attention, and just in time. Ba'al appeared at the top of the ramp. As usual, he was impeccably groomed. He was wearing luxurious brown robes with small jewels sewn on them every inch or so. A pendant bearing his symbol rested on his chest. He gave the room an imperious glance before his face softened slightly into approval.

Jack supposed that Hammond's decorations hadn't gone to waste after all.

Two Lo'taur stepped through, carrying chests of what could only be Ba'al's clothing and toiletries. The Gate shut off behind them.

The Goa'uld glided down the ramp and his eyes flashed. His voice resonated in that familiar multi-tone. "General Hammond, it is a pleasure to visit your facility."

Hammond straightened. "Lord Ba'al, I hope our hospitality lives up to your expectations."

Ba'al smiled. "I try not to have expectations, General. That is the path to disappointment. Nonetheless, I'm sure whatever you have planned for my stay will be more than acceptable."

Hammond wasn't certain how to reply to this, but smiled. "Well, I imagine the trip wasn't terribly tiring but I'll have an airman escort you to your rooms so that you and your men can get settled in. We were planning a dinner this evening in your honor, if you would care to attend."

Ba'al's voice had settled back into the normal range of human speech, signaling that the pomp and circumstance was over in his opinion. "That sounds delightful."

At dinner, Hammond had tried his best to ensure that things would run smoothly. Ba'al was seated by the American ambassador, a man named Carl Woodson. To his left, Major Carter was happily dominating the conversation by explaining her progress on a hyper drive. General Hammond was trying to appear more interested in the actual science aspects than he was, since his guest seemed to be riveted.

That his questions also seemed to be slowly prompting Sam towards a breakthrough escaped no one, including Sam. She seemed gratified that he wasn't just handing her the answer. Maybe she saw it as some sort of confidence in her abilities? Or just enjoyed the puzzle? Jack wasn't sure. He usually preferred to just be told where he was making the mistake.

He had to admit that the way her face lit up when she figured it out was breathtaking.

Daniel joined the conversation, then, mentioning that he was able to translate a few tablets that he'd been having trouble with. Ba'al smiled at him. "Did you find anything interesting?"

Daniel looked a bit sheepish. "Not unless you want to know how many bags of rice it took to construct a home on P3X-714 about a hundred years ago?"

The System Lord blinked. "Well, I'm not familiar with the way you've named the planet, but you have me curious now."

"Well, a single family dwelling – consisting of roughly two to three rooms – seems to retail at around fifteen bags."

Ba'al nodded. "That's not bad. I remember mine went for twenty soft-tanned hides and a suit of bronze studded armor."

Daniel's jaw dropped. "Yours... I'm talking to..."

Ba'al chuckled. "Both of us, Daniel. You're talking to both of us. So, what would a comparable home retail for here on Earth?"

Daniel shook himself out of his shock. "Three rooms... um... Depending on where, I'd say about seventy thousand dollars, and twenty-five pounds of rice is about fifty dollars."

Ba'al did the mental calculations. "So, if our bags are approximately fifty pounds... Seven hundred bags." He looked surprised, then chuckled. "Not bad for ten thousand years of inflation, but quite a rise for... P3X-714?"

Daniel couldn't help his own laugh as he nodded.

Three days later, negotiations were going well. During the breaks, it wasn't uncommon to find Ba'al seated in Carter's lab either asking questions or offering ideas. As a result, more people stopped by in thinly-veiled attempts to get a good look at a Goa'uld. He took the attention with reasonable calm and no small amount of amusement.

At one point, Daniel stopped in to show Ba'al a Mesopotamian tablet that referenced him only to find half the science department vying for his attention. Hammond put his foot down at that point and only scientists that had genuine business dared visit when he was there.

Ba'al did stop by the archeology department as well. He was drawn into a discussion where they asked about his supposed magical powers. Ba'al's answer shocked them to the core. "Science is magic."

"What?"

