A word of caution- this chapter makes reference here and there to torture and some injury, though nothing graphic. Essential to the story, I'm afraid. Thank you for understanding.
Who am I?
Where am I?
What's happened to me?
Am I alive?
Am I dead?
What will happen next?
Only one way to find out.
Wake up, Grahme.
Wake up.
Becky opens her eyes, blinking in the soft white glow surrounding her. She groans and tries to sit up, cursing softly as she realizes her movements are extremely limited at the moment.
She swallows, fighting a rising panic. Her induction as Domina to the City of Earth may have cured her of claustrophobia but the memory of the landslide is never far from her thoughts.
Especially when finding herself in a Goa'uld sarcophagus.
She briefly wonders how she got here. And groans as the memories come to her in painful, technicolor-and-stereo-sound detail.
Arrival by ringed transporter directly inside the fortress, still groggy from the sedative. Which faded quickly after a brief stint with a priest, administering bouts of agony with the Goa'uld version of a cattle prod ramped up to eleven between interminable questions.
If it weren't for her uncles' advice and training she would never have been able to resist as long as she did, to the point where the priest got fed up and delivered one final, fatal jolt.
Then nothing.
Now she's alive again, filled with energy and an uncanny sense of well-being. The best feeling in the world, and the most terrifying at the same time.
Hopefully she'll never have to do this again. Goa'uld sarcophagi are dangerously addictive for humans.
Next time she sees Daniel she can tell him they finally have something else in common. And there has to be a next time, surely he must be scouring the galaxy for her with Jack and the others by now. The SGC leaves no one behind, after all.
The cover slides open. A tow-headed man with almost colorless eyes and gaunt features glowers at her with hands on hips. The black-and-gold uniform he's wearing is not a good fit.
Albert Norris, her would-be assailant that last New Year's Eve under the Mountain. Disgraced and exiled for the past seven years to Gamma Base. Figures he's the traitor.
Not that surprising to see him allied with Goa'uld either, as it explains all the recent setbacks. She takes no pleasure in the fact her gut feelings were correct, as usual.
He steps back and gestures at two Jaffa guards who haul her out of the sarcophagus, their grip tight enough to leave bruises on her arms under the field jacket. Her legs wobble a bit and she stumbles on the black marble floor.
"Gotta admit you held out under torture far longer than I thought you would, brat."
"You know what they say. Takes a licking and keeps on ticking." Thank goodness her uncles taught by example. Flippancy makes a useful cover against fear.
A derisive snort. "You sound way too much like O'Neill. Always with the damned jokes."
"I'm just getting started. Scraping the bottom of the barrel, aren't you? Face it Norris, you're nothing but a two-bit traitor serving a two-bit snake." She doesn't even bother to conceal her contempt.
The impact of his slap across her face hurts like hell but Becky refuses to give him the satisfaction of seeing any weakness.
She delicately licks the blood trickling from her lip, returns his glare with a cool stare of her own. "That's the best you got? Honestly, I'm not impressed."
Norris scowls. "Shut up brat, or I'll-"
"Or you'll what?" Lifting her chin in defiance, steeling herself for the inevitable agony to come.
Slow, ironic clapping from the shadows. "Enough, Lieutenant. I believe you have made your point. And so has she." That eerie doubled voice gives her the creeps, as always.
Norris lowers his arm with effort, awkwardly dips his head. "Lord Ba'al."
A devilishly handsome man in black and gold steps forward into the light, eyes glowing as they peruse her form, a sardonic smile on his lips. "So this is the illustrious Rebecca Grahme. A pleasure to meet you at last."
"Feeling's not mutual," she says shortly. "Why am I here?"
He lifts an elegant eyebrow. "Other than the fact I desired to meet you in person? The lieutenant here requested your presence as a reward for services rendered. He has provided so many useful insights, I saw no harm in indulging a whim."
Norris puffs up a bit at the words and smirks at her.
Becky sighs and raises her eyes heavenward, addressing the vaulted ceiling arching above their heads. "I wonder what it is about parasitic tyrants and pathetic traitors that makes them speak and posture like third-rate actors in a badly-written play?"
Norris bristles but Ba'al actually chuckles. "I admire your bravura, little Tau'ri. A pity your words will come to nothing, but the spirit behind them amuses me. I look forward to continuing this conversation later."
"My lord," Norris begins, "I will personally see to her incarceration-"
A peremptory wave silences him. "That will not be necessary. We have other matters to discuss." He gestures and two guards step forward. "Take her away."
Binders are slapped around her wrists, none too gently. The disturbing, colorless gaze of Norris bores into her back as she's led out of the room.
The guards lead her through corridors and innumerable twists and turns but she does her best to create a crude mental map as they go. When they arrive at the prison level every cell is empty save for one holding a little girl staring at them on the other side of a clear panel with dusky skin and glossy black hair.
So that answers that question.
Becky gives her a weary smile and wiggles her fingers in greeting. Her gray eyes widen and she waves back, a little hesitant.
One guard pokes at a control pad and an opaque panel clears and slides open, to reveal a neighboring cell. A single window and dim indirect lighting provide the only illumination for a space devoid of furniture save for a narrow cot against one wall with a blanket folded at its foot. Not exactly a hotel suite but a step up from the usual dingy stone cellars and prisons she's found herself in, usually with SG-1.
"Hey, can I get room service yet? And I'm sure I requested a more comfy mattress for the bed when I made the reservation. Some down pillows would be nice, too." Making no reply they remove the binders from her aching wrists and leave her alone.
A touch on the keypad and the panel becomes opaque, giving off sparks when she touches it. No luck getting out that way.
"Lady Rebecca?" A soft, sweet voice wafts down to her through the opening of a ventilation grille high above her head.
"Hello, Penarra. How are you?"
"Tired and cold, but well. And you?"
"I'm fine. Don't worry about me."
A brief silence, then Penarra sighs. "This is all my fault."
"Of course it isn't. Why would you think that?"
"I overheard Papa in his study talking to the bad men. They wanted to take me and force him to do something really awful in return. I was so scared I ran out of the house, but they trapped me in their rings and stuck something in my neck. It made me very sleepy and I woke up here. I keep asking when I can see Papa again but no one says."
Becky sighs. "It's not your fault, sweet. I made a foolish decision once and now we're both paying for it. I deserve the blame for this, not you."
"I cannot believe that. Papa says in this life we are only responsible for our own actions, not anyone else's. So this is really the fault of the bad men, is it not?"
The naive certainty in her voice brings a small, sad smile to Becky's lips. "You're right. Don't worry Penarra, I'll figure out how to get us out of here. I'm sure you've been very brave so far but you have to be patient a while longer, okay?"
