[Roeskva; I'm sorry for killing lots of Tok'ra, but, you know, there is a war on. I promise to try and behave from now on. And yes, Delek....I think he's an interesting one. We only see him in one episode, and in quite a negative light, but he did have some valid points, and he was a character I wanted to explore further. Give him a chance, but be warned though, he's still very, well, Delek-ish ;) ]

Chapter 11.

The scene on the other side of the gate was one of organised chaos. Everybody swiftly made themselves useful: Bra'tac was seeing to his Jaffa; Jacob/Selmak, attended by an anxious Major Carter, were one of the many receiving treatment; and Darin was assisting the busy medical personnel with a healing device. Everybody, that is, except for her. She did not know what to do, and found herself wandering back to her old room. She realised she was probably in a state of shock, and didn't know what to do about that, either.

Delek was a quiet, exhausted presence at the back of her mind, and she wondered, vaguely, if she ought to get some help for him.

Delek? she questioned herself, not even sure if that was going to work. Are you going to be all right?

I am here, came the tired reply, I will heal. I just need to rest. It was odd hearing his voice like that, but not unpleasant.

I feel I should do something. Without even realising she'd done it, she had wandered back out of her room again, down towards the medical rooms. Some of the surviving Tok'ra were setting up symbiote holding tanks for those whose hosts could not make it, and something in her mind blanched.

The others will have everything well in hand. You need to rest too. That was true enough; she was beyond exhausted, beyond drained, beyond feeling, almost. She hovered at the entrance a while longer, watching the desperate fight for life going on in there. Delek's pain and grief was a carefully muted feeling in her mind.

It's not enough, she decided, outlining what she wanted to do, They at least deserve to know what all this killing has been for. He resisted, almost instinctively. What purpose will secrecy serve now? she pointed out, and sensed him relent, a little.

I was the most senior Tok'ra at Rokarrin. I gave them the orders, he admitted at last, and it suddenly made sense to her.

It's not your fault. You did the best you could.

I don't need you to tell me that. That imperious attitude again, but perhaps, in the end, he was simply too tired to argue.

Very well. Let's do this.

Lend me your strength, she asked, For just a little while longer. And give me their names, if you can. Then we rest.

Yes, came the faint reply, then he went quiet again, concentrating on keeping them both upright for just that little while longer. She went to the bathroom to clean herself up a bit – it was the same one she'd hidden in before she left, half a lifetime ago. Somehow she expected the face in the mirror to look a hundred years older, but was shocked instead by the dirt and blood, by the myriad of cuts and scrapes visible; all over her hands too. She hadn't even noticed before. Her uniform was darkly stained with Kyen's blood. She washed up a little, and stared down her reflection until it composed itself, then she went out again. She was intercepted by Daniel on the way.

"Hey, if you don't mind me saying so, you look terrible. You should get some rest."

"Not yet. I have to do something first." The strenth in her voice surprised them both, and she lifted her chin. Daniel frowned slightly.

"Dr Frasier and the others have got everything under control. The Tok'ra don't need any more help."

"No they don't," she smiled wanly, "They need hope. And for what it's worth, that's me." He nodded, eyes filled with compassion, and let her pass.

She spoke to them all; Tok'ra, Jaffa, Tau'ri, thanking them, speaking to them, sitting with the dying. Telling them the truth, and watching it break across the weary, despairing faces of the Tok'ra like a new dawn. Eventually, she saw Bra'tac again, conferring with Teal'c, and approached him. He turned to face her, expression wary, and curious.

"Master Bra'tac," she bowed formally, "I wish to offer you thanks for the aid you and your valiant Jaffa have given to the Tok'ra today: for all of us, and for me, personally. With such as you against them, the Goa'uld cannot hope for victory."

"It was an honour," he replied, inclining his head. "On behalf of my people, I would like to extend our regrets for your losses."

"We thank you. Let us hope that this is the lowest ebb, before the tide turns."

"Indeed."

At the last, she staggered back towards her room, knowing she would not be able to stand much longer. Malek knocked softly on the door a moment later. He looked, if anything, almost as bad as she did.

"You never cease to impress us," he intoned warmly, and it was just too much.

"Don't be kind to me," she begged, in a voice that cracked, waving a hand helplessly as if to ward him off, "I have no defences against it." He reached for her then, and she stepped into his arms, tears flowing freely at last, from the both of them.

"Rest," he whispered, after an age, and she had barely the energy to nod. Delek had gone dormant in the back of her mind, and she struggled to take off her bloodstained Tok'ra uniform on wobbling legs. She had worn it for less than a day. The clock was telling her it was morning outside, but she only knew that she must sleep. Something fell out of her pocket onto the floor. It was the fossil she had picked up. She had forgotten. She tossed it to one side, fell onto the bed, and closed her eyes at last.

* * *

She slept straight through until the next day, although part of that was probably Delek. When she finally woke, he was already awake and waiting for her.

Good morning, he greeted her. He sounded, if sounded was the right word for something that was entirely a feeling that wasn't entirely hers, almost friendly, which soothed her rising nerves considerably.

Er, hello. I have to say, this is really weird.

You'll get used to it.

Did you…? Are you, blocking memories or something?

I have not fully blended with you, he informed her, I thought it would be a bit much, on top of everything else. Moreover I am hopeful I may be able to leave and blend with a more suitable host. Not, you understand, that I'm ungrateful for your saving me, but I know this was not exactly the first choice for either of us.

Fair enough, she replied, feeling a little…not quite hurt, more like insulted. She didn't fancy going through this whole thing twice. Make that three times. She might as well put up a 'Bed & Breakfast' sign on her forehead at this rate. She sat up, cautiously, and was surprised to find that nothing hurt. She had expected not to be able to move a muscle without it protesting. All the numerous cuts and scratches were healed over too.

Wow. You fixed everything. Thanks.

Well, of course. He sounded surprised. If I might make a suggestion, he added, on an afterthought.

Sure.

Breakfast would be good. He was right too; she was starving. She'd thought she'd have no appetite after the horrors of the day before, but her body apparently thought otherwise. So she got dressed and made her way down to the refectory, meeting Sam and Daniel on the way, and glad of the company. She had company in her head, of course, but it was still a rather supercilious form of company, and, she knew, a grieving one.

The rest of the day was spent meeting and talking to various people, making arrangements. It was clear it would be safest for her to stay on Earth for now, and nobody seemed to be in the mood to argue that. Delek didn't ask to come fore once; she'd offered, tentatively, but he'd politely refused, saying he had no wish to make her uncomfortable when there was no need, knowing her previous bad experience with the Goa'uld. She didn't know whether to be grateful for his concern or annoyed that he was being patronising. The remainder of the High Council had arrived and was less than amused when she informed them that Delek wanted a different host, and they'd have to find another for her, although Jacob/Selmak were clearly against their blending in the first place.

"I still don't understand why Baal attacked like that," she admitted, talking with Jacob, Garshaw and Malek. "Killing me seemed to be as good as capturing me." Selmak and Garshaw exchanged a glance.

"Unless your brain was destroyed, he would have been able to revive you with a sarcophagus," Malek pointed out.

"I think falling rocks are quite a good way of destroying someone's brain," she countered, suffering an unwanted reminder of Matthus and Neruk.

He didn't need you, Delek pointed out, unexpectedly, Baal has obtained access to Asgard cloning technology, and he had cellular samples from you. He has almost certainly cloned many duplicates of you.

"Woh, what!" she exclaimed at loud, "Baal has made clones of me?!" Garshaw in particular looked most uncomfortable at that.

"It is unlikely that he would create any that contained your memories, even if he were able. He has no use for anything other than your physical make-up. We have been attempting to destroy both the clones and his record of your DNA so he cannot make more."

"And you were going to tell me this when?" She was angry. "Well, I'm guessing one of your operatives got caught."

"Operatives suicide rather than reveal information," Garshaw retorted.

"Assuming they had the chance to. And doesn't Baal also now have access to Anubis's mind-reading technology also?" Another uncomfortable silence.

"So far as we know, our operative was not compromised," Garshaw insisted, "But they were on one of the ships that was destroyed, before they could be debriefed."

"Baal attacked not because he wanted you back," Jacob pointed out, gently, "But because he didn't want anyone else having you, least of all the Tok'ra. He didn't need you anymore for his own purposes."

You better not have been planning to try clone me yourselves, or take any of Baal's ones, she accused Delek, fiercely.

No, he replied, Technically, you should not really have a problem with it, if they do not have copies of your mind, but we vetoed that idea at the Council.

I suppose I have Jacob to thank for that.

Selmak, myself and Persus were against. Garshaw was for, but was outvoted. I do not think any of us would want a host without a mind anyway, for however short a time. It would be like walking around in a corpse. She was too annoyed to take any comfort from that, however.

I am not happy about all this. You could have told me!

You didn't need to know. Besides, what good would it have done?

It would at least have been courteous! She took a deep breath.

"We have to go to the infirmary for a check-up on Delek," she told them, "Feel free to get him the hell out of my head anytime soon."

Eleanor…

I don't want to hear it! Delek fell silent then, although she had the clear impression he thought she was being petty by sulking. Fine. Maybe she was. He could live with it. Part of her did regret it though; yesterday they'd acted in perfect accord. Today it seemed they were already arguing and he was acting like she was a child.

