Warning: This is not a nice story, although there is a happy ending. But if anyone's expecting one of my usual fluffy pieces, you're in for a surprise. Bad language, violence, references to drug/alcohol abuse and self-harm. If this ain't your cup of tea, that's cool – don't read it.

Category: Alternate Universe, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Romance

Pairing: Jack and other, Jack and Sam (eventually)

Summary: Captain Samantha Carter of the US Air Force is selected to be one of the children of the gods.

Notes: We saw that Skaara was freed from Klorel (Pretense) and Sarah from Osiris (Chimera), but never saw how they coped with their newfound freedom … or what they'd done while possessed. Also; Sam seemed to recover pretty quickly from Jolinar – although she was one of the good guys, they didn't know it at the time. So I wanted to explore what might have happened in an alternate universe.

Disclaimer: Don't own 'em – making no money from 'em!

Feedback: Wanted and appreciated, but no flames please!

Chulak, 1997

Well … another day. Another stinking cell. Peachy. Jack O'Neill glared around the dungeon after Daniel's wife and the Ra wannabe had left.

"I saw Sha're," Daniel said in shock. "She was …".

Carter pulled him to his feet as Jack made his way through the crowd to them. "If there's a way out of here, I haven't found it yet. But …" – he pointed a thumb over his shoulder – "look what I did find."

Skaara appeared from the crowd, delighted to see Daniel. "Dan-yel! You're okay!" He rushed over to Daniel, and they hugged.

Daniel coughed. "Yeah; I think so." He coughed again and started to sag forward.

Jack steadied him, then eased him down. "Easy, big guy. Welcome back to the land of the conscious."

"O'Neill told me about Sha're," Skaara said.

"Jack, help me," Daniel said desperately. "We can find her again."

"Daniel … don't," Jack said. He addressed his team. "If we can't find a way out of here, the mission's a bust anyway. They seal the 'gate in just over ninety minutes. Come on, Skaara. Let's find our way out of here." He stood up, to find himself facing a huge Serpent Guard. The guard grabbed his wrist roughly and turned it at an odd angle. "Ow!" Jack protested.

"What is this?" the big guy rumbled.

"It's a watch," Jack got out through the pain.

The Serpent Guard's helmet retracted to reveal a dark-skinned face. He looked curiously at the watch. "This is not Goa'uld technology," he said. "Where are you from?"

Jack didn't trust easily, but there was something about this guy … "Earth," he said. "Chicago if you want to be specific," he added snarkily.

The guard cut him off abruptly. "Your words mean nothing," he said. "Where are you from?"

Daniel squatted. "Ah, excuse me," he said. The guard looked down as Daniel drew a symbol in the dirt; a triangle with a small circle at its apex. "This is where we're from."

The guard stared at it for a second, then took his staff, sweeping the tail end of the staff through the dirt, completely eradicating the symbol. He closed his helmet and turned away.

Jack hoisted himself up to a tiny window, peering out. He dropped back down to the floor, where Skaara was standing, looking out in case any guards noticed. Daniel and Carter watched from a distance.

"So Ra isn't dead after all," Carter mused.

Ya think?, Jack snarked.

"It wasn't Ra. It was Apophis," Daniel said.

"Who?" Carter asked blankly.

"Um … it's from Egyptian mythology. Ra was the sun god who ruled the day, Apophis was the serpent god, Ra's rival, who ruled the night. It's right out of the Book of the Dead. They're living it."

Paying little attention to the lecture, Jack and Skaara continued along the back wall, trying to scout out a weak point in the wall or a window that would budge. "We will save Sha're?" Skaara asked.

"I can't promise you anything at the moment," Jack temporized, still checking out the wall.

Skaara grabbed his shoulder, stopping him. "But you're a great warrior! We defeated Ra together!"

"Yeah, yeah, I know, but take a look around here. Look at what we're up against." Skaara just looked at Jack defiantly, and he patted the boy's shoulder. "We'll try," he added.

