Apophis, despite having lost his ship and many of his Jaffa and slaves, smirked with deep pleasure at his First Prime's convincing performance in ship-to-ship communication with the impudent Tau'ri. Soon, Teal'c would prove himself once more worthy to serve at his side. And he, the most powerful of the System Lords, would have his revenge on the Tau'ri who had plagued him for years, who had taunted and baited him, who had bewitched his First Prime, and now, who had destroyed his entire fleet.

He had to admit that this would actually be better than blowing up the Ha'tak. This way, he would still have his revenge on Jack O'Neill, but it would be slow, sweet, and cold. And sweeter yet, as Teal'c, his most favorite First Prime, who had been turned by a mere human, would be the executioner.

Again, and again, and again.

"Divest them of their weapons, vests, and jackets," commanded Teal'c of the Jaffa behind him. He kept O'Neill's Beretta pointed at its owner's heart.

Immediately, three of them responded, running past Apophis and his prodigal First Prime with their heads bowed and eyes on the three humans.

One side of Teal'c's mouth curled upwards as he enjoyed the rough treatment of the enemies he had called friends. "Be sure to take the knife O'Neill"--he said the name as if it were poison--"keeps secreted away in his left boot."

O'Neill took a deep breath and tensed his entire body as a Jaffa thrust thick fingers into his boot. "T," he began, shifting his eyes briefly to Apophis before returning to Teal'c's triumphant gaze. "What the hell is going on? This is -" He didn't have a chance to finish, thanks to Apophis focusing the ribbon device on his forehead.

He fell to his knees despite his best efforts to fight the device's effects. Bile climbed from stomach to throat, brain seemed to swell painfully within his skull, nerve endings shot scorching-hot impulses over every square inch of his body. He opened his mouth, but the screams could not escape.

Without any apparent reason, Apophis stopped then grinned malevolently. "Get these weak, insolent beings from my sight, Teal'c."

"As you wish, my lord."

Daniel and Carter pulled Jack, who had slumped forward, up by his T-shirt. While Daniel steadied his friend, Sam examined his forehead. There was just the slightest trace of a burn. "How are you feeling, sir?"

"Why didn't I get the memo about us going to Kansas for tornado season?" O'Neill warbled through vocal cords not quite up to speech.

By the time they were halfway to their new quarters, O'Neill was walking on his own, though trailing a few steps behind his team, and trying to convince himself this over-the-top First-Prime-of-snakeboy-Apophis thing was some sort of clever subterfuge on T's part.

SG-1 and Jacob Carter sat on the floor of the large but empty room that served as their prison. The mood was verging on defeated.

"Well, Jack, I'm fresh out of ideas. Selmak and I just don't see how we're going to escape from this place."

"Okay, Jacob, your glass-half-empty attitude on this mission is really wearing thin." O'Neill waved a hand around his head. "I mean, aren't two . . . brains better than one? Doesn't that make your glass full?"

Jacob smiled patiently and indulgently as if O'Neill were a challenging child. "It doesn't work like that, Jack. Simply sharing a body with another being doesn't mean we're twice as smart or creative--or more than the sum of our parts. Sometimes, even we get stumped."

O'Neill stood up and walked the perimeter of the room yet again, and yet again did not find any way out. He returned to his spot between Daniel Jackson and Samantha Carter. Once he lowered himself back into a seated position, he sighed. "I got nothin' either." He wrapped his arms around his bent knees.

The four sat silently for several minutes, each lost in his or her own thoughts, until Jackson said, "Is it possible zatting Teal'c will bring him out of this . . . delusion of being Apophis's First Prime again? I really think Apophis gave him the same stuff he gave Ry'ac."

"Oh, sure, Danny. Here, let me pull out the zat I've been hiding up my butt and invite him in so I can shoot him. Piece of cake." It should be so easy, he thought. Yet he couldn't give up the undying hope that the real Teal'c still lurked beneath the hard-ass Apophis had created. After all, T had pulled the punch to his nose when he could have easily crammed the bones right into his brain.

