Here's the next one, enjoy!

GOING HOME

Chapter 3 -- Remembering

The four walked down the two hundred and thirty-two steps of the temple and set off to find information and some priests.

Sam had debated leaving Daniel and Teal'c in the pyramid-cathedral-ziggurat to start searching, but with the political situation unknown, she figured it was better that they all keep together until they learned what was going on.

Although the main gates were blocked by large pieces of broken masonry, Asheron found a side door which he intended to ribbon open, until Sam stepped in and demonstrated her much quieter lock-picking skills.

They emerged into a quiet residential street, where the few pedestrians barely gave them a glance. At first Asheron was tense, but as they walked and it seemed his disguise held, he relaxed.

There were still a few places where the rubble -- tumbled stone and brick mostly -- was still lying around, but only on scattered vacant lots. The city had obviously been planned and rebuilt with a unified system at work. The boulevards were straight and wide, lined with trees. The buildings tended to three or four stories, with shops on the ground level with apartments above.

Asheron paused at a corner market. "Here. I'm going in."

Within were four aisles of goods and a butcher counter in the back. The shop looked like any small city grocery that Sam had ever been in.

Asheron found a pile of newspapers and lifted off the top. Since the local language was not a Goa'uld script, Sam had no hope to read it herself, and gathered close to Asheron to hear his translation.

"There is a council now and prime minister," he murmured. "No mention of any other ruling person. Interesting, it has actually been thirty-one years since her death. We must have lost track somewhere." He leafed through the paper swiftly. "The usual business and sports. The economy appears strong. There are tensions with Kantar over trade." He snorted and put the paper back. "There have always been tensions with Kantar, over something."

Daniel listened and then broke away from them to approach the man behind the butcher counter. He was a tall man, gray haired, thin but sinewy, with a pleasant broad face framed by sausages and a ham hanging behind him.

"Can I help you, folks?"

"I hope so," Daniel gave his usual I'm-very-friendly-and-clueless smile. "We're not from around here. We noticed that the temple grounds are closed."

"Of course," the man said, as if Daniel had declared that water was wet. "The pretender goddess is dead. There's no need to fake our faith any more. The temple was closed years ago." The butcher frowned. "What would you want to go there for anyway?"

Sam held her breath, waiting for Daniel's story. Sometimes he told too much of the truth and got them into trouble.

"We're not interested in Ishtar so much as her library," Daniel explained, with wide-eyed earnestness. "Our families left Naritania after the attack, but we believe there are documents in the temple archives that we need. Would you have any idea how we might get access? What happened to the priests?"

"Most are dead," the butcher answered. "The rest are probably still in prison."

"They're in prison?" Daniel demanded.

The older man misunderstood his shock. "I know, but Prime Minister Elnor said there had been too much death already."

Asheron took a step forward. "Elnor?" he repeated. "Elnor Razhidev, former Defense Minister?"

His voice was very tight, and Sam could see that his fists were clenched behind his back.

The butcher took a step back from the barely disguised fury. "Yes, yes. He was the first prime minister after the liberation. Of course, he retired years ago."

Asheron moved back to the door and turned his back, feigning interest in a small yellow fruit.

The butcher looked back at Daniel. "I'm sure you'd need a government official to get access to the temple. Sorry I can't help more," he said, eyeing Asheron and eager for them to leave.

"Thank you," Daniel said. "You've been very helpful. We'll just go through official channels."

Out in the street, Daniel confronted Asheron. "Your own Defense Minister threw the priests in prison?"

"Daniel," Sam warned, "We don't know --"

But the Tok'ra interrupted her, biting off each word. "Of course he imprisoned them all. He was the one who betrayed the rebellion to Ishtar. They might know that."

"Then perhaps we should pay a visit to this Elnor," Teal'c declared, his deep voice making it sound very much a threat.

"A very good idea," Asheron agreed.

Sam hesitated. "Maybe we should try the current administration?" she suggested. The same man had betrayed his king and people to the Goa'uld, and then put himself in power after both were gone. No one knew of his treachery. It made her sick. But how much help could a traitor be? She explained in answer to Asheron's furious glare, "He betrayed you once. What's to keep him from doing it again?"

"Exposure," Asheron replied flatly. "Men with secrets can be blackmailed."

"You'd have to reveal your identity to expose him," she pointed out the flaw in his plan.

