Such Sweet Sorrow
Chapter 2
Never Did Run Smooth
The presence of a Goa'uld left the Prior unphased.
She could have been more intimidating, but Dr. Jackson and Cameron were more than insistent that she keep on the heavy, bulky suit when upon the planet. It hides her aura of superiority; hides all the lovely curves her body has to offer. When she spoke to the Prior, first masquerading as Qetesh flush with power, then as herself—speaking of false deities and how they prey on naivety to do their dirty work.
When she spoke of using the threat of violence to garner compliance, a smug grin grew on his pale, jaded face, which was quite disturbing.
They stare at the first formation of a Supergate.
The planet exploded, the Prior along with it. Bits floating in space until falling into the vacuum of the black hole.
Pieces of the gate ring line themselves up as they all stare in shock, then in horror.
The thought must hit him similarly as her, because just as she realizes that they won't be able to get away from what Major Carter lovingly calls the kawoosh before it obliterates this ship, his hand seeks hers.
When she glances at him, his eyes glisten in regret, in the fear, not of dying, but of losing her.
Is sure her eyes portray the same fear.
Dr. Jackson calls for him and his touch wanes from her.
Major Carter bounces ideas through the air hoping one will stick like that long noodle with the balls of meat she detests. As all three lean over the console and Lorne and General Hammond shout orders to desist through some archaic communication device that won't link through to the other galaxy, she slips away through the doors, sneaking at first, then running to the rings.
Because she has the answer.
Fairly aware that the Jaffa, not being overly eager to work with the Tau'ri again, have left a cloaked ship. Tracks the nearest smallest ship and it takes no energy at all to displace the guard and send him back to safety. Seats herself at the control panel, still warm from the Jaffa, and tries not to remember Qetesh sequestering a ship and slaughtering all those on board.
Tries not to, but remembers, and she wills her hands not to shake as she grasps at the wheel.
Her life for several billions of innocents seems a fair enough exchange after what she's done.
Been made to do.
But she barely starts aligning the ship to take the place of the final chevron before the rings behind her burst to life.
Bites her lip because she wanted to do this without the drama, without the debate and stale logical dialogue and now she can't even be offered that as solace.
"Vala, what the fuck—"
"It's fair, Cameron." Blinks back the tears and perhaps this is why she survived all that she did—not from motivation or perseverance, but to become a martyr.
"How the fuck is this fair?"
"One life for several billions is more than—"
Slams a fist down into the center console and the rickety ship sparks and shudders. "It's not fair."
His hands fall into strangling fists at his side and they don't scare her, because he's not Lorne, or Anubis, or Ba'al, or any of the other men who enjoyed her body in ways it shouldn't have been.
When he draws her line of vision, his fingers unravel. "You don't have to do this."
He cries first.
Allows himself the bareness in hopes of sparing her.
The Prior's words to her were few but spiteful.
Maliciously drooling from his mouth as he ignored Cameron, ignored the rest of SG-1, uttering words for only her demise. Perhaps the pale man could see the future, could know what was to become of her, of her love.
"Cameron." Finds his hand, or perhaps he finds hers again as she drifts before the spot in the Supergate. "Let's do this together."
He cups her cheek and the sensation is refreshing, gentle, loving, removes her from the situation. All situations where she was treated poorly for a moment to just experience something as basic as love in a basic gesture.
The ship shudders and for a moment, she thinks it's turbulence, the vacuum from the hole, but the lights flicker out as they're fired upon once again.
"Prometheus." Running to the window he looks back at the Tau'ri vessel. "They're shooting at us."
Her fingers work diligently over the control panel, flicking switches in order to maintain their atmosphere. "Tell them to stop."
As Cameron communicates to his ship, she realizes that his fist to the center console during his outburst has damaged the cloaking mechanism has alerted the Tau'ri to a stray Jaffa vessel that looks to be aiding the Prior's people in accessing this galaxy.
While he pleads for them to stop, the final stone takes it's place and the Supergate formulates. This coincides with Lorne firing one final time, blowing out the control panel before her, and in the shock of electronics, or in a blast of debris to her head, she loses consciousness.
Her final thought is not of Cameron, or the way she feels in his presence, or her hope that he somehow makes it out alive, but of the Prior's malignant words to her.
"You're a false profit and will be punished justly for your sins."
A/N: Chapter title borrowed from Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream