AN: Wilma was a bitch. Yell at her, because it's her fault you didn't have this chapter Monday, and that I haven't had power for the majority of the week. Anyway, as a few of you may recall, in the first chapter I mentioned that there would be a pairing. Well, I have decided to unveil it, and some of you may have already guessed (it was fairly obvious, if I do say so myself) it is Daniel/Amaris. If you're a shipper with Daniel and another character, I ask you please give Amaris a chance. She's nice, I promise.

Here is the next chapter in any case, with special thanks going out to my sister. And I also wish to thank all my readers, especially Agent-G
because he always leaves the best reviews an author could ask for.

The Customary OC List

Amaris Gotin: Aged mid-thirties, female, Scientist (think Carter) and team leader, younger sister to Keane and Harvey.

Keane Gotin: Aged late-thirties, Male, in the Aldercian army, older brother to Amaris and twin brother to Harvey.

Harvey Gotin: Deceased, Male, was in Aldercian army, twin to Keane and older brother to Amaris.

Lowell Safran: Same age as Keane, Male, small but agile and in Aldercian army, has known the Gotin's all his life.

Devon Gibson: Early thirties, female (don't let the name fool you), archeologist.

Commander Allard: Total jerk , Male, late forties.

Fa'mar: Jaffa in the service of Ba'al (First Prime), however, he has a hidden agenda! (dun dun dun)

Roland: A kind and gentle man in his late fifties. He's friends with or favorite alien team. In fact, he recruted them. Best little man back on Aldercy.

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When Amaris woke up, she wasn't fortunate enough to have forgotten why she fainted. And looking up at the faces of her team, all full of guilt, she felt like she was going to faint again.

"So, what's being done, exactly?" She asked this question softly, clinging desperately to hope. "I mean, we can stop him, right?"

Her teammates were shocked, and unable to answer her question.

"uhh…well," Keane sputtered. He had been dragged to the infirmary after she fainted.

"It's not going to be easy, but the Tok'ra are planning on sabotage."

The voice came from behind the group in front of her. They all parted to make way for the speaker, each one as curious as Amaris was.

It was Daniel.

A few days had passed since their…discussion. Since then, he had avoided the infirmary. And even as he stood there now, the look in his eyes still held some contempt.

"Do you think they'll pull it off," she asked breathlessly, almost too frightened to hear his opinion. Daniel clearly knew about the Goa'uld and what they were capable of. He wouldn't beat around the bush; at least not with her.

"Honestly, they need a miracle." He dropped his eyes to the ground, but didn't walk away.

Devon grabbed Amaris's hand and rubbed it comfortingly. "'Maris, I'm so sor…" She was silenced with a slight 'shh' from Amaris.

"I…just want to be alone, right now." She smiled a painful smile at the looks on her friends faces. "I promise I'll be alright. I simply need to think."

Keane was about to protest, but Devon stopped him with a glare. A glare that said, quite clearly, 'Don't even think about it.' It must be a woman thing, he mused.

His thought was confirmed as Devon kissed Amaris's forehead and said, "I understand," with quite an emphasis on the 'I.'

Lowell and Keane reluctantly left with Devon, and once out of earshot, demanded to know what she was thinking.

"The last thing Amaris needs is to be alone!" Lowell hissed, face reddening.

Keane nodded his agreement. "She needs us now. We're all she'll have."

Devon frowned at them. "You guys really are thick."

"I don't understand…"

She snorted. "Us being with her is simply a reminder that we are all she has left. She fought so hard for Aldercy to be safe. And now…we're here. And she can't go home. There is no home."

The two men's hearts sank as they listened to her. "Devon, why is it that you're so much smarter than us?"

She smiled. "It's not that I'm smarter. I'm just more sympathetic." She enveloped the two if them in a tight embrace, and whispered in their ears, "Though, I must admit, being smarter than you helped."

With a devilish grin, she skipped off down the hall.

"She's a piece of work," Keane said, kindly, but managing a slight bit of bitterness.

Lowell grunted his agreement, and took off down the hall towards the commesary. "Wanna come," he called down to Keane.

Keane's stomach did growl. He may have been eating in the commissary, but he found that nothing in that room satisfied him. None of it was good.

"I guess I'll come. I don't really like anything in there, though."

Lowell gasped. "You don't like pie?"

Keane shot him a confused look. "What?"