"I shall. I have faith you will find a way, Lady. The Divine is watching over us. Would you like to know something?"
"Sure. What is it?"
"I wish to be a diplomat and scholar like you someday. Papa says I can, with much studying and training."
No one's ever looked up to her before, it's a rather daunting thought. Good thing Penarra can't see her blushing. "I have no doubt you can do anything you put your mind to, sweet. But thanks."
There has to be a way to escape this place, so a little girl can fulfill her dreams.
Half an hour later the door panel abruptly turns clear and slides back. Becky quickly gets to her feet as Norris steps inside followed by a Jaffa with pale skin, hazel eyes and hair under a metal skullcap.
Behind the guard two servants scoot nervously around them, wearing black hoods and cowls. One places two buckets in a corner- waste disposal and (hopefully drinkable) water- while the other sets down a shallow wooden bowl of food and empty metal cup.
He turns his head just so, giving her a brief yet deliberate wink. Her breath catches at disturbingly familiar features and velvet-brown eyes, so much like-
No. No way. Impossible. A genetic coincidence, surely. She steals a second glance to confirm but the servants have already left the room.
Norris casts a disparaging eye over her, lip curling in disdain. "Grahme. Heard you're making a name for yourself."
"So are you. Lackey for a parasite, and traitor to your own kind to boot. If you think you can intimidate me this way you've got another thought coming."
He glares at her. "Shut up, brat, or-"
"Or what? You're gonna make me?" She straightens her spine, crossing her arms over her chest. "You're nothing but a pathetic bully, you know that? Ever since you thought I was just one of those puny civilians you could intimidate under the Mountain. Got news for you, buster- I'm a lot stronger than that, and I always will be!"
Becky's surprised at the words coming out of her own mouth, with more anger than she's ever believed herself capable of possessing. But hey, after the day she's had she's entitled to vent.
"Shut up!" He charges forward and slams her hard against the wall, one hand on her throat. "This is all your fault. I was exiled to Gamma Base because of you. Denied promotion every time because of you. Rejected for the Atlantis Expedition because of you. You've thwarted me at every turn and now I'm getting my revenge on you and everything the SGC stands for. The hell I've gone through to get here is nothing compared to how I'm gonna make New Earth and Atlantis suffer."
She claws at his fingers as they tighten around her windpipe, gasping for breath. Dammit, she can't let him beat her. Not now.
Even as her vision begins to darken around the edges she manages to drive a knee sharply into his groin and shove him away with all her might. He staggers but remains on his feet, pulling a knife out of a sheath with murder in his eyes. "You little brat, I oughta-"
The guard promptly knocks the knife aside with the end of his staff weapon. "Lord Ba'al has ordered she is not to be harmed! Any disobedience will result in immediate punishment." She fancies she sees amusement in the alien eyes, practically daring him to defy.
"Fine, whatever." Norris fixes both the Jaffa and herself with baleful stares. "You're damn lucky the snake's taken a fancy to you, brat. But don't get too comfortable. If I have anything to say about it you'll be tortured and left to rot in this cell without the sarcophagus to fix you." He spins on his heel and leaves, the guard following after a curious look in her direction.
The door closes and opaques once more. Becky groans as she slumps on the cot, ruefully rubbing her neck. She'd forgotten Norris had a temper, he's a lot closer to the edge than she thought. If it wasn't for the guard it would've been the end for sure, never mind what Ba'al wants from her.
"Lady Rebecca? Are you all right? Did he hurt you?"
"I'm fine, Penarra." Sounds just like her and Mac on many an adventure, when he was the one in harm's way and she worried about him. "Why don't you eat and get some rest? We'll talk later."
"All right. Sleep well."
"You too."
Surprising how she isn't in much of a panic mode yet, all things considered. Instead she's strangely calm.
She eats then stretches out on the cot, though sleep proves elusive for the wheels spinning in her head.
Of all the things her uncles have taught her the most important is to never give up without a fight. There's always another way to solve a problem, it's just a matter of paying attention and keeping her options open. It's time to take stock, and go through everything she's learned so far.
The window's made of the same material as the door panel, and just as energized. Standing on tiptoe she can make out maybe hundreds of Jaffa in their encampment, death gliders soaring over the high arch of the Gate barely visible at the opposite end of the landing field.
So, first priority is to find a sympathetic and knowledgeable ally to disable the doors and smuggle them out of the fortress, maybe the disturbingly familiar guy who winked at her earlier. Though even if they leave the fortress they'll have to sneak through the camp with no one the wiser.
Worst case scenario, they're captured even before reaching the Gate. Penarra killed outright if deemed expendable, and she'd wind up in that damned sarcophagus again, resurrected for more nasty torture.
No way will that happen if Becky can help it. She's not gonna give up at a time like this. She promised Barranco she'd find his daughter and bring her back home, and she believes in keeping her word.
She just has to find the right opportunity.
...I have promises to keep/And miles to go before I sleep... From a poem by Robert Frost, memorized in middle school English class.
She has to have faith and hold on, that's all there is to it.
Help is on the way. It has to be.
The second hand on her watch ticks on 2750 New Earth Standard Time. Hard to believe it's only been half a day since she got here.
Becky shifts uncomfortably on the narrow cot and wraps the blanket even tighter around her. She hates being cold. On nights like this back home she'd be buried under homemade quilts and blankets, fire burning cheerfully in the cast-iron stove and a very solid and warm archaeologist spooning behind her, holding her close to his chest, head tucked next to hers and breathing softly against her neck. Surrounding and supporting her with his strength, his tenderness, his love.
God, she really misses Daniel.
If- no, when- she gets out of here she'll insist they marry right away and to hell with Jack's betting pools. Eloping to Atlantis sounds better and better all the time.
A soft beeping from the hallway catches her attention. The panel clears and slides open.
Becky frowns. Way too late for a social call. Probably Norris coming in for a drunken ambush on her person, eager to finish what he started years ago.
Boy is he in for a surprise. She isn't the same girl from that New Year's Eve under the Mountain, not by a long shot.
Deliberately feigning sleep she keeps her eyes shut. When she senses he's close by she opens her eyes and launches herself off the cot, pinning the intruder to the floor with the weight of her body, one hand at his throat and the other ready to strike. "Alright, who are you? What are you doing here?"
Velvet brown eyes twinkle with wry amusement. "Nice moves, kiddo. You've been learning since last I saw ya."
Unbelievable. The same soft Midwest drawl, the uncanny resemblance to her uncles.
Okay, maybe thirty years' difference, give or take. But still.
She swallows hard and quickly backs away, mouth going dry. Half convinced some sort of hallucinogen had been slipped into her food earlier. Heart pounding faster as panic rises from within, breath coming out in quick, ragged bursts.
