Not quite sure where the pairing line went in the header, I know I put it in --

Pairing: Sam/Malek

I want to emphasize that this story began as speculation on the fate of the Tok'ra in S.8. Itwas actually finished around the time of 'Zero Hour',before the Tok'ra showed up again.So, we're definitely in AU-land (though you probably guessed that from the pairing line...)

Thanks to Leah, the first to review! A slice of pumpkin pie for you! :) .

onward we go... (reposted with scene breaks added back in, don't know where those went either...)

GOING HOME

Chapter 1 -- Buried Secrets

The klaxon went off, and Sergeant Davis reported what Sam could see very well for herself, "Unscheduled incoming traveler."

The iris closed and she waited.

It still felt a little odd for her to be standing, rather than sitting at the computer, but she was ranking officer on the floor, since O'Neill was up in the infirmary with the injured members of SG-12.

"Colonel," Davis turned to look up at her, his eyes wide behind his glasses, "Receiving Tok'ra IDC."

"Tok'ra!" she blurted. Her dad. She was already halfway to the stairs when she remembered to order, "Open the iris. And call the general."

Tok'ra. It had been almost a year since her dad had left with the rest of the Tok'ra. Sam had only heard about them since in tales from rebel Jaffa about Tok'ra extracted from their assignments in Goa'uld palaces and ships who then vanished. That news had let the SGC guess that all the Tok'ra had been recalled, presumably to regroup and rethink their strategy.

She rounded the door at a run, finding the iris open and the wormhole shimmering. One brown-clothed Tok'ra plummeted through and collapsed to the ramp. A second fell through and rolled, a blast of weapons fire passing above him. He shouted, "Close it! Close it!"

The symbiote's voice seemed to freeze everyone, but Sam had identified them both, and she echoed him, "Close the iris!" The instant it closed, she rose from her crouch and ran to the ramp, pushing the SF's out of the way and ordering them to stand down.

She reached the one who had spoken, just as he was coming up to his knees. "Malek, are you okay?" she asked. It wasn't an idle concern -- he looked awful. His face was streaked with what looked like ash and blood. Worse, his shoulder had been hit by what looked like a staff blast, and the back of his tunic was shredded and dark with blood.

He waved her off. "See to Jacob."

She continued up the ramp, to where her father had yet to rouse. "Dad? Dad? Selmak?" There was no answer, as she knelt beside him. What she saw made her yell for a medical team.

Her father had been hit in the back by the same type of blast. Her fingers sought his pulse, but they were trembling so badly she couldn't find it.

"Major Carter," Malek said from behind her, his voice seeming to come from a long way off. "If you have a healing device, it is not yet too late. I can help him."

Healing device. Yes. She turned her head enough to shout. "Somebody bring the hand device. NOW!"

She heard O'Neill's confirmation from the doorway and sagged, glad that she could now ignore everything but her father.

"Well, well, long time no see, Malek," O'Neill greeted. "What the hell happened?"

Sam listened to his answer, curious, even while she wondered why the healing device was taking forever.

"It is a long story, O'Neill, involving betrayal, Goa'uld, the kull, and far too much death," Malek answered wearily.

"Are we gonna get a bunch more of your people coming in as refugees?" O'Neill asked.

Malek didn't answer right away, and when he did, it was his host's voice, soft and sorrowful. "No. There are no others."

"What?" O'Neill demanded. "You mean --"

Sam had to turn around at that, in time to see Malek take hold of the rail and turn away. The host answered, "They are all dead, O'Neill. Selmak and Malek are the last of the Tok'ra."

In the silence that followed, Lieutenant Delavie rushed in. "Colonel, I -- sorry, General, sir --" he brushed past O'Neill and handed Sam the healing device with care, "Here, ma'am."

"Thank you," she handed it straight over to Malek. "Please, do what you can."

He inched closer on his knees and held the device in both hands above her father's back, and stared down, as the device began to glow.

She watched, tense and hopeful, with her hand resting on her dad's lightly. But when she cast a glance at Malek's face, she noted with dismay that he was ash-pale and gaunt. A host shouldn't look so weak. She wondered uneasily how much he would be able to use the device, without killing himself.

Soon it became more than curiosity. Her father gasped and began breathing more steadily, and the terrible wound knitted right before her eyes. And still Malek didn't stop, even as his hands began to tremble.