Jackson recoiled slightly from the sardonic tone in Jack's voice. He thought he could detect a bit of pain and frustration. He too hurt terribly from seeing Teal'c in the thrall of Apophis once more, but he knew it was different compared to what Jack was feeling. Jack had a special bond with the Jaffa that he could barely comprehend. He knew they rarely used words to communicate, only some eye and head twitches, which sometimes made him jealous. Of course, he had his own relationship with Jack, but it was more . . . argumentative and certainly more verbal. This thing with Teal'c? It had to be some kind of brother/warrior thing. He sighed and closed his eyes.

Sam Carter was still beating herself up for not finding a way to get them out of the room before Teal'c had destroyed the mechanism that had been the only key available. The colonel's confidence in her over the last four years had frequently cleared her head when she was over-thinking, had encouraged her to take risks and giant--to her, anyway--leaps of faith when she was plagued with doubt. Now, she was drowning in self-pity and hopelessness. She knew better than to express those feelings out loud, after what had transpired earlier between her father and the colonel. Finally, she decided to ruminate a bit on Daniel's zat-Teal'c theory; there might actually be something to that.

Jacob Carter thought about one thing--his brilliant, beautiful daughter getting out of here alive and unharmed and, eventually, home. Selmak, his Tok'ra symbiote, remained silent. However, Jacob could feel his concern.

The four sat in a silence that grew heavier with each passing heartbeat.

Sam Carter stretched out on the floor when O'Neill noted she was fighting to stay awake and ordered her to take a nap. She protested but he came back with, "Somebody around here might as well be productive." She started out resting her head on her arms until Daniel offered his leg as a pillow. It wasn't long before Daniel was absentmindedly stroking her short blonde hair. Both Jack and Jacob watched, mesmerized and soothed by the gentle, repetitive action.

The door slid open unexpectedly, jarring them out of their near-stupor. O'Neill jumped up and made it to the side of the door before it was halfway up. Sam, on the other hand, found her head bouncing off the floor when Daniel automatically reacted to the sudden activity and rose to stand beside Jacob.

Teal'c remained standing just past the threshold in the corridor, with his staff weapon in one hand and a zat'nikatel cocked and aimed directly at O'Neill. "Do not attempt escape, humans, or he will suffer mightily for it."

"Uh, they won't try to escape, will ya, kids?" Jack asked, without taking his eyes off Teal'c. He also counted at least four of T's "brethren" behind him--not the best of odds. His skin crawled on seeing Teal'c costumed in his Jaffa gear. He could hear someone--probably Jacob; it sounded like him--helping the major to her feet.

"Oh, no, Teal'c," replied Jackson. "We wouldn't dream of it."

Jacob Carter grew more worried. Teal'c knew SG-1-and especially O'Neill-much too well. He had even correctly anticipated exactly where Jack would be when the door opened. Taking over would be much tougher, if not impossible.

O'Neill cleared his throat. "It's about time you came back, T. If you don't let us take care of some, well, personal matters, things in this charming chamber of emptiness will get . . . dicey." He paused to wait for a response. When none came, he said, "If you catch my drift, Rocko." If that doesn't get a T-laugh out him…I know that name is why he zatted me on one rather than three… Again, he paused.

This time Teal'c's glare widened, but no more reaction than that.

Jack finally surrendered any hope of jolting Teal'c out of his drug-induced, if that was what it was, servitude by appealing to the Jaffa's quirky sense of revenge. Now he had to try humor. "Well, since you didn't come by to let us out to use the facilities, or just let us out, to what do we owe this visit? Hope it's not for high tea. All the cucumber sandwiches are gone. You know how Daniel is when it comes to cucumber sandwiches."

Teal'c raised an eyebrow in annoyance. "Silence! And kneel before your god!"

O'Neill rolled his eyes. "For cryin' out loud, Teal'c, don't say that cr-" He collapsed to the floor, twitching to the electrical pulses of zat fire. Bursts of groans and moans and a few expletives spewed from his mouth but he hung on to consciousness by his fingernails.

The Jaffa immediately aimed the zat at the next closest opponent--Major Carter. "Kneel."

Sam, having recovered from her shock sooner than either Daniel or her father, sank to her knees. They quickly followed suit.