"Easy now, Beck. Take a deep breath. That's right." He scoots closer, hands lightly rubbing her shoulders.
She takes several. "Are you a clone or something?" she blurts out. Not the most outrageous possibility, considering the universe they live in.
He shrugs. "Sorta. It's complicated. Let's get comfy first, okay? This body may be in better shape but the floor's still pretty hard to sit on." He settles himself cross-legged on the cot, much more nimble than his older self (or selves, or whatever). "So how you doin', kiddo? Enjoying the famous Goa'uld hospitality yet?"
"I've had better days." Very dry. "So what happened to you, and why do you look so much younger?"
"I'm gettin' to it. Ever heard of an Asgard scientist named Loki?"
"Actually, yeah. When Baldur brought me to the bridge of the Sleipnir I saw him talking with Thor. He wanted to take samples of you guys while you were still unconscious, but Thor shot him down."
"Good memory. Thing is, Loki was so desperate to perfect his cloning research he'd do anything to get results no matter how unethical." As he speaks his fingers drum restlessly on the edge of the cot and she relaxes, recognizing a fidgeting trait common to both uncles. "So while you were busy Witnessing he sneaked into our quarters and took genetic samples and brain scans. Only when it came to the actual reproduction he goofed big time, 'cause instead of creating two identical clones with their own respective memories he wound up with one clone possessing both and stuck at fifteen with a limited lifespan to boot, thanks to Thor putting a marker in Jack's DNA to prevent future tampering."
"Sounds awful."
An offhanded shrug. "No picnic, lemme tell ya. Loki would've killed me on the spot but Thor came to the rescue, making sure my DNA was stabilized so I could age normally. Getting the memories sorted took a while longer since I basically had two different sets of instincts competing with each other."
"I just bet. Like when Jack wants to use a gun and Mac's dead set against it," Becky muses. "Must've felt like you were going nuts for a while."
"You don't know the half of it. Fortunately Baldur helped me get squared away."
She frowns. "Baldur? I thought he was just a linguist."
"That's his cover, though he is interested in languages. He enjoys visiting with you and Daniel to talk shop and storytelling, by the way. But he's actually an agent for the High Council. We partner up from time to time."
Her brow furrows. "So I take it you work for them too."
He spreads his hands wide in a helpless, what-can-you-do gesture. "Yeah. Thor agreed my presence on New Earth would freak everyone out so he offered me a job, kinda like what Mac did for the Phoenix Foundation. He even reminds me of Pete sometimes, ya know?"
Becky snickers at the image, despite a lingering resentment of Thor for her post-Witnessing trauma. "So you're a cosmic troubleshooter. Makes sense, but it doesn't explain what you're doing here."
"I'm undercover. Norris has been on our radar ever since he escaped from Gamma Base. Far as we can tell he Gate-wandered randomly from one world to another for a while before arriving in Ba'al's domain. Killed the previous advisor in cold blood to get the job, which tickled the snake so much he chose Norris as a replacement."
"Good thing you haven't been recognized yet."
He shrugs. "As a lowly kitchen slave I'm beneath notice. The obscurity's pretty nice for a change."
"I just bet. So what do I call you? Can't be Jack or Mac, too confusing."
"I'm goin' by James MacNeill these days, Jack's middle name and a combination of both last names." He grins. "You can call me Jimmy. Baldur's filled me in on what you've been up to lately. Real proud of you. Congrats on getting engaged to Danny, by the way. 'Bout time the Spacemonkey settled down. I'm sure you can keep him in line."
She chuckles even as a flush tints her cheeks. "Thanks. I wish you could attend the wedding."
"Me too. But first things first. Norris may have wanted you for revenge purposes but Ba'al's got a notion to use you as bait for SG-1."
"To be honest I'm more worried about Penarra than myself. There's no reason for her to be kept as leverage anymore. Plus I promised her father I'd find her and get her home safe."
"I hear ya. There's a plan in the works to get you both out before that happens."
She frowns slightly. "Surely not all by yourself?"
"Nah, I know people." He unfolds his legs and hops off the cot. "Gotta split. You kids sit tight, okay?"
"You bet. Thanks for having our backs."
He grins, bending to plant a gentle kiss on her forehead. "My pleasure. Don't worry about a thing, you'll be tying the knot with Danny before you know it. I'll keep in touch. Be brave, kiddo." He winks at her from the doorway before pulling the hood back over his head and stepping outside.
She can't help but chuckle as she stretches out on the cot. Mac and Jack are good at lifting her spirits when she needs it the most, and Jimmy's no exception.
For all the weirdness she's seen so far she never once expected a clone of her uncles, armed with the experiences and memories of both. The galaxy will never be the same.
It's a strangely comforting thought.
I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear...
The Litany Against Fear from Frank Herbert's Dune series echoes in Becky's mind as the guards lead her through the fortress, prepared to endure aother round of torture. To her surprise instead of an interrogation chamber they arrive at a large octagonal room under a dome of clear glass, atypical for Goa'uld architecture.
Ba'al is waiting for her in the center, next to a low table with black cushions embroidered in gold, surrounded by plants in huge ornate pots. Her flesh crawls as his dark gaze travels up and down her body. "Good morning, Dr. Grahme."
"Where's Norris?" she demands.
"Given his...homicidal tendencies towards you of late I thought our conversation ought to continue privately, in more congenial surroundings. Join me?" As they sit servants set down a gold vessel of wine with matching goblets and platters holding neat slices of bread, dates and fruit. Becky's mouth waters but she keeps her hands firmly in her lap.
He smirks, as if enjoying some private joke. "Not lethal, I assure you. If I wanted you poisoned I would have already done so." He's putting on a genial front but the undercurrent of hostility turns her stomach.
"You'll understand if I don't trust you. Why am I here?" Sarcasm and blunt honesty are particularly effective tactics against the Goa'uld, according to Jack's lessons (aka 1001 Ways to Keep Snakes from Messing with Your Head).
The doubled voice lends an eerie quality to his laugh. He makes a show of pouring his own wine and tasting it, his tongue darting out to playfully lap at a drop. "Because you intrigue me. You are unlike any other Tau'ri I have encountered. I admit to being curious about you for a long time, ever since I visited your world to chat about Camulus." He leans back to rest on his elbows among the cushions, tilting his head just so, the silk shirt gaping open to reveal a nicely muscled chest with dark curling hair.
She quickly hides a shudder. His heavy-handed attempt at seduction is making her lose her appetite really fast. "Believe me, I'm not your type. I'm ordinary. There's nothing special about me." Falling back on excuses long since disproved, thanks to Daniel and Huy-Braesealis.
"Oh come now, Dr. Grahme. Such false modesty is so unbecoming for you. I know you have a hearty spirit, not to be easily overcome. And much stronger than your delicate frame implies. You might even be worthy enough to be host for my queen someday."
She's had enough. "Absolutely not! I'll never be host for a parasite like you. I'd rather die permanently first."
Ba'al suddenly looms over her, eyes blazing yellow. It's all she can do not to cry out at the bruising strength of his grip on her upper arms as he lifts her until her feet dangle in mid-air. "Do not presume to defy me, Tau'ri! I can kill you anytime I choose, remember that. This is your only warning."
"My lord?" A blonde woman steps forward, one of his lo'taurs judging by the elegance of her clothes. "Your First Prime craves your attention on a matter of strategy. Most urgent."
"Oh, very well." Becky abruptly lands on the cushions in an ungainly heap and he smirks at her discomfiture. "You are fortunate I choose to be lenient today, if for no other reason than your attempts at defiance amuse me." He gestures to the lo'taur and a male servant nearby with brown hair and green eyes. "Escort Dr. Grahme back to her cell, and take the food with you. She must keep up her strength for the next time we resume our conversation."
"Yes, my lord." The lo'taur gently grasps her elbow and steers her out of the room, the male servant following with the platters. "Calm yourself," she advises once they're well past the guards. "You are fortunate this time. He is dangerous when provoked. Many have done so and died most gruesomely for their insolence."
Becky swallows, belatedly realizing she dodged a bullet back there. "Thanks for the advice. I'll try to keep it in mind."
"Be sure you do," the male servant admonishes in a doubled voice. "Your very life is in danger the longer you remain here."
Her eyes slide over to him. "You're Tok'ra."
He glances furtively to either side. "Yes. I am Kanan, my host is Darien. This is Shallan," indicating the lo'taur. "We are aware of your situation, and also that of the Tarrakan girl. We are assisting the Asgard operative with whom you have already spoken in your escape, though we must take precautions to preserve our covers."
"Understood. Your secret is safe with me."
Penarra smiles at Becky and waves when they arrive at the cells. It's a little strange to see her upbeat in spite of everything, but also comforting. "I'd like her to have one of these platters. If it's safe, that is."
Shallan smiles faintly, her eyes holding an amused glint. "Of course. No poison has been added to the food." She taps at both keypads and the doors slide open. "However," she adds in a more serious tone, "you were right not to touch the wine."
A shiver runs down Becky's spine at the implications.
While Shallan visits with Penarra, Kanan ushers Becky into her cell. "You will be contacted with appropriate instruction when the time is right. Until then you must be patient."
"Of course."
The host's head bobs briefly and Darien regains control for the moment, his cheerful personality a stark contrast to the Tok'ra's more solemn mien. "Kanan's a funny old snake sometimes but he means well. For now, be at peace. As you Tau'ri say, we have your back." He tosses her a cheeky smile and wink as he hands over the platter.
"I appreciate it. Thank you for your help- all three of you."
"Merely doing our duty, Dr. Grahme. Until next time." He winks again and leaves, joining Shallan outside.
"Lady Rebecca?" Penarra's voice wafts through the grille. "My thanks for the food."
"You're welcome. Did Shallan tell you what's going on?"
"She has. I shall be patient."
"Good girl." Becky picks up the platter, feeling rather famished herself all of a sudden.
Nice to know they're not alone.
For the next day and a half there's not much to do except wait. Surprisingly neither Ba'al nor Norris summon her for any conversations or interrogations, so in between chats with Penarra there's plenty of time for introspection.
This isn't Becky's first rodeo, as her uncles might say.
She lifts a cuff of her jacket, rubbing along the thin white line encircling her wrist with rueful amusement, thinking of the matching ones on the other wrist and both ankles. Physical reminders of being held in chains by the assassin Murdoc, just to serve as bait in a trap for Uncle Mac. She remembers Daniel's curiosity over the marks one night, how reverently he touched and kissed each one after she recounted her ordeal.
While working for the DXS and Phoenix Foundation Mac collected his share of other enemies as well. It seemed hardly a fortnight passed back during his guardianship in which she wasn't either nabbed by bad guys to serve as leverage or involved in one caper or another thanks to Jack Dalton's schemes or Penny Parker's mishaps.
Not a normal life for a teenager by any stretch, but on balance it wasn't all bad either. She and Mac had fun together, and their domestic adventures added zest to life deprived of a mother, a father, an older brother.
Thanks to his insistence in being prepared she now knows how to take the unexpected in stride and think her way out of almost any situation along with lessons in basic self-defense, tradecraft and survival. All of which have come in handy over the years working for the SGC.
Considering everything that's happened so far- including this- she wouldn't change a thing.
A gentle hand lands on her shoulder, nudging her awake. "Hey, sleepyhead. Time to wake up."
Becky turns over onto her back, yawning. "Aw c'mon, Unc. Five more minutes, okay?"
"Sorry, kiddo. No can do." A bundle of clothes drops into her lap. "Put these on. You gotta be in disguise for a while."
"What about Penarra?"
"Shallan's helping her change. C'mon now, get a move on."
She pulls the rough homespun dress over her head. The air is bitterly cold, so she leaves her black t-shirt and trousers on as an extra layer underneath. Thankfully the field jacket's lightweight enough to fold up small and tuck into one of the capacious pockets of the accompanying cloak, and the dress long enough to cover her boots.
She stretches her arms out, does a little twirl. "How do I look?"
"Gorgeous. A regular fashion plate." He tenderly tucks stray locks of auburn hair further under the black hood, deep enough to shield her glasses from casual glance.
On impulse Becky wraps her arms around him in a hug. "I can't thank you enough for being here. If you need anything in return- anything at all- let me know through Baldur. You'll always be part of the family as far as I'm concerned."
He returns the embrace, kissing the top of her head. "Right back atcha, princess." She flushes a little at the old endearment, one she hasn't heard in years.
In the hallway Penarra's also wearing homespun, a kerchief concealing the glossy black hair. Her gray eyes are bright with anticipation. "Are we truly going home?"
"We are. I'm sure your Papa will be just as proud as I am of how brave and patient you've been."
A solemn nod. "I am brave because of your example, Lady Rebecca. You have my thanks."
"You're welcome, sweet," she murmurs in return, warmed by the compliment.
Shallan clears her throat. "It is time to leave. You must be on your way before the sun rises."
In the kitchens Kanan is already waiting by the outer doors leading to a courtyard for loading and unloading. Becky frowns at the Jaffa standing beside him with pale skin, hazel eyes and hair under a metal skullcap, certain she's seen him somewhere before.
"This is Kor'tel," Kanan says. "He is an agent of the Free Jaffa and our secret ally in the guards. He will accompany us to the Gate."