"Malek, you've done enough." He didn't seem to hear, so she grabbed his arm. "Malek, stop."

The glow of the device went out and he crumpled. She caught him from hitting his head on the ramp and checked his pulse. He was out cold, as was her father.

The med team, who had been hovering at the end of the ramp, came forward at her gesture and loaded the two Tok'ra. She started to follow, but paused next to O'Neill, who had an odd look on his face as he watched the Tok'ra wheeled out.

"Last two," he muttered.

"Sir?"

He waved a hand in dismissal. "Go, Carter. See to your dad."

"Thank you, sir."

"And Carter, when your dad wakes up, see if he'll give you some more details about the attack," he ordered.

She nodded and went after the med team.

A full day passed before her father awoke. Sam had expected Malek to wake first, but he was still sleeping, when Jacob's eyes opened.

"Dad?" she pressed his hand in hers and smiled when his fingers tightened. He turned his head and saw her.

"Sammie?" he whispered hoarsely.

She gave him water and asked, "How are you feeling."

He grimaced. "Better than dead. Did Malek make it?"

"In the bed next door," she pointed and he turned the other way to check on the other Tok'ra. "He's still out. Staff blast to the shoulder, four-inch wood spike in his back, and he healed you on top of that. But we think he'll be fine."

Jacob nodded and closed his eyes, looking tired, before opening them again. "We'll be okay too. Sel's still working, but soon, he says. How are you doing, kiddo?"

"Good. I was promoted, Dad. So was O'Neill -- he's CO of the base now."

His grip on her hand tightened. "I'm proud of you, Sam. What happened to George?"

"Special advisor to the president on interstellar affairs. A lot's happened, Dad, but it'll wait. What happened to you? Malek said you two were the last, is it true?"

He shut his eyes again, this time with obvious grief. "Yeah. Sel and Malek are the last."

"But how?"

"We gathered all of them in, at a secure base. Some thought it was too risky having everyone spread out, when Anubis was out there. Plus, we had some ... issues to deal with. We heard about Anubis' attack, and the new weapon here -- you'll have to tell us all about it -- but the decision was made to stay hidden. And we were betrayed."

He stopped and sipped more water.

"By who?" Sam asked.

"I don't know. Probably one of our 'allies' on the planet where we found refuge. It doesn't matter anymore -- they're all dead too."

"I'm so sorry, Dad," she murmured and bent down to kiss his cheek. "How did you and Malek escape?"

"We weren't there," he answered simply. "We were scouting another world for a possible base. We came back in the aftermath. Ten of the drones breached the tunnels. There weren't enough weapons that affected them. Two were still alive when we came to the village. We killed one but ran out of juice in the guns. I was still thirty feet from the gate when I was hit. Malek must have dragged me. Thank God he remembered the code."

He wilted visibly, eyelids open only by force of will.

"Then I owe him," she kissed him again. "Get some rest, Dad. I'm glad you're here."

He was asleep before she'd gotten off the stool.

She paused beside Malek's bed, where he was still asleep. He'd been cleaned up and put in one of the black T-shirts, to wait for him to wake up. The wavy brown hair looked soft, gentling the sharp angles of his face.

She remembered him from the Alpha site mess with the ashrak and then on Pangar with Egeria almost two years ago now. Though she'd not heard the host speak once, she thought she had glimpsed him. Malek was the scientist, the one who had known how to build a TER from scratch and do complex molecular analysis on the tretonin to figure out a possible cure. But she knew from Pierce, who had spent time on Raisa before the attack, that the host was the actual leader. He was the one who had calmed Ocker, and held his temper against O'Neill's provocation.

She was curious to really meet him.

The next day, she went down to see how they were doing. Her dad was sleeping again -- apparently either Selmak's grief was interfering with his repair of the injury or her dad had been even closer to death than she'd thought. But Malek was gone.

"Sergeant Cho," she called to the nurse passing out in the hall.

"Colonel?" the young woman came back into view.

"What happened to the other Tok'ra?"

Cho's eyes grew wide and she rushed in. "What? But he was right here twenty minutes ago, ma'am. I swear he was asleep."