Teal'c stepped aside regally, revealing Apophis. He bowed his head deeply.

The Goa'uld gestured for several Jaffa to stand behind the Carters and Daniel. Once they were in position, Apophis strode into the substitute prison, stopping to stand over the prostrate leader of SG-1. "O'Neill. Now you will know my wrath once more. You have died by my hand once. Now you will die at my command by the hand of one you presumed erroneously to be your 'friend.'" The brown eyes glowed white.

O'Neill's rage and hatred of the Goa'uld gave him a rush of adrenaline that kept him conscious. That, plus this was likely the last chance he had to bring Teal'c back to his senses. Narrowing his eyes at the false god, he said through clenched teeth, "I don't think so, your snake-headedness. Teal'c won't kill me. Hell, he won't even hurt me again. He knows you're a poser and he and I are gonna kick your -"

The ramming end of Teal'c's staff weapon was a blur as it smashed into Jack's throat.

Immediately, O'Neill grabbed his injured airway and curled up in intense, throbbing pain. He struggled to breathe, each inspiration and expiration a gigantic effort. But he could breathe; Teal'c had stopped short of fatally crushing his windpipe. He clung to that frayed thread of hope.

"You will speak to your god with the proper respect, Tau'ri," Teal'c whispered menacingly, "or your insolence will be the death of you." He turned his head to watch Samantha Carter and Daniel Jackson, both of whom had risen to their feet, struggle against the Jaffa warriors holding them back. Using the staff weapon, he gestured for the Jaffa to let them remain standing.. "Or perhaps those under your laughable and ineffective command will pay instead."

"Teal'c!" shouted Jackson. "Don't do this!" Daniel winced at the bloodlust in Teal'c's eyes. "We're your friends, remember?" he continued, more softly but no less intense. "I even told you that you did the right thing when you killed Sha'uri."

With a speed even greater than Teal'c's, Apophis raised his hand, aimed the hand device at Jackson, and activated it.

Daniel took the full force of the energy in his upper chest and flew into the bulkhead behind him, taking the Jaffa guard with him. Though his breath had deserted him and the pain burned in his chest, he kept trying to speak.

O'Neill grimaced in sympathy and felt his anger with the won't-stay-dead snakehead soar into the stratosphere-or at least the equivalent of it on board a ship in the vacuum of space. But with everyone's attention on Daniel, O'Neill seized the moment to go into action. He willed himself to move with the intent on disarming Teal'c. Gotta dream big, Jack, he said to himself. Real big.

Teal'c, all too aware of O'Neill's propensity for survival and advanced tactical skills, had kept the colonel in his peripheral vision. Sensing the movement, he swung the staff weapon around, activated it, and touched the sparking end to a small patch of abdominal skin where O'Neill's T-shirt had crept up and exposed it.

Jack croaked out a yelp of pain and sucked in his gut as much as he could. The burning pain eased slightly. "T," he rasped, eyes imploring his friend to remember their shared history and mission. Inwardly, he shuttered at the loathing that filled the dark brown eyes staring back at him.

Daniel, in the process of being yanked back to his feet, groaned in fear at what he knew was coming next.

Carter, suspecting and fearing the same thing, surged forward unexpectedly and almost broke loose from the hold of the Jaffa restraining her. "Teal'c, don't," she urged him as her nameless captor now controlled her by her hair.

Teal'c swiftly turned his hate-filled gaze on Carter. "Be quiet, woman," he ordered, the disdain coming through unequivocally, "or your temerity will be the source of great discomfort." He slapped the zat'nikatel onto his uniform and held out his free hand.

Seemingly from out of nowhere, a Jaffa behind him reverently placed a pain stick in the waiting hand.

Teal'c smiled with wicked amusement as he perceived a rise in O'Neill's tension through the staff weapon and heard the increased rate and depth of his ragged breaths. "I believe you will remember your place, woman, if you know what awaits you should you dare to speak again." Without hesitation, he touched the three-pronged device to Carter's upper chest. Her guard danced a step away from her to avoid the pain that would have transferred to him.

