I hope people are still reading. It's been sort of quiet lately... :) (ok, yes, shameless begging, what can I say?)

GOING HOME

Chapter 4 -- Ashes of a Past Life

The hotel was in the city center, one of the tallest structures with ten floors. It had arched windows and balconies fronting the street. White-garbed bellhops rushed to open the doors, and an older gentleman greeted them in the flower-decked lobby with an effusive grin. "Welcome, Ambassador."

Sam grinned as Daniel looked behind him, thinking the hotel manager was talking to someone else. But her teammate recovered and played along. What the manager thought the rest of them to be, Sam had no idea, but he didn't let it get in the way of welcoming Prime Minister Elnor's special guest. He never looked twice at Asheron in his cap and sunglasses, even though there was a portrait of the former ruler on the wall behind the main desk.

Sam went to take a closer look at the print. Asheron the king was wearing a dark blue, military-looking uniform with silver braid at his collar and shoulders, silver buttons, and a sash across his chest of matching silver and blue. His hair had been shorter, his face a little fuller, but the biggest difference was that he looked more innocent. Though he wasn't smiling in it, the photograph had been taken in happier times, before he had seen so much death and suffering that put a permanent shadow across his face. A symbiote could halt physical aging but not, apparently, emotional.

A hotel employee bustled up. He was one of the bellhops or concierge or something, a young man in a white uniform. "Is there anything I can help you with, Madame?"

She pointed at the portrait, curious what he would say. "Who is that?"

The young man turned worshipful eyes on the portrait. "The Last King. Asheron the Third. He freed us from the pretender goddess." He leaned closer to Sam and confided, with a glance at his boss, "My mother saw him walking through the city after the big ship crashed. Other people don't believe, but we know he's out there, somewhere, ready to save us if the pretender gods come back."

Sam smiled gently at the bellhop, who was too young to remember Asheron personally, but clearly still had faith. "I believe you. I heard that he was carried out to the stars, to fight the other pretenders on other worlds."

The young man's eyes widened. "Really?"

A hint of irritation in his voice, Asheron called from the other end of the hall, where he and the others were waiting. "Sam, we're ready."

In the elevator, the manager smiled at her. "I see you noticed our print of Last King Asheron."

She couldn't help a glance at Asheron, who was standing in the farthest corner, cap pulled down low and his face turned mostly to the wall, feigning interest in the flower pattern of the wallpaper.

"Yes," she said finally. "Your employee explained to me who he is."

"Was," he corrected her, and he let out a small sigh, losing his mantle of host for just a moment for the real man beneath. "I know there was no body found, but I think that those who believe that he's somewhere out there waiting to save us again, are just wishful thinking. What he did while alive was amazing enough, I don't see we have to elevate him to a god in her place."

An alarming strangled cough came from the back corner, and Sam quickly said, "I'm sure he wouldn't like that."

Teal'c added, though Sam didn't think he was helping, "Perhaps both beliefs are right, that he is not a god, but fights the false gods in the heavens."

Sam thought it was amazing that the three SG-1 members managed not to look at Asheron again.

The elevator doors opened, preventing further conversation. The manager escorted them down the hall to a pair of double doors, and opened them for the group. Within, he showed them around the two bedroom suite -- ironically, named the Last King Suite -- on the top floor. The spacious rooms were furnished in what seemed to be Naritanian Modern, a quasi-Art Nouveau design of simple curves and lines. She suspected it was a reaction to the typically gaudy Goa'uld preference. But the chairs were comfortable, the beds and bathtubs were huge, and the dining table could easily seat ten. There were French doors from the main room to a balcony overlooking the garden and city beyond.

"Evening meal will arrive shortly, Ambassador," the manager promised and made himself scarce.

The promised dinner consisted of seven courses and enough food to feed at least a platoon, if not a division. But it was tasty and Sam enjoyed trying all the different dishes.

She noticed that Asheron only picked at his, even though it had to be food he had eaten in childhood. He looked pale and distracted, not responding with more than a word or two to anyone's attempt at conversation. He soon excused himself and went out on the balcony.

Daniel waited until the doors closed and Asheron was out of earshot, then raised his brows and waved a hand toward the doors. "So, Sam, you and him?"

She couldn't help a little smile as she caught sight of him, standing against the lights of the city. "Yeah," she admitted. "Me and him." She glanced at Teal'c, who seemed to be accepting the news without surprise. She rested her elbows on the table and looked from one to the other, suddenly worried. "You're not mad, are you?"

Daniel's astonishment was answer enough, but he said, "No, of course not, Sam. I'm glad for you. Especially after Pete..." he trailed off delicately, and Teal'c filled in the awkward silence.

"As am I. I was not aware that you held strong feelings toward the Tok'ra Malek before."