The dungeon doors opened again and Jack grimaced. This could not be good. He took Skaara aside toward the center of the room. The crowd gathered at the foot of the steps as the Serpent Guards filed in. That big one followed. "Sha'ka ha! Kree hol mel, Goa'uld!" he barked.

"What did he say?" Jack asked.

"They are going to choose," Skaara told him.

"Choose what?" Carter asked.

"Who will be the children of the gods."

The Serpent Guards formed a U-shaped formation, those at the head partially down the steps. A group of Jaffa carried in a gilded, curtained litter, whose occupants couldn't be seen. They set the litter down at the head of the stairs. "Jaffa!" the big guy barked.

The Ra wannabe … Apophis … threw back the curtain of the litter and stepped out, glancing at the crowd before turning back to the litter and helping Sha're step out as well. She stood beside Apophis.

"Sha're," Daniel said. He started forward, but Carter and Jack grabbed his arms and held him back before he could do anything stupid. "Jack; help me, please …".

"Daniel; don't," Jack said. "Don't."

The Serpent Guards descended the stairs into the crowd, moving to stand in two lines to create a protective aisle in the center of the crowd for Apophis and Sha're to move through safely. The big guy spread his arms, moving to the back wall of the dungeon. "Benah! Ya wan, ya duru!" The Jaffa bearing the litter rushed down and into the crowd, shoving people to their knees. "Kneel before your masters!"

Carter and Daniel were shoved down. Jack glanced over at the big guy, catching his eye. He nodded slightly, and Jack knelt. Skaara remained standing, angry and defiant. "Skaara," Jack said warningly.

Reluctantly, Skaara got down on his knees. Several Ra wannabes, all dressed ornately, filed out of the litter, moving down the stairs to look over the prisoners.

"Benah! Ya wan, ya duru! Choose!" the big guy said.

As the first pair started across the floor, one of the litter bearers hurried into their path, holding up a young girl for their inspection. The male gave the girl a cursory glance. "No." The litter bearer immediately tossed her aside, throwing the girl roughly to the floor. Carter winced.

Jack glanced over at the big guy again and was surprised to see a flash of distaste on the stoic countenance. Two litter bearers brought another girl over to the pair. The male looked her over, turning her chin to look at her face. "This one. We choose this one," he said.

The girl screamed and cried as the litter bearers carried her off out of the dungeon.

A second couple came next, surveying the prisoners. As they approached Jack and his team, Daniel shoved past the Serpent Guards, grabbing hold of the male's robe. The guards grabbed him by the arms and restrained him. Jack stepped forward, but stopped as two staff weapons were pointed at him. Oy. This was getting really old.

The male studied Daniel. "This one's passionate," he decided.

"How much would I remember if you chose me?" Daniel asked desperately.

"Daniel, what are you doing?" Jack asked.

"Something of the host must survive," Daniel said, now close to tears.

Jack noticed the mask of indifference drop from the big guy's face as he shook his head. Maybe this guy could help them …

"We choose …" – the male's gaze moved past Daniel to Carter. "Her."

This had been a bad day.

A really bad day.

Jack sighed and ran his hand through his short brown hair, leaving it sticking up stupidly, then opened the refrigerator. He took out three bottles of beer, handing one each to Daniel and Kawalsky and keeping the other for himself.

"How's … uh … Teal'c doing?" Daniel said uneasily.

Jack could understand Daniel's discomfort around the Jaffa – after all, the guy had personally selected Sha're for implantation. But he was doing his best to make Teal'c feel welcome and Jack was proud of him.

"Okay," he said, "but they're keeping an eye on him." The big Jaffa had come through for Jack after Carter had been taken, but they'd not been in time to rescue the young Captain. And turns out her dad was a USAF Major General. He sighed. That was one conversation he was not looking forward to having.

"He's a prisoner," Daniel said, sucking down his beer. "Call a spade a spade, Jack."

"Okay; so they don't trust him yet," Kawalsky said. "If you hadn't seen what we saw, would you trust him?"

