Sam woke in Saurav's arms, naked and cold. She stared at the hand she could see, at the claw painted there. Her eyes followed the stripes on her arm up to her shoulder, down the side of her body, on to her chest and stomach, golden brown like a fine fur over her fair skin.
Awkwardly, she unwrapped herself from his embrace and slid away. Her mind had roared, her body had... Deliberately, she crawled on her hands and knees the few yards to the lake, pausing over grass that had been churned up, chillingly reminded of the fire, the passion, that had taken her, that what had happened was neither a dream nor an illusion. Sam crawled on. Her body didn't ache, there was no stress or pain. She scrutinized her reflection in the water, seeing the same familiar gentle creases and clear eyes, but with a new vitality.
The water was cold but refreshing. She washed, rubbing at the markings Saurav had painted over her, growing uneasy as they remained stubbornly bright and clear. Sam shuddered as she cursed. She'd made assumptions, not thinking of the consequences. What Saurav had used, what he'd done, had penetrated her skin, the whole of her torso was now emblazoned with an enormous tattoo.
Acceptance and rejection fought for domination in her confusion. She looked back to find Saurav watching her. Crouched at the lake's edge, letting the water trickle through her fingers, questions tumbled through her mind. There was, she knew, nothing to gain in getting angry, but there was a lot to learning to control her excitement.
Her pulse was racing, and she was getting the biggest rush as Saurav's eyes swept over her. Sam knew the shape she was in. She knew she wasn't plain, but equally she knew she wasn't exotic either. But still, his look followed her curves, lingering where she'd normally not welcome it.
So much was wrong and she had so little room to manoeuvre.
Still he waited, his interest self-evident. She stood slowly, turning her back to him, nervous, almost shy as she looked out over the water. She could turn, she could walk away, and be left with no answers. Or she could surrender, go to him, but she was compelled to make the first move before he could sway her mind.
Sam trembled as he moved close behind her, as he captured her easily in his arms. "Who are you," she demanded, quietly. "What are you? What have you done to me? What have I become?" She cursed herself as she leaned back into his warmth, taking comfort in his strength. "Was it me? That animal? Was it me, or some... thing you drew?"
The air was quiet, the lake still, the water like glass. The sun rose over the trees, the circle of the gate an incongruous halo around the star. Saurav's arms held her just as she had no intention of allowing him to let her go.
Yet what was happening was too big, too much, too soon -- perhaps, this time, even too much for her. Always there'd been an edge. It was what she used to live for. But she'd lived on it for so long, she'd begun to fear she'd become dependent on it. And now?
They stood by the lake-shore, basking in the warmth of the sun.
"I'm hungry," Sam said.
"You are both hungry," Saurav said, quietly.
"Why me, Saurav?"
"Yours is the spirit of a warrior, yours is the greater capacity of mind and soul. You do not seek or desire enlightenment for yourself, but it would most certainly have found you."
"And you're offering it to me?" Sam twisted in Saurav's arms, turned to face him, to look into his eyes. "I've seen it. I've seen Oma Desala and her kind. I thought..." Sam stopped, wondering just how much he knew, how deep he could see inside her. "I thought I loved one of them once."
"Yes, you would. They carry their beauty and grace as a symbol of how they see the truth." Saurav's features took on a serious expression Sam hadn't seen before. "They seek to protect the Harsesis Child to their own ends." He shrugged. "We do not agree, but we do not interfere."
"Then, what do you want of me?"
Saurav laughed. "A moment of your time, the joy of your company, the luxury of your smile, the beauty of your truth. You do not see it yet, but... you do not know, you cannot. Not yet." Gently, Saurav took Sam's hand. "So I must tell you." Slowly, he led her away from the lake to the shadow of the stargate. On the ground in front of it there was fresh fruit and heavenly scented flowers.
"When I came here, the first time I saw you, I sought only to converse with you." They sat on the the soft grass, amid the flowers, sharing the fruit as Sam leaned against him, as they found again how well they fit together. "Instead, I have placed a burden upon you." Saurav held her close. "You are already changed, Sam. I sense your fear, but it is not too late. Let me tell you of my people, of who I am, what I am, and how I came here, then you may decide.
"My people are many. When the ancients were not so old, we followed where they led. We walked without fear on innumerable planets, making new homes, seeking our own enlightenment. Our appetite was insatiable, our curiosity as unbridled as yours. Our numbers grew, we were spread far and wide. We evolved, so far that we no longer needed these circles to travel the vast distances between the stars.
"As the younger races emerged we found within us our own peace, we began to withdraw; but as we did, not all of our children returned home. So it is that our legacy can be found on many of these worlds.
"I am but a man, a simple man, but some of that legacy is mine. His name is Siva. He is the snake, the serpent, the dragon upon my back. I am his vahana, his vehicle. In return, he is my guide for as long as I would carry him.
"Among my people there is only one Siva.
"I sense a purpose in you, Sam. I sense a destiny that has already seen the truth." Saurav frowned. "And yet, I also sense there are more truths still to be told."
"I was a host once," Sam said, quietly. "To a symbiote -- not Goa'uld -- Tok'ra."
"Jolinar," Saurav smiled, looked away, distant. "Yes, I know of Jolinar of the Tok'ra. You should not be surprised, I can see her mark inside you. Enlightenment comes in many varied and subtle ways on the path to liberation."
"She sacrificed herself to save me."
"Yes, she would. But that is not what I said." Saurav drew Sam closer into his arms. "There are many futures ahead of you. We travel the same roads, many of them, together and apart. Our paths are intertwined, but our journeys are not the same."
"You see all that?"
"No, not all." Saurav laughed. "Siva sees more. His eyes are keener than mine, his spirit is older, wiser."
