Of Gods and Men
By Flatkatsi and SGC Gategirl
feedback@sgc-gategirl.com

STATUS: Completed March 22, 2005
RATING: 13+
CATEGORY: Angst, team whumping, Jack whumping, character death, episode tag/addition
SUMMARY: SG-1 face the consequences of meddling with time.
SPOILERS: Season Eight "Moebius"
WARNINGS: The usual whumpage when we get going. And, well, Jack's mouth of course. That whole pesky death thing too.
AUTHORS' NOTES:
Flatkatsi: We hope this answers some of the questions raised in these episodes. My brain almost exploded with the convoluted thought processes needed to work it all out. But then I think Dee would agree that it doesn't take much for my brain to get all mushy.
SGC Gategirl: It's kinda funny about how this happened. Neet was looking for a plot bunny and then asked me to write it with her. Go figure. We betaed it after spending three mornings/nights writing it. Any errors are ours and ours alone…trust me on that one.

They found them in the middle of the night, dug them out from their hiding place, not caring who they'd killed to find them.

He had fought—fought hard, but to no avail. They had been so outnumbered it was laughable.

He remembered that final revelation, that moment he knew there was nothing left for him to give, no sense in continuing to fight, the odds against them at this very moment too high. They may have lost the battle, but the war had only begun. They'd have another chance and he knew SG-1, he knew their record for getting out in the nick of time. And if they played their cards right, they had all the time in the world.

But it was hard. It wasn't in his nature to give up easily, especially when so many innocent souls would be damned because of him—so many more victims for Ra to use and discard. Not to mention his team. And they were a team. SG-1 was back, these months in the desert knowing there was no way home had bound them tightly together. Yes, they were a team, and they would go out as one.

Even as they dragged them from their secret compartment, manhandling them the entire way, Jack was thankful that one of the team would survive. Someone would be left to carry on if things went south.

And, being thrown at the feet of the Sun God, Ra, it looked as if things had not just gone south. They'd gone pear-shaped and were about to explode right in their faces. What he wouldn't have given for his P-90.

Wipe the complacent smirk off that bastard’s face, that's what he would have done.

But of course his P-90 was hidden away in their safe house, miles and villages away from where they'd been hiding and in another direction entirely from where Daniel had meandered, recruiting more participants to their cause.

"Kneel before your God."

The dialogue was old, and he couldn't help the small laugh that escaped his lips.

Should he refuse? Teal'c and Carter expected him to if the looks on their faces were anything to go by.

But like the dialogue, the staff weapon blow to the knees was becoming old too, and he really couldn't be bothered protesting.

That choice, however, was taken from him, as would many other things in the following days.

As the Jaffa shoved them down to their knees, holding them firmly in place with hands and armed staffs, Jack had to admit that Ra knew how to make an entrance, how to use his "God-hood" to the full. The torchlight illuminated more than it hid this night—a sea of cowering Egyptians, some bloodied and bruised, others simply scared.

But Jack knew he'd survive the night. If they were to die, Ra would want to make sure it was in public for all to see. In just a few months SG-1 had done some serious damage to Ra's reputation. It was personal. They'd challenged his sovereignty, his right to rule here on earth. It wasn't outright, not yet, but the quiet words spoken in the right ears had helped to escalate events even more than Jack had originally hoped.

It was always the little things that took the greatest toll.

This was the first time Jack had been close to His Royal Snakiness since their arrival in the past. Carter had insisted they keep as far from the Goa'uld as possible to avoid messing with the timeline any more than they already had.

As if their little uprising wouldn't already screw with the timeline enough.

But it was getting harder and harder to just sit by and watch these people live their lives in fear of a snake who would be god.

Apparently it had happened anyway—or so Daniel told them. That small fact had been enough to set them on their path, Jack not being one to just sit back and watch as events unfolded. He had jumped at the chance, arguing that maybe their help had been what caused the uprising to succeed.

They had big plans.

Daniel urged him to take it slow, to make sure Ra didn't find out, didn't notice.

The beatings a week ago had been the final straw.

They were kids—barely in their teens. With the sort of rebellious hot-headedness that had been getting kids like them into trouble for generations. Or would be. Or was.

He hated this time travel stuff. It so messed with his brain, and just made him angry.

Sit back. Watch. Don't interfere.

As if!

He was a man of action.

Always had been. Always would be—no matter what century he found himself in.

And so he'd waded into the fray, taking out the two Jaffa warriors meting out their punishment.

