Chapter 9 - Movement Up and Down

The fatigue from hard, physical labour had always ensured that he slept like the dead throughout the night. But excitement had overridden the usual exhaustion tonight and the adrenaline that pumped through his veins was loud in his ears.

Daniel looked down from where he stood on a precarious ledge on the scaffolding, knowing that just one wrong step would cause him to plunge fifty metres to the ground. He held on tight, uncaring that his knuckles were scratched and bloodied with his efforts to cut through sharp, protruding layers of rock. The scaffolding pierced the rock strata in places, already destabilising its tightly bonded structure to expose a soft mineral sheet that crumbled under little pressure.

Tentatively, he put his right foot out, heel first, testing its integrity. It held. Then he pushed his weight onto that foot, praying that it wouldn't give.

Above him, Teal'c's graceful ascent belied the bulk of his body and not for the first time, Daniel wished he had that same dexterity in his own limbs. The last few years of accidental bulking up to become as battle-ready as a civilian could be for off-worlding activities clearly hadn't extended to honing his rock-climbing skills.

"You are struggling, Daniel Jackson."

Daniel snorted at Teal'c talent for stating the obvious. "I would think so."

"There is still a distance to go. You must push on."

Teal'c words echoed in his head in a dizzying playback loop. You must push on.

Push on.

Push on so they could get back to the Stargate, wherever it was hidden in some part of the city. Push on to find Jack and Sam. If they were still alive. And push on, back to the SGC, most likely as fugitives. Assuming they were not caught in the resulting manhunt that their escape was bound to trigger.

There was too much to think about and it overwhelmed him.

His muscles were screaming for relief. But there was nothing more he wanted to do than to go on. So Daniel tightened his grip on the last beam of the scaffolding and hauled himself onto the next exposed layer of the rock strata. With each tortuous step, he tried to distract himself with the scattered pieces of knowledge that he and Teal'c had gathered during their incarceration in the mines – which wasn't too much, really.

A surreptitious search of Brenna's office had merely brought up the name lists of the contingent of workers…and nothing else. No architectural blueprints of the mines or even a layout of the city above the surface. Whatever they'd hidden, they'd hidden well, leaving the only conceivable plan that he and Teal'c could think of: to escape through the shafts built into the ceiling as the shifts rotated and their mining buddies went to bed dreaming of the next day's bowl of gruel for breakfast.

With a small bag of stolen food from the cookhouse, he and Teal'c had embarked on one of the simplest and possibly, one of the stupidest escape plans ever. If this route led straight out onto the ice and not into the city, they'd be good as dead with only the clothes on their backs.

Daniel grimaced, trying unsuccessfully, not to think of the worst and wished, not for the first time, that he had a fraction of that unflagging fortitude that Teal'c always carried.

Not knowing what really stood out there beyond the mines was something Teal'c could accept better than he could ever have; the unknown was after all, what he had dealt with alarming regularity as Apophis's First Prime. Unknown conquests, unknown attacks…unknown situations, all of which Teal'c had accepted with an unperturbed stoicism that drew both amusement and admiration from his teammates.

But Daniel, like Jack and Sam, thrived on known variables, factors that could be predicted and planned for – as much as they could at least – with the tendency of off-world missions going sideways at the drop of a hat. Yet being thrust into a middle of situations where the outcomes weren't too clear had been SG-1's fate from the beginning and he couldn't help but feel more prepared for the unknown than he'd ever been.

It didn't take too long for his wandering mind to go in circles.

He pushed on.

oOo

The winds had quietened down a fraction and in that space of a minute, Jonah could see the faint outlines of the testing facility's entrance – or whatever Thera Arann had chosen to call it – from the transport craft's thick windows. The craft banked quickly and from the view port, a small, solitary building came into sight, standing amidst the undulating landscape, a lone fortress against the harsh elements of the perpetual ice age of the planet.

The sudden chill of the toxic upper atmosphere was replaced by the pungent rush of the mineral- and sulphur-rich air heated by the geothermal forces from the centre of the planet's core as Jonah stepped off the transport craft.

For once, Jonah was glad that he was anonymous among the hundreds of workers who worked day and night to bring the miniature city to life.