The Jaffa bows his head in greeting. "I am a low-ranking orderly on the First Prime's staff," he explains. "But I also have acted as escort before, along with other duties. It makes things...convenient."
"Enough idle talk," Kanan says impatiently. "Our timing is fortunate. These visits to the market world occur only once a moon-cycle." He indicates a wagon parked just outside already hitched up with two impatient equines, its back to the door. More wagons are lining up in the courtyard. "Penarra, you will conceal yourself inside. They may halt us for inspections the closer we get to the chappa'ai, so you must be very quiet and still."
She nods soberly, her small face serious. "I shall. I am very good at playing hidden-and-seeking at home."
"That is good. Dr. Grahme, you will sit beside James in the front seat. Kor'tel and I will be walking alongside as escorts. Be sure to keep the hood over your face at all times, and perhaps longer. There will be guards accompanying us but once we pass through they can be evaded."
Becky bites her lip. It's a hell of a risk they're taking on behalf of her and Penarra. The penalty if caught could very well be their certain death.
Jimmy offers a reassuring smile. "Hey, piece of cake. Just keep your head down and you'll get through this all right."
"I'd still feel better if I had a zat or something," she mutters.
"That's my girl." He produces one from under his cloak and hands it to her. "Okay campers, let's move out."
Penarra climbs in the back of the wagon, settling herself among the cloth sacks and barrels. Becky has barely enough time to bid Shallan thanks and farewell before Jimmy's helping her onto the seat, sitting beside her with ease. She really envies his longer legs.
He flashes her a sideways grin as if he knows what she's thinking, flicking the reins at the equines. "Just like in the movies, huh? Cheer up, kiddo. You'll be home in no time."
The wagon lurches forward, joining the others lumbering through the open gate of the fortress.
Becky hides a yawn behind her hand as the convoy jolts and creaks its way in the direction of the Gate. Never a morning person but she has to admit the early dawn hour's pretty, with three moons setting behind the mountain range one by one and the sky opposite gradually shading from dark blue to violet with the rising sun.
From the corners of her eyes she watches the Jaffa camp slowly come to life after hours spent in kel'no'reem. Some bend over raised fire pits for cooking and stir pots, a few early risers already scooping up gruel from bowls with wooden spoons and passing around a skin of what could be wine or beer or whatever, squirting it directly into their mouths.
Jack's been a bad influence on Teal'c when it comes to doughnuts and klah in the mornings, she thinks with a smile. Next time she sees him she ought to ask what constitutes a traditional Jaffa breakfast.
Her stomach gives a quick grumble and she sets her mouth in a thin line. She'll eat when she gets back to New Earth, anyway. Not long now.
Kor'tel frowns and stares fixedly at nothing as a troop of warrior youths march by in formation. "Are you all right?" Becky asks him softly when they're well gone.
"I am not," he admits. "It saddens me to see them at so young an age, convinced they are following a living god. Blindly devoted to death and destruction in his name when they should be free to live their own lives. Such an utter waste-" His jaw clenches and he says no more.
She can only nod, thinking of Teal'c and Rya'c.
The level of activity increases as they slowly lumber their way through the encampment. Kor'tel nods casually here and there as they pass by a grouping of large tents sporting Ba'al's symbol in gold on black banners, obviously a command center for the First Prime and his staff. None make an effort to stop them, a fortunate sign the convoy's a common enough sight that no one pays close attention.
Eventually they come to exercise fields where warriors perform weapon drills and calisthenics, followed by landing pads for air- and spacecraft, much like the back at the SGC. There are even a couple massive Ha'taks squatting in the middle distance. All very impressive, but Becky can only breathe a sigh of relief once the welcome circle of the Gate looms into view at the far end of the field.
"Home, sweet home, sweet home," Jimmy murmurs. "Just a wormhole or two away for you guys." He looks oddly wistful.
"Sure you don't want to come back with me? I don't think the guys will freak out as much as you think. And I'd love you to see New Earth sometime."
He shakes his head. "Nah, my calendar's pretty full these days. Ya know, toppling a few gods, kicking some Gou'uld butt. That sorta thing. Sure appreciate the offer, though."
Finally the convoy comes to a halt, a safe distance from the Gate. A small sentry patrol stands by, reminding Becky of the SFs on Gateroom watch duty. Probably serve the same function.
Kor'tel and the other escorts stride ahead for a brief conversation with the patrol leader, who heads for the DHD. He punches in seven symbols and presses the central red crystal. Her heart speeds up a little at the familiar locking of chevrons and the kawoosh of activation.
The other equines must be used to it as they don't react but their set nervously shuffles and stamps their legs a bit. "Whoa, easy now," Jimmy mutters under his breath, giving a subtle tug on the reins.
Before rolling into the event horizon each wagon is stopped for a cursory inspection. Kor'tel comes back with two sentries who give theirs a quick once-over.
A small achoo comes from the back of the wagon. One sentry lifts a speculative eyebrow, just like Teal'c.
Jimmy makes a show of blowing and wiping his nose on his cloak. "Allergies, sorry."
A second sneeze, louder this time. The sentries glance at each other and head towards the back of the wagon.
Becky swallows and closes her eyes, hoping they don't find Penarra.
Then something sets off the already unsettled equines, who squeal and rear up in an effort to shake off their harness, so much the wagon tilts completely to the left. They slide off the seat and hit the ground, a little stunned. Penarra shrieks as she rolls out of the back along with the barrels. Kanan and Kor'tel pull all three out of the wreckage and release the equines, who gallop away from the active Gate as fast as they can.
Energy blasts smash into the wagon, splinters flying. The three agents return fire with their zats and staff weapons as Becky shields Penarra from the worst of it, huddling together behind the largest piece for protection.
"Reinforcements are fast approaching," Kanan says, crouching nearby. "We will soon be outnumbered."
She sets her mouth in a thin line. "Then you and Kor'tel need to get Penarra out of here. She'll be safe on New Earth while they fetch her father at Tarraka."
"On our honor we will," Kor'tel says, saluting her with fist to chest. "Your sacrifice will be remembered."
"Thanks, but I don't intend to die. I'm getting married soon, after all." A crooked smile. "But tell my uncle the General he better get here as soon as possible or I'll throttle him." She risks a look above the wagon at their attackers. "Go now, the Gate won't stay open much longer. We'll provide cover."
He nods and turns to Kanan who takes Penarra's hand as they run. She glances back at Becky and mouths Farewell before they disappear through the blue-white shimmer.
Jimmy flashes her a grin, snarky even in the midst of danger. "Just you and me, huh kiddo?"
"No, you'd better get out of here too. It's me they want, after all."
He gapes at her as if she's nuts. She probably is. "The hell I will! I'm not leaving you in the hands of those snakes. They'll kill you for certain."