The kills had been clean, the boys melding into the mass of villagers looking on while he stood staring down at the fallen warriors, a familiar feeling stirring in his body and his mind.

Daniel had complained and whined, quite bitterly, when the news had reached the group, but Jack didn't care.

He had missed this. Missed the action. He was sick of skulking around, hiding.

He needed to DO something.

And look where it had gotten them. Sure, someone must have betrayed them to Ra, probably one of the many locals they had approached to join them, but had his actions been the catalyst? Had his open defiance been too much for a people that had been under the thumb of the snakes for generations?

Was the rebellion finished now? Could Daniel do it alone, or had his actions changed history. Would the next thousands of years see the Goa'uld rule Earth, and all because of him?

Had he doomed his planet to years of slavery?

Staring up at Ra, the first stirrings of doubt filtered into his mind. What if Daniel had been right? This was so not the time to find out.

But then, they weren't dead yet.

There was still plenty of time to get things back on track. They'd find a way out of this and then they'd have the uprising that they could write home about—or at least make sure it got into the history books.

There was no way he was going to back out of this now. They were in too deep and the plans too far along. They had to escape. Things still needed to be done. And he wasn't about ready to leave them in the hands of an archeologist.

He kept his head high, struggling against the hands trying to press it into a properly subservient bow and looked Ra straight in the eyes.

Every hurt he had suffered over the years, every innocent lost, every drop of blood spilled showed in the contemptuous gaze he fixed on the unholy god.

Jack smiled. He saw a look of confusion flash across the Goa'uld's face. "Ah, Ra—proof positive that your brother really shouldn't have had sex with your mother."

There was a moment of silence so total that he could hear his own breath whistling through his bruised lips.

Like a lightning bolt, it hit him seconds after the sound registered.

The pain radiated through his skull and down his spine, the nerve endings exploding like small supernovas as it traveled until it reached his heart and the blackness claimed him.

Fire coursed through his body.

A howl of agony rose from his lips as his body twitched and shuddered, trying to break free from the energy that enveloped him.

Even through the agony he could feel the tearing of skin as his writhing limbs pulled against their bonds.

Then as suddenly as the pain began it stopped, his body dragging in great gulps of air as he tried to control his pounding heart.

He had barely begun to catch a breath, his pulse beating loud in his ears, when he was gripped by a massive hand and pulled upright.

Cracking open an eyelid, he nearly groaned as he caught sight of his teammates.

"You have finally decided to rejoin us, I see."

He ignored the gloating voice and his aching knees, concentrating instead on his two friends.

They didn't look very good, and that was the understatement of the century. It seemed as if Ra's buddies had had a little fun while he was catnapping.

Teal'c was worse off, but Carter wasn't far behind him. They looked like poster children for Amnesty International.

Bruised and bloody, their clothes showing more skin than they covered, Jack swore that it was only the guards’ support that held them upright.

The area around Teal'c's eyes was a mass of swollen flesh and Jack wondered if he could see out of them at all.

Carter's hair was caked with blood and what looked suspiciously like the remains of a pot of stew.

He caught her eyes and she smiled—a crooked and pain-filled grimace.

"I wasn't hungry."

Jack returned the gesture, his eyes communicating far more than words ever could, words between friends and warriors.

"Silence!"

The shout echoed across the large space and Jack noticed Carter's immediate response. She quickly looked down.

The fire that had briefly flashed in her eyes had vanished.

Crap.

What had they done to them?

"So, this is fun. The gang's all here. Time for a nice board game, I think. What do you say, Teal'c?"

He waited for a response—something.

Nothing came.

A pit of worry began to churn in his stomach. What the hell had happened?

How long had he been out? It couldn't have been that long, surely.

Slowly Teal'c raised his head, the struggle to keep his eyes open obvious

"I would enjoy a game of chess, O'Neill, however I fear I would leave the game incomplete."

One large hand groped at the edge of Teal'c's robe, pulling it aside. Jack bit back a groan at the gaping hole where once a symbiote had nested.

"We have taken back what was ours."

Jack remembered how hard it had been for Teal'c to take on another symbiote just to survive, but he'd agreed.

And now that had been taken away along with any chance for his future. Without the Tretonin or the symbiote pouch, Teal'c would not survive the day.

Teal'c was dead. There was no going back from this, no turning the page to find a miraculous rescue. He was one more statistic in the bloody toll the Goa'uld had taken.

Through gritted teeth Jack growled his reply. "Why do you even care? You have plenty more where that one came from."