Sam smiled to curb the incipient panic in the nurse's face. "It's all right. They do that when they're done healing. I'll find him." She lifted the phone on the wall and pushed the extension for the control room.

"Control room. Simmons," the answer came promptly.

"Captain, this is Carter. I need the SF's to search for the Tok'ra Malek. He's --"

"Um, colonel?" Simmons cut in gently. "He's here. In the gate room."

Her sense of alarm spiked. He couldn't be leaving, not so soon. "Where's he going, Graham?"

"Nowhere, ma'am. He didn't ask us to open the gate. He's just standing there." Simmons lowered his voice. "He doesn't look dangerous or anything. He looks sort of sad actually. Should I page the general?"

"No. I'm on the way."

Sam made the quickest trip down that she could and entered the gateroom quietly. As Graham had said, Malek was there, standing on the floor at the foot of the ramp, looking up at the gate. A pair of olive BDU pants had joined his black T-shirt, but his feet were bare. His hands were clasped behind his back and she noticed he stood at perfect parade rest.

With a gesture, she dismissed the SFs standing guard and walked slowly up to him. He said nothing, though he must have heard her approach, so she broke the silence. "Going somewhere?"

"No." After a second, he added politely, "Major Carter."

"Actually, I've been promoted. It's lieutenant colonel now," she corrected with a smile. Then she realized that the host was speaking. Without the Goa'uld timbre, he had a pleasant, rather rich voice.

"Ah. Lieutenant Colonel Carter then," he corrected himself carefully.

"You could just call me Sam," she offered.

"Thank you, Sam." He finally turned to face her, and while she wouldn't have called his expression 'sad,' it was distant, as though most of his attention was still elsewhere. Understandably so, after what had happened.

Her smile vanished and she reached out a hand to touch his arm. "How are you doing?"

"Better than Malek," he answered with a not-smile twist to his lips. "It's ironic -- for all his years, I am the one with the experience of watching my people die."

There wasn't much she could say to that, or to the shadows in his eyes. So she just said, "I'm sorry. But thank you for saving my father and bringing him here."

He inclined his head. "It helped to have a destination to focus on. You may tell O'Neill that we will be as helpful and ... unobtrusive as possible, while we have refuge here."

She inwardly winced. Malek had experienced the rough side of O'Neill's distrust of the Tok'ra twice, and was clearly doubtful of his welcome. "You're safe here," she reassured him. "The president agreed to General O'Neill's request that you have asylum here as long as you like."

Nodding his thanks, he added, "Asheron."

She raised her brows in confusion, not understanding what he was saying. "I'm sorry?"

"Asheron," he repeated. "My name."

Sam had the feeling she had just received a gift. She smiled. "Asheron. I'm glad to meet you."
He turned back to look at the quiet Stargate. "Strange," he murmured, "After thousands of years that the war should end this way. How disappointed Egeria would be if she knew."

"I don't think so," Sam disagreed. "I spoke with her, too, you know. She was proud of what the Tok'ra had accomplished. She would be even prouder that you made her death into a legacy to free the Jaffa."

"Perhaps." He said the word, but she knew he was no longer listening. His gaze turned inward, not paying attention to anything else.

She patted his shoulder once. "I'll let you be. But please, don't walk into an opening wormhole. You have a place here with us."

Asheron wandered the halls. He had no briefings scheduled for the day, no one seemed to want anything from him, and after two hours of reading in the commissary, he needed to do something.

Two attempts to engage his guards in conversation proved futile, so he went looking for other company.

He felt somewhat guilty that he was bored. After all, Malek was still with him and was usually company enough. But Malek was buried in his grief, and refused to respond to Asheron's attempts at comfort or humor. So Asheron left him alone. Malek would come out of it when he was ready, and not before.

Unfortunately, he couldn't talk with his fellow Tok'ra either. Jacob had gone to visit his son and grandkids in California. Selmak had demanded time with the children before consenting to a visit to Washington and briefings with the leaders there next week. They were meetings that Asheron was just as glad to miss. He had spoken of the deaths of all his friends too many times already.

In the meantime, though, Asheron had no one to talk with. At his request, the guards escorted him to Lieutenant Colonel Carter's lab. In the past week since he had arrived, Sam at least had been friendly to him. Some people came up to him because they wanted something, others because they were curious about the alien in their midst, but few just wanted to talk and welcome him like she did.