Daniel bit his lip. "I'm not sure I do trust him," he said quietly. "I know the Jaffa have been enslaved by the Goa'uld for centuries, but …". He shrugged. "He helped Apophis take my wife. That's gonna be hard to forgive." He belched and threw the empty bottle with surprising accuracy into the trash can. "Got any more of those, Jack?" he asked.

"Sure." Jack shrugged. The guy was a cheaper date than his wife – crap; make that soon to be ex-wife – so figured he'd only lose a couple beers. "Help yourself, Daniel."

"Ya know; I kinda feel bad about giving Carter such a hard time when we first met," Kawalsky said. He chuckled. "But she sure stood up for herself."

"Yeah," Jack said. He hadn't known the young woman long enough to form a lasting impression of her, and part of him regretted that. There'd been a spark to her – something in her feisty attitude that had appealed to his more cynical nature. "Never match wits with a PhD, Kawalsky," he said.

"And she was pretty cute, too."

"Is cute, Kawalsky," Daniel said, sucking on his second beer. "She's not dead, d'you hear me?" He closed his eyes. "They're not dead."

"We'll get them back, Daniel," Jack promised. "I don't know how, and I don't know when, but we'll get them back."

Klorel stretched his new host's slim body, appreciating the supple youth and warrior tones. The fact that it was a female had surprised him, but he'd had a female host once many hundreds of years ago and knew that they could be very strong. What they sometimes lacked in physical strength, they made up for in strength of mind; of will-power.

And she was beautiful, too. No Goa'uld wanted an unattractive host. And this Tauri fit the bill for a host nicely. Tall, slim, short light hair, large blue eyes, high cheekbones and full lips. She could have lived a life of luxury as an object of beauty had she been born on one of the Goa'uld-occupied worlds, but had chosen to serve with the Tauri's military forces.

This one was certainly strong, he mused. Even now, he could hear her berating him, calling him epithets in the Tauri language. The Tauri had suddenly become a threat, dispatching his father's enemy Ra with a frightening ease. This Tauri was therefore a perfect choice for a host. She had served with the infamous O'Neill and had studied the Chappa'ai technology extensively. And now … all she knew would be his.

Like hell, you snaky bastard!, the host raged impotently.

Klorel smiled, then sent a sharp bolt of pain through to the young woman's head. She screamed silently, falling to the ground. Be careful, my dear, he warned her. I will not be so tolerant of further impudence – and the pain that a Goa'uld can inflict on the host is unimaginable.

Go to hell, she uttered softly, her resistance fading away with her consciousness.

Klorel was pleased at her capitulation, but did not fool himself into believing that it was permanent. It would take him a long time to break her, but break her he would. Samantha Carter would be no more …

Tollan Homeworld, three years later

After the Triad

Samantha Carter curled into the chair the Tollan Narim had offered, waiting for the Tok'ra. Thanks to Klorel, she knew exactly what the Tok'ra were – that they were a faction of the Goa'uld that had rebelled against the System Lords more than two thousand years earlier.

She also knew that they'd developed the technology to free a host from the symbiote without killing the host, although they hadn't done it too often. But she was more than willing to play guinea pig if it meant she'd be free of this parasite.

Free! She would be free. She could barely comprehend the concept after three years trapped inside her own body; watching helplessly as her mouth spat words of hatred and war, as her hands maimed, tortured and killed …

The door opened and her body hummed in response to the sensing of naqadah. "Come in, Teal'c," she said. She'd met the shol'va more than a year ago – when they'd attempted to halt Apophis's invasion of Earth and she vaguely remembered him being there on Chulak.

The door opened further, and Colonel O'Neill stood there. "Not T," he said. "Is this a bad time?" He looked uneasy.

"It's fine, Colonel," she replied. She didn't want to be alone with her thoughts, anyway.

"Cool." The tall Colonel came over to her, hands plunged deep into his pockets.

"Have a seat, sir," she said politely, watching him as he sat down with a sigh. He'd changed a lot since she'd last seen him. The hair had gone a steel gray and stuck up madly, and he'd lost some weight – but he looked strong and fit. And … quite handsome too, she acknowledged. "Thank you, sir, for coming," she said.