"No, they won't. You said it yourself- Ba'al still needs me alive as bait. Don't worry about me, I'll hold on as long as I can until I get rescued, by you or Jack. Go now," nodding towards the treeline not too far away. "Live to fight another day, as Teal'c would say."
He just stares at her with achingly familiar velvet brown eyes then holds her face in his hands, giving her a quick kiss on the forehead. "That's my girl. God, I'm so proud of you. See ya soon." He takes off at a run as she provides cover with her zat.
When he's safely hidden among the trees Becky risks a glance at the Gate just as the event horizon winks out, leaving only an empty circle. An energy blast slams into the ground next to her before she can move a muscle, sending a cloud of dust into the air and making her cough.
"Tau'ri, kree shak!"
Swallowing hard, she raises her hands in the air, turning around to find herself facing the business ends of many staff weapons.
She's alone.
Jimmy's nowhere in sight, hopefully safe in the forest.
Penarra's on her way to New Earth, accompanied by Kanan and Kor'tel. She's kept her word to Barranco.
That's something, at least.
Needless to say Ba'al is not a happy camper.
"You disappoint me, Dr. Grahme." He glares at her with arms crossed over his chest, severe in tight black leather and long coat. "I did not expect to be repaid for my hospitality in so disgraceful a fashion. Who helped you and the girl escape?"
"The Jabberwock and the Bandersnatch." Good old Lewis Carroll, confounding the Goa'uld every time. Only now the tactic earns her a jolt with the pain stick.
"Again. Who helped you?"
"Larry, Curly and Moe." More pain, leaving her gasping for breath.
"Again. Answer me!"
"R2D2 and 3CPO, who aren't the droids you're looking for." She braces for another strike.
"Enough." The priest steps back with a bow. Ba'al comes forward, slipping a ribbon device on his arm. "A great pity," he sighs, flexing the fingertips. "I would have enjoyed your body as a host for my mate. But like all Tau'ri you are proving far too troublesome. I see this must be done the hard way." The red crystal centered on his palm begins to glow and blazing pain shoots across every nerve of her body.
She screams.
By the end of the very long day Becky's right back where she started, though this time with no neighbor to help keep her spirits up. Thank goodness.
It isn't long until a spiteful Norris enters her cell without an accompanying guard, fury raging in his colorless eyes. "You damned well better cooperate next time, brat. I didn't throw my lot in with a snake for nothing."
She's far too exhausted even to muster an appropriate comeback. Her lack of response does nothing to curb his violence as he unleashes his frustration and anger on her vulnerable person.
There's a kel'no'reem trick which Teal'c taught her a while back, separating mind from body just enough so it registers nothing of what's happening to her. She's never been so grateful for the long hours of meditation and instruction as she is now, even though she'll suffer for it in the form of nightmares somewhere down the road.
If she survives, that is.
At least there's no memory of sexual assault, according to later hypnotic analysis guided by Heightmeyer. Scant comfort considering how thorough he is otherwise.
When awareness returns Becky finds herself alone, huddling in a fetal position on the floor, body aching from various cuts and bruises, uttering whimpers that even to her sound feeble and pitiful.
She slowly rolls onto her back, staring blankly at the ceiling. Wondering just how long it'll take before she cracks.
Better not be soon. She refuses to become a traitor just to save herself. There's no way she'll disgrace the settlement or the SGC if she can help it.
She'll do her extended family proud. She has to.
Soon she loses all track of time, an endless cycle making up her days.
Unrelenting torture and agony until her body gives out from either sheer pain or total exhaustion then waking to the cool white light of the sarcophagus.
Periods in the cell scarfing up scraps and slurping handfuls of fusty water from a bucket before snatches of restless sleep.
Roused to begin the cycle all over again. And so on and so forth.
Wash, rinse, repeat.
Ba'al and Norris take a perverse pleasure in asking questions and using the most painful means possible to extract information from her. Two of a kind, in the worst way.
One session she's pushed to the limit and gives in, though not the way they expect. Thanks to a sober lecture from Jack concerning interrogation and resistance techniques she's memorized a certain set of Gate addresses for just this kind of scenario, including one for a planet being consumed by a black hole and the rest progressively worse from there. As a last-minute inspiration she gives the glyph sequences in their corresponding Ancient syllables. Let 'em chew on that for a while.
Her uncle's a sly old fox. Thumbing one's nose at the enemy even when pushed to the edge has become a time-honored tradition at the SGC, and she's doing her best to uphold it.
An already livid Norris becomes so enraged by the trick and her apparent lack of fear (I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer...) he drives the point of his knife deep into her right shoulder. Thankfully the joint's unharmed but it aches for a long time afterwards, with little jolts of agony constantly radiating from the wound in every direction.
Eventually they give up in disgust, sending her back to her cell without any attempt at healing just as Norris threatened. After a very long drink of water she realizes that not only is she dehydrated but also both overheated and chilled. The skin around the shoulder wound is an angry red, hot and dry to the touch.
Thanks to first aid training from Janet she knows what's in store with an infection- fever, first and foremost, followed by bad dreams and hallucinations. If it doesn't get treated with antibiotics in time the bacteria could get into the bloodstream and poison her.
As much as she's holding on to hope of rescue it's better to be realistic at this point. There's no way she can endure another round of torture even with that damned sarcophagus. It gives but also takes, in a very insidious fashion.
Preparing for the worst she keeps both water and waste buckets within reach of where she's sitting against the wall, facing the door in case someone tries to take her unawares. Sweating and gasping for breath she's more or less ready when the fever-dreams and hallucinations begin.
Sometimes she's able to think clearly and tend to herself as best she can. Other times when the fever rages she simply endures.
Holding on for dear life, to life itself.
In the meantime some interesting visitors stop by. One is very much real.
Shallan's face is pinched in sympathy, holding the very knife Norris threatened Becky with that first night and knocked out of his hands by (now that Becky recalls) Kor'tel. Apparently she'd spied it a corner when the guards discovered the cells were empty and kept the weapon out of sight until now.
"I am sorry," she whispers. "I cannot do anything more, I am risking my own life by doing this. But you may yet find this useful."
Becky just nods. She leaves the knife where Shallan placed it, hidden in the shadows.
It's real. It's solid. It's a guarantee of potential actions she can take if necessary.
It gives her hope, even when there's seemingly none to be had.
Others have got to be hallucinations, there's no other explanation.
"Join us," urges a beautiful brunette sitting to her right, in white buttoned blouse and ecru skirt. A soft lambent glow surrounds her, banishing the shadows to the far corners of the cell. "My name is Oma Desala. Let me help you Ascend before it is too late. You are part of us already, a portion of our genetic code woven into every cell of your body. You belong with us."