He found her lab door open. She was bent over some device on the work bench, absorbed in testing it. He hesitated to disturb her, but thought she would have closed the door if she wanted no interruptions at all. He knocked lightly on the door frame. "Sam? May I interrupt?"

She turned and smiled to see him. "Asheron, just who I was thinking about. Come in." She gestured him in.

Wondering why she was thinking about him, he joined her to look at the object she was studying. It was a metal ball with multiple octagonal facets, and was small enough to fit in the palm of one hand.

"What is it?" he asked.

She picked it up and it let out a soft hum and glowed. "An Atanik power supply. I got to thinking about what Dad had said about the charge being too small to kill more than two of the drones." She tossed it lightly from one hand to another, and he eyed it warily. Apparently Sam was not immune to the Tau'ri tendency to brave foolhardiness.

He restrained a relieved sigh when she set it back on the table.

She continued, "So I went through the various small power supplies we've collected over the years to see if I might be able to adapt one. Of course, it would have to be small. I mean, we could tape the naquadah reactor to the rifle, but that's not very portable. Anyway, I thought of this. I stripped it out of an Atanik shield device that one of the other teams found a few years ago. Its capacity is at least as great as its weight in refined naquadah."

"Then it is efficient." Not without a qualm, Asheron picked it up. It felt slightly warm, but it neither glowed nor hummed, as it had when she had held it. He put it down hastily. "What happened?"

She looked away, but he caught her smile, amused by his caution. "The Ataniks apparently weren't friendly with the Goa'uld. People hosting symbiotes can't work their technology. Curiously, it seems to be sensing something else, rather than whatever lets me use the ribbon device, since I can work their tech too."

"The ribbon device will work with anyone who has sufficient naquadah in the blood," he said, amazed no one had told her this before. He was going to have a talk with Selmak about neglecting to tell Sam this piece of information. "It has little to do with the actual presence of a symbiote. If that were all that was necessary, Jaffa could use it, but the primm'ta pouches prevent the passage of naquadah molecules."

"Really?" she gazed in astonishment. "I never knew that." She paused to think about it then shrugged. "I guess it doesn't really matter. But I wonder how the Ataniks could be so selective?"

Asheron enjoyed the next half hour of her company as they discussed how to find the method by which the Ataniks detected the presence of symbiotes. He was not a scientist himself and his home world had been barely entering a technological era when he had departed, but after all these years as host to Malek and able to pull on his knowledge as needed, he was able to at least contribute to the conversation.

But after a little while, her enthusiasm was simply so brilliant, he stopped to just watch her. Her blue eyes shone with excitement of discovery and love of exploration, as her fingers made graceful passes in the air in demonstration. She was an attractive woman, but in that moment he saw her as beautiful.

She was looking at him intently, and the brightness dimmed a little as her enthusiasm faltered. He realized she was waiting for a response and he had completely missed what she had said.

"Are you all right?" she asked.

"Yes. I apologize. Malek was reminding me about Anise's project on the Ataniks. I knew I had heard the name, but forgotten where," he temporized swiftly, not willing to tell her what he had truly been thinking. Then he sighed, realizing that the expected acid comment from Malek for lying was not coming.

"That was where we first heard about them, when Anise brought us some Atanik armbands to test and blow up a ha'tak that Apophis had under construction." Her gaze slid away and she began fiddling nervously with the small power supply.

"Are you all right?" he asked in sudden concern that this conversation had taken a turn into dangerous waters and he didn't even know why.

"Oh, sure," she answered, not very convincingly when she still wouldn't look at him. "Several ... awkward ... things happened because of that mission."

Only then did he recall the other half of what Anise had told him about the results of the Atanik mission, and what Sam meant about "awkward" things. The za'tarc testing had followed SG-1's return, and then the actual za'tarc had been discovered. He wished he could call the words back.

But she continued. "And then Martouf..." Her voice trailed off, and he filled the silence, so she wouldn't have to explain.

"Yes, I know. Anise told me what happened to him." Within, he could trace the direction of Malek's thoughts: from Martouf, to Lantash, to Revanna, to Raisa, to Mekardin, each step deeper and darker than the one before. He found a smile, determined not to let either Sam or Malek completely fall into sorrow. "He and Jolinar were the first other Tok'ra I met after blending with Malek. I went on my first mission with them."