He raised one eyebrow in amusement, then pointed to the microwave sitting off to the side. "You put your food in a box and press a button. In a flash of light, it's hot. What is that, if not magic? That there's real scientific principles at work is irrelevant. To the average person, it is something that will never be understood."

Sam, standing in the doorway, broke in. "Clarke's Third Law: 'Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.'"

The Goa'uld faced her. "The same can also be said in reverse. I have seen things that all the technology I possess can't explain."

The archeologists had fallen silent. Sam eyed him. "Like what?"

"What is the statistical probability that life as we know it would evolve? That any life would evolve at all? That someone with a sufficiently advanced brain can apparently break the laws of physics?" He spread his hands. "To repeat myself: What is that, if not magic?"

Sam cocked her head. "Something we aren't evolved enough to understand, yet. Silly superstitions shouldn't have a place in science."

Ba'al frowned and then gently corrected her. "Silly superstitions are the foundation of science. The ability to see cause and effect and draw a conclusion – no matter how wrong it may or may not be – is the beginning of any species moving beyond basic needs. The trial and error of early superstition is an essential part of social and scientific evolution and revolution."

She blinked at him. "Be that as it may, that doesn't mean that there really is some sort of magic at work."

Ba'al smirked. "That doesn't mean that there isn't, either. Just that it hasn't been proven yet. It is, after all, impossible to completely prove a negative. I could do two thousand experiments where I let go of a book and it falls to the ground. I can even provide sound scientific reasons for it to do so. That doesn't mean that it will never float up – just that it hasn't happened as of yet. Seeing as I have seen it happen..."

Sam nodded. "In space."

He shook his head. "On a planet." At her curious stare, he continued. "I once met a man who had mastered his mind to the point that he could levitate objects around him. I spent months trying to determine how he did it. I brought my own objects. I moved him to random venues. I scanned his mind. The only unusual factor was that he used his brain more efficiently than the average human."

One of the archeologists spoke up. "And you didn't take him as a host?"

Ba'al's eyes snapped to him, just short of the Goa'uld flash. The others in the room tried to put a subtle distance between themselves and the one who'd spoken. "One, I couldn't be sure that the ability would survive implantation. I did say that the skill resided in his mind, did I not? Where exactly does a symbiote's head go again?"

The man looked abashed and Ba'al's expression softened. He realized that the question was motivated by curiosity and not meant as a condemnation. "Two, I am rather used to this host and he to me. I would... miss him."

That statement seemed to open the floor for them to pose questions that hadn't before. They hadn't wanted to offend him. Another archaeologist spoke up. "How much do you two share?"

Ba'al smiled. "Everything."

The man frowned. "Everything? How...?"

The Goa'uld settled himself on the edge of a table. "Imagine, if you will, that you have had a friend for a decade. Your minds are so attuned that you almost hear each others thoughts. One of you is never out of sight of the other. You receive all the same input, know the same things. You each instantly understand the very root of the other's reasons, needs and desires." The man nodded. "Now, imagine that you can hear his thoughts and you've been that way for ten thousand years."

Daniel blinked. "It'd be like being a single person."

"Precisely." He grinned. "Though, it's not as much of a sign of insanity when you talk to yourself." He turned his gaze to Sam. "What can I help you with, Major?"

"Oh, the General wanted to know if you'd like to go out and about tomorrow. He can have a list of venues to you by dinner, if you'd like."

"I would be most pleased. Would SG-1 be joining us?" Ba'al's face held polite interest, though his eyes were locked on her.

"Um. Jack and Teal'c were going to go fishing. General Hammond is forcing them to take their vacation time before the end of the quarter. Daniel?"

"I was planning on going through another box of stuff from off-world." He gestured at a large packing crate behind him. "And I have another telephone argument scheduled with an NID goon."

Sam nodded. "I could come. I need a break from the lab, anyway."

"In that case, I would be most pleased to have your company."

