'I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.'
Jack O'neill awoke to a voice and a cell.
'I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.'
Prisoner. Not the best, but neither was hearing voices. He sat up. There was no one there. From one yellow wall to the other, he was the only occupant.
'I'm sorry. I'm sorry.'
And yet someone was chanting an apology. "Who's sorry?" He asked the air.
The voice returned. 'Me. Kanan. Hi.'
"And where are you, Kanan?" His patience wore thin.
'Uh.' Jack felt confusion. Not his own rather grumpy confusion, but someone else's hesitant emotion. Like a kid caught stealing cookies. 'In you.' It paused. 'You don't need to talk out loud.'
"Why not?" Jack snapped. "And what is that supposed to mean? In me?"
The voice sighed. The someone-else's-feelings faded to the background. 'What do you remember?'
"I remember the Tok'ra putting a snake in my head—"
'Yes! That's me!'
Somehow Jack knew that voice was waving. It was the strangest feeling. He looked down at his own hands. They were both resting on his knees. Not waving. And yet he felt them moving. "Stop that."
'I'm sorry.'
"You say that a lot." Jack rubbed the back of his neck. He stopped when something moved beneath his hand. Snakes. "Why are you sorry?"
'This is my fault.'
Jack closed his eyes. So much of the situation was wrong. "Which part is your fault?"
'The jail cell part.' Jack got another ghostly feeling. This time of wringing his hands. 'I know you're upset, but I was just very inspired. By you. A- And I felt awful about leaving behind Shallan—'
"Who is Shallan?"
'My contact. Mizraim's contact. Both of our contacts.' Kanan fired off his answers then fell silent. Jack felt a light bulb go on deep in his brain. 'This will help.' Kanan showed him a picture. Or rather, tried to show him a picture. To Jack it felt like someone thrust a piece of paper under his nose and expected him to read it.
He gained some mental distance and focused on the out stretched memory. He saw a man about his age with wiry black hair that greyed at his temples. The man waved just as Kanan had done earlier. "That's Mizraim?"
'My previous host. Yes.' Kanan's emotions bled through again, this time as fondness and nervous excitement.
"And Shallan—"
'Our contact in Ba'al's court. She's nice.'
Another picture floated in Jack's head. Kanan held it at a proper distance this time. He learned quickly.
The picture was of a woman with spiky blond hair and sparkling eyes. She was beaming. The feeling of affection grew stronger.
"Alright." Jack shook the picture out of his head. "So how did we end up here?"
'I was rescuing Shallan.' Kanan's warm feelings deflated. 'But I got caught.'
"Great. So when's your back-up getting here to bust us out?"
The excitement faded entirely replaced by fear. 'They're not. I did it alone.'
Jack groaned. "Why?"
'Because it's the right thing. You taught me that it's the right thing.' Jack felt Kanan reach out again. He didn't have anything this time, no memories or emotions. He was looking for something. Comfort, Jack realized.
He mentally reached back. Hope flared up in the back of his mind as Kanan smiled.
Ba'al fell through the window. Getting past his own security had been far too easy. He took consolation in the thought that he had disabled much of the technological security himself. And there was the mysterious hubbub in the woods. Sneaking back on to the base was easy when every single guard was out chasing someone else.
He shifted gingerly to his knees. He had landed on the Eye. If he were superstitious he would say it wanted revenge for being left in a forest for two centuries. He dug the stone out of his pocket. It threw red shadows across his palm. He traced the lines of his insignia carved into its surface. It was nice to hold that kind of power again.
He started from his reverie when Hannibal knocked at the door. "My lord?"
Ba'al stuffed the stone back in his pocket and scrambled to his feet. "Speak."
Hannibal hesitated. Normally Ba'al would invite him in, but normally Ba'al was not spattered knee-deep in mud and leaves. "We captured a Tok'ra, my lord. It was trying to escape through the chappa'ai." Hannibal paused again. Ba'al made a noncommittal grunt as he tugged off his boots. Hannibal continued. "Do you wish to interrogate him, my lord, or should I delegate the task?" Ba'al dove in a drawer for a clean pair of trousers.
He forcibly slowed his breathing as he opened the door. "That will not be necessary. I'll do it myself."
'Keep calm. I'll do the talking.' Jack's lips still twitched when he talked to Kanan. He preferred speaking aloud, but the arrival of Jaffa guards necessitate a crash course in mental conversations.
A wave of relief came from Kanan even as the guards marched them down the hall 'Oh, good.' Jack's vocal cords tightened. He had the urge to say something, but he did not know what or how. It took a few seconds to trace the feeling to Kanan, by which point the Tok'ra had found his voice. 'Have you done this before?'
'Sadly, yes.' Kanan fidgeted. 'I haven't.'
'Kanan,' Jack would have rubbed his eyes if he were not being dragged through a door by the guards. He settled for an internal eye-roll. 'How, exactly, did you become a Tok'ra operative?'
They entered an octagonal room. There was a platform, a table, a throne, and little else.
'My hosts were all good at espionage.' Kanan answered quickly. Jack ignored the subtle dig. He continued his mental glare until Kanan offered more. 'I stayed in the background mostly. Lent the voice. Healing. That stuff.' He trailed off.