That sparked a new interest in her. She set down the power supply and turned on her stool to face him eagerly. "You did? Really? What happened?"

"Let's see," he pretended to have to search his memory, though it was not so far distant. "It was about twenty-five years ago now. I was junior to them, so I was expected to observe. But of course a new host, on fire with desire to destroy all the Goa'uld, could not truly be expected to merely stand back and observe."

"Uh oh," her lips twitched, a grin sparking beneath the surface.

"Precisely. Let us say that Heru'ur had a bad day. Without Lantash and Jolinar I would not have escaped."

The remembrance also stirred Malek, as he had hoped it would. They were angry, weren't they? Malek mused, remembering with affection what had truly embarrassed him at the time.

I don't think I ever saw Martouf more furious, Asheron agreed. But it was because we had put Jolinar in needless danger. I don't think he was angry with what we did.

We were still learning our bond at the time, Malek said, tactfully not mentioning that his host hadn't then decided whether being Tok'ra was going to give him all the revenge he wanted.

"I don't remember anything about that," Sam murmured. "When I first saw you, I knew you looked familiar but that was all."

She looked disturbed by this gap in her memories, but he shook his head once. "Not surprising. I went to the technical group soon after and then led my own. I saw them only occasionally."

That is completely misleading, Malek informed his host sharply.

Shall I tell her the whole truth then? No, I think not. If Sam doesn't recall, then that is for the best. It was a terrible time for Jolinar. If someday she does remember, I'm sure she will understand why we didn't say anything. Malek didn't totally agree, but he acquiesced and that was enough.

Asheron decided to change the subject completely. "Your father made a reference to an entertainment called 'The Terminator'. Do you happen to have a copy that I could borrow?"

She was startled and then went along with his change gratefully. "Sure. I'll bring it to you tomorrow. I wouldn't mind watching it again, if my company's okay."

What she meant was that she wanted to watch his reactions while watching, but he didn't mind. It was not as though he had many claims on his time. "Of course. You would be most welcome, Sam."

"Sounds fun. It's a date," she declared with a smile, then seemed embarrassed by her words. "Well, I mean, not a date date. Just that we have a plan."

He had no idea what connotation the word had that was making her uncomfortable, but he smiled. "Yes. I look forward to it. I haven't yet experienced many Tau'ri entertainments."

"Well, you've only been here a week. Give it some time."

Sam microwaved a bag of popcorn and dumped it in a large bowl, feeling a little cross. Asheron must have told people about the movie, and word had spread, until O'Neill had come to her this morning and suggested putting the television and DVD player in the commissary to show the movie.

She suspected Asheron had found out what 'date' meant, and invited other people to join them to escape the implication. But now that she knew they weren't going to be alone, she wished she had kept quiet.

She might have to share his reaction to the movie, but she was not going to share popcorn with anyone else. No way. They could go get their own.

In the commissary, the tables had all been pulled back and the chairs set up in perfectly straight rows. The big screen television was set up, and Siler and Asheron were standing behind it, examining the input and output jacks.

"Is there a problem?" she asked.

"No, not at all," Asheron answered, turning his head and smiling at her in greeting. He picked his way over the power cords to meet her. "Sergeant Siler was explaining the system to me."

"Here's the DVD," she handed it to Siler.

"Special edition," Siler approved. "Very nice, Colonel."

While Siler set it up, she claimed front seats for herself and Asheron next to her. Daniel wandered in, then Teal'c, to sit next to them. And then more and more people. Finally, she gave the word to turn out the lights and the movie began.

She kept glancing aside at his face. He was rapt, barely taking his gaze away from the action. His expression showed every nuance of what he was thinking -- shock at the violence, encouragement when the heroine faltered, excitement, sorrow when the hero died.

But he had some odd reactions too. He smiled in definite amusement during the main chase. And he frowned when it ended, as though something bothered him. Even after everyone else had gone, he still seemed troubled.

"Don't think about the temporal mechanics," she urged, suspecting that might be his problem. "They don't work."

"I didn't expect it to be accurate. I was thinking about John Connor's resistance group in the future," he answered slowly. "How ... similar it is to the Goa'uld and Tok'ra."