There was a pause, as if Ra was considering his words, then the reply came in the sneering, soulless voice of the symbiote.

"Because I can. Because it pains you."

“Why should you care what pains me? Surely I'm just a grain of sand to be crushed under your foot like all the rest."

"I think you are much more than that. You vie for power, my power. You've turned my people against me. They have begun to question their God."

Ra rose, gripping his robes and moving them aside as he walked across the room, stopping too close, forcing Jack to arch his back to look up at him, tugging on the chains and shackles that bound him. His body was already protesting the position it had found itself in—arms chained in front, the metal bar threaded behind his back and resting in the space formed by his bent elbows. The collar clinched a little too tight around his neck only held everything together, the attached chains fastened to the bar, every movement uncomfortable.

"You puzzle me. Your speech and that of the female is strange. Where do you come from? Did Apophis send you? Does he hope to undermine my rule with such feeble warriors?"

"A guy gets bashed over the head and you think he's feeble. I hate to tell you Ra, old buddy, but you should take a look at your troops. They're a bunch of girls. I'm surprised you've lasted this long against any other System Lord. So, how many do you have barking at your backdoor? Two? Three? More?"

"You dare speak in this manner! I am your God."

"False god last time I checked since I know for a fact that you have some kind of reptilian action happening on that brain stem of yours." Even chained as he was, his hands still gestured, the metal clinking as he moved. "It's a shame actually. Perfectly good waste of a human life."

A growl of rage rumbled from Ra's chest and his hand shot out.

A single gesture. A simple motion.

And with the click and hiss of a staff weapon Teal'c was gone.

Jack choked back his smart remark, his own rage matching Ra's as his helplessness washed over him. There was nothing he could have done to stop Teal'c's death. He just managed to stop his friend's suffering. And that was something, wasn't it?

***

Carter hadn't moved from where she had been thrown, half turned, her face hidden, hunched against the far wall of the throne room, her short gasps agonizingly labored. Jack couldn't reach her. Their captors had left him as he’d found himself when he awoke, manacled to a pole across his shoulders, his arms locked into place and, as if that wasn’t enough, they’d snapped thick anklets of metal around his feet, leaving him tethered to the wall like an animal.

He had tried talking to Carter, but all he received in response were muttered words. It had taken some effort to make them out, but finally he’d understood.

“Sorry.”

Over and over again she murmured the single word. Over and over.

Jack didn’t pretend not to understand. He’d answered her.

It wasn’t her fault. She had been right—they needed to find the ZPM. The Wraith could be knocking on Earth’s doorstep, salivating at the new rich feeding ground, if they weren’t stopped, and to stop them the SGC needed ready access to the Pegasus Galaxy. They had been right to take the chance.

As for keeping a low profile in the hope of not changing the timeline—well, they had all suffered for Jack’s inability to do that.

No, it hadn’t been Carter’s fault.

Jack knew exactly where the fault should fall.

That was one thing about being in charge, being the leader: it all ended with him. He'd learned that through the years as he'd climbed the Air Force ladder, as he continued to gain more responsibility, as more and more lives relied on his ability to make the right decision.

He'd lived with all of the decisions he'd made—both good and bad, right and wrong—just like he'd stand by everything he'd done over the course of the past few months, ever since they were stranded in this god-forsaken history lesson.

He tried to move a little to stretch his aching muscles, but every movement just aggravated something else.

He wished he could see outside. It would give him an indication of how much time had passed since they've been captured. But like all good paranoid Goa'ulds, their private chambers were deep inside a fortress.

They'd made plans on how they'd eventually take this room, strategizing on what needed to be done to secure it and kill the Goa'uld inside. While becoming Ra's prisoner was discussed, it was never considered a viable option.

Jack had to agree even more strongly now that he was here.

He raised his head as much as possible, given the awkward position it was in, and peered around. The torches on the walls barely illuminated the vast area and he pondered, not for the first time, what it was with snakes and naked flames. They had artificial lighting; he'd seen it on their ships and in their palaces, so why go with the smoky, murky look? The gloom and the lack of spectators seemed to indicate it was night. So they'd been there, what—about fourteen hours, at a guess. He could barely remember a tenth of it.

Even the guards were few in number, apparently not worried about the resistance of two humans.

And glancing at Carter's unmoving form he couldn't blame them.

He licked his lips, trying not to even think of water. But what he wouldn't give for just a tiny sip from the jug next to Ra's throne.

