Stronger Now Than We Ever Were
Getting closer to home. Sorry for the incredibly long delay.
Disclaimer: Stargate and its characters do not belong to me. I'm just playing in the Cosmic Sandbox here.
Chapter VII: Subtle Changes
The constancy of the temperature aboard an Ori mother ship had irked Cameron Mitchell at first, but he soon began to appreciate the delightful monotony as opposed to the harsh extremes he had been subjected to on Ba'al's ship. He was also adverse to the mindless punishment and abuse he'd suffered there, so there change of pace in his present circumstances was similarly appreciable. Cameron stretched as he walked into the corridor, acknowledging the plain-clothed guardsman outside his chambers.
"Blessed are the Ori," the man commented reverently, his rigid posture not betraying any anxiety the man surely must feel.
Though he couldn't have known it, there was an air of hushed whispers and rumor spreading throughout the ship and Ori territory. It seemed that a great warrior of the Tau'ri had turned himself in, realizing the Light of the Ori, and had been named the Consort of the Orici, the Ca'Orici. Among the ruling caste, the Priors and others, marriage was a forbidden institution since it distracted from spreading the word of the Ori. As the Ori could easily turn ordinary sentients to powerful Priors, the need for reproduction amongst the high echelons of Ori power was unnecessary. Cameron was blissfully unaware to the proceedings and hushed whispers elsewhere; he was just plain glad to be free of the various electric chairs from outer space, and he'd been similarly grateful when an apparently outraged Adria came to his quarters and freed him from the ongoing torture.
At the time he'd fallen gratefully into her arms, though the action was more due to gravity than appreciation, and allowed her to hold him. Her caresses had taken him away from the pain and damage his body has sustained, and even allowed him to momentarily forget the damage to his mind, memories, and body. After the initial 'rescue', the Orici had been a regular visitor and confidant to Cameron. She'd spend many long hours in his chamber, watching over him as he slept in dreamless bliss, or sharing with him her very human fears and concerns. Wisely, when they shared time, there were no discussions of Earth or the Ori, of religion and conquest. It was just Adria and Cameron, two wayward humans among the stars, and so their relationship continued over time, always being carefully nurtured by Adria and her closest Priors. After two months among the Orici and her fanatical followers, Cameron was largely free to wander the ship as he willed, though never without his guard.
He was nonetheless appreciative for the relative freedom and the warm, though spartan, quarters he'd been granted, and even though he had resented her at first, Adria was the closest thing he had to a friend there... wherever there was. He had come to enjoy her company, and like Prom night, he knew she wanted their friendship to go further, but a nagging concern in dimmest reaches of the back of his mind kept him from acting on any urges she might have sought to inspire in him. The flesh was weak, he knew, so Cameron's personal vigil had become keeping his mind of his own matter. It was all he really had left, sadly, clinging to his minute claim to sanity. Cameron had always thought he wandered off the beaten path, but now that he was lost to the depths of outer space, he was fairly sure that his ship had sailed.
The Ori were wise to keep him noticeably weak; their medical treatments were half-efforts. What good they did do was merely to preserve his body and what parts of his mind they needed. Infection was staved off and some of his wounds were eased, though for the most part Cameron was ill more often than not. The only small comforts he continued to find was the easier way of live compared that he'd had under Ba'al, and the hours he spent with Adria. At first there had been surprise, but in Cameron's fragile mental state, he'd already forgotten the long arduous history and had come to just accept her. In other circumstances that surely would have distressed the man, but again, insanity makes for unusual bed partners.
"Cameron," an alto voice purred. Cameron continued staring out the viewport into the starry space beyond. The rich, varied colors always enrapt his attention. There had been a time, five years ago perhaps, when all that Cameron loved was the freedom of the sky. That was before the Stargate and his first steps beyond earth, into the cold loneliness of space and the only true, final frontier.
A warm breath on his ear made Cameron shiver, alerting him to Adria's proximity. Her sinewy arms encircled his waist in a tender embrace, already betraying her affections, true or false though they may be. Cam closed his eyes. No matter how peaceful she was around him, her ministrations always seemed forced and somehow wrong. Everything about Adria was somehow more sinister than everything else.
"I missed you," she whispered against the back of his neck.
Cameron turned his head so he could see her in his periphery. She was beautiful, gorgeous even. Would it really be such a crime to become her consort and help inspire her people? Part of him so badly wanted to give in to her, to enjoy what had been denied to him for so long. He just wanted to feel again; happiness, joy, or comfort. For as long as his memory would allow him to recall, there was a gaping hole where his heart should have been. Cameron wasn't a whole man, not since being captured by Ba'al, though he couldn't remember a time before then.
"I missed you too, Adria," he murmured. Her breath on the longer hair on the back of his neck forced a shiver, but it was a comforting reaction. He body tinged with warmth. He felt whole. In the time he'd been away from earth, his hair had grown out a few inches. His beard, having gone unshaven for several months, was now thick and covered much of his face. Were someone to see him, they'd hardly imagine he was Cameron Mitchell of the Tau'ri. He'd practically become an entirely different person.
He turned in Adria's arms to face her. "We're having a banquet tonight," she announced, still holding him affectionately. "You're to be the guest of honor."
Cameron forced a smile. He hated fancy to-do's, but he knew this was expected of him... not just by Adria, but also by the whole Ori high command. "I would like that," he said, stiff and formal.
"I'll send one of our officers in as your escort, and to help you find something fitting to wear," she purred, wiggling her hips as she walked out the door again. Male instincts gave in and he watched her shapely form as Adria retreated from his presence, being replaced by a short man with shaggy hair.