"There are parallels to any resistance movement, really." She was having definite second thoughts about showing him the movie. She had hoped he would be inspired by the humans' triumph over the T-800, not depressed by the futility of the time paradox. Forcing a smile, she changed the subject. "Well, now that you've watched this, I'm sure Teal'c will introduce you to 'Star Wars.' It's his favorite movie."

He regarded her for a moment, his head to one side slightly. "And what is your favorite movie, Sam?"

Her cheeks felt warm, and she fiddled with the bowl in her lap. She usually claimed '2001' when people asked her that question, since she rarely wanted to appear too 'girly' among all of her military men friends and the science was well done. But she found herself willing to tell him the truth. "It's not very exciting," she admitted reluctantly. "Most guys can't stand it, since it's a chick flick. But I love 'Sleepless in Seattle.'"

"Then I would like to watch it with you."

Though she felt flattered that her opinion mattered to him, she warned, "It's a romance."

The response was dry, "I believe I can withstand the torture for a few hours."

As she chuckled, their eyes met, and she jerked her gaze away, suddenly confused. Was she really thinking that watching 'Sleepless in Seattle' with Asheron was anything else but a date? What was she doing?

Beside her, he rose to his feet and his tone was more formal, "I thank you, Sam, for a truly enjoyable evening."

She didn't want him to think that she was spurning his invitation and got to her feet hastily. "I'll bring it in, and we'll watch it some evening. But just us, okay?"

"That would be preferable." And there was no mistaking the interest in his gaze. But unlike so many of the others with that same look in the past, she saw no possession, no desire for someone else - Asheron saw only Samantha Carter.

And though she was still wondering what the hell she was doing, she had to answer, "Me, too." Then she took a step back, both literally and figuratively. "I'll see you in the morning for breakfast."

"Good night, Sam."

It was probably a good thing for her professionalism, though secretly disappointing, that she had to postpone their movie night when one of the teams brought back a mystery device. Asheron volunteered to help her, and she thought figuring it out could be more fun than the movie. But they weren't alone, and Bill Lee's presence, though usually one she enjoyed, was a definite damper.

On the positive side, she was pleased to see and hear Malek emerge during the experiments, and even though he was completely focused on the science, she thought it was a good sign that he was beginning to recover.

But then SG-1 left for a three-day mission, and when they returned, she had so much to do she could only share breakfast with him twice. Though she wished the situation was different, there was nothing she could do.

Daniel looked at the stone tablet SG-14 had brought back from a mission. The writing on the tablet was worn, but legible. Unfortunately, Daniel had hardly any idea what it said, only that from what the team had said, it must have been important.

The writing seemed to be a variation of Babylonian, an odd cursive form of cuneiform, but the words they made were either in a very different dialect than the known variations of Sumero-Babylonian or another language altogether.

He was about to pull out one of his reference books and get started, when he realized he really ought to try a more obvious source first.

Asheron and Malek had taken over one of the corner tables in the commissary. He drank tea like a chain smoker, cup after cup. At first he used the commissary's free tea bags, but then as he started to gather some friends, they brought him different varieties to try. Daniel himself had brought him a box of Darjeeling, after Asheron had expressed a liking for it.

He would talk to anyone who sat down with him, but Daniel had noticed that Malek didn't speak much. And he obviously had little to do. Jacob, even Jacob-host-to-an-alien, was still officially an Air Force general and had been folded back into SGC operations. He was away, giving reports to the president, Hammond, and other Pentagon brass.

But no one seemed to know what to do with Malek. Sam and Teal'c had both recommended that he be given facilities to work on Jaffa tretonin, but so far the approval had not come.

So Daniel thought that he might appreciate someone asking him for help.

As expected, Asheron was alone at his table in the commissary, which was nearly deserted at this hour of the afternoon. He had an elegant rose china teapot before him that Daniel hadn't seen before, and he was reading what looked like a mission report. As he read, he sipped from a matching cup.

He glanced up as Daniel approached the table. "Daniel, please, join me."

Daniel took the indicated chair, setting down his stone tablet carefully. "Nice pot."

Asheron smiled. "Sam gave it to me. What can I do for you, Daniel?"

He tapped the tablet. "I was hoping Malek might be able to translate this for me."