He shifted a little, pain flaring from his abused knees, only to have the end of a staff weapon prod him in the side—a firm reminder that they were not alone. The two Jaffa guarding them didn't look any more pleased at being there than he was, both making it very obvious that any change in his position kneeling on the cold, hard stone floor would be swiftly brought to a halt.

Jack sighed, having hours ago given up the notion of trying to make conversation. The ridiculous thing was—he was bored. You'd think, given the circumstances, that he'd have plenty to occupy his mind, but no, he was bored.

A harsh cough interrupted his train of thought, dragging his attention to the body in the corner of the room. Carter had curled up on herself, cradling her middle, agony etched into the lines of her face and through her entire frame. Whatever they'd done to her hadn't made much of a mark on the outside, but Jack knew there was something wrong, terribly wrong.

The single trail of blood down her chin just confirmed his assumption.

Internal injuries. Bad ones if he'd had to guess.

She needed help, and fast. There had to be a sarcophagus around here somewhere—no self respecting Goa'uld would travel without one. If he could put Carter in it…And Teal'c—Teal'c could be revived.

He slumped in his chains.

The darkly charred mark on the floor was all that remained of his warrior friend.

There would be no revival for Teal'c, no return from the dead.

God! The realization finally hit. Teal'c was gone.

They'd disposed of his body like so much trash—three zat blasts and there was nothing left of one of the finest men Jack had ever met. Even Ra's words, "Get this garbage out of my throne room," showed the utter distain the Goa'uld had for life, for good men.

Three short blasts that took away both the leader of the Free Jaffa and one of the few people Jack could truly call a friend.

A commotion in the hallway, however, forced him to glance toward the door, the guards in the room visibly straightening.

Two Jaffa entered first, taking up positions on either side of the door, their backs ramrod straight as if someone had shoved something up their ass. With the Goa'uld anything was possible, Jack knew, but he pushed his meandering thoughts to the side as other warriors entered dragging a villager with them—a familiar face, a young boy they'd befriended. One of the boys he'd taken under his wing when he'd shown interest in their plans.

Apparently, teaching them to hide was something he'd have to work on with them when he got out of here.

When, not if.

They'd get out of this. He had to think that way or else Ra had already won.

The boy was barely sixteen, just a tall, lanky kid excited by the prospect of rebelling. They'd been careful not to give away too much to him, not wanting to put him in any danger. Clearly a futile hope.

Jack saw the moment the kid spotted him, his face almost collapsing in an expression of terror.

He was so young, so vulnerable—exactly the sort of victim the Goa'uld loved most.

He would have lived a full life, albeit one as a slave to a false god. But now...Jack didn't hold out much hope. Jack knew, as his heart sunk into his missing boots, why the snakes had invited the kid to this little soiree.

A rustle of armor and the single shout of "kree" pulled Jack's attention from the kid.

The heavy gold curtains behind the throne parted, looking for all the world like the beginning of a cheaply staged school drama production. Except the extras that appeared would have had the PTA up in arms.

Four scantily clad women undulated forward and Jack couldn't help his disbelieving cry of "Oh, come on!" escaping even though the expected blow to his back followed it closely.

The women—and he used that term loosely—settled around the throne, two per side, their faces turned to their god as he glided forward, carefully sitting on his throne, his hands caressing the arms of the chair.

With a single glance, Ra took in the terrified boy cowering before him, his face clearly showing his distain, his contempt. "Where did you find this one?"

"He was in the hole where we found the others, my Lord." The gold tattoo clearly designated the speaker as Ra's First Prime.

"With the three?"

"No, My Lord. I sent guards to watch in case some of their supporters returned. This is what we caught."

Damn! The kid must have gone back after they'd been captured, maybe to try and retrieve the plans they'd left hidden there.

"Was he the only one?"

"No, my Lord. We have discovered others as well. They are being transported to this chamber for questioning as you requested."

Others? What were these kids thinking? They had established SOP for events like this.

Jack's thoughts froze for a moment, Daniel's face flashing across his vision. No—Daniel couldn't have been captured. There hadn't been time for him to get there. He probably didn't even know what had happened yet.

"Bring him forward" One long finger tipped with pointed nails beckoned. Moments later the boy was on his knees at Ra's feet, his head bowed, all thoughts of rebellion clearly gone and replaced by abject horror.

"You use children to fight?"

Jack barely concealed his start of surprise as the Goa'uld addressed him directly for the first time in hours.