He bared his teeth in a feral grin. "Well, he doesn't have to know that's a problem, does he? Come; his family owned a villa on the north side of the river. It still existed when I left."

He started down the sidewalk. Daniel and Teal'c looked to her, to find out whether they should follow. But there was really no question in her mind about what she should do. She could scarcely allow him to confront his betrayer alone. So she went after him.

Their odd clothes, probably because they were obviously uniforms, drew some looks, as did Teal'c's size, but no one approached them.

Sam found the walk pleasant. The air was fall-like, sunny with a nip in the air, especially as the afternoon moved toward evening. The wide boulevards carried small boxy motorcars and larger trucks, and still a few carts and horses. Traffic picked up as the work day ended and more people were on the boulevards, shopping the stores that fronted the streets.

Something glinted on the sidewalk at her feet and she scooped it up, discovering it was a dropped coin. The silver had tarnished a little, but it had not been on the street long.

"Oh my God," she grinned delightedly, rubbing at one side. "Asheron, it's you. Check it out."

She handed it to him. "Yes, it's the official --" he stopped and held it up to the sun to read the markings. "It's dated last year. I thought it was one of the old coins, but this is newly minted."

He gave it to Daniel, who also wanted to see.

Sam shrugged. "Well, we put dead presidents on our money. You're not dead, but they don't know that. It's probably a memorial thing. Give it here." She took it back and tucked it securely in her pocket. "I've never known anyone with their picture on a coin before."

"But then they don't blame me," he whispered, looking and sounding dazed.

Paying no attention to anyone else, including Daniel and Teal'c, she took his hand. "Asheron, the only one who blames you is you. It wasn't your fault she came back, and it wasn't your fault that she killed people. That's what evil bitch queen Goa'uld's do and they don't need help from anybody. Just let it go," she urged softly. "It's not your fault."

He inhaled a long breath and let it out slowly. "You're right. Malek's right. I know that. But I need to think." His head drooped and when he looked up again, Malek was in residence. He still used Asheron's voice, but it was definitely Malek.

"Well spoken, Samantha. He seems to finally believe us. Come, let us go find the traitor."

Early evening wrapped the estate in golden light, sifting through the tall, old trees on the estate. The wall was high enough to block any view of the house or grounds, except from the front where a wrought-iron gate blocked the driveway.

The team joined up on the corner within view of the gate after Sam and Teal'c quickly reconnoitered the four sides.

"So, are we gonna knock on the door?" Daniel asked, without much hope that that's what they were actually going to do.

"The defenses are weak, particularly on the river," Teal'c said. "We may enter unobserved."

"We could just use the story Daniel concocted and ask to see him," Sam suggested. "If he won't, then we sneak in."

I want to crash through his window, Asheron muttered to Malek.

That is not wise, the symbiote answered. He is old. Such violent confrontation may bring about heart failure.

How sad, Asheron said spitefully, but sighed, giving in.

Aloud Malek said, "Very well. Daniel?" He gestured Daniel to precede them to the guardhouse, and pulled his cap low over his sunglasses. From what he could see, the guards were too young to truly remember, but with Asheron's face on all the money, it would not be difficult to recognize him.

Daniel approached the armed guard with a broad smile.

This will never work, Asheron complained.

Malek responded with characteristic patience. It may. We must give him a chance. Has it not been interesting to watch him in action on this mission?

"Good evening," Daniel greeted the guard. "My name is Daniel Jackson. My friends and I would like to see former Prime Minister Elnor. It's rather urgent and we've come a long way."

The guard, an unimpressed uniformed man, started to brush them off, but Teal'c stepped forward. The guard looked up, and up, and looked a little more interested. Teal'c said, "It is very important."

"You must make an appointment. Prime Minister Elnor is a busy man," the guard attempted the dismissal again.

Sam tried her most charming smile, and Asheron hoped that Elnor happened to be watching through the camera mounted on the post. "Please, we need his help to access the temple archives. We've come all this way, and we need those family documents. We won't take much of his time, I promise. We just don't know where else to turn."

Impressive, Malek commented. She has great charm when she wishes, does she not? Oh, but I need not ask you, do I?

Asheron endured his symbiote's teasing with equanimity. It's not all me, my little eel.

The guard agreed to ask and went back into the guard house to radio up to the house. When he came back out, he looked a little surprised but invited politely, "The Prime Minister can spare a few minutes. We will escort you to the house."