"Of course, we will try." Asheron pulled the tablet closer and picked up his teacup, bending close to look at the letters.

His cup halted halfway to his mouth and stayed there, hovering. He stared at the tablet as if he'd seen a ghost.

In a way he had.

Asheron didn't speak aloud, but his thoughts ran frantic and amazed as he read the tablet again and again. But the translation remained the same, and more importantly, he knew what it meant .

Is this what I think? Does it really mean what I think it does? Malek? Malek, you have to help me. Asheron felt unbalanced, shock and dismay and incredible hope tumbling about in his mind, all at once.

Prompted by his host's distress, Malek came out of his grief-stricken isolation and surged back into the bond. It took only a few seconds for him to catch up and his disbelief and wild hope was as strong as his host's. Inannar. This cannot be real, Asheron.

It says Inannar. It has to be. Asheron let out a long breath trying to think about it logically. It makes some sense. We know that they both fought Ra. And Ishtar was very powerful, even two thousand years ago.

Then we must go look. Imagine, if she's still there, after all this time --

You wouldn't be the end, Asheron agreed. It would be amazing. But a chill ran through him as he realized what the mission would also mean for him personally. His excitement and his hope drained right out of him, leaving just a hollow shell of dread. I can't go back there, Malek.

Malek knew exactly why he was afraid, and the feel of his presence was like a gentle, supporting embrace. You can. You are strong, beloved.

Not that strong. The mere thought of returning was making his heart beat faster. You promised when we left that we would never go back.

Malek hesitated, selecting his words with care. Of course I didn't know that we would discover this. And I would never ask you to return for anything less. But, Asheron, I do ask this. We must find her. What you fear are memories of the past, but what we seek is the future. The future of the Tok'ra.

Yes, I know. But just because he consciously knew that Malek was right didn't change the vice squeezing his ribs so he felt as though he couldn't breathe. I would go anywhere else with joy. But Inannar... You know what that means to me. Unbidden, memories flashed between them of a beautiful woman with long, black hair, perfect golden skin, dark fire eyes, and a malicious smile that could make him tremble even decades later...

The ghost of her finger trails down his chest, and he hears the purr in his ears, "Why do you resist, beloved? A goddess must be worshipped. Worship me, my little king..."

And his own voice answers her, in a desperate whisper, "Please, whatever you want... I'll do it, I swear. Oh, please, don't --"

Malek yanked him out of the memory, and gave him the image of a Goa'uld queen symbiote on the ground and a boot coming down to squash it like an insect. You won, Asheron. Do not let her defeat you now that she is dead.

Again, Malek was right. Asheron took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He opened his eyes and saw the cup in his hand was now trembling. He very carefully set the cup down, making his decision. For you. Not the Tok'ra, not Egeria. I'll go back for you, because you ask it.

Thank you. Remember, I am always with you.

The reminder let him shove the memories back to the dark place where he kept them and he took another breath, trying to let Malek's excitement and hope fill him in place of reflexive fear and doubt. He saw Daniel watching him, curious and concerned. "Daniel, do you know what this says?"

Puzzled, Daniel answered, "Well, no, obviously not, or I wouldn't have asked you. All I know is that it's related to Babylonian, and it was important. The language may actually be a variation of Akkadian," he realized, thinking about some of the words in the header. "I think it mentions Inanna, or her later aspect Ishtar --"

"Ishtar." Asheron confirmed, resolutely not thinking of her.

"You mean you can read this?" Daniel asked in astonishment. "Not Malek?"

"It's written in the ritual language of my people." Asheron stood, determined to do this. If it had to be done, he wanted to get it over with. "Daniel, I must go through the Stargate. I would like you to come with me."

Daniel blinked up at him, surprised by the sudden change of attitude. Asheron inwardly smiled a bit. Apparently he had been doing such a good job of being mild and unobtrusive that the young archaeologist thought Asheron was like that all the time. "Well, uh, we'll need Jack's okay --"

"I know." Asheron realized what other unpleasant task awaited him, in order to get O'Neill's assistance on this mission. He probably was going to have to reveal the truth. He tapped the top of the stone tablet. "This tells a story."

"A story about what?"

"The future and salvation of the Tok'ra."

Go on to Chapter Two