"Ohhh," he sighed as he remembered. "You didn't come with us. Colonel O'Neill showed us the finer points of the commissary while you were being checked out. Come on, you'll love it."

Keane followed him, but asked, "What's 'pie?'"

Lowell grinned. "Pie," he said, quoting a noble colonel, "is wonderful."

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She knew she wasn't alone, even if she had been staring at her hands the entire time.

Ten minutes had passed, and Daniel Jackson was still standing at her bedside. It was irksome, not because he was there so much as he clearly wanted to say something, but was not saying it.

I can't take it any more.

"Do you want something, Dr. Jackson?" Amaris finally brought her eyes up to his. Her tone remained formal, but far from unkind.

"Not really."

She snorted and went back to the study of her hands.

"…It's hard to lose things to the Goa'uld," she said finally, just to fill the silence. "It's like…they took my innocence, my happiness, my home. What's left?"

He tensed next to her, and she again looked up from her hands.

"Before, I forgot that I still have me." She took a deep breath and she knew that this would turn into so much more than a silence-filler.

"I still have me." She repeated, and her voice cracked a little. "That's enough to be thankful for, I imagine. And I may complain that being alive and free is more torture than Ba'al could have ever put me through. But there is not a doubt in my mind that that's just me being stupid and selfish."

Daniel's face softened and he drew a little closer to the bed.

"Janet and Sam told me."

He was now sitting in the chair next to her. "Oh," he managed softly, knowing without a doubt what she was speaking of.

"I'm a moron." He would have smiled at her comment had she not been in tears.

"No. You just didn't know any better." Daniel was too kind to let someone beat himself or herself up like Amaris was.

"I should have, though. I couldn't see what was important. And I hurt you in the process." He didn't have anything to say to that, so she continued. "I can understand if you never want to see me or talk to me again, but know that I'm really sorry. Truly. And I would love to be friends."

Looking at her tear-ridden face and genuine remorse, Daniel hugged her warmly. "Me too."

Amaris sobbed into his shoulder. He could tell she was trying to calm herself, and not appear melodramatic. Her attempt was cute, in his opinion, but unhealthy.

"I know I yelled at you before for being ungrateful, but that doesn't mean you can't cry," he told her kindly, stroking her hair.

Her subdued sobs turned into full out crying, and she lifted her head off his shoulder. "I don't want to get you all wet," she said through her tears and wiped her face. It had no lasting effect.

Watching her broke Daniel's heart.

"I'm volunteering to get wet," he said simply, and embraced her again. As her shoulders heaved with each snivel, he could not help but think how natural this whole encounter had felt.

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Fa'mar moved quickly and fluidly down the halls. They were almost at their destination.

"Kree, Shel ma'heel, tal'mak," he called to the Jaffa guarding doors along the path, and they followed him without question. Fa'mar had prepared them for this moment for a long, long time.

"My lord." Fa'mar said his normal greeting as he entered the hall, but he spoke with a sneer. One Ba'al could not ignore.

"Is that impudence I hear, Fa'mar? Dare you defy your God?" He simply raised an eyebrow, as normally he could evoke fear with a twitch of his face and venom in his voice. But he didn't realize that 'normally' would not apply tonight.

"Dare you defy yours?"

Ba'al's face turned confused, then terrified, as he knew what was happening. Fa'mar was speaking with a voice that was deeply distorted. Ba'al had been tricked, by a lowly, dirty, Tok'ra. His only hope was to cling to the idea that some of his Jaffa had remained loyal.

"It seems I have been tricked," he said congenially. "But Tok'ra know this; your end will come."

Fa'mar snorted. "I'm not Tok'ra, you daft fool. I am your son." His eyes flashed and he spit, letting Ba'al know he could be just as hateful as his father could.

Ba'al's eyes narrowed. "I do not have a son." Which was true. After the sybiotes of his Jaffa matured, he killed them. There was no need for the competition. He already had lesser Goa'uld's serving him.

"Missed one, daddy," Fa'mar cut into his thoughts, voice full of distain. "I'm here."

Ba'al refused to believe that. "You are a Tok'ra, fool, and you will not succeed, for my Jaffa are loyal." The pride in his voice was unmistakable, but his pride was misplaced.

"I have been planning this for a long time. They are loyal to me. I am their god."

The emphasis in Fa'mar's statements hit home for Ba'al. Could it be that his entire fleet had been turned against him? Was there no one loyal to him?

Even if there was one Jaffa, chances were he was too cowardly to step up and defend him. From the looks of the battalion in front of him, Ba'al knew that the mutiny went far beyond a handful of Jaffa.

"What will you do, Fa'mar? What are your plans? There is no chance of you ever being the god I was to my followers. Cruel, terrible, and great. I controlled them. You will never live up to my abilities." It was a desperate shot, but anything to make Fa'mar keep him alive was all right with Ba'al. He may have been arrogant, but like all Goa'uld, he believed in self-preservation.

Fa'mar laughed at Ba'al's pathetic attempt to distract him. "That will not work. I have been by your side as first prime for many years. I know your strategies, I know your cruelties, and I know your malice. I can match it. And they will follow me without a question, for I am the god who came and rid them of the false god who enslaved them for centuries." Fa'mar's eyes were shining, and he stepped up to Ba'al.

"Don't you wish you hadn't been so weak? Your abilities at torture are so limited, a woman could handle it. She wasn't even a Tau'ri, she was a lesser human, one only fit to be a slave to the Goa'uld." He grabbed Ba'al and held a weapon to his head. It was small, and it fit on his fingers like a ring. Ba'al recognized it immediately as a System-Lord issued weapon.

"How did you get that," he asked his son, hesitant to know the answer but still firmly demanding.

His evil smile spread even wider. "The System Lords are not pleased with your many shortcomings. They are welcoming the rise of Fa'mar." Fa'mar's eyes had a faraway look in them, and he continued. "I will be as great as you in much less time than it took you. And my reign will continue forever."

As much as I hate to admit this… I am frightened.

--Now you know what it feels like.

Fa'mar was still talking, but Ba'al was no longer listening. He kept a horrified expression on his face, however, it was because for the first time in a thousand years, his host was addressing him, without even a trace of fear. How was he ever going to get out of this if his host kept distracting him?

This could be a problem.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Allard walked with a scowl in his very step, scaring everyone around him.

He'd been irritable ever since coming home, and he'd even used his intimidation techniques to get what he wanted out of everyone at the command center. They had all agreed that Amaris's team was out of control, and if they ever returned home, (which was doubtful) they would no longer serve under that command. Their labs and offices had already been cleaned out.

Roland dragged his feet the whole way, and that stubborn old man was the source of all Allard's frustrations. If it wasn't for Roland, Allard would have re-tasked all of the off-world teams for research, cutting back dramatically on all gate travel. He'd had a pretty bad experience, and wanted to put an end to it.

Allard's feelings ended up being his downfall. He shakes with anger at the recollection of Roland twisting his own words around, until they were weapons against him.

But no more, Allard though maliciously, gripping a file tightly. I have this now. And I'll never answer to Roland again.

He threw the door open, without the usual restraint that comes from opening your superior officer's office door.

With the noise at the door, two heads in the office flew up. One was Roland's, and Allard, with a self-satisfied smirk on his face, noticed how worried the older man looked. The other head was that of Chairman Gordon Sutton, who looked grim.

"Evening," Allard happily addressed the pair. He stroked the folder, but only Roland noticed and shot him a disgusted look. Allard ignored it, and stepped towards the men.

"I have something that may interest you, Chairman Sutton." He set the folder down on the desk and slid it over to the Chairman.

"What is this," the Chairman questioned, opening it somewhat hesitantly.

"This," said Allard triumphantly, "Is proof that your officers are too close to one another, and their better judgment has become impaired." Allard directed the words 'better judgment' to Roland.

"Oh?" The Chairman flipped though the pages. The sheets were filled with pictures of teams out to dinner with one another, teams drinking together, parties, and the like. One particular picture Sutton paused at was one of Roland with Amaris's team. They were toasting, and it seemed like not too long ago. Sutton held it up for Roland to see, questions in his eyes.

"That was the night after they returned from their first mission," Roland explained, raw memory on his tongue. Pain was evident in his voice; it was clear that reliving this memory was painful due to the fact that the team involved was where God only knows.

"I see." The Chairman let that topic drop and instead continued on his quick study of the pictures and shut the file, a rush of cold air escaping from the folder.

"It's clear that any decisions made in the field would be based on feelings rather than practicality." Allard drove his point home, and he could tell that Chairman Sutton was at the point where a very slight suggestion would guide him. "I find this a danger to their own safety."