Her back arching to near-snapping point, Sam shrieked despite her best efforts to give no satisfaction to Apophis or Teal'c. To make matters worse for her, memories of Jolinar's torture by the same type of implement intruded on her consciousness and amplified the torment. By sheer stubbornness, she remained standing and held back her tears.

Jacob, feeling as if he had been sucker-punched in the gut, shouted, "Sam!" and started walking on his knees for his daughter. His Jaffa guard quickly put him in a chokehold. With each passing moment, his vision blurred more and more with decreasing oxygen levels and tears he could not hold back.

Daniel, nearly recovered from Apophis's attack, slumped dejectedly in the arms of his captor and closed his eyes to the bright light radiating from his friend's eyes and mouth. But he could still hear the agony in her cries, which seemed to be tainted with a fatalistic familiarity.

The only thing that kept O'Neill from screaming at Teal'c to stop inflicting such pain on their teammate was the knowledge that Carter was tough, a warrior in her own right, and could take whatever Teal'c dished out. It didn't make him like it any, though. But it did provide him with another chance, just as Daniel's hit by the beam from the hand device had been, to stop this insanity. The very bad guys had made it clear that they were much more pissed off with him rather than the other three. And maybe what he was going to do might actually snap Teal'c out of this . . . waking coma.

O'Neill took as deep a breath as possible and hoped he could deal with the strain on his malfunctioning voice box. "Teal'c," he shouted to be heard over Carter, "I was the one who brought you over from the dark side, not her, not Daniel. I'm the one who convinced you to help me save those people on Chulak." Come on, T, get the reference, remember what it means to you. He willed the hand closest to the staff weapon to move, but he couldn't quite control his arm yet.

Knowing O'Neill's intent, Teal'c pulled both the staff weapon and the pain stick back.

Sam collapsed in shuddering exhaustion and residual pain, caught by her guard before she could hit the floor. She gasped, partially from air hunger, partially from continuing to suppress her sobs. Her hair dripped with sweat and most of her T-shirt was plastered to her skin. She thought her heart was about to hammer its way out of her chest.

Jacob knew what Jack was doing. Though he appreciated the results--stopping Sam's torture--he hated what was coming next. This was incredibly risky because of what would happen if it backfired. The Jaffa's choke hold eased just in time. "Jack?" he asked softly.

O'Neill nodded his head once.

Daniel was approaching tolerable pain levels but his brain was still too thick to comprehend what was going on. All he really knew for sure was that Sam was no longer hurting. At least not much, anyway.

Apophis, who had been quietly and gleefully observing since he'd ribboned Jackson, relieved Teal'c of the pain stick. The Jaffa deactivated the staff weapon and stepped aside. The Goa'uld strolled the short distance to O'Neill.

Jack, pleased that the Goa'uld had approached him, which opened up a new opportunity for taking control of the situation, nevertheless shivered inwardly at the thought of being on the business end of one of those damn things. But if it would help Teal'c, it would be worth it. Now, if he could only get his body to respond better to his commands.

Apophis sneered, eyes glowing, at Jack. "You labor under the delusion that you have influence over my First Prime, O'Neill. Teal'c has allegiance only to his god. He merely accompanied you at my command, to spy on the Tau'ri, to conquer you from within. Now he returns, victorious. He has brought you here to me. You will be the first of the Tau'ri to worship and serve me--if you survive your punishment."

Still struggling to breathe through an airway that now hurt worse than ever, Jack risked a taunting laugh. "What are you smokin', snakeboy? And I'd look for another speechwriter, if I were you. This one is too -" Again his scream made no sound as Apophis ground the pain stick into his abdomen.

Though this was not the first experience Jack had had with a pain stick, this was definitely different. In that one miniscule part of his brain that wasn't howling in agony, he decided that somehow, a Goa'uld wielding the pain stick, rather than a Jaffa, gave it an extra twisty kick. Time seemed to burn in deep freeze, suspending him in a shroud of torment. And that was okay--Carter, Daniel, and Jacob weren't in there with him.