It was the smile, Asheron said, as they all went up the drive.

Malek knew perfectly well that his host was attempting to distract himself from the forthcoming confrontation and played along. Indeed, capable of slaying Tok'ra and guards alike.

The trees and gardens seemed only a little changed since Asheron had last come this way, and the last curve that opened up to reveal the house was exactly the same. Two floors high, the blank front façade had only two narrow windows and a large entryway, but the house was inward-directed to a series of courtyards and interior gardens. Old Naritanian architecture still held elements of its desert roots.

The guards took them in through the front door and into a high-ceiling hall, passing through two connected rooms and into a study. The room was full of high shelves of books, a comfortable set of chairs, and a desk before a window overlooking the garden.

An old man with silver hair turning white and small glasses sat behind the desk but rose to his feet when they entered. "Welcome," he smiled, a politician's practiced turn of the lips. "I'm always glad to see expatriates return to Naritania."

His gaze slid over all four of them, settling on Daniel as the leader. Asheron stayed to the back, hiding behind his glasses, cap, and Teal'c. He didn't get a second look.

Daniel cleared his throat. "Thank you for seeing us."

"The guards mentioned something about temple access. Young man, the temple closed thirty years ago after the death of the pretender goddess ..."

Just looking at Elnor made Asheron's breath catch in his chest, and listening to that familiar voice speak in a kindly tone caused an instant wave of nausea. His blood started pounding in his ears, and his vision whited out, as the past overcame the present:

"Kneel before Her Radiance," the Jaffa orders, and he does. He needs the relative freedom of cooperation, needs her to believe him broken. So he kneels and bows his head to the floor, waiting for her to tell him to rise.

It doesn't happen immediately, long enough for a chill from the stone floor to penetrate his skin. He wears only a kilt and sandals, as she prefers, and he is always cold on her ship.

He hears her rise from her throne and start down the steps of her dais. "So obedient, beloved. You show such adoration for your goddess."

When he hears that honeyed tone of her voice, the entirely different cold of fear skitters down his spine. She is angry, and when that anger comes down on him it is always bad. But he tries not to react.

She paces closer, so her jeweled sandals come into his view. Abruptly she has a hand in his hair and yanks his head back, so he can look into her face. Her eyes flash with golden light. "But it is false, isn't it, you worm?"

He opens his mouth to deny it and declare his devotion to her, but over her shoulder he sees something that makes the lie shrivel on his tongue unspoken.

Elnor is standing there, by the pillar near the throne. He is standing. No one stands in her presence, unless they have her favor. Elnor refuses to meet his gaze.

Asheron's breath is sucked into the black hole which has opened in his stomach. No, this cannot be happening. Elnor can't have betrayed him, can't betray the rebellion like this.

But Ishtar's spiteful smile tells him otherwise. "Oh yes, little king. The servant turned on his master, just as you turned on me." Her hand grabs him around the neck and picks him up, effortlessly dangling him off the floor. He wheezes for breath and his own hands rise instinctively to try to pull her hand away but it is like pulling stone.

"You will be punished, ungrateful rebellious traitor," she hisses. "You will suffer. And then you will die, and then suffer again. You will beg me for permanent death, but I will not give it to you, until I am convinced that you worship me with every breath in your body. But everyone else in your insignificant little kingdom will die."

He hears a new voice, oddly familiar, but not one that belongs here. The voice is scarcely louder than a whisper and far away, "Asheron! Asheron, no."

But he can only see the brilliantly glowing red jewel in the palm of her hand. The light fills his vision, turns it bloody, even as the pain stabs into his head. Suddenly he is on fire, flames of agony roasting his flesh and burning his bones. There is no place to hide.

That other voice is more urgent, a little louder, "Asheron, follow my voice. I can't pull you out without your help. You're too deep. Asheron!"

He feels sorry the voice is so upset, but he can't move. There is a force pushing him down, dragging him into the darkness. And he knows what it is, because he's been there before.

Death.

He doesn't try to save himself, doesn't struggle, because at least there will be an end. No matter how temporary it is, he remembers that these moments between the darkness of death and the light of the sarcophagus, are moments without pain. They are the only respite he has.

He lets go and falls into an infinity of nothing.

His eyes opened.

He knew he was alive, and he knew where he was, but he still felt the cold of death surrounding him like a shroud of ice.