Sutton nodded, hesitantly but with growing confidence. "That's true." Allard smiled at the horror on Roland's face.

"We just need to makes some reassignments. I can make some suggestions." This just gets better and better…

"Sure. Come see me tomorrow with a plan, and we'll go over it."

Roland started to interrupt, but Allard made sure he couldn't. "I sure will. See you then." Allard left, as smug as ever could be.

The Chairman settled into his chair again and popped open a book. Roland was still sitting on the couch, stunned at how quickly changes could occur.

"Chairman Sutton, I think this is a mistake," he said honestly.

He sighed and closed his book. "I wish I could agree with you, old friend, but we live in a changing world; far harsher, without feeling, and technological. We do not have room for feelings, only rules. As much as we may hate these changes, they are necessary." He paused, and saw Roland's crushed expression.

"I really am sorry," he repeated, unsure of how to assuage this man's worry.

"Yeah." Roland stood and walked out, angry. He should have more say in this command. He had the knowledge, the experience, and most of all, the understanding that every CO should have.

Roland was unaware that his day would come; but before it did, changes had to happen.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Jack O'Neill had been wandering round the base, looking for an excuse to not do work.

The arrival of the Aldercians had delayed SG-1's return to off-world missions, but no longer. The General had sent over a few pre-mission briefing folders, with a note telling Jack that he needed to pick one before the end of the day.

The Colonel had thought that he was ready to go back to work. He was out of sync with his routine and a mission seemed like the best way to re-adjust.

But upon reflection, Jack knew he wouldn't be "back to normal" until he spoke to Amaris.

Seeing Ba'al again affected Jack more than he would've liked to admit. It brought up old memories; ones that he had tried to forget. No such luck.

I guess knowing she has been though what I have makes it worse. He thought, letting his feet take him wherever they pleased.

She understands everything I've been through. I'm not exactly used to that happening.

O'Neill suddenly stopped, and scolded his feet mentally. He was standing outside of the infirmary. Turning on heel, Jack thought about the files on his desk. I should take a look at them.

Working was acceptable, because the thought of talking to her about Ba'al was not. Anything to avoid the conversation.

When Jack was back in his office, his mind wandered back to the infirmary. He was now man enough to admit that he was thinking about talking to Amaris. And maybe on some subconscious level, he wanted to.

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"And now, I can finally let you see who I am."

--It's clear to me that this 'Fa'mar' is your son. You both have a tendency to give boring, long-winded speeches.

Ba'al was too stunned to give rebuttal. Not only was his self-proclaimed 'son' about to kill him, his host was no longer too afraid to speak out.

If he kills me, you die too. He figured that reasoning with his host was the best way out of this. Maybe they could think of a plan.

--I welcome it. I've been stuck in this universe for too long, and I've seen too many horrors.

Ba'al bit his lip and instead of focusing on the voice within him, he listened to his son. A narcissistic Goa'uld he could handle, but not a human with… feelings.

"My son, there is much you do not know about my domain," Ba'al said with a smirk. "There are secrets I share with no one, not you, and defiantly not the system lords."

--You can't hide them from me. You're bluffing.

Ba'al ignored the inner voice and smothered a smirk. Fa'mar was reacting as expected.

"You lie."

"I do not," Ba'al responded. "I know many things. So you can kill me, Fa'mar, but my knowledge will die with me."

Fa'mar seemed to be contemplating this, then he shook his head. "You cannot possibly think me that gullible."

Ba'al shrugged. "Why not?"

Fa'mar seemed confused, and tried to hide it quite unsuccessfully. "I don't believe you."

"Suit yourself," he said, this time making sure to add the smirk. It did the trick. Ba'al was the master at manipulation.

"Jaffa!" Fa'mar called. "Take my father to a holding cell, and keep him under heavy guard." They quickly complied, and before they lead Ba'al away, Fa'mar spoke to him. "I will interrogate you later, and not hesitate to use any tactic necessary."

Fa'mar was attempting to instill fear, but Ba'al refused to be shaken, at least visibly.

For now, I am alive, thought the former system lord as he was pushed down the halls. But there are issues I still have to worry about.

--Like me?

Ba'al grimaced as the Jaffa poked him especially hard, and addressed his host with distain.

Yes, issues like you.

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