"I know your species can do better than this."

Sam had to smile as Ba'al quietly shared with her his opinion of Tau'ri transportation. It wasn't really uncomplimentary. The whispered comment was more amusing than anything else. "Just a few minutes more and we'll be there."

"That's what you said twenty minutes ago." He straightened in his seat at the glance from the driving airman, and Sam chuckled.

"Early morning traffic. Everyone's trying to get to work on time."

The Goa'uld nodded, and started examining the sunglasses they'd provided him. "I still don't see why you want me to wear these."

"Because normal people don't have glowing eyes?"

"They only glow when I lose control of my emotions." He snorted. "I have better self control than that."

"At your age, I'd hope so." She grinned at his light glare. "Seriously, anyone can slip up. We're just trying to avoid any incidents."

"This Aquarium better be worth this."

Even Ba'al had to admit that it was. They forgot, frequently, that the Goa'uld had started out as an aquatic species. Considering that they spent all of their time inside other species' bodies, it was an easy thing to do. Seeing him move gracefully back and forth between exhibits and gazing longingly at the tanks served as a poignant reminder.

She had to grin when he stopped to stare at a moray. "Relative or friend?"

Ba'al laughed. "This late in the evolutionary chain, who knows?"

She left him standing there for a moment and had a quiet word with one of the airmen that had accompanied them as security. He broke off and went to have a word with one of the docents. Ba'al was listening to the recording at a shark display. He glanced at her as she came back over. "They're beautiful."

"And deadly, under the wrong circumstances."

"Most beautiful creatures are."

It took her a second to realize he was no longer staring at the sharks, and a split second after that for the blush to rise.

Her surprise, arranging for him to swim in the tanks, went over quite well. Not that the fish had been anxious to get anywhere near him – they'd fled with all due haste. It seemed they realized that he was both not human and an aquatic predator. He'd had fun, however, and she'd gotten to enjoy watching him.

He was a natural swimmer. She wasn't surprised, but she was appreciative.

Their return trip was interrupted early on by a stop at a fast food place. He'd jokingly accused her of trying to poison him or, perhaps, herself. The airman had been a bit shocked, but she'd chuckled. "It does take some... It's an acquired taste."

"I'll agree with that."

They were lightly bantering with each other, eating the last of their fries and ignoring the trees they were passing, when the vehicle swerved. The airman pulled them safely over and got out to inspect the damage. He was back a few seconds later to advise them of a flat tire. Ba'al gave a melodramatic sigh. "A tel'tak never gets a flat tire."

"A tel'tak doesn't have tires."

He grinned at her with a raised eyebrow. "And your point?"

She opened her mouth to reply when she heard the impact of their driver's body hitting the ground. She reached for her sidearm, glad that she'd brought it with her, and noticed Ba'al slipping a hand into his pocket as well. She had to pause when he pulled it out. "How did you get a hand device past security?"

He gave her an absent smile, but didn't answer. Instead, he chose to slide out of the car and into a defensive crouch. She followed, knelt next to their driver and pulled the dart out of his neck. "What the...?"

A sharp pain in her back, and the world grew dim. There was the sound of a hand device discharging and yells as the darkness swallowed her.

"Major? Major Carter?" She swam back towards consciousness and the sound of Ba'al's voice. She blinked gritty eyes and peered at the roof of her cage – cage? She sat up and instantly regretted the swift motion. Considering the number of times I've been knocked out, she inwardly grumbled, you'd think I'd know better. "Ah, you're awake."

She turned her head, slowly. She was in a short cage made of – if she had to guess – steel. It was about four feet tall and had a four by six footprint, so she could at least stretch out comfortably. Ba'al wasn't so lucky. He was just slightly too tall to lie down without bending his legs.

At the moment, he was leaning against the bars on one side and staring at her. He'd been stripped down to just his pants. Even his shoes had been taken. She gave him a slight smile, trying to be reassuring. They appeared to be in some sort of warehouse. "Any sign of our captors?"

