Heart Of an Eagle
Prologue
He was dead.
He knew that with an absolute certainty, born of unbearable pain.
There would be no last minute rescue this time. No alien technology waiting in the wings, stage right, could replace what he had lost. No great hunk of gold could lure him with its seductive power and cause his heart to beat again.
He was dead.
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This must be limbo—that in-between state where his soul was weighed. He wasn't worried about the result. He'd done his best—always had. Sometimes his best hadn't been good enough, but he had tried his hardest, and as far as he knew, that's what counted at the end. Win a few, lose a few. The battles he'd lost were what made him what he was, as much a part of him as the victories, and he had learnt from them, used them to mould himself into the man he had become – unforgiving of himself and others at times, but basically a decent person.
No, he wasn't worried about the outcome. He would take the decision as he would have were he still alive. With acceptance, and he hoped, dignity.
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"You may take him now. We are not inhuman. We respect and honor a warrior such as he. Take him home."
Daniel stared at the High Priest, unable to speak, unable to vocalize his hatred. It burned a path along his chest, tightening with each gulp of air. For once he was at a loss for words, the horror of the past few hours submerging everything into one mass of sorrow.
"Daniel."
The sound of Sam's agonized voice brought his attention back to what he didn't want to see, didn't want to accept, but the sight in front of him was real, there was no denying the stench of blood and fluids, the smell of death.
No denying that all that remained of his commander and friend was that bloodied figure stretched out, and horribly limp, across the altar, its surface thick with gore. Jack wasn't there any more. The essence that was Jack O'Neill had been ripped apart piece by piece, at first in silence, then, as the minutes past, in moans of agony, and finally in screams, having reached the limit of his endurance in the face of such pain.
Daniel pushed away from the hands restraining him, shaking them off, and moved to Sam's side. Behind him he knew Teal'c still fought his captors, the growls of anger all that broke the silence. Hundreds of eyes watched them, hundreds of faces stared up at them, here on this high stone platform above the crowd, and yet no one spoke. No one protested the waste, the cruelty, or the loss of a man. To the inhabitants of this city such acts of barbarism were a way of life, accepted, and in fact welcomed. They had honored Jack by choosing him above one of their own.
As he reached his shaking hand over to close the staring eyes, Daniel shuddered. Honor – where was the honor in this? The tears tracked down his cheeks unchecked. He lifted his hand again to wipe at them, only to recoil in horror at the blood covering it.
Jack's blood.
He looked down at the red puddle at his feet, still running into the drains especially laid for this purpose.
So much of it.
The essence that was Colonel Jack O'Neill of Earth, draining away on an alien planet.
He closed his eyes, knowing he was wrong.
The essence that was Jack was already gone—torn away when his heart was ripped from his body and held up for the spectators to see.
And Daniel stood, acknowledging the blame, but not knowing what to do or how to fix it. If he had listened, done his job, this would never have happened.
If only he could turn back the clock and relive these last few days….
xoxoxoxoxo
Part One
"Do you think I'm stupid, Daniel?"
Daniel Jackson backed away from the furious man facing him.
"No, don't answer that, you obviously do." Jack O'Neill spun, throwing the boot he had just removed onto the floor. "Christ! I would have thought you knew me better than that by now."
Daniel raised his hands in a calming gesture that was completely lost on the stiff back he faced. "Look, I'm sorry Jack, but you have to see it from our point of view…"
He wasn't given a chance to finish his sentence before Jack turned, interrupting. "Our? So Carter and Teal'c don't trust me either? Damn!"
"No, Jack!" Daniel raised his voice, trying to get his point across. "I shouldn't have said that. I haven't discussed it with them. They haven't said anything." He took a step forward, but stopped when he caught sight of the look on the other man's face. He was about to speak again when a sound from the corridor distracted him.
Both men turned to the open door as a young woman entered, her long green skirt making soft swishing noises as she came towards them, her jet black hair gleaming in the fire light.
"Colonel? I have washed your clothes. Can I help you with anything else?" She stopped, obviously waiting for an answer, peering demurely up at the tall man.