He shrugged slightly. "We don't leave people behind, Carter," he said.

She gulped, feeling the beginning of tears. "It's me," she said. "It's me," she repeated.

Jack smiled at her. "Much better," he said.

She looked at him, her eyes swimming with tears. "I'm … free," she whispered.

"Yep," Jack said. He patted her shoulder gently, then gasped as her slender arms enclosed him in a fierce hug, her head dropping to his shoulder as she cried some more. "Hey; it's okay," he soothed awkwardly, stroking her hair.

She shook fiercely. "No, it isn't," she said. "For years, I've dreamed of being free. And now that I am … what do I do? There's nothing on Earth for me; I tried to destroy my home!"

"That wasn't you, Captain," Jack said. "You were trapped in there, forced to watch." She looked at him and he took her shoulders. "I know, Captain," he insisted. "I know."

She looked at him. He didn't just understand – he knew. "You were a host, sir?" she said.

He grimaced. "Twice," he admitted. "Picked up a hitch-hiker on Nasyia about a year ago – thank God for Cassie."

"Cassie?"

He shook his head. "Sorry," he said. "A little girl we found abandoned on P8X 987. All her people died off thanks to some snake-head, so the Doc adopted her. Anyway, she'd been engineered by the snake to destroy our 'gate, and she can sense naqadah."

"I see," Sam said, reflecting that at least he was helping her forget her own troubles – if only for a brief time. "And what happened? Obviously you still don't have the symbiote."

"Nope," the Colonel said. "The snake was a Tok'ra called Jolinar and she jumped into me to hide from the Ashrak. But she ended up dying to save my life after the Ashrak found her. Then …" – he coughed – "a few months later, we met some Tok'ra. We've got a kind of alliance with them, but they don't trust us and we don't really trust them."

"And the second time …?" Sam pressed.

The grimace was pronounced now. "Hathor," he stated in a tone of sheer loathing – one that resonated within Klorel. The two had been enemies for a long time. "Couple months ago, she tried to snake me, but one of her people was a Tok'ra and put me on ice." He grinned slightly. "I killed her snaky butt, by the way."

The door opened once more and Sam felt the distinct hum of the naqadah in her system. "The Tok'ra?" she asked the Colonel.

"Hope so," the Colonel replied. "We sent Zippy and his kids packing."

Two Tok'ra – a male and a female walked in and Sam gasped. "Oh, my God," she said. "Dad?" Her father had joined the Tok'ra?

"Sammie!" her father said, abandoning the woman and hurrying over to the couch. He drew Sam up and hugged her strongly. "God; I thought we'd lost you forever, baby!" he said.

Sam felt the stupid tears spring to her eyes once more. She and her dad had never had a great relationship. She'd blamed him for her mother's death and they'd only gotten more distant as the years went by. "Daddy," she breathed, her arms going round him. "What are you doing here?"

Her father patted her back. "It's a long story, kiddo," he said. "I'll explain later." He held up a jar. "Right now, Garshaw and Selmak need to get that creature out of you."

He dipped his head, then his eyes flashed. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Samantha," the Tok'ra inside her dad said. "Jacob has mourned your loss deeply. I am Selmak of the Tok'ra and this is my colleague, Grand Counsel Garshaw."

The woman dipped her head. "Samantha," she said, then turned to Colonel O'Neill, who'd gotten up politely. "Colonel," she added a little more warmly, planting a kiss on each cheek. "It is good to see you again."

He gave a short cough that sounded like a cat with a hairball and stuffed his fists into his pockets. "Yeah; you too, Garshaw," he said. "Hey, Jake," he added to her dad.

Her dad's head dipped, then he smiled wryly at the Colonel. "Jack," he said. "How's it going?"

"Great," the Colonel said. "Dropped a coupla pounds, got a new Simpsons boxset to watch, and we've managed to free someone from the snake-heads." He grinned, but his soft brown eyes were warm with friendship for the older man. "Pretty good day, all in all."