"I've never seen him before. Don't know him."

"You expect me to believe that?"

"I don't care what you belief—it's the truth. Anyway, you have no compunction with using children."

Jack saw Ra's eyes widen from across the room. Apparently that little tidbit wasn't common knowledge—yet.

Ra turned his attention to the boy, dismissing Jack without a thought. "Why do you hate me so? Has this man poisoned you to me? Have I not given you life? "

The boy straightened, his head coming up. "You did not give me life. You are no god!"

Jack felt a flush of pride, trying to keep his face impassive. But the boy's fierce reply told Ra all he needed to know.

"Tell me what you know of these strangers, child, and I will allow you to die quickly."

"I know nothing."

"I told you before—I don't know him!"

Their answers crashed together and Jack's hurried words almost drowned out the boy's defiant reply. Jack ignored the guards' attempts to quiet him, struggling halfway to his feet before being pushed back down. He knew he shouldn't have reacted the moment Ra caught his eye, the speculation and pleasure plain.

He schooled his face back into an impassive mask.

"Then you will not care what happens to him?"

"Of course I care, you bastard. I'm not an unfeeling monster like you."

"And there is your weakness," Ra said, rising from his throne and stepping off the dais, his steps moving him closer to Jack. "Tell me where you come from. Tell me which of the System Lords you call master."

"I bend my knee to no one."

"Impossible!"

"The Tau'ri are stronger than you know and will be your undoing. Just wait and see."

"Tau'ri?"

Shit! He was slipping, his injuries and fatigue causing him to give too much away.

A low moan from the corner reminded him of exactly what was at stake here.

The very future of his own planet.

"General?"

Jack tried to ignore the pained cry, his eyes filtering briefly to Carter's sluggishly moving form.

"General?" Ra's voice took on a deadly quality, the single word holding thousands of questions and answers.

Another slip.

"Bring the woman."

Jack shut his eyes at the sight as Carter struggled for breath, held tightly between two massive Jaffa.

Ra's hand reached out, lightly grasping the Colonel's chin ignoring the trickle of blood that flowed from the corner of her lips. "What sort of title is 'General'? Tell me and I will spare your life."

Jack didn't think Carter could have answered if she had wanted to. Her head lolled loosely on her shoulders as another wet cough wracked her body.

Jack closed his eyes again, unable to watch, his senses stretching out, listening for that fateful sound of the igniting staff weapon that would end Carter's life.

But it didn't come.

Instead a quiet thump assaulted his ears and his eyes opened, searching the room when he found the space beside the boy empty.

Two guards strode from the back of the room, their bodies moving to reveal the crumpled remains of the Colonel, her left arm at an unnatural angle.

The smooth voice of the Goa'uld whispering in his ear nearly made him jump out of his skin. "She was a feisty one, once, wasn't she? She can be again, you know. I am a god. I have the power of life in my hands."

Jack's heart dropped as the pieces finally came together, only to be replaced by a burning rage.

For a second he wanted to take the offer. Just for a second. Then the temptation was replaced by reality. Ra could bring Carter back, but for what? To use her again and again as a pawn in his game.

Jack couldn't allow that. He wouldn't.

He shook his head, gritting his teeth against the urge to tell the snake exactly what he knew of their powers—that they were nothing more than thieves, using other races technology for their own ends.

"It's your choice. I grant you a favor. I will allow you to also hold the power of life and death in your hands. Everything that happens here is because of you. Remember that. And her death will not be quick like the Jaffa's. Tell me what I wish to know and you can have her back."

Jack steadfastly kept his eyes on the god wantabe in front of him, his contempt almost a palatable taste in his mouth.

"Very well," Ra said turning aside. "Kill the boy and bring in the next one."

No! Inside his own head Jack screamed. It took all his will power to stay upright, unemotional.

"Jack!"

The kid's desperate cry for help, cut off abruptly by the hum of two quick zat blasts, ate away a little more of what was left of Jack's soul.

"Jack?"

There was no need to hide it. "It's my name. General Jack O'Neill if you must know."

"An unusual name. One I have not heard before."

"What can I say—my parents were ahead of their time."

"So, you lied to me. You knew him."

Jack grimaced caught between a rock and a hard place. "Yes, I knew him. Seen him in the village. He was just a boy."

"Perhaps you know these other boys as well."

A quick gesture of Ra's hand and several guards entered, a handful of Egyptian youths between them, forced to kneel before Ra's throne, their trembling forms breaking Jack's heart.