"This wasn't part of our agreement," warns the man to her left, dressed in a cream v-neck sweater and tan slacks. Exactly the same as the last time she saw him- an Ascended Daniel from an alternate universe, like her raven but with shorter hair and no glasses.
She waves a dismissive hand in his direction. "She is gravely injured. I merely offer her a chance to escape the physical chains of her body, as I did for you. How can she refuse?"
"Easy," Becky states, startling her. "There's a saying by a famous Old Earth philosopher, name of Groucho Marx: 'I refuse to join any club that would have me as a member'."
Daniel snorts, concealing an amused smirk behind a hand.
Desala frowns. "I do not understand. Why deny Ascension, particularly when your body cannot possibly endure more abuse? Do you not wish for eternal life, free from pain, all cares and worries forgotten?"
"Nope." Becky straightens up against the wall, keenly disappointed how much her shoulder aches even in her imagination. "I'm sure you mean well but I'm not interested. See, I know about you guys, I've done research in the databases of two cities you abandoned, Huy-Braesealis and Atlantis. For all your million-year history and impressive technological feats you Ancients are really a bunch of cowards. You ran from your home galaxy, you ran from the Milky Way and you ran from Pegasus. You even ran from the physical plane into a spiritual cul-de-sac you call Ascension and now you're trapped. You pretend to be these highfalutin know-it-alls with a policy of noninterference but in reality you just don't have the guts to either leave your plane altogether and find out what lies beyond or Descend, own up to your mistakes and fix the messes you left behind. In my book that's just plain cowardice."
Desala gapes in consternation during her speech. Daniel just beams at her.
For participating in a hallucination she's amazed herself by her own eloquence.
Despite the violent shivers wracking her body she gathers close the shreds of both her dignity and her tattered field jacket. "So thanks but no thanks. Go peddle your nonsense somewhere else, I'm not buying."
He chuckles. "Told you it wouldn't work. Now do you believe me?"
The Ancient sniffs in disapproval. "This proves nothing. Our conversation is far from over." She disappears in a flash of white light.
Becky frowns. "What conversation?"
His troubled expression quickly morphs into a smile. "Nothing you need to worry about." He comes over to crouch in front of her, his healing touch on her shoulder and a cooling kiss to her forehead easing her shivers, driving the pain away for a while. "Don't worry, help is on the way. Just hold on for a little while longer."
She bows her head, fiddling with the fraying hem of her trousers. "Don't know if I can."
"I do. It's not your time yet. Trust me, everything's gonna be just fine." He straightens. "I have to go now. I really wish I could do more."
"Will I ever see you again?"
His smile's sweet, warm and a little wistful. "Someday, when the time is right. Be brave, Becky. Take care." He disappears in a bright flash of light, leaving her more than a little perplexed.
At the end of the Battle of Gateway he saved both her and her raven by defeating Anubis and healing their wounds. Surely this time he must be a figment of her imagination along with that Ancient Ascended woman, otherwise he would've rescued her.
Right?
And some could honestly be either, not that she's in a position to distinguish fantasy from reality anymore.
"Oh, princess," Jimmy whispers, cradling her in his arms like she was a little girl again. "I'm so sorry I couldn't get here sooner. I've been hiding in the woods and evading Jaffa patrols until I had the chance to sneak inside." He passes a gentle hand over her injuries and frowns. "What have they done to you? I shouldn't have left you alone. This is all my fault."
Not your fault. You would've died if you stayed. She doesn't think she said it out loud but he smiles sadly, as if she did and he knows better.
She tries to put on a brave face but moving hurts so damn much and her fragile pretense just shatters. He holds her carefully as she whimpers in pain and cries more than she ever dreamed possible, whispering words of comfort and silly songs from her childhood, meant to soothe and cheer. Bathes her feverish brow with cool water as he tells her how proud he is of her, how much joy she brings into the lives of everyone who loves her. Scoops her broken glasses off the floor and tucks them in one of her pockets. Lets her sleep in his arms, his presence and steady heartbeat keeping the more frightening visions away.
When she wakes again she's lucid but alone, the fever gone, a scrap of damp green fabric torn from her jacket near the bucket. After trying to puzzle it out she decides she must've done it herself and made up the rest.
She honestly doesn't know how much more she can take. She's at the end of her rope as it is.
Yet even as she sinks into despair two words drift out of memory, a familiar phrase that has sustained her through her darkest hours and does so again now:
Be brave.
Earth-shattering explosions, shouting and klaxons blaring in the encampment outside. Another detonation that shakes the fortress to the very foundations. Pounding footsteps, shouts and the rattling of P90s and sizzling of energy weapons.
Becky jerks awake, realizing with mild surprise she's not dead after all. Either that or the afterlife is a very noisy place.
She vaguely figures she ought to do something but can only slump on the floor, broken in so many ways she doesn't know how she's going to be put together again.
Then voices right outside her door, so familiar it must be an auditory hallucination.
Shallan's, reluctantly: "She is in here. But I cannot tell you if she is alive or not."
Daniel's, hesitantly: "I...I think she is, Jack. We have a connection, I'd know if she weren't."
Jack's, resigned: "Only one way to be sure. Open it, already."
The filtered light from the hallway turns almost blinding as the panel clears and opens. Two dark figures step inside.
She wearily raises her head and stares at them, blinking away spots. "Guys...?"
"Hey, Beck-" Jack's eyes widen and he stops short, so stunned by her appearance he's temporarily at a loss for words.
Daniel's the one who strides forward after shooting Jack a look that's almost accusatory. Kneeling at her side to enfold her in his arms. "It's okay, Becky, " he soothes. "I'm here. You're safe now."
"...I am?"
"Yeah, kiddo. You are." There's a brief moment of confusion seeing her uncle with age lines and silvered hair as he kneels beside them, keen gaze softening as he gently strokes her cheek. "Hang in there, we've got you."
They're gentle but her right arm's jostled anyway, sending sharp jolts of pain through her. She moans and Daniel takes a good long look at her, frowning. "Jack, she needs to see Janet right away. I'm contacting Baldur to beam us up." From a pocket in his tac vest he pulls out a milky-white stone with copper runes along the edge, an Asgard communication device.
"Wait a sec, Danny. Let's make sure the shield's down first." He reaches for his radio. "Carter? Becky's alive but she's hurt real bad. What's the status on you and Mac getting the shield down so we can beam her the hell outta here?"
"That's good to hear, sir." The relief in Sam's voice can be heard even through the radio. "We're almost done, just need another minute."
"Peachy. Head to the rendezvous point soon as you finish."
"Copy that, sir. Carter out."
The radio chirps. "General? Mitchell here." Sounds of gunfire in the background. "We've got Ba'al and his guards pinned down but Norris escaped. He's headed your way."