"Not as of yet."

She glanced down at herself. Wonderful. She was in just her shirt and panties. They'd even taken her bra. No doubt to keep her from using the under wire as a lock pick. "Lovely."

"Yes, but now isn't the time."

She met his perfectly flat gaze and sighed. She wasn't going to argue. Her head hurt too much. "Right."

"Do you believe you have a concussion? You hit your head rather hard when you went down."

"Probably." She started examining the lock. It was a better than decent combination lock. It wasn't the sort that you could open by breaking – if she'd even had something to break it with. She spotted her clothes on a table across the room. "You know what's worse than realizing that you're half naked in front of a man you barely know?"

"What?"

"Realizing that you can actually see your clothes and that you're cold." He snorted at that and she nodded. "Yeah. It's not funny, but it is."

"Considering your commentary regarding our state of dress, I suppose it would be impolitic to offer my body heat?"

"Yes. It would probably be just as wrong to accept."

He thoughtfully cocked his head at her and lifted one arm. She scooted across the rough floor – the cage was bolted to it, dammit – and settled against his chest. "Not a word."

"There are none to describe, Major."

"Under the circumstances, you can call me Sam."

"You have my permission to ignore my honorific, as well, Samantha."

Hours passed and the night wore on. A warehouse in February didn't offer the best temperature range for human habitation. She started shivering long before he did. His symbiote had upped his metabolism for a brief time, raising his body temperature and keeping them both a little warmer. He'd had to stop, though, as he'd almost literally burn himself out without a supply of nutrients.

At least he managed to taper it so that it wasn't an abrupt change.

At around three in the morning, he became certain that Samantha was trying to wear his skin. She was certainly burrowed into his side. By four in the morning, he was ready to return that sentiment. He could only hope that they weren't going to wind up with hypothermia. Considering the temperature, it seemed likely that they would.

He looked down at her, frowning. His symbiote could repair his body quickly, and could probably sustain him for several more hours. She didn't have such recourse. He tilted her chin up. She was pale and convulsively shivering. Definitely a case of mild to moderate hypothermia.

He wouldn't permit her to die. If nothing else, it might cause issues with the proposed treaty. Also, her team was remarkably impractical about such things... He would prefer that his ha'tak stayed in one piece.

Making a decision that he hoped was the correct one, he eased away. It was a small effort to strip his leather pants off – he was starting to wish he'd worn something beneath them – and start tugging them onto her. Her shivers were making it more difficult, however. "Samantha... Samantha!"

She jerked awake and eyed him blearily. Her eyes took in his state of dress. "Not in the mood, sorry." She started to drift off again and he gave a mental apology before lightly slapping her.

Her eyes snapped back open. "Help me get these on you."

She swallowed and nodded, then started to help him. Her movements were slow and uncoordinated – not a good sign. Neither was the bluish cast to her fingertips. Adding in her earlier confusion, he revised his previous opinion: moderate to severe hypothermia. "What about you?"

"We'll be fine." I hope. "You will not be without further covering."

He got her dressed in his pants and settled back again for her to lean on. She started laughing. "You know... If they find us like this, I'll never live it down."

He chuckled. "At least you're clothed... No doubt they will begin doubting their masculinity."

She snorted into his chest.

It was just after dawn when their captors finally showed themselves. They entered the room carrying steaming cups of coffee and bundled in warm coats. One sat down and started devouring a hot breakfast of bacon, eggs and pancakes. Their actions deliberately showcased all the things that their two captives were craving.

Ba'al had to admit that they were good at this, and they hadn't even really started yet.

I'm only going to touch on it very lightly, but next chapter will have mentions of torture. For that reason, I'm going to bump the rating up to 'M' when I post it. I actually wrote the draft of the next two chapters last night. As I result, I can actually guarantee they will exist. Beyond that, who knows?