DISCLAIMER : Stargate is the property of MGM, World Gekko Corp and Double Secret productions. No infringement on copyrights and trademarks is intended. All original material is copyrighted to the author.
NOTES : My previous Hailey/Maybourne story Triple Cross will eventually be rewritten to fit in with this new series.
SPOILERS : Eventually to the end of Season 7 and beyond.
PREVIOUSLY : After Maybourne and Jack O'Neill failed to find the Furling in Paradise Lost, Maybourne was left with the Tok'ra. With his valuable knowledge, Maybourne soon became a host to the Tok'ra Erragal.
Captain Jennifer Hailey's POV.
The calm of the night was comforting; the cold, the quiet, the deep, dark emptiness put my thoughts and the pain into perspective.
My empty stomach convulsed, but I didn't complain. Acid reflux burned my throat; the spasms had stopped, but the bitter, metallic taste never went away. The rancid odor from the hole I'd dug filled my nostrils, but I didn't move. Blood and bile filled the back of my mouth, and I smiled; a harsh cough, a quick turn of my head, and it was all easily spat into the hole, joining the rest, the remains of my last meal.
A long, deep breath of cold night air brought a moment's relief. The chill of moisture evaporating from my face eased the inflammation around my eyes as it scratched at my cheeks; my lungs ached with the distress and the muscles in my arms still twitched involuntarily as I stared up at the stars.
By my reckoning I'd covered at least sixty kilometers of alien country and low hills in the last day, still with an almost full pack strapped to my back. My skin bled and itched from the urine and the sweat drying all over my body. I'd run purely on adrenaline; flying way over the highs of unfettered freedom across the empty savannah; crawling through the lows of chafing straps scraping away raw flesh.
It was all part of purging my mind and body of the comforts I'd grown used to working the higher numbers. As a scientist I'd put in plenty of lab time; as an athlete I'd run plenty of errands; but as a marksman, and as a pilot, my feet had been kept firmly on the ground.
The higher numbers had taught me discipline and respect, but not blind obedience. Even so, I'd progressed from SG-19, to SG-14, to a support position with the diplomatic unit to prove I could keep my big mouth shut. My reputation always preceded me; every major, every captain had started out glancing at me, looking for contradictions every time they gave an order. If anything I'd grown too introspective, too thoughtful, losing the edge that had marked me out as different in the first place.
Every trip through the stargate had been just that. Each one had offered just enough to keep my curiosity above the boredom threshold. I knew when I was being kept out of the way, when I was being used; and when to roll over. It had only been a matter of time until the rules changed.
So now I was on my own.
The exhilaration washed over me as I rested my body through the alien twilight. In the distance the sky had burned a deep red as the sun set; overhead, the sky had fluoresced through the purest blue to the most vivid purple as darkness descended to a black darker than ebony, richer than sable studded with ruby and sapphire and diamond.
Five days of solitude and countless hours of punishing effort were taking their toll on my body and mind. The days were hot and dry and long; the nights were cold and bleak but filled with blissful dreams. So much better than any opiate, I dared to take a small sip from my water bottle.
It was so tempting to give in to the rapture.
I was tired, filthy and crawling with lice but my mind sang with the euphoria of starvation and dehydration. The ache behind my blood-shot eyes drilled into my head. Morphine only dulled the pain, always leaving me needing more. And as the nightly aurora began its psychedelic display my whole body heaved as I laughed uncontrollably. Smack, acid, speed? Even free-basing crack couldn't do it. Hadn't done it. There was nepenthe in my med-kit, but no strength left in my body to fetch it. I sighed as my bladder emptied itself again, bringing welcome warmth to legs going numb with cold.
The newly familiar stars shone brightly, beyond the light display of charged particles streaming through this alien planet's magnetic field, beyond the pain, beyond the ecstasy, I struggled with myself not to cry.
Above all, I was determined not to cry.
Every day stretched my endurance to the limit, almost to perfection. I was well aware they were toying with me; each mental and physical test leaving me wanting – demanding – more. For the first time in my life I was living on the extreme of my abilities, testing myself, living to die to prove the faith he had in me.
Back in General Hammond's office, the old Colonel who'd put forward this assignment had warned me that it would be uncompromising; even Hammond had cautioned me against it. But the snake inside Harry... the way he'd looked at me, not only with hope but honestly with fear and dread, and maybe even a little compassion, had only served to make me more determined.
Day by day, klick by klick, I was slowly falling for him, for Erragal, the Tok'ra inside Harry. Erragal was plying me with logic and reason, delighting in my obstinacy. The pressure was as relentless as the highs that were so unbelievable the pain never went away. Harry still bitched and complained, not least at the regime Erragal imposed on his old body, but even he smiled now and then as he found time to chomp on stale cigars and drink warm beers.
I allowed myself the luxury of the moisture filling my eyes, a few lost tears escaping into the night. In a few hours we'd be reunited. But I wouldn't cry as the little death took me, stealing away the last of my energy as I fell asleep.
...
The small white sun rose slowly to bring another clear day. I'd already stretched and gone through my morning exercises to put life and feeling back into my bones and muscles. Already, I'd filled in the small hole I'd dug to crap in, ignoring the small, ugly black worms that wriggled everywhere.