"I didn't, not when we met. But I liked him, and admired him. Or them, I suppose," she corrected herself, remembering that there were two personalities she was talking about. "But these past two weeks, getting to know him --" she couldn't repress another smile, "I can talk science, and he listens. I can talk military stuff, and he doesn't shrink away. And he lets me be a woman, without making me think that it's somehow disappointing. He gets the whole package and he's still interested. I don't have to explain who I am, I can just ... be," she ended limply, unsure if she had found the right words, when she didn't really understand it herself.

Teal'c smiled gently at her, benevolently, in one of the rare moments when she remembered that he was the oldest person in the room. "Then I am more than glad for you. I have watched as many have pursued you, but it seemed that they rarely saw you for who you are. It is good that the Tok'ra does."

"Thanks, Teal'c."

Teal'c inclined his head, and she resisted the urge to ruffle his hair as she stood up.

Daniel caught her hand. "Sam, I would never be mad that you're happy. You deserve it."

She bent to kiss his cheek. "You do too."

Slipping out through the doors, she inhaled the crisp air, which was laced with a fruity flowery scent from the gardens below, and joined Asheron at the railing.

"Are you all right?" she asked.

He took a moment to answer, watching the city lights or the reddish half moon above the rooftops. "No," he admitted. "Not really. It's hard to believe that so much has changed. Everything but me, at least. I don't think I'm all that different from the boy who used to watch the stars from my balcony."

She smiled slightly, imagining him as a child, looking up at the stars with the same sense of wonder as she had as a little girl. Until his next words erased that romantic image.

His voice softened. "I would watch for hours, convinced that if I looked long and hard enough I would be able to see the ship coming. Somehow I knew she would return, that the stories would come true in my lifetime. It was a feeling I never lost. When I came to power, I built a new observatory for the astronomers. I wanted warning, you see." He chuckled once bitterly. "Two hours -- that was my warning. It was just enough time to realize what was going to happen, but not enough time to do anything."

She realized the tragic difference between growing up on Earth and growing up on a Goa'uld occupied world. He had been a privileged child, probably given anything that he wanted, but not allowed the wonder of the night sky, because of the Goa'uld.

"I'm sorry," she murmured and leaned her head against his shoulder. "It seems unfair that Earth was spared all this suffering by the Goa'uld."

"No," he answered, wrapping one hand around her waist to keep her close. "The Tau'ri have become strong and helped many others win their freedom. You should be proud, Sam."

She smiled a little at his rather patrician tone. When they had first met at the Alpha Site, she had attributed Malek's occasional condescension to Tok'ra arrogance, but now she suspected it was also an artifact of Asheron's past. Between the two, it was a wonder that their presence was even bearable.

"I saw the king today, didn't I?" she asked. "With Elnor."

Unexpectedly he smiled. "You did. Malek has called me nothing but 'your highness' since."

She laughed, even more amused by the revelation that the symbiote was not above needling his host. "I didn't realize that Malek had a sense of humor."

"He doesn't," Asheron replied promptly and flinched as though he'd been stuck with a pin. "Well, he doesn't. But he has a highly developed sense of irony." He shook his head once. "I tend to imitate my father at his most imperious when I'm angry."

"And you were very angry at Elnor."

His grip tightened, his fingers gripping her hip painfully. "I know he was afraid of her, and he didn't realize what form her retaliation would take. But he was there when she ribboned me to death. The man I trusted the most to help me overthrow her, the man who first told me about the ship in the heavens -- he told her everything."

She swallowed hard, struck by the matter-of-fact way that he spoke of being tortured to death. "God, I'm sorry, Asheron." She turned into him, sliding her hands around his waist. He echoed her movement, holding her close. "But at least he seems to have tried to do the right thing afterward. He felt sorry about it."

"Sorry? No, I think not. Guilty, perhaps." He looked over her shoulder, toward the city lights, and let out a sad sigh. "It's all different now, but I still see what happened."

"It's in the past. And when we find the new queen, we'll get out of here," she tried to console him. "But for now, y'know, too much brooding is bad for your health." She tugged on his hand, pulling him toward the balcony doors of the second bedroom.

"But Daniel and Teal'c --" he objected, hesitating.

"They already know, and they don't mind," she reassured him and twined a hand around the back of his neck to bring him in for a lingering kiss.

She whispered, "Let me show you the good part of coming home."

The air was so hot. So dry she couldn't swallow. Her tongue felt swollen, and her lips and the skin of her face felt stretched and cracked. Sulfurous reek clogged her nose, and each breath was a struggle.

She had forgotten where she was. She had forgotten why she was still struggling, still trying to stay alive. There was a part of her that just wanted to let go and let it finally end.

But she kept going, spurred on by the memory of bright blue eyes and an even brighter smile. Even that was soon so hard to hold, as thirst and exhaustion and injury overwhelmed her strong will. The darkness encroached a little further.

Then, just when it seemed that there was no return, a cool breeze and precious water between her lips brought her back. And she opened her eyes.