For a second O'Neill stood silently, before his glance flickered to the doorway. Daniel followed his gaze and spotted a shadow moving, giving away the presence of others outside the Colonel's room. With a sudden change in attitude, Jack's face broke into a smile. "No thank you, Hetah. Why don't you take a break? I'll be ready for bed in an hour or so."
"Hour?" She frowned in puzzlement.
"A little less than one of your cycles." Daniel interrupted, receiving a small smile of thanks. The girl bobbed her head and bent to place the stack of laundry she carried onto the wooden chest under the window. "Thank you, Colonel. I will return then."
They watched as she left, closing the door.
Daniel was the first to break the silence.
"Shit, Jack, she's young enough to be your daughter."
"What's that suppose to mean?" Jack glared at the other man, ignoring the fact he was half dressed, a towel slung around his damp shoulders. "And would you mind not shouting, I have the beginning of a headache." His eyes shifted towards the doorway.
Daniel lowered his voice, understanding that they were being listened to, but refused to be distracted. "Come on, you can see how it looks. For god's sake, she's going to sleep in your bed!"
"And?" The voice was icy. "What exactly are you suggesting? I thought you of all people would understand. I explained what Yetzolt told me. If you can see any other way to handle this, please feel free to tell me."
Daniel looked down, feeling somewhat embarrassed at Jack's words. "I know, Jack, it's just…it doesn't seem right. Surely there's another way?"
"If there is, I can't see it." O'Neill finally sat, the tiredness obvious in every line of his face and Daniel realised that this was the first time he had seen his friend resting since they had arrived on the planet late the previous day. "It was made quite clear to me that if Hetah didn't 'please' me she would be 'discarded' and a new girl provided, and I don't think 'discarded' meant patted on the head and sent home to her mother."
Daniel frowned, trying to reconcile what Jack was saying with what he had observed. So far he had been treated with nothing but courtesy, the leaders of this large city going out of their way to help him in his investigations. The civilisation here on PX2-906 was clearly descended from the Aztecs, and the library of parchments at the palace was a treasure trove for the archaeologist. He and Sam had happily spent several hours poring over old documents, the astrophysicist having found numerous large codices relating to astronomical observations dating back hundreds of years, and he knew she was still rather stunned at these people's accomplishments technology-wise since the Goa'uld dumped them here.
While Daniel and Sam were at the library, Jack and Teal'c had been shown the city by the Cihuacoatl, the equivalent, as Daniel had understood it, to the Vice-President. They had returned just before dark, in time to clean up before the lavish dinner with the Cihuacoatl and his advisers.
It was at the dinner that Daniel first realised something had changed in the locals' attitude to them. Whereas before all of SG-1 had been treated equally, now Jack was singled out, seated at the Cihuacoatl's left hand, and personally served by a bevy of slaves. Daniel had taken the opportunity of a break between courses to try and work out why.
It seemed that Jack, instead of doing the tourist act Daniel had expected, while scouting the city, had spent the day talking to four generals—the ruler's chief advisers. Apparently spending hours exchanging stories with the equivalent of the Joint Chiefs had somehow caused them to see Jack as a fellow warrior, equal to them in rank. He had even been granted a separate room and a servant for the duration of his stay.
Daniel hadn't seen any harm in it—quite the opposite in fact. That was until he had noticed the girl trailing along behind his friend, pandering to his every whim, and sitting on his knee during the after-dinner entertainment. Being given a slave girl to turn down his bed, and clean his shoes was a far cry from having one performing a lap dance. The last straw for Daniel was watching Jack, arm around her shoulder, leading the girl to his room and he had taken it upon himself to follow them. Finding Jack in his current state of undress had just added fuel to Daniel's indignant fire, resulting in what he now acknowledged were ill-conceived words.
"Surely you don't think that they would harm her?" He was still reluctant to believe that these pleasant, friendly people had a darker side.
Jack looked up, idly rubbing his wet hair as he did so, leaving it standing up in short spikes. He lowered his voice still more. "Come on, Daniel. Wake up and smell the crap! These are descendants of the Aztecs aren't they?"
"But they're hundreds of years removed from their roots. Europe wasn't exactly a civilised place when they were taken from Earth either. Things change over time—just look at how Sam's being treated. In the time of the Aztecs on Earth women were considered to be very low status."