And it didn't stop. The parade of villagers continued for hours on end, the questioning, the threats, the deaths.

There was nothing he could do.

He was totally helpless.

Some tried to give the Goa'uld what he wanted. Some answered the questions.

But they really didn't know anything. The ones that did stayed silent.

Thankfully, Daniel was nowhere to be seen among them.

Eventually even Ra began to tire of the game

Jack wavered on his knees, his strength finally beginning to give out after so many hours without sleep, food or water. He almost envied Carter her corner.

As the sound of the last zat filled the room, Ra rose from his throne, striding over to where Jack kneeled, his hand grasping Jack's chin, tilting it upward at an awkward angle.

"Enough. I ask you one last time. Who are you, truly, and who else is involved in your scheme?"

Jack tightened his jaw, refusing to utter a single word, his eyes coldly holding Ra's gaze.

Jack couldn't even shake his head, his weakened body betraying him as he slumped forward.

Ra turned on his heel, his robe striking Jack's face as he strode off to the door. Jack watched him as he paused at the door, Ra's eyes straying to Carter's body, her chest moving slowly with each breath.

"Remove this refuse. Bring the human to me when you are done."

And Ra was gone.

Struggling against his bonds, Jack tried to protest, tried to call him back, but his voice wouldn't carry, barely whispering when he wanted to shout.

"No! Don't!"

"For God's sake, don't"

The Jaffa moved efficiently, cleaning the floor, removing the dead from the center of the room with three quick zat blasts.

A single warrior approached Carter, pulling her roughly, turning her on her back.

"Stop! Please stop!"

Words in Goa'uld passed over his head, halting the Jaffa.

Turning Jack caught the eyes of the First Prime, a silent 'thank you' hovering in the air before him—until the triple sound of zat fire filled the room.

He twisted.

His eyes desperately searching for what he couldn't see.

She couldn't be gone. Her life couldn't have been extinguished that easily.

He slumped forward, the grief and the pain finally enveloping his senses.

As he faded into unconsciousness, General Jack O'Neill finally wept. Two tears rolling sluggishly down his cheeks, one for each of his friends.

This time Jack didn't want to wake up. It was so much easier to just drift in the quiet world without pain where he could forget that his friends were dead, forget everything that had happened over the past days. But he wasn't given a choice. A booted foot hooked under his stomach had him twisting on the floor, and he couldn't hold back his cry as the chains holding him in place were unlocked and his arms flopped loosely to his side.

Part of his brain urged him to move, to push himself upright, to use this moment of freedom to the most.

But he couldn't.

His hands and arms were gone, numb from their long confinement and even if he could have moved them, his body was incapable of anything more than weak gasps for air. He'd had no water for hours now. He could feel himself dying.

He licked his lips, succeeding in only wiping his dry tongue across the equally dry skin.

Huge paws of hands grabbed his useless arms, hauling him upright, his throbbing legs protesting the movement, the muscles unaccustomed to stretching, his shaking limbs refusing to hold any of his weight. A Jaffa fumbled around his ankles removing the metal bindings and Jack didn't have the energy to fight him, to even offer a kick in defiance.

His head was spinning as oxygen rushed to his brain and he felt as if he was going to faint. Perhaps fainting might be a positive outcome—given the circumstances,

He strained to open his eyes.

They seemed glued shut, but he managed to shake loose the dryness and finally achieved a slit of vision

Where was he? Where had they brought him? Trying to pull his disjointed thoughts together he concentrated the best he could as the sounds inched their way closer to him.

There were soft murmurings, shufflings, whispers—nothing he could identify.

But there was something else.

Underpinning everything was a strange sound, nothing artificial, something organic. He could tell the difference.

He needed to see.

But pulling his head upright to look required effort and energy—more than he had at the moment.

"Kree!" The sudden shout was unbearably loud in his ears.

Then they moved.

He felt the pull on his armpits, his feet dragging behind, and he made a supreme effort to take control of some small part of his own body.

His muscles refused to answer his brain's commands and he found himself merely a spectator in his own life, the Jaffa pulling him forward into the light where the low hum coalesced into the roar of a great crowd stretched out across the plain before the Great Pyramid.

His eyes watered as a wall of heat hit him, rising up from the desert sands just beyond the temple. He blinked. He hadn't thought there was any water left in him.

Forcing his eyes open, he had to see what awaited him. His blurred vision cleared slowly, leaving him gasping at the sight that met his eyes.

People.

Row upon row of people.