I took my time to eat my meager protein rations slowly as I stripped out of the Tok'ra clothes I wore. Black scabs peeled away spilling bright red blood; fresh blisters burst open revealing soft white flesh. They didn't matter, my body was already a mass of scars. And where my skin wasn't cut or torn it was various shades of yellow, black and blue from old and new bruises. I dressed the worst of the open wounds with salve and bandages from my med-kit, letting the rest dry in the warm air.
Erragal had insisted on the protein and the med-kit, cautioning against the stronger drugs, but unwilling to risk me not having them. In time I would learn to do without any comforts, but I still had to dress again in the same excrement-covered clothes.
I didn't care; I was so alive I was crawling with it.
The world I'd left behind was so sterile. A cut or scrape would demand a booster of some kind or other. My immune system had been eroded away over the years by shots and antibiotics, flushing away bacteria, screwing with my body, creating a dependency.
Just this last time through, old Doc Fraiser had fixed her beady little eyes on me... I shuddered at the memory. Fraiser would have filled me with pills like they were grains of rice, not knowing any better, an ignorant tool of the drug cartels' goal of exploitation and profit. That was one reason why I dressed as a Tok'ra, so that they couldn't take away my clothes, so they wouldn't want me around longer than necessary.
It didn't stop me from wincing as I pulled on my boots. Yet my lungs filled with air that was fresh and clean, oxygen-rich and chemical-free. I shouldered my pack, pulling the straps tight as I walked, increasing my pace to a dog-trot that I could maintain forever. I'd marked my location by the stars the night before, scornful of the GPS I'd been taught to use at the Academy. The earlier unforgiving pace I'd set myself had paid off, and I was a good half a day closer than Harry would expect.
The pace and the rhythm freed my spirit; my body ran on across acres of open countryside while my mind filed away my thoughts and emotions. I was desperate for a shower; it was the last luxury I didn't want to give up. I needed delousing and worming, if only for Harry's sake. Every day I pushed myself, always approaching the peak of physical condition, only to push harder still to realize just how much more I was capable of.
And Harry loved to quote the choicest sections of my file back at me, but he always came back to the same one. "Shoot him again," he'd laugh as he tore at me. I'd suffered the vicious sting of a Zat more than enough times; but so had Harry. I'd been flayed until I understood the purity of pain, my mind and body cut open. I'd been shot and beaten and whipped until my screams didn't fade even when I slept. Bones had been broken – as had Harry's jaw – but not my conviction — "Tok'ra, heal thyself," I'd laughed back in his face.
All this I filed away and put into context. Harry's paunch had gone the same way as his beard. He still had a hankering for dogs and other offal, but considering what we usually ate, perhaps that wasn't too bad. Erragal had rekindled his taste for tobacco; in return Erragal enjoyed beer that was warm. Anything but coffee. Still, he was harder and leaner. He was a top class analyst given to bad taste and even worse jokes, but Erragal kept the worst of him in check. He wasn't all bad.
And still I ran.
I ran until I saw the ragged row of crosses in the distance. I laughed out loud at Harry's handiwork, pulling my Zat automatically, checking the load. I'd chased my shadow for hours, mentally calculating and adjusting my course against the white star as I ran; if Harry hadn't moved, I'd run right over him inside twenty minutes.
"Tag?" I sent our usual greeting.
"No." The single word came back.
"Fuck you!" I holstered my Zat. A long crawl through the scrub would have scratched a few itches, but now I could approach without caution.
"You're welcome," I heard, before the bright flash of transport rings lit up the plateau.
I cursed my temper. Harry liked to encourage my individuality, but it was Erragal who'd welcomed me back. I ran the last kilometer, not wanting to keep him waiting, only slowing as I passed through the line of crosses, grinning at the curses shouted at me.
And I was sure it was the Tok'ra waiting for me, hands clasped in peace where I could see. I stopped ten meters away, suddenly aware of the fetor that had run with me. Behind him steam billowed up from canisters strung out on a metal frame.
"Everything we wanted is in the pack," I said, getting business out of the way, letting it slide from my back. "Washington came through with the goods; I passed on the list, but Hammond wasn't impressed that I was on my own." I watched him suspiciously. "And I've picked up some kind of entoparasite," I added. There was no reaction to a word Harry probably wouldn't know, so it was still Erragal in charge.
"I thought," he began, his nose twitching as he picked up my scent, "I thought you might want to..." We'd lived together in cramped quarters for over two months, and we'd been completely professional, but now the way he looked at me, he was almost embarrassed. "Get clean while the water's still hot," he said. "You've earned it."
"Oh?" I hesitated as I unlaced my boots. The self-assured Tok'ra, the slow, deep, calm resonance in his voice was something I'd learned to appreciate; his uncertainty confused me.
He shrugged awkwardly. "Your training's almost over, Captain," he said, but he didn't smile.
"Almost?" I asked, pulling my undershirt over my head.
"Tomorrow we'll see if you're prepared to..." He watched uncomfortably as I removed my pants, frowning at the scars and the fresh scabs, at the sores weeping all over my body. "Tomorrow..."
He looked up and I held his eyes for a heartbeat. I stood naked before him, and for a moment I worried that he wouldn't understand...
... then he smiled and I laughed and ran to the makeshift shower.