'You never… drove?' The Jaffa marched him to the dais in the center of the room. They let go of his arms. Jack's stomach dropped as was lift from the ground and pulled to the lattice wall across from them. He dangled feet in the air, held immobile by an invisible pressure.
'Not really. Not 'til now. Sorry, again.'
'Stop it.' Kanan apologized too much. He was nervous. Jack could not blame him. They were imprisoned behind enemy lines facing painful deaths with no hope of rescue. Hell, his own anxiety was feeding the symbiote's.
That was a disturbing thought. Jack certainly did not like having someone else in his head and he could only assume Kanan felt the same. No matter how friendly the snake was, some things were not natural.
Kanan winced at the reprimand. 'That's why I was matched with you. The council thought it would be good for me.' He finished quietly. 'I'm shy.'
Rather than reply Jack concentrated on turning around. As it was he could see nothing but the screen and the darkness behind it. He pushed against the force and managed to roll over just as the guards left and a Goa'uld entered. He looked like the average megalomaniac snake— a ridiculous outfit, an arrogant spring in his step.
The only thing missing was a smirk. Instead this Goa'uld studied him intently, frowning.
Jack thought about which one he preferred, the psychopathic tyrant or the recluse rebel.
He couldn't decide.
Ba'al did not recognize the Tok'ra. He was older than he imagined. Silver haired, but fit for his age—no doubt due to the symbiote. Even the Tok'ra preferred to take and maintain healthy hosts.
The Eye bounced against his thigh as he climbed the steps. There was no time for this. He needed to call Hades, or Miranda, or Yu and get the infernal thing off the planet. But he could not afford to tip his hand. His life depended on behaving normally. On lying. But that was always the case with his species. He should have been used to it.
"Who are you?" He began the interrogation on auto-pilot. He perused the array of tools on the platform's table before selecting a dagger. He laid it across his palm, eyes sweeping the blade. He used the moment to marshal his thoughts. To concentrate on the task at hand.
The host was the first to speak. "You go first." He was flippant. That would not last long.
Ba'al took a seat. When he looked up he was his old self again. His lips curved up. This could be fun after all. "You claim you do not know me?"
"Well. Take no offense there, skippy. I'm sure you're a real hot, important Goa'uld, but I've just always been kinda out of the loop with the whole… snake thing." The host feigned ignorance. This Tok'ra was very odd. Most of them were silent to the end. If they did speak the symbiote did the talking. Very few had a sense of humor.
"I am Ba'al"
"That's it?" The host shrugged. "Just 'Ba'al.' As in Bocce?"
What in hell was this Tok'ra talking about? He stood and raised the blade, feeling the gravity field tug at it. "You do not know the pain you will suffer for this impudence."
The host did not miss a beat. "I don't know that meaning of the word." Ba'al waited. He gave the Tok'ra one last chance. It refused. "Seriously. 'Impudence.' What does that mean?"
He let go.
The dagger flew from his hand and buried itself in the Tok'ra's chest. The man stifled a scream.
"I shall begin again." Ba'al picked a second knife. It glinted as he turned it in his hand. "Who are you?"
Horror crept over Ba'al's face at the host's answer. "Colonel Jack O'neill. U.S. Airforce. Two l's in that."
The knife clattered to the ground.
Ba'al grabbed a hand device from the table, shut off the gravity field, and ran to catch the man before he hit the floor. O'neill flinched as he pulled the dagger out and activated the healing device.
"We have a mutual friend."
A few very confusing minutes later Jack and his captor-turned-doctor were sitting on the edge of the platform. They were several feet apart. The healing aside, Ba'al seemed intent on keeping him at arm's length. He regarded Jack warily, like a wild animal liable to bite. For his part Jack couldn't be happier with the Goa'uld's decision.
Kanan felt arm's length was too close.
"So you know Hades." Jack began.
"Yes."
"And…" He closed his eyes to turn over the facts in his head. "You're a double agent." Hades was not the only Goa'uld a few cards short of a deck.
"Yes." Ba'al pointed to him with an open palm. "And you're Colonel O'neill, leader of SG-1."
Jack fought Kanan's desire to cringe. "Yes."
Ba'al nodded. "And, Kannan, a Tok'ra spy."
"And unlucky rescuer." Jack was not sure what happened. His mouth moved and a voice came out, but it was not his. Kanan scuttled back to his corner of Jack's head.
'Kanan. Don't do that.' He growled.
'Sorry.'
When Jack came back to the real world Ba'al was staring at him perplexed. "I was getting there. You—" Ba'al paused for a moment. He took a deep breath. "Know Shallan."
Kanan blushed. Jack felt him shuffle through a few memories and tactfully turned a blind mind. He moved the conversation along. "Yes."
Ba'al crossed his arms. "And we all… want similar things?" He broke off, utterly stunned.
Kanan squirmed.
Jack thought the universe was telling a joke. A human, a Goa'uld, and a Tok'ra walk into a torture chamber…
The world and characters depicted in this story belong to Roland Emmerich, Dean Devlin, Jonathan Glassner, Brad Wright, and the Sci-Fi Channel. No profit is made off their use herein.
Many thanks to Roeskva who inspired Kanan. Any Tok'ra fans should definitely look into Roeskva's stories.
As usual, all comments are welcome and thank you all for your support.