Where had they all come from?

He remembered small villages, some tucked away in the shadow of the pyramids others on the banks of the Nile, but he never realized the vast multitude of people the land housed.

A great sea of humanity stood before him and all eyes were fixed on one thing. Him.

This couldn't be good.

Nervous butterflies fluttered around in his stomach, his mouth losing what little moisture was left. Of all times to get stage fright. He wasn't looking his best either. Now if he'd had some time to prepare...Oh well, the audience would have to be happy with what they got.

The Jaffa dragging him out suddenly stopped, apparently reaching their goal—a raised platform in the center of the forecourt. They dropped him bodily onto the sandy floor, knocking the wind from him. It took him several minutes to catch his breath and once he did he tilted his head slightly, trying to get a better look at where he was, only to get an eyeful of Goa'uld—and they didn't look any better from his position.

Shit! For a few beats he stayed slumped forward, waiting for the pain to pass, but when it stubbornly refused to do so he pushed up on hands that felt like bricks attached to the end of his arms until he reached a sort of half kneeling half sitting position.

What now?

He could guess, but he really didn't want to.

Whatever was coming he hoped it would be soon. This sun wasn't doing anything for his complexion.

Instead he concentrated on the figures he could see before him. All of these plans had been for them, to free them of this slavery.

He recognized several in the front rows, acquaintances that had become friends in such an unlikely place and time. These were good people. Honest. Hardworking. Trustworthy.

They didn't deserve this.

But then, neither did Carter or Teal'c.

Instinctively, he searched the crowd for one face, the one face he didn't want to see.

Brown skin, dull brown robes, everything was brown, a study in shades of color.

It was so hard to pick out individuals.

Movement, however, in the center of the crowd drew his attention. Someone was trying to get through, trying to get into the front.

Oh, God! It was him.

Ra was speaking, pontificating as all good Goa'ulds do, but Jack didn't hear him, couldn't really care less what he was saying. Instead, Jack's eyes were fixed on the face of his friend.

There was so much he had to say to him. So much he needed to tell him. But he couldn't. He couldn't speak of their friends' deaths, couldn't tell Daniel how sorry he was that he had led them into this.

But, knowing the community, Daniel might already know about Carter and Teal'c, might have already heard the grisly tale.

He hadn't been able to protect them but he could do one last thing right. Protect his remaining teammate.

Already the people in the crowd around his friend were beginning to notice his actions as he pushed his way forward, his face a mask of despair.

Soon it wouldn't be just the locals that noticed.

What did he think he was doing?

Without thought, Jack straightened up to his full kneeling height. He cleared his throat, summoning up the last moisture left in his mouth. The words falling from his mouth loud enough to be heard several rows into the crowd.

"How many of your Jaffa have fallen to the stealth of the Tok'ra?"

That one simple sentence was enough to stop Ra in his tracks.

The Goa'uld turned, his eyes glowing.

"Don't like the truth, do you?"

The crowd was totally silent. You could hear a pin drop.

Even Daniel had stopped his frantic push to the front. It was working.

"Have you felt them already, felt them slowly draining your power away? No matter what you do, they're not going to stop. They're going to keep fighting you every step of the way. No matter how many you kill, there's always another to replace them. But, do you know what's worse? It's not the Tok'ra that will be your final downfall. No, you will die like the spineless snake you are. Not in battle against a superior force such as the Asgard, but at the hands of one human, a Tau'ri from this planet, from Earth."

The Goa'uld was at his side, his head bent close to Jack's ear. "What do you know of this? Are you Tok'ra?" Long nails gripped his chin, pulling it around. "No, I think not."

"Been there, done that, decided not to get the T-shirt."

"What are you?" The echoing tones of the symbiote rang through Jack's ears and he fought to stay upright, putting every shred of energy he had left into his risky game of distraction.

"I'm what you have to fear. I'm your death."

God, he sounded like a villain from a melodrama. But it was working. Just for a second he saw doubt flare in the snake's face.

"Does that worry you, snakehead, that I know what you are?"

"Nothing you say worries me, human. I am your god."

"False god. Soon to be dead false god."

Ra stepped back, his voice ringing out across the vast area. "You are the one that will die. But, first you will tell me what you know of these matters that are beyond the comprehension of your puny mind."

"Over my dead body."

Jack took a second to glance back to Daniel's position, hoping his own words wouldn't make his friend do anything stupid.

Surely he realized what was at stake here. Why Jack was doing this.