With his clearance, it had been all too easy to catch this transport from Neithana out here, on the pretext of conducting perimeter and security checks. But it wasn't the first time that he'd begun to question the wisdom of the decision of this particular meeting, knowing that he'd willingly allowed himself to be subtly manipulated – too easily – by someone who really shouldn't matter to him.

By a prickly and uptight scientist, of all people, who somehow seemed to understand that bizarre connection they'd forged.

The attraction was mutual, he was sure of it. But there was a small voice that warned him off her, a voice that he'd come close to ignoring on most occasions because it seemed too irrational to have surfaced even from his own subconscious.

Or was that merely his deep-seated dislike of scientists raising its voice? Was this a good thing…or whether did attraction simply override his prejudices?

Suddenly tired of the shaky ground on which he stood when it came to Thera Arann, Jonah shook his head in an effort to clear the gathering cobwebs.

The elevator doors slid open into the administrative quadrant and for a moment, he allowed himself to take in the sight of the miniature, subterranean city built deep under the ice.

From where he stood, the last few streets demarcating the end of the urban zone stretched beyond what the eye could see, covered by the crescent of a half-finished dome. All around him, illuminated skyscrapers that rose to the height of the average man lined the arterial roads that ringed through the circular city, casting irregular shadows on the concrete ground, frozen in perpetual night.

It was brilliant and magnificent and a damned confusing maze that he didn't like one bit, after having stepped from the real thing into this counterfeit, inanimate entity that was too small but looked too real. And in spite of the sounds of the crew that worked to complete this project, it lacked the noise, the bustle and the sounds of daily routines of city living that a lifeless model could never replicate.

Still, the set-up was simply meant to support the brainchild of Thera Arann, the woman with whom he's developed an unhealthy obsession. Just the thought of her made him cringe at the uncharacteristic sway of…schoolboy emotions that assailed him.

Crossing the deep arterial motorway that divided the offices from the leisure centre, he saw her immediately, clothed in the white and silver formal robes of the facility that she worked in, leaning against the cluster of buildings that formed the tallest peaks of the Neithanan skyline.

Then she shifted minutely, the soft, yellow-pink beams of ambient light catching the golden strands of her hair and the silver threads that wound intricately through her robes, their sudden dazzling shimmer making him barrel to an abrupt stop.

Fuck.

Immediately, he turned his eyes away from the mesmerising sight, deliberately breaking the very source of his unease and willed his breathing to even out.

But she had already seen him and if she'd noticed the uncharacteristic hesitation in his stride, she'd chosen to ignore it.

Her face was unreadable as she stepped coolly towards him. "You came."

He was glad his voice was steady as he spoke. "You thought I wouldn't?"

"I wasn't sure," she told him honestly, producing a thick, blue folder that he surmised could have only been hidden in the folds of her clothes. "Here."

Jonah eyed her outstretched hand with some surprise. "What?"

"All that you need to know about the safeguards that have been put in place for the Korros concept test."

He looked at the folder suspiciously. "So I guess you still don't want to talk, huh?"

A small smile formed at the corner of her lips. "I actually don't know where to begin."

Her answer sounded encouraging enough for him press on. "Wherever you want to begin," he paused, looking at her wryly, "you wouldn't be getting complaints from me if there's more talk, less science in there. I'll just read this," he took the folder deliberately, then staggered a bit under its surprising weight, glaring a bit at her returning smirk. "And not understand a word of it. Why don't you just explain it to me right now?"

The quirk of her lips remained in place. "You learned how to read, didn't you? I'm sure you'll manage just fine."

"Alright, let's see."

Deliberately, Jonah leafed through the carefully-organised reports, catching sight of calculations and long paragraphs of explanations that he was certain would fly straight over his head. And he wouldn't put it past her to make things just that bit more difficult for him just because she could.

"Yeah, I'm sure I will manage just fine," he told her drily. "Technobabble and all."

Her forehead creased in confusion. "Technobabble?"

Hadn't she heard that term before? Frowning, he tried to explain. "Uh, long, science-y explanations that belong in a science lab and not from where I'm standing. The things you and the rest of the other…eggheads do."

"Eggheads?" She asked, smiling at his poor attempt at defining a term that was probably self-invented.