Both Dr Frasier and some of the Tok'ra medics ran a battery of tests on her, resulting in some frowns that they were both beginning to find rather worrying.

"Er, is there a problem?" she asked eventually.

"You are both well," Dr Frasier assured them, "But we're getting a few unusual readings."

"I would like to speak with Delek," the Tok'ra medic asked, abruptly.

Well go on then, she prompted.

Are you sure?

I'll try not to pass out in terror, she retorted, sarcastically. It was probably just as well that she was still cross at him; otherwise, she might indeed have been frightened, but she didn't want to admit that. He slid into control so softly that she almost didn't notice, but in the next moment she was watching herself from the rear seats, being driven by someone else, so to speak.

"Make it brief," Delek insisted, speaking with her mouth and, god, that was strange. She shoved down the unpleasant reminder of the Goa'uld, and, unexpectedly, felt a flood of reassurance from the symbiote.

Only for a few moments, I promise, he told her.

"You said that you have not fully blended with the host?" the medic asked.

"That is correct."

"Yet according to our scans, your primary neural connections are already deeply embedded. Moreover, due to the injury you sustained, you are integrated with the spinal cord in a somewhat…awkward fashion."

"What are you trying to tell me?"

"That if you try to leave your host now, you will almost certainly kill her, and probably yourself. You'll have to stay." She felt his sudden dismay and outrage.

"That is far from ideal," he told the medic, externally sounding his usual arrogant self, "But I suppose we must make the best of it. Thank you."

Here, he said to her, and suddenly she was driving again, Kindly remove us from these premises. She slipped off the bed and made to leave. Delek clearly wanted to get out of there and somewhere private, and, for once, she couldn't agree more.

Once they were safely back in the privacy of their room, she attempted to talk some reason into him, but he was in a magnificently towering rage.

Why are you so bloody angry? You accepted my offer acknowledging yourself that this might happen. There was a hesitation, and when he spoke, he sounded cold.

I didn't consider it that likely, and at the time, there was no other choice. I can't believe I'm stuck with a Tau'ri host!

Thanks very much! Am I really so awful?!

So far, yes. That did actually hurt, and she didn't reply for a moment, stung.

Why? she asked, trying not to sound forlorn.

I'm sorry, he replied, calming a little, I didn't mean it quite like that. I have the greatest respect for you. You have a fine mind, and what you are prepared to do for my people is brave and generous. But the blending of two personalities is by no means a simple or straightforward thing: I have long considered that most Tau'ri, unaccustomed as they are to Goa'uld oppression, would make poor, even dangerous, hosts.

So what you're saying is, she accused, We're too wilful and independent. I'm sure Baal would agree with you. You know, when all the humans are free from the Goa'uld, then maybe they'll all get stubborn and ungovernable, and you'll be entirely out of 'suitable' hosts then, won't you? That stung him back.

You misunderstand. Such a situation of freedom would be completely different. As it stands at the moment, a host must be willing, as the symbiote is, to sacrifice a great deal of themselves for the cause. Operatives may need to act for months at a time without the host taking control. Those that have never known anything but freedom I suspect would have a difficult time of it, giving up so much of their real and concrete personal freedom for the abstract and intangible freedom of the future general good. She wasn't entirely convinced by that, although she did see his point, to a certain degree.

Why did you agree? she asked again. Delek was glum.

Simply put: I did not want to die. Nor did my beloved Kyen wish me to. But no, I must admit, it was the possibility of blending with a Tau'ri, rather than that of becoming a queen, that was the least appealing aspect. Still, I suppose we will, as you say, have to make do. We should blend fully. She was entirely out of patience, entirely out of manners.

Yeh well maybe I don't want to blend with you either. You going to make me? She clearly felt Delek rein back his irritation.

I realise that your past experience with the Goa'uld doubtless makes this a daunting process for you, however I assure you there is no need to be frightened. If you would just –

You stuck-up, sanctimonious prick! Why the hell would I want to blend with you? It's not like I don't have enough shit in my head already!

Insulting me will not make our problem go away.

Nothing will make my problems go away! But you at least can console yourself, she told him angrily,You won't have to put up with me for much longer. There are things I kept need-to-know as well, and you didn't need to know before. My chances of surviving this forthcoming metamorphosis are barely 30%, and that's with every damn intervention we could come up with to improve them from the near-certain-death they are without intervention. So unless you're really unlucky you'll be rid of me in a month or two, and can go find yourself a nice meek non-Tau'ri host. With that, she slammed her mental doors and stubbornly shut him out.