As the man entered, he executed a stiff, formal bow. "Ca'Orici, I am Tomin. I'm to be your escort for the night." A wave of uncertainty swept over Cameron. There was something off about this Tomin, though Cameron could not quite figure out what it was. He committed the man's face to memory as they selected appropriate attire for Adria's banquet. As the two men marched off to the dining bay aboard the Ori mother ship, Cameron's feeling of unease magnified tenfold. By the time he stepped into the room, he was practically shaking.
--
Several exhausting hours later, Cameron flopped onto his stately bed. Adria had bid him goodnight at the banquet, after a very fiery, and very public kiss. Like a shadow, Tomin had followed him from the banquet and into the series of rooms that had been designated as Cameron's. Stifling a groan with whatever mental acuity he had left, Cameron spread his legs and arms out like a star and stared at the ceiling – bulkhead, roof, upper-architectural-thingy? – and blocked all thought from going on in his mind. He remained effectively comatose for several long minutes, before the nagging awareness of his unwanted guest forced Cameron out of his much-needed and much-desired oblivion. Tomin, though quiet and unobtrusive initially, became the dull roar in the vacant reaches of Cameron's mind that had, until then, remained largely quiet.
"Why are you still here?" he wheezed with exasperation, though remained in exactly the same position he'd held for the past quarter-hour.
Tomin shifted his weight to the other foot, before crossing the room toward Cameron. "You know Vala Mal Duran?"
Cameron blinked rapidly, his mind going into overdrive. Merely hearing the name affected him deeply; calling back each and every painful 'memory' he'd been subjected to under Ba'al's tutelage. Just as quickly as the implanted memories were called to mind, the real ones followed on their metaphysical heels. Cameron was left with two equally 'real' and equally prominent sets of memories and, in his weakened mental state, was torn between the two. To the best of his ability, he could no easier discredit one memory against another, nor understand why they repeatedly contradicted each other. The dull roar from earlier eased only to intensity like a beating bass drum, thumping the delicate innards of Cameron's nerve center with a pulsing pain.
He groaned. "Yes," was his only reply, whispered as it was. He sounded more hurt than familiar.
"Is she well?"
"I give a damn?"
Tomin seemed taken aback for only the briefest second. "But you are Cameron Mitchell of the Tau'ri, member of the vaunted SG-1?"
"I was."
"Was?"
Cameron nodded meekly, the only real movement he'd made outside of the necessary ministrations of his vocal chords and lips needed to form the words he'd spoken. "Until they left me for dead. They never needed me anyway... not Jack... just useless, troublesome Mitchell..." he continued muttering plainly to himself.
"I need to speak with Vala," Tomin intoned directly, leaving no doubt to the magnitude behind his request.
"Then go find her," Cameron replied simply. "It's not my problem."
Tomin's eyes lidded slightly then; his expression became one of leering derision. If the expression wasn't enough to tell Cameron he was treading on thin ice, the rigid body posture he'd adopted certainly would. An eternity of heartbeats passed before either man moved, staring the other down and waiting for the other to say or do something further. Tomin wanted to knock sense into the Earthman, while Cameron was hoping Tomin would simply accept what he'd said at face value and merely leave.
"You're an arrogant oaf," Tomin said at last, "who cannot see what great gifts he has in his life."
"Buddy, if you think Vala is a gift..."
"She is. All of your friends are. I've lived alone for much of my life and when I finally found Origin, I thought I had found a purpose to my life... but it's all a lie," Tomin continued muttering to himself about deception and the 'cruel realities of the universe' while Cameron looked on and tried to decipher exactly what he was hearing.
When had he lost sight of all that was important to him? Cameron turned away from Tomin and stared out the viewport into the depths of deep space. He'd been aboard the Ori mother ship for longer than he could remember now. Even his time spent as Ba'al's slave seemed to be another life, as if he'd read it in a history textbook, rather than lived it himself. The mere attempt to remember anything before Cam's Goa'uld captivity brought waves of throbbing pain to his temples.
Tomin seemed to sense that his companion was under duress and moved to Cameron's side. "Ca'Orici," he said, forgetting his own epiphanies in an instant, "what ails you?"
Cameron swatted at the shorter man, struggling to get his own tumultuous mind under control. He certainly did not need Tomin, Mr. Living-Breathing-Pain-in-the-ass-Walking-Conscience, helping. Images of SG-1 flashed through his mind, memories coming to him in waves. Cameron was not prepared for the onslaught, forcing him to his knees and his hands to his head. The only side-thought Cameron could consider was how badly he wished he was back home in Shawnee County with his ma and pa.
His years with SG-1 flashed by, each and every mission, every near miss, every close encounter, every ache, scrape, and mind-rape relived. Every memory returned with all the vivid surreality it had first occurred with. It was like being hit by a car, somehow worse than crashing in Antarctica, until he relived that too. His throbbing head felt as if it would explode until suddenly... it all just ceased.
Hesitantly Cameron opened his eyes, one at a time, as if waiting for the cranial barrage to continue. Still kneeling, Cameron groped around, searching for any of the injuries he'd just experienced.
"Damn," Cameron cursed. "Now I wish I'd paid more attention to Dr. Pernal's repressed memory lectures." Tomin regarded the other man quizzically, as Cameron climbed to his feet. "Oh, and Tomin? Never call me that again."
There seemed to be a new vigor in the Tau'ri now. Some of the brightness had returned to his eyes, as if he were seeing the light. In some ways, perhaps he was. Cameron still felt overwhelmed to suddenly recall every memory that had been blocked by Ba'al and Adria, but now he remembered every little depressing detail. First and foremost, he considered, was getting away from the megalomaniacal nymph before she tried impregnating him!
"Tomin, it's time for us to leave this shindig."