Apart from his…extraordinary use of words, it was a sharp reminder to Jonah that they were from vastly different spheres – spheres that converged only because a series of coincidences had brought them to where they were now standing. And the urge to bridge this divide, to know more about the world in which she lived – and about her – had grown from a fleeting thought into a burning need. What then, had changed over the course of the past few weeks? It wasn't something that he even had an answer to.

He didn't back down, shrugging his apparent disinterest that she knew better than to believe. "Got a better word for it?"

"How about 'scientists'?"

He gave her a sly look. "That's boring."

"So you think I'm boring?"

He barked a laugh, not taking the bait. "That's a trick question, right?"

"Would you believe it if I told you that boring science has been my whole life?"

"No kidding."

Her eyes narrowed. "Really. It's…all I…know how to do."

"Your dedication to work is both commendable and frightening," he said, the beginnings of a grin on his face when he finally heard her laugh. "Don't you have a life?"

"Apparently not."

"Let me guess. If there wasn't a constant stream of equations to solve or a number of reactors to build, you wouldn't know anything else about having a good time."

He was baiting her and they both knew it.

Her pursed lips showed that her patience was wearing thin. "This is fun to me."

"What drives you, Thera?" Jonah asked suddenly, his tone serious as he gestured to their surroundings in awe of the manifestation of the project that had enthralled a good portion of the Administration. "I'm seeing all your work, but where's the woman behind the scientist?"

oOo

The woman behind the scientist? Who really, was that?

Thera shifted uncomfortably on the balls of her feet. Anxiety suddenly flared, growing to suffocating proportions at the abrupt shift in Jonah's questioning.

How was it that a near-complete stranger had cut through her more easily without her having to say too much? That with a few questions, he'd deconstructed her life – or her lack of one? Or had her growing attraction for him helped collapse the wall of secrecy she'd erected to keep out the unwanted scrutiny that came with the media attention?

Uncomfortably, Thera shook her head curtly, the knot in her stomach tightening as she deflected his question.

"Please. I'm sure you work just as hard."

His comeback was instant. "I play just as hard."

He was probably too sharp not to have recognised the clumsy attempt to shift the focus away from his question. Nonetheless, Thera was grateful that he let it go for now.

"Really? What do you do?" She winced as soon as the question came out, realising that she'd already made an acquaintance with his pastime in the worst way possible.

Their eyes met and held. Standing with her back in a cul-de-sac, only then did Thera notice that they'd walked into an isolated corner of the quadrant that lay undisturbed by the toiling workers.

Still, he advanced slowly, purposefully contracting the invisible circle of her personal space. "I think you already know what."

The air was suddenly heavy, sultry with his nearness, the silence amplifying the soft sounds of their breaths as they spoke.

As she stood facing him for what seemed like a long time, it occurred to her that perhaps talking to someone who might understand wouldn't have been too bad a thing. But even that thought flew away in the confusing dizziness that she felt when he was near.

"Do I?"

He moved impossibly closer, his presence a tangible entity that made Thera press herself harder into the concrete blocks. His eyes – hooded, dark and alive with undisguised want – forced her heart to slam into her chest.

"I think you do."

Unable to stop herself, she ghosted two fingers slowly down his cheek, feeling the sculpted contours of his face. His eyes fluttered closed briefly as her warm breath tickled his face, a small action that she registered with breathless triumph.

"No, I don't."

The thick folder that he held dropped unceremoniously onto the ground. "Yes, you do."

The hoarseness she heard in her own voice was her undoing. "Show me."

Jonah needed no further invitation. "You bet."

In the next second, their lips met with the terrifying force of a hurricane, their tongue tangling with the erotic promise of so much more. She gave into the urge to run her fingers through his silver hair as he clamped his hands over her ribs, his fingers inching upwards against the soft mounds of her breasts.

Thera broke the kiss to groan her pleasure, only to have him recapture the sound with his mouth as his hands continued the sensual torture on her skin. Wanting to feel more of him, she yanked his shirt out of his pants and placed her palms on his chest, immediately learning the pattern of the hair that dusted his chest.

A stray finger tracing the hair that led down past his trousers made him break their heated kiss for the second time. Her tentative touch of the telltale bulge made him jerk hard against her, momentarily making him forget just where they were.

Moving to capture her hands in his, Jonah pinned both her wrists above her head with a hand as he continued his exploration of the delicate skin along the long column of her neck, tasting the goose flesh that broke in the wake of his kisses. She arched willingly against him, straining for more. He obliged with a chuckle that came out more like a groan, shifting his thumb over skin that was already sensitised through the gossamer fabric.

Moving aside the pesky cloth that shielded the top of her shoulder, he turned his attention to the exposed expanse of skin that beckoned invitingly—

The sudden sounds of an animated conversation filtered through the gaps of the buildings, cutting through their haze of passion.

Immediately, Jonah released his grip on her hands, moving away just enough so he could rest his forehead against hers as she heard the rasp of her own laboured pants that mirrored his.

He pushed himself off of her as the voices grew closer then drifted away again, and she shakily took a step away to gather her scrambled wits. Glancing his way, she noted, a small amount of satisfaction, that he seemed equally affected as she was.

Clearing her dry throat, she made an attempt – as piss-poor as it was – at speech. "So. I, uh-"

"Yeah."

As much as she'd wanted him to continue, Thera didn't have the slightest clue what to do about them. Through the waning shock of the depth of passion and desire of that kiss, it occurred dimly to her that she would have gladly welcomed a quick romp against the walls – in the midst of her pet project – had they not been timely interrupted. Yet Jonah Tuvall represented the type of men that she distrusted, and as drawn to him as she was as a moth to a flame, it would have been all too easy to lose herself in him.

It – he – was a distraction that she didn't need.

But was that really the reason? How could she have explained that being with someone like him felt like a forbidden luxury when all her recent actions have proven otherwise?

"This is wrong," she said, finally articulating the nagging feeling that plagued her ever since their first meeting, not wanting to meet his eyes. "We shouldn't be doing this."

"No, not here," he agreed readily.

"I meant, not at all." Her voice was barely audible. "Everything about this is wrong."

He shook his head and frowned. "What's wrong about it?"

Agitation made her run an absent hand through hair that was already rumpled from his earlier touches. "It just is."

He moved closer, trying to understand just what she was getting at, willing her to meet his eyes. Daring her to deny what lay between them.

"You're attracted to me as much as I'm attracted to you. Why fight it? Why deny it?"

Thera straightened her clothing, ignoring his intense gaze, hating how off-centre he had her each time he chipped away at her walls. But as much as she wanted him, she trusted her own instincts more – instincts that screamed at her to stay away. To run far and fast where Jonah Tuvall was concerned. To keep things professional and superficial, because that felt like what she should be doing, even if there wasn't a perfectly rational explanation for it. He wasn't a superior; neither was he a co-worker. But a casual dalliance still sounded wrong and forbidden.

He took a step closer, and instinctively, she retreated.

"I'll ask again. Why fight this?"

In the end, it merely took a lie to bring those shutters up in his eyes.

"Because you're not good enough."

In a split second, Thera thought she saw a flicker of hurt disbelief cross his face before an unreadable, blank expression replaced it.

"Sure as hell didn't seem like it from where I was," he challenged.

She tilted her head, wishing she could see through that inscrutable look on his face.

"That was nothing more than a moment of weakness."

Nothing more than a moment of weakness.

Weakness.

"A moment of weakness, eh?" Jonah repeated her callous words out loud, as though he was letting its reality sink in.

Thera willed the dull flush of mortification and disappointment away, already questioning her poorly-executed strategic retreat. They'd barely crossed into unchartered territory and she'd been the one with the good sense to pull back before a slew of rash actions became nothing more than a litany of regrets.

Had pulling away really been the right thing to do?

Deliberately, Jonah picked up the forgotten folder of the Korros project. By the time he turned back to her, his face was carefully blank. He tapped the side of the folder casually.

"Well, I guess that clears it up. Nice to know where I really stand."

She stood there long after he stalked briskly away, the urge to run after him warring with an instinct that helped keep her feet planted firmly on the ground. He'd misunderstood everything, just the way she'd intended for him to.

Just like that, she knew she'd lost him.