"Copy that. I'll deal with Norris. If you can kill Ba'al that's one less snake to worry about but if you can't just get to the rendezvous point as soon as possible. Everything else in place?"
"Everything's ready, sir. We're on our way. Mitchell out."
Another chirp. "Jack? It's Mac. Shield's down."
"Terrific. You and Carter get your butts outta there, we'll blow the place up after we're aboard the ship."
"Gotcha. See you soon."
Norris barges into the room, knife drawn, filled with a burning rage at having his revenge thwarted. He ignores Jack and shoves a surprised Daniel out of the way to make a grab for her.
Summoning hidden reserves from god-knows-where she rolls out of the way and lunges past him to scoop up the half-forgotten blade left by Shallan in the corner. She staggers to her feet, standing to face her enemy.
Fury twists his features into something nightmarish. "This is all your fault, brat!" he roars. "I'll kill you now!"
"No." Her legs are unsteady and her shoulder hurts like hell but at the same time she feels oddly calm. Even energized, as if fresh out of the sarcophagus. "No more torture, no more pain. I'm not afraid of you."
He feints but she leaps on top of him, shoving him backwards to the floor. Pinning him down and raising the knife in her left hand to strike, the blade gleaming and ready to be driven through his black heart, ending this once and for all-
"Becky, no." Daniel's eyes are filled with compassion and love as his long, sensitive fingers gently wrap around her wrist.
"I...I have to. I must." She's almost choking on the words. Why is he stopping her? Can't he feel the incandescent rage burning through her right now, the all-consuming imperative to make the monster pay for her torment?
"You don't. Listen to me. You're better than him, you always have been." His free hand gently strokes her hair. "There's no need to do this. I know my jewel-bright, sweet-natured, kind-hearted hummingbird, and she's not a killer."
"But... But I gotta do this." Tears stream down her cheeks. "He hurt me, raven. So very much."
"Oh, sweetheart. I know he did." His own eyes are moist now, beloved features suffused with shared anguish and for some reason a touch of regret. "He won't anymore."
"...Promise?" Her hand shakes with the effort of holding back the killing blow. God, she just wants this over and done with.
"Promise." She catches the meaningful look he shares with Jack. "It's over, trust me. Let go of the knife, Becky. Please. For me."
His voice is soft and soothing, as always when he comforts her after a nightmare. She can't resist even if she wants to.
She lets go of the knife and allows him to pull her off Norris and into his arms. He holds her close, murmuring soft words of love, gently stroking her until the rage dissipates, leaving only pain and exhaustion behind.
Jack fixes Norris with a baleful glare. "Danny, get Becky outta here. I'll beam up in a bit, just got a little business to wrap up here first. Don't give Janet too hard a time or otherwise she'll break out the big needles."
Daniel rolls his eyes but nods. Keeping one arm around her he raises the stone above his head with the other and presses it, hard.
Flash of white light.
Becky blinks away the dancing spots before her eyes. Blinks again.
She's been on Asgard ships before- all smooth, sleek and curvilinear- but this one is completely unknown to her.
Panels of indirect lights interspersed with walls of blue and lavender with touches of bronze. Screens with diagrams of a teardrop-shaped ship and lines of runes. A curiously pointed viewport shows they're in high orbit around a planet. Chairs and consoles around the bridge appear to be in both human and Asgard proportions.
Baldur steps into view, inclining his head. "Greetings, Daniel. I am glad you have been successful in your mission. Are the others still on the planet?"
"Yeah, they should be heading for the rendezvous point and beaming up soon as they finish."
"Very well." The Asgard gives her a sort-of smile. "Becky, I am quite pleased to see you. Welcome aboard the Rebecca Grahme."
Her eyes widen. "It's named after me?"
"Of course. Supreme Commander Thor and the High Council deemed it fitting tribute for your service to our race as Witness. This is the fastest courier ship in the Asgard fleet. Normally it is attached to our exploratory and science vessel the Daniel Jackson, unless needed for special circumstances such as this."
"The Daniel Jackson?" An amused eyebrow in Daniel's direction. He only shrugs in reply, rubbing the back of his head as he does when embarrassed.
It's astonishing. The Asgard named a ship after her, just because she happened to be in the right place at the right time. Almost too much to take in on top of everything else.
The room starts spinning. "I...I think I need to lie down now..."
Daniel catches her, scooping her into his arms. "Take it easy, I've got you. Baldur, is Janet ready with the healing chamber?"
"I believe she is. Please follow me."
The sickbay is fully stocked with medical equipment for both Asgard and humans. Janet offers a warm, reassuring smile which quickly fades at the sight of her injuries. "Bring her over here, Daniel. I just need to check her vitals before she gets in there," waving at what looks like a human-sized version of an Asgard stasis chamber.
He sets Becky down on the treatment bed and she clutches at his arm before he can pull away. "I...I'm sorry about-"
"Hey, it's okay. Don't worry about it." He carefully cups her cheek to avoid the bruises, brushing his lips against hers. "Dorme ben, amor meu. I'll be here when you wake up."
Janet pulls on gloves, unwinding the stethoscope from around her neck. She conducts her exam with typical brisk efficiency but the look in her eyes is sympathetic when Becky yelps at the sharp jolt to her right shoulder. "Sorry about that. We'll get you into the healing chamber now, it'll fix you right up."
Becky bites her lip, regarding the machine with apprehension. "Is it like a sarcophagus?"
"Not at all," Baldur says, working at a console. "Quite safe and non-addictive, I assure you. Built by my race but calibrated especially for humans. You may enter when ready."
Janet helps her change out of the ruined field uniform and into a white shift. "There's something inside one of your pockets." She pulls out the broken glasses and frowns. "These are your only pair, aren't they?"
Becky can only nod in dismay. "Yeah. Unfortunately I need them to see better. Don't know how they're gonna be repaired, it's not like we have any opticians on New Earth."
"Do not fear for your eyesight. I will put these in the matter converter. Your spectacles will be ready when you are, rest assured." Baldur accepts the pieces from Janet, cradling them in six-fingered hands.
The chamber is cold inside but warms quickly to Becky's body as she settles into place. "Um, thanks for everything," she says hesitantly. "Both of you."
Janet smiles and places a gentle kiss on her forehead. "You're welcome, honey. Sleep now. Feel better soon."
"Yes," Baldur agrees, touching a control. "Be at peace, dear friend. All will be well."
The cover slides shut and an opaque soporific mist fills the chamber. A blissful numbness travels slowly up her body, easing all aches and pains.
Becky closes her eyes, gratefully surrendering to the healing darkness.
Note: Brief reference to S2 E15, "A Matter of Time"