"Yeah," Jacob Carter agreed.

One week later

"Well, welcome to Casa O'Neill," the Colonel said, opening the door to his house. "It's not a palace, but … it's pretty nice."

Sam walked into the small house. Lots of hardwood flooring, an open fireplace and simple sturdy furniture. After the ostentation of the Goa'uld palaces and ships, this was a welcome change. "It's lovely, sir," she said, her hand tightening on the strap of her duffel.

She followed the Colonel's tall form through the kitchen, glancing at the mess of take-out containers on the table. "Yeah; I wasn't exactly expecting company," O'Neill grumbled, gathering up the debris and shoving it into the trash can. "C'mon; let me show you your bedroom."

He ushered her into a small room, decorated in the same simple good taste as the rest of his house. More hardwood, soft curtains fluttering in the evening breeze, queen-size bed with a dark blue comforter. It was … restful, and Sam sighed. "Thank you, sir," she said.

"Welcome." He grinned, then pointed to a door. "Shower and tub in there," he added. "You wanna get washed up before dinner?"

She shook her head, surprised when a large yawn engulfed her. "I'm not hungry, sir," she said sleepily.

"You want to bunk down?" he asked, striding over to the bed and pulling down the comforter with a flick of his wrists.

"That'd be nice," Sam said. She yawned again, then put her duffel on the chair.

The Colonel hesitated, then dropped a quick kiss to the top of her head. "Night, kiddo," he said, then headed out of the bedroom.

Sam changed quickly for bed, then got in under the covers, drawing them up under her chin. Her eyes popped open. Great. Now that she was in bed, she was wide awake. She sat up and curled her arms around her knees, hugging them closely to her chest.

She was a little overwhelmed at how rapidly her life had changed. After Triad more than a week ago, her dad and Garshaw had removed Klorel. They'd spent a few days together on Tollana, before the two Tok'ra were recalled to their homeworld.

She'd also gotten to know SG-1 as fellow humans, not as enemies of her father … not her father; Klorel's, she reminded herself. Daniel wasn't quite as wide-eyed and naïve as she remembered, but realized this was likely due to the fact that Sha're/Amaunet had died several months ago. But he was a nice, gentle man with a strong intelligence and a good heart.

Kawalsky could be an irreverent jackass, but he made her laugh with his pithy commentary on anything and everything. Teal'c – the Jaffa – was definitely the strong silent type, but he was visibly pleased that she was free from Klorel. Doctor Fraiser … now, she liked her. Easily six inches shorter than Sam, she had Narim wrapped around her tiny fingers … and Kawalsky too, if Sam wasn't mistaken. Colonel O'Neill called her a Napoleonic power-monger, but he did it affectionately. They were a close team.

And as for the Colonel …

Enigmatic, sarcastic, charismatic – a whole host of other words that ended with '-ic'. He was an obdurate foe and a gentle friend. A trained killer and a child magnet. And very intelligent – despite the 'dumb fly-boy' image he liked to project. Whilst he had no patience for what he called 'techno-babble', he had a genius for strategy and a gift for cutting right through the crap.

Sam woke up, her heart pounding, as the memory faded away. Her dad and Garshaw had warned her that she'd likely experience flashbacks for a long time, but that they'd fade with time. She sat up and pushed her hand through her hair, looking around the Colonel's bedroom. That – more than anything else – helped remind her that she was finally free.

But a good night's sleep wasn't going to happen for a long time yet. She got out of bed dressed in Air Force issue sweats and a cropped gray tank top and decided that a snack was in order. She padded quietly to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator, almost drooling when she saw the huge slab of cake. Bidding goodbye to her waistline, she grabbed the plate and sat down at the table, fork at the ready.

"A-ah! Lay one finger on that cake, Carter, and you're a dead woman!"

She jerked around to find the Colonel standing at the doorway, his arms folded, his chest bare and his gray hair sticking up stupidly. "Sir?" she said, putting on her best big-blue-eyes innocent look – the one her dad had never bought.

The Colonel didn't buy it either. He snagged a second fork and sat down next to her, digging into the cake. "My house," he mumbled around a large mouthful, "my cake. I eat first."

"Yes, sir – of course," Sam said, grinning slightly at the older man.

He returned the grin. "Are you mocking me?"

"Who; me, sir? Never," Sam said. He had a nice smile, and it was a shame he didn't show it more often. Her gaze wandered around the kitchen until it came to rest on a photograph. It was of a slightly younger O'Neill dressed in civvies with his arm around a young boy in a baseball uniform. Both sported wide joyful – matching – grins. She'd known he was divorced, but she hadn't realized he had a kid. "What's your son's name, sir?" she asked.

He took in a deep breath. "Charlie," he said in low tones.

"Wow, sir; we've spent the last week practically in each other's pockets. I never even knew you had a son," she teased lightly. Colonel O'Neill was not the most open of men – years in Special Forces had likely done that to him.

"He's … not alive anymore," the Colonel said. "He died just before the first Abydos mission."

"Oh, God … that's horrible," Sam breathed. She put her hand on the older man's tense forearm and squeezed it. No-one should have to outlive their children.

"It's okay," he said softly. "I've … learned to live with it." He patted her hand. "And thanks."

She blinked. "For what?"

"For not saying 'I'm sorry'," he replied. "People always say that when they find out about Charlie – like it's their fault or something. It bugs me."

"They probably don't know what to say," Sam said. "My mother died when I was thirteen," she confided. "I got the same useless platitudes."

He looked at her thoughtfully, and she was surprised to feel herself blush at the intensity of his brown eyes. No man should have eyelashes that long – it just wasn't fair.

Breaking the contact, she dug her fork into the cake and brought the luscious morsel to her lips. Her eyes closed. Chocolate … the most heavenly substance ever. "God; I'm in heaven," she breathed. "Did you make this, sir?" she added, opening her eyes.

O'Neill cleared his throat. "It's one of my sadly few gifts," he said with a shrug.

Sam was impressed – she could barely boil an egg and her kitchen table was piled high with take-out menus. Damn it; had been piled high. She no longer had her table, her kitchen or her house. She was still a non-person as far as the Air Force was concerned, and her brother would have accepted her death by now and gone on with his life.

All of a sudden, she wasn't hungry, but did feel the need to cry. She gulped, determined that she wasn't going to soak the Colonel's shoulder again.

"Carter? You okay?" the Colonel asked softly.

"I'm fine, sir," she said. "Just not as hungry as I thought I was." She patted her trim stomach in an attempt to lighten the mood. "Got to keep slim, you know."

"Oh. Well, that's a good thing," he said. "It wouldn't be good if you got fat."

"Sir?"

He grinned. "Yeah," he offered. "If you got fat, you'd never wear that sweet little tank top number again," he added, gesturing to her gray top.

She blushed again, then laughed. "I think I'll go back to bed," she said. "Good night, sir."

"Night, Carter," he replied.

Jack watched as the younger woman padded out of the kitchen, his gaze resting on the pale skin displayed by that little tank top. It was a pretty sweet number, but he'd made the comment mainly to make her laugh.

Even with his experiences with Jolinar and Hathor's little pet, he couldn't begin to understand what she was going through. He still didn't understand why he'd offered her his spare room, but he knew he didn't like the idea of her living on base. It was going to be hard enough for her to adjust without feeling like she was always under surveillance.

He absorbed another mouthful of the cake, then grimaced. Now he wasn't hungry. He got up and shoved the cake back into the refrigerator, then slammed the door shut. Then cringed as he remembered his guest. She was already having trouble sleeping without him banging around. "Sorry, Carter!" he called.

"It's okay, sir," he heard her mumble sleepily from the guest bedroom. "Sleep's for losers, anyway."

He snickered at that. Sarcasm – he was so proud. "Night, Carter," he said once more.

"Night, sir."