Asheron? That was Malek, very worried.

I'm fine.

It was a lie, and Malek surely knew it was a lie. But that didn't matter.

"Enough," he spoke aloud, barely a whisper, but it silenced Elnor's inane conversation anyway. Asheron took out his zat and zapped each of the guards once. They fell to the ground. Elnor's eyes widened and he grasped his chair with one hand. But unless he chose to jump through the colored glass window at his back, there was nowhere to go.

Asheron handed the zat to Teal'c and stepped forward stripping off his cap and sunglasses. In a tone stripped of all life and warmth, he asked, "Do you know me, Elnor?"

Elnor's mouth dropped open, and he turned pale as milk. "It cannot be," he whispered.

"Oh yes, it is." Asheron tossed his glasses on the desk, and Elnor twitched violently at the soft click. "Imagine my surprise, Elnor, to discover that the man who betrayed me, the man who betrayed all Naritania, managed to make himself Prime Minister. They don't know, do they? For thirty years, you've kept it secret -- that you're a traitor."

Elnor trembled. "No, my lord. No, that's not -- you have to believe -- it was all for you."

"And was betraying the rebellion to Ishtar also for me?" Asheron snarled. He rounded the edge of the desk, furious, with death in his eyes.

No! Malek protested. If you kill him, we shall be imprisoned. Perhaps killed ourselves. And we will never find the queen.

He stopped, as if frozen. His fingers ached with the desire to break Elnor's neck, but he couldn't do it. Malek was right. He was not here to avenge old wrongs -- he was here to find the queen and save the Tok'ra. No matter how angry he was.

"It doesn't matter anymore," the words almost refused to come out, trapped in a throat that still burned from Ishtar's hand around it. "I am here for one purpose. I require access to the temple archives."

"Why?" Elnor blurted curiously.

He stiffened, drawing himself up, and found refuge in the royal tones of Asheron the Third. "That is none of your concern. I also require a priest familiar with the archives to attend me. Actually, I require all the priests to be set free. I am appalled that you imprisoned them to protect your secret. And I want this tonight."

Elnor did not object. He just seemed dazed as he bowed. "Anything, my lord. I'm just so glad to see you again. I thought -- I was sure you'd been killed in the crash, my lord," he explained, not raising his head. "I didn't believe the stories of you walking through the city. I was so sure -- and I realized I should have had more faith. You won, my lord, when I never believed it was possible. So I made sure they remembered."

The pleading note in his voice got to everyone, even Asheron, who stepped back and ran his hands through his hair. "I just came back for this one thing. I have no interest in telling anyone I have returned, and I certainly have no interest in resurrecting the monarchy. Do these things, I will find what I need, and I will never return."

"As you wish, my lord." Elnor bowed again, and then gazed up in amazement. "You look scarcely a day older, Your Highness. How?"

"The same reason I'm not dead."

Elnor accepted that he wasn't going to get more of an explanation. Glancing at a mechanical clock on his desk, he seemed to wilt. "It grows late, my lord. I cannot do all that you require tonight."

"Tomorrow then."

"I will do what I can. In the meantime, my lord, please accept my hospitality. You and your companions can eat and --"

"No, I will not share salt with you, Elnor," Asheron snapped.

The old man flinched as if slapped. "Of course, my lord." But he rallied quickly. "Perhaps a hotel. Surely you cannot object to the Ivara Hotel. It was rebuilt, very lovely."

"That would be perfect," Sam intervened with a smile. "We would love a hotel. And if you would be good enough to provide transportation -- we've walked a long way."

"Of course, of course. I will take care of everything. Please make yourselves comfortable. I will be back shortly." He started out and paused to regard the stirring guards. "If you put them in the hall, I will inform them you meant no harm to me."

Teal'c dragged the two out and rejoined the others in the study.

"Won't eat salt with him?" Sam asked Asheron. "It was an insult, I know, but why?"

Asheron shrugged. His arms were folded tightly and he looked both irritated and tired.

Daniel speculated, "Bread and salt, like in Russia. In Western Europe, the ritual evolved into --"

"Daniel," Sam nudged him in the ribs with her elbow. "Never mind." She jerked her chin toward Asheron, and Daniel realized she had meant the question as a distraction.

It was Malek who spoke. "At the hotel we can regroup, and start fresh in the morning."

Go on to Chapter Four