Daniel was meant to be the clever one.

Anguish was written in every line of his face, but he hadn't moved.

His arm was in the tight grip of Ka-tep.

They both knew the stakes. There was still enough of them left to carry on, to continue building on the foundation they'd laid.

To get things back on track.

Things would change here, for the better, Jack knew beyond the shadow of a doubt, but he wasn't going to be around to see them.

Perhaps his words would be enough to scare the snake off—leave Earth entirely. Maybe they wouldn't need a rebellion. People wouldn't have to die.

Perhaps this could change everything—Earth's whole future. And wouldn't Carter just be so pissed at him.

He might have made it better. Hell, Charlie might still be alive in whatever reality he had created. Who knows.

Just thinking about it made his brain hurt.

"If you will not tell me willingly, I have ways to take the information from you."

Jack knew exactly what Mr. Snakiness meant.

He knew how much it was going to hurt, that his resistance of the effects of the ribbon device was going to be the last thing he'd do in this life.

It wasn't like he hadn't been up front and personal with a ribbon device before.

This was probably the most important thing he'd ever done, and he'd be damned if he was going to fail.

He'd go down fighting every step of the way.

Show this snake exactly what so-called weak, puny humans were made of

"Bite me!"

It may not have been original back in the future, but it sure was now.

It didn't take a genius to know what he meant. A murmur came up form the crowd, quickly quelled by the motion of the Jaffa's staff weapons towards them.

As Ra approached, the stone in the ribbon device beginning to glow, Jack sent a final glance toward Daniel, offering a silent apology.

A corresponding nod answered him, the apology accepted. Jack tried to hold back his sigh. At least he'd gained some absolution before his death.

Ra raised his hand.

The first touch of the beam was almost caressing. He could feel himself move into it, as if his will was already being subjugated. His body's weakness was betraying him.

He began to fight, cursing his own frailty.

He locked both his knees and his mind in place.

This was a battle he would win. Ra might take his life, but his soul and his mind would be free.

Ra pressed down on him, grinding the power of the ribbon device deep into his brain. He could feel himself shaking, feel the energy humming through his body.

"Tell me what I need to know."

Whether the words were spoken aloud or not he didn't know, but he answered. "Never."

His response only enraged Ra and the light from the device increased, boring into his mind, the skin on his forehead burning.

He tried to keep his eyes open, tried to get one last glimpse of his only remaining teammate, but he couldn't. They slammed shut, blocking out everything.

He was dying.

He had one last chance. One last opportunity to get things right. For a second he doubted. He was playing god here. Was he any better than the Goa'uld?

But then the doubt was gone, replaced by cold-blooded determination.

The image of Ra's mothership filled his mind. Exploding in a ball of fire that lit the night sky.

"No!"

Ra's cry was the last thing Jack heard.

And as the darkness rushed to meet him he prayed for the world he had created.

Five Years Later

The Jaffa approached Ra slowly, the news he carried could sentence him to death and Ra had not been forgiving as of late.

"My lord," the Jaffa said, kneeling before his God.

"Rise. Why are you here?"

He looked up, cautiously regaining his feet, trying to weigh his words, set his thoughts in order before speaking. "There have been rumors, my Lord."

"Rumors? Speak!"

"Rumors of the dead walking."

"You speak in riddles! Make sense before your annoyance becomes much more."

"It is said that the ones you killed several seasons ago have returned, that they once again walk among the people."

"Impossible," Ra said, but refused to meet the Jaffa's gaze. Was there worry in the eyes of his God? But how was that possible?

"Several villagers have spoken of this. How can this be true?"

"It cannot. Now leave me before I end your mindless drivel once and for all. Be gone from my sight!"

Heart thudding in his chest, he left the main audience chamber, doubts taking root in his mind. He'd been there, standing beside the human was Ra killed him, but yet, he'd heard the rumors of the villagers and had spotted the human of which they spoke.

It was the human O'Neill. There could be no other. And yet, he'd watched him die.

He was divided.

If this was true, if O'Neill walked and lived he had been raised from the dead and the words he'd spoken season ago, while seeming heretical at the time, may have been true.

This human had spoken of Ra's death by the hands of a human, a Tau'ri from earth.

He knew he should fight the doubts in his mind, but they were mesmerizing, freeing in their own right. What if Ra was not the god he portrayed? He needed to know more and he knew where to get that information.

One thing was already certain, however. These humans were stronger than they appeared.

It was time to get to know this human, this one they called O'Neill.