"Who is Siva?"
"Siva is a memory, a cherished ideal, a wise and glorious being, an icon of hope and strength, of freedom and virtue and justice."
"And you carry him on your back?"
"Is there not some symbol of your gods? Do you not carry them with you? When we were young, the Ancients were as gods to us. They commanded our respect but not our devotion. We choose to remember them, to honor them. They have shown us the way beyond. They are not deities, but teachers of those who were prepared to learn, who were willing to devote their lives to the truth."
Sam held out her arms, so that she could see herself more clearly. She sat up, so that Saurav could see her. "Does this one have a name?"
"Her name is Durga." Saurav gazed into the distance, at the waterfall sparkling in the sunlight. "There was not always peace amongst the Ancients and the elder races. Durga was a golden warrior, bright and powerful, a force to be feared, a slayer possessed of great skill and cunning."
"Oh?" Sam leaned back into Saurav's arms. The morning was bright and fresh, the air was still, tranquil. "Am I supposed to be flattered?"
Saurav shook his head slowly. "Do you not see what I have done? I have given you the spirit of Durga. Without your knowledge or your consent, I have cast you as her vahana. Few have the strength to carry her. None would ask. She is not borne lightly.
"Some of us choose. Others of us are chosen. It is not flattery. Some, perhaps, would call it destiny." Saurav frowned. "Others would call it ill-luck."
"I am the..." Saurav paused. "I do not know your society, I do not know the term amongst your people. I am a guardian of my people. We do not have leaders, nor councils of elders, yet each of us has our own place. Where there is a need, one of us takes that task. I am not the eldest, nor the strongest, nor the wisest. But I, too, was chosen.
"There is only one Siva. There is only one Durga.
"You are not of my people, Sam. It is not mine to force Durga upon you. In truth, I did not expect Durga to find a home within your spirit, but I am glad that she lives again."
"Durga is special to you?"
"Not just to me, or my people. Durga was the consort of Siva. But we were a peaceful people; we had no need for warriors. Siva lived alone."
"And now you've drawn her on me, somehow she lives again."
"She should not; your life pattern should forbid it. The design... It was done for the truth, so that it could not be misused. The Goa'uld mock us for it. They force a desecration of the design on their slaves, but their life patterns cannot be transformed just as they themselves cannot.
"Life pattern?" Sam paused. "You mean DNA?" She drew a crude double helix in the air; Saurav nodded. "The design and the chemicals in the plant alter the DNA?" Sam held out her arms, traced one thread of the pattern with a finger. "I would say that was ridiculous but given how much redundancy there is... and how much is shared between species... But that would mean we have common ancestors." Sam stopped at Saurav's look. "I should stopping thinking out loud."
"No. But you do not need enlightenment, you need time."
"No, I need answers. The chemicals and the design re-sequence the DNA. If the choice is mine, then the design can't be permanent." Sam looked to Saurav for confirmation. And for something more. "The design can't be permanent," she said softly. "I can't allow it to be permanent. I have a duty -- I can't... change."
"It is not just the design that changes us, Sam, it is the truth we hold in our hearts. There is no darkness in you, yet you take the lives of others and bear that responsibility within your soul. It is not the weapon in your hands that gives you strength or courage, but your own desire for the truth.
"To understand the truth is to face yourself and not turn away."
Sam nodded slowly. "Last night, what you showed me? You need me, don't you? You need my help -- Durga's help -- to restore your people."
"I would not ask."
"But you thought --"
"I gave you every opportunity to choose otherwise. I would have walked away," Saurav reminded her. "I would still. But you are correct -- within days the pattern will begin to fade. Sooner, the chemicals will leave your body."
"Oh?" Sam sat up straight, wrapped her arms about her knees, stared out over the lake, beyond the waterfall, into the distance. The morning was beyond beautiful, the island was beyond idyllic, and her dreams... Time had stood still for little more than a few days and already she was beginning to question where she belonged, where her loyalties lay, where her duty began and her life stopped.
There were few people she trusted -- and so few of those she would trust implicitly. When it came to survival, there were no differences between intuition and instinct. She'd sensed it in Saurav. Perhaps that was his truth she was seeing.
"You would really leave me?" Sam asked, trying to keep the hurt out of her voice but knowing that Saurav would hear it anyway.
"And you would stay here? Even when your time is over?" A cold shiver ran the length of Sam's spine at the despondency in Saurav's questions. "Could you walk away from your people?" Saurav sat up behind her, put his arms around her. "You understand, Sam, it is not you I question. It is so much more than that." Saurav drew her into his lap, turning her around to face him. "All that has happened, the roads we have taken that have brought us together. Why?"
"Fate," Sam said. "Daniel -- a friend of mine -- would call it the fate of poets and mythologists." Sam laughed. "A power superior to gods and men," she quoted, "swaying all things irresistibly."
Saurav grinned. "There is an old axiom among my people, a proposition, its truth assumed to be self-evident: if our existence was so simple that we could understand it, we would be so simple that we could not. And yet I believe the answer is still there to be found; is that not why we are here?
"Durga knows," Sam said quietly, unsure of herself, what she was hearing, what she was seeing. "There was a philosopher," she paused, listening intently as Durga spoke to her. "She says he saw the way beyond... not as it is but as it should be."
"Siva also remembers him," Saurav said, slowly. "He died. Millennia ago, he died when..."
"No, Saurav, his spirit lives on," Sam interrupted. "Beyond the realms of the ascended, beyond the realms of the ancients. Saurav?" Sam looked to him for reassurance. She shivered; the sun had risen higher in the sky, and now they sat in shadow. "Saurav, I know... I was there."