"That's as may be, Daniel, but how they treat Carter is hardly indicative of their attitude to women as a whole. We're all being treated differently. We're being feted, given anything we ask for. You must have noticed the average person on the street doesn't look all that well nourished or happy?"
Daniel shook his head ruefully, turning his eyes away. "I hadn't noticed. I've been in the library all day."
Jack dropped the wet towel on the bed, standing to pour himself a mug of water from the jug set on the low table in the centre of the room. He spoke with an intensity normally absent from his easy-going demeanour. "Well you'd better get your head out of those books and have a damn good look around before you start espousing on how marvellous these people are. They tried to not let Teal'c and I see too much, but we did visit the markets. They hardly have anything for sale, Daniel; nothing but a few stalls of vegetables, and the queue for the butcher shop was lined up around the block." He looked Daniel in the eye and the other man found himself feeling uneasy "There are undercurrents here that we're missing. I want you out on the streets with Teal'c tomorrow. Look around, do your thing. Carter can continue her investigations, and I'll make nice with the Chihuahua. We don't want to be signing any trade agreements or making treaties until we know exactly who we're dealing with."
"Okay. Ah…" Daniel hesitated. "So I'll get back to Sam and Teal'c and let them know what's going on."
"You do that, just be careful who's around to hear you when you do." Jack turned the richly woven cover back from his large bed. "I'm going to try and get some sleep. It's amazing how exhausting talking can be."
Daniel raised an eyebrow as he finally had time to look around the room. "You've certainly ended up in the lap of luxury." His gaze took in the gold masks adoring the walls, the thick mats in rich reds and blues on the floor, and the overflowing platters of fruit on the beautifully carved table. "Not that we have anything to complain about, but our room looks pretty ordinary in comparison."
"What can I say?" Jack shrugged, yawning. "They like me. Now, unless you have any other problems…?"
"No. I'll see you in the morning." Daniel beat a hasty retreat; the fact that his friend was still annoyed was not lost on him. The last sight he had as he shut the door was Jack stripping his trousers off and sliding under the covers.
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Woken by the sound of the door opening, Jack lay silent for a moment, letting his tired mind process the information it was being given.
"Colonel?" He felt the bed dip as Hetah slipped under the covers. He stayed silent, hoping she would assume he was sleeping.
Crap!
Soft hands pressed into his shoulders, massaging the rigid muscles, bare breasts brushing against his skin.
He flipped from his side to his stomach and buried his face in the pillow, stifling a groan. There was no way he could pretend to be sleeping now!
"You are very tense, Colonel. Try to relax." The girl's weight shifted, and Jack felt bare legs straddling him as she bent forward, running her tongue along his spine.
"I thought we discussed this." He forced himself to stay still, not lifting his head.
"Yes, Colonel. I know you said your ruler did not allow you the pleasure of a woman while on duty, but you are not on your world now…" One hand moved from his shoulder, lightly tracing a line down his back to reach his waist. "And my orders are to ensure you are…" It snaked around, reaching under his shorts. "…happy, and contented."
Shit! Jack flipped again, grabbing the hand as he did so. He looked down, their positions reversed, finding himself straddling a very naked, smiling, beautiful girl who couldn't be more than fifteen.
"No." He ground the word out from between gritted teeth. "I'm prepared to pretend to be enjoying your company, but no way, no way, is it going to go any further than that!" He ignored the reaction of his own body, knowing it hadn't been missed by Hetah, the small mocking twist of her lips making that much obvious. "Now, I'm going to let you loose, and you're going to turn over and go to sleep, no more than that. Is that clear?"
"But no one would know." Narrow hips wiggled, sending waves of sensation straight through him.
"I would know. Now stop that. I'll make it an order if I have to." He glared down at her, focusing resolutely on her face, refusing to drop his gaze any lower.
"All right, Colonel." The smile turned into a pout, suddenly making her look even younger. Jack shuddered, pulling himself off her, and laid on his side once more, facing the wall. Weight shifted in the bed and a naked body pressed up against him.
"Goodnight, Colonel."
Jack sighed. It was going to be a long night.
xoxoxoxoxo
Daniel looked up at the huge structure towering above him with a feeling akin to awe. The massive twin stone staircases stretched upwards towards a large flat courtyard topped by two small building covered in what Daniel could see even from this distance, was richly carved wood and bright paintings.