The face was not the one she dreamed of, nor was it the face of her nightmares, but it was familiar. A face of thoughtful expression and warm brown eyes too often dark with sorrow hovered above her. He knew, she realized. He knew everything. But there was no judgment there, only understanding.

His hand was gentle on her face. "Rest, Jolinar. You're safe now."

Comforted by his presence, sheltered by his strength, she let her eyes close and sleep overtake her.

Sam awoke in the dimness, momentarily confused about where and who she was, but as the intensity of the dream-memory faded, she knew.

She sat up carefully, so as not to wake Asheron beside her. Her eyes adjusted to the moonlight, spreading diffuse silvery glow through the gauzy curtains, and she could see him lying there. He was asleep on his back, the sheet wrapped around his waist with an arm and foot hanging off the far side of the bed. And his face was the same that Jolinar had woken up to, after Netu.

He stirred then, and opened his eyes, instantly alert and alarmed. "Sam?" he whispered and turned his head to find her. The alarm faded, but concern replaced it. "Is something wrong?"

She shook her head. "I had a dream," she explained. "Well, more of a memory. From Jolinar. You saved her, didn't you? After Netu?"

He sat up too, drawing his knees up to clasp with his hands, and took his time about answering. He had the air of someone who had expected but dreaded this discussion. "Malek and I found her shuttle and helped her, on the way to the base. She and Rosha were very ill."

"You knew how she escaped." It wasn't a question. Jolinar had believed that he knew everything.

"She had said certain things in delirium which I put together," he answered. "It was not difficult."

"But you didn't tell Martouf."

"No. She asked me -- no, she begged me not to tell him. I couldn't betray her confidence." He took a deep breath and added, "He knew that something awful had happened, and I think he guessed the truth. I expected that she would tell him, eventually. But, of course, they ran out of 'eventually' and it was too late."

"He found out from me," she said, remembering his eyes when she had confirmed what he had always suspected. "On our trip to Netu to rescue Dad. He was so upset, Asheron. It was awful."

He laid his hand on her arm. "I'm sorry, Sam. Malek wanted me to tell you earlier --"

"No, it's all right," she interrupted. "I haven't remembered anything new from Jolinar in a long time. She trusted you, she felt safe. It was a good memory."

She nudged her way beneath his arm and snuggled beneath it, tucking next to his warmth.

After a few minutes of silence, she spoke again softly, "I'm falling for you so quickly. Part of me feels like I should step back, catch my breath..."

"If that's what you want -- "

"No," she tightened her grip on him so he couldn't move away and looked into his gaze. "No, I don't. Not really. God, Asheron, if there's one thing we know, it's that life is short. There's no time to be afraid, not for people like us."

"But people like us are also the most afraid," he murmured. "We know how easy it is to lose." He pressed a soft kiss to the side of her head. "I married relatively young," he said and though she didn't move, she pricked up her ears to listen curiously. He had spoken so little about his past, and she was intensely interested in the story he was going to tell. "Arvalle was the daughter of a rancher who owned land not far from where the military trained in the mountains. I met her when I had to negotiate passage for my unit." He smiled, remembering. "She was a tough little thing. Unimpressed by me or my father. I'd never met anyone like her before. We married less than two years later. Back then I never dreamed that anyone could take her away from me."

His grip on her tightened, and his voice softened. "But of course it wasn't true. Bit by bit, all I had was stripped away -- my mother first, then my father, our baby girl, Arvalle, and after her ... everything ..." He trailed off and for a moment was silent.

He shook his head once, as if to clear it. "Then I met Malek, and my life became so different, it was as if it all had happened to someone else. But my point is, for thirty years I haven't dared get too close, especially to another Tok'ra, for fear that they would be taken away from me too. Now they're all gone, and my fear made no difference whatsoever."

He turned to her, and his fingers brushed the hair back from her face and trailed down her cheek. "I don't want to die, having forgotten what it was like to care for someone. I don't want to miss anything else, Sam."

She leaned into his touch and closed her eyes. It was easier to talk, just feeling him there but not seeing anyone else. "I'm so tired of losing people," she whispered. "I was close to Martouf, and he died. So I concentrated on work. And then I decided to try again and there was Pete. He wasn't a part of my world, but it reached out and took him anyway." She opened her eyes and met his. She knew she was pleading, but she couldn't help it. "I need you to stay. If we're going on with this, I can't take losing someone else, not so soon."

He folded her into his arms and she hugged him back tightly. With just about anyone else she would have tried to swallow back the tears welling in her eyes, but with him, she let them run down her face silently.

"I'm not going anywhere, Sam," he stroked her hair. "I'm here as long as you want me."

As Jolinar had before her, Sam felt safe with him, and let herself grieve for Pete and Martouf. When her tears stopped and she felt exhausted and hollow, she rested her head on his shoulder, and draped an arm across his chest. He tucked the blanket around her and they drifted back to sleep.

Go on to Chapter Five