Author's Note: Bad language ahead. Parents, read this before letting your youngerchildren read it.

OOOOOOOo

A sharp kick to the ribs woke Ian with a grunt – although he'd been half-assed struggling to wake up anyways. He opened his eyes and wished immediately that he hadn't, because it sent off a screaming in his head that he hadn't felt since Alexander – the other Alexander – had tricked him into sticking his head into that Ancient memory download thing.

"Wake up."

The voice was cold and arrogant, but it wasn't Cato's. Not the symbiote, anyways. He looked up from his position (sprawled on a cold and hard floor) and saw a Jaffa standing above him, holding a staff weapon and sneering in contempt at him.

"Go fuck yourself."

Another kick – but at least this one was deserved – and Ian grunted again, grabbing his ribs. Deserved or not, the bastard was wearing heavy boots, and it fucking hurt. He rolled to the side, looking around as much as he could as he staggered to his feet. He was in an alien room with gold walls and all sorts of Goa'uld writing etched into the gold.

A solid whack from behind – to the back of his knees – sent him back down to the floor, and Ian rolled over and looked up at the sneering Jaffa once more.

"I did not give you permission to rise, Tau'ri."

"Fuck you."

He grunted as yet another kick landed against his ribs, and he rolled once more and staggered back to his feet, daring the Jaffa to try that shit again. The Jaffa drew back with his staff weapon, obviously intending to do just that, when another voice interrupted.

"Enough."

That was Cato, Ian knew immediately. Still holding his ribs, he turned and saw the Tok'ra standing near a doorway only a few feet away, and worse, at his feet was the sprawled form of Sam, lying on her side, looking incredibly helpless with her stomach so large and ungainly and paler than Ian had ever seen her.

"What the fuck's going on?" Ian asked, taking a step forward and dropping to his knees beside Sam, his hand instantly looking for a pulse. She moaned at the touch, which made him toss up a quick thank you to anyone who might have been listening, and was immediately grabbed by his vest and jerked upright by the Jaffa once more.

Cato gave him a look that was both smug and furious – he was going to find out immediately if he needed this child and if not, he was going to kill him. Slowly.

"You are my prisoners."

Ian scowled.

"I didn't know the Tok'ra needed prisoners. Or do all the other Who's in Whoville even know what you're doing?"

Annoyance flashed across Cato's arrogant features for just a moment as he tried to figure out what that meant and failed. Instead he focused on the part he had understood, and like all the Goa'uld, was more than ready to show off his great plan.

"Fool! I am not Tok'ra."

"You were hanging out with them."

His smug look increased.

"I captured Cato, removed the traitor from his host – using the same technology that the Tok'ra have developed to use against us – and took over the host. The Tok'ra never noticed the difference – the fools that they are – and I could have killed them all many times over in the last weeks."

Now Ian was confused, and he knew it showed.

"You're a Goa'uld?"

Cato crossed his arms over his chest, looking furious and still managing to look smug and arrogant at the same time.

"I am not a petty Goa'uld, child. I am Seterios."

He looked like he'd expected Ian to be impressed with that, but Ian didn't have a clue what that meant.

Cato scowled, losing a bit of the arrogant look in his annoyance that the child wasn't trembling at his name, and gave the Jaffa a look that told him to enlighten the boy.

"My master is a System Lord, foolish Tau'ri," the Jaffa said with considerable pride. "A god… Master of countless worlds and races and-"

"System Lord?"

Thanks to his time with Bra'tac mostly, Ian knew what a system lord was – Jack and the others mentioned them occasionally, but Sterios was the first he'd met, obviously. Just as Jacob and Pia had been the first Tok'ra he'd met.

Cato nodded at the Jaffa, who drew the staff weapon back and struck Ian another blow to the back of the knees, causing him to go down to the floor once more.

"Bastard."

"Do not interrupt your betters, Tau'ri," Cato/Sterios told him.

Ian started to his feet again, but Cato grew impatient with the battle of wills.

"Bring them." He turned and headed for the door but remembered something at the last minute. "Be careful with the woman. I need her in one piece."

"And the boy?" The Jaffa asked.

"He needs to be conscious."

Well, shit.

The staff weapon came downagainst his leg again, and Ian went down once more, crashing to the floor, his leg throbbing from the blow but his temper rising at the treatment.

"You mother fucker."

The head Jaffa – First Prime, came the term into Ian's memory – merely smiled and brought the staff weapon down again, this time on his ribs, in a blow that Ian was sure would have broken several if not for the vest he was wearing. He staggered to his feet once more – although it was getting harder and harder to do it each time – and glared at the Jaffa who had struck him.

"Take the woman," the Jaffa ordered to the other two in the room. "And be careful."

As Ian watched, they picked Sam up easily and carried her out of the room, leaving him alone with the First Prime.

"Do you walk? Or do I drag you?"

He bit back a comment about where to stick the staff weapon and scowled instead, knowing that in a fair fight, he might have a chance against the guy and knowing that this wasn't a fair fight, and he didn't have a chance. Besides, he needed to be near Sam until they could get her awake and figure out how the hell to get away from wherever they were.

"I'll walk."

"Perhaps you are not as foolish as I thought."

"Go fuck yourself, shit for brains."

The gauntleted hand struck, and Ian, already reeling from the aftermaths of the sonic grenade and the blows he'd already taken, didn't have a chance to dodge it. He went down again, a gash opening on the side of his forehead from the blow and stars exploding in front of his eyes once more. Before he could get his senses back to drag himself to his feet, he felt the strong hands on him, pulling him up easily.

"On your feet, boy. We cannot keep my Master waiting. No matter how much I would love to teach you a lesson in respect."

Well, lucky him. Unsteady, but walking on his own thank you very much, Ian limped for the door, following the two Jaffa that were carrying Sam.