"I believe our guides wish us to continue." Teal'c's words brought him out of his musings, and he saw the three nobles assigned to show them the city were already moving off.
He hurried to catch up with them, hopped in front and causing them to stop. Their leader, a short, stocky white haired man named Zomunatec, gave him a look of irritation, so quickly hidden that Daniel almost missed it.
"What is it, Doctor?"
"The temple." Daniel turned and pointed behind them. "I'd like to see it."
Zomunatec shook his head. "I'm afraid that is not possible. We have a full schedule, and a visit to the temple would not fit into it. Now, if you would follow me, we will attend a sitting of the local calpuli. It is fortunate their annual meeting coincides with your visit."
Daniel weighed up the prospect of sitting through a council meeting of small landowners against a visit to the temple on the hill behind him, and found it wanting. He tried to find the most diplomatic way to approach the issue. The decision was taken out of his hands with a suddenness that had him staring at his companion in disbelief.
"Daniel Jackson would rather see the temple, Zomunatec. He is an archaeologist and anthropologist – he studies other cultures, particularly their religious rituals, and the temple is of great interest to him. Please give our apologies to the calpuli." Teal'c bowed his head regally, and turned, beckoning Daniel to follow.
"Ah…" Giving the three men an apologetic look, Daniel followed, almost trotting in his effort to catch the Jaffa. "Teal'c? What's going on?"
"It is obvious we are being prevented from visiting the temple building. O'Neill ordered us to investigate anything that looked suspicious, and that is what I am doing."
A quick glance behind showed Daniel the three men rapidly running to catch up, the two younger ones clutching their obsidian knives tightly where they were sheathed beneath their brightly feathered cloaks.
"They have every right not to let us enter the temple. It's probably a religious taboo, just like some religions on Earth. We shouldn't be forcing them like this."
"Doctor! Please stop!" Zomunatec's angry voice cut across Daniel's. Grabbing Teal'c's arm, Daniel brought him to a halt, shaking his head.
As the other men caught up to them, he whispered a few quick words. "This isn't the way to do this. Let me try. Okay?"
A grudging nod was the only response he got.
"I apologise for Teal'c's enthusiasm." He smiled as sweetly as he could, portraying a naive misunderstanding, gesturing towards the looming structure ahead of them. "Please, you lead the way."
"You cannot visit the temple. It is not permitted." The youngest of the trio tugged on Daniel's sleeve, forcing him to turn, his grip digging into the shirt-covered arm.
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Why hadn't he insisted? Why had he let himself be turned away, carried off to sit through a meeting about the number of goats allowed to graze on a piece of land, and what crops were scheduled to be planted?
Daniel paced behind the solemn procession heading for the gate, bearing Jack's body. It had been wrapped in a cloak of brilliantly iridescent feathers and laid on a wooden board, carved with serpents and demons and gods and wonders that normally Daniel would be aching to investigate. Now he just saw them as more clues he had missed, ignored because he refused to believe.
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Sam stumbled, and caught herself, regaining her balance without pausing. The pace was slow, the bearers careful not to trip on the uneven ground, but she still found it hard to keep up—her mind constantly returning to earlier that day. Her cheek throbbed, and she knew it was badly bruised, but she ignored it, considering only a down payment for her inability to do any thing to save the Colonel. Her protests had been short lived, brought to a sudden halt by a hard backhand across the face from one of her guards—the same guards that marched beside them, flanking the procession.
Colonel O'Neill's face showed above the greens and blues of the cloak he was wrapped in, the cuts lining it marring his normally handsome features. She knew there were more cuts, hidden by the cloak. She had watched as each one was inflicted, unable to turn away, as they covered his body, the priest slowly dragging the large ceremonial knife down each limb, across and up, down and under, etching his torso, his hands, his feet, his genitals, even his scalp with gashes, some shallow, some deep—all deliberately placed, as if to a set pattern, each drawn out as long as possible, as if crafted with love.
There, beneath the terrible injuries, beneath the concealing blood, were clues, clues she should have seen before it came to this.
Before the Colonel died.
xoxoxoxoxo