Outside O'Neill, time continued. Sam had figured out why he was doing this, but had to bite her lower lip to keep from pleading for mercy from Apophis. She kept swallowing and knew it was not saliva--it was her fear, rage, and anguish. Jacob, awash in misplaced shame at being grateful this was no longer happening to Sam, couldn't take the whole multimedia experience of seeing Jack contort stiffly and the brilliant blue-tinged white light streaming from his eyes, nose, and mouth and hearing coarse staccato breaths squeeze out of his swollen airway and the erratic pounding of his limbs on the deck, so he yielded control of his body to Selmak. After about a minute, Daniel was close to tears and found he could no longer hold his tongue and didn't care if speaking brought him more pain.

"Oh, God, Teal'c!" he yelled as loudly as he could. "That is Jack, for Pete's sake! Apophis is killing him! Stop him!" He paused momentarily before saying at half the volume, "Please."

To everyone's surprise, the Goa'uld stopped, leaving O'Neill semi-conscious and drenched in sweat. "I have no intention of killing O'Neill, Daniel Jackson. That is for Teal'c." He turned to look at this First Prime and was smugly pleased to see the worship and unquestioning obedience in his eyes. A few seconds later, he said, "After you are done with O'Neill, find out all you are able from the Tok'ra."

Teal'c bowed his head deeply again and kept it there until Apophis left the makeship cell and handed the pain stick off to the Jaffa remaining in the corridor. When Teal'c raised his head, he looked, with a trinium-hard glint in his eyes, first at Samantha Carter then Daniel Jackson. "This is what happens when one dares to defy one's true god."

All three captives knew what was next, had been expecting it, but had hoped O'Neill--the only one who had any real chance of breaking through to the Jaffa who had deserted his family to join this man--would actually get through. They knew he had been banking on the possibility that Teal'c, when it came down to it, would not kill him, maybe even rebel against Apophis once again. And if Teal'c did kill him . . . well, the rest of them weren't far behind. All three ceased their struggles against their guards, and held their collective breath.

Apophis's First Prime looked down at the Tau'ri at his feet as he re-palmed the zat-nikatel. "O'Neill," he stated through clenched teeth, the name full of scorn and animus.

Jack's brain slowly overpowered the threat of full unconsciousness when he heard Teal'c's familiar rumble. Exercising the last of his energy reserve, he opened his eyes and sought to communicate with T, the way he did when they first met. Instead, he saw no questioning, no curiosity, no hope. His vision now tunneled down to face the latest threat before him.

He was all too aware that not enough time had elapsed since his friend and brother-in-arms had zatted him. He knew this meant his death, unless he was not one of "most subjects."

With the last few calories of energy draining away, he watched Teal'c switch on the zat, aim it at mid-chest. He faintly heard its electrical whine and the engagement of the triggering mechanism.

Just before the streaming jets of electric death struck him, that would kill him and sever that thread of hope, he thought of Daniel, Carter, the true Teal'c, Sara, Charlie. He steeled himself to fight its ultimate effect; he was determined to be one of the rare survivors of a second zat blast.

Then there were blistering daggers of torment--similar to the zat's first shot, only a gazillion times worse--ripping through him. And there was a sense of hopelessness tagging along that he's never felt with previous zattings. It lasted for hours, or so it seemed to him.

In reality, Colonel Jack O'Neill, USAF, endured this for six seconds before he died.

Teal'c did not lower his weapon until he was positive the slack body of the deceitful Tau'ri no longer drew breath. He turned to face the tableau behind him.

"Retrieve the body and follow me," he ordered brusquely. He turned smartly and marched from the room.

Sam's guard flung her to one side, sending her sailing fast and hard into a part of the bulkhead that jutted out. The right side of her back rammed into the edge. She went down, grimacing and grunting in pain.

Daniel had no better luck with his Jaffa. His guard's parting shot was a heavy fist to the right kidney. Eyes watering, Daniel hunched over and inhaled sharply.

Selmak, still in control of the host body, muffled his cry as the body suffered a bone-crunching stomp to the back from their watchman. He commanded the body to wiggle its toes; he sighed with relief when he could feel them rub against the boots' interior. Spinal cord injuries were very tough to heal, but spinal column injuries weren't. He and Jacob should be up and around fairly quickly. They slipped into a meditative state that was very similar to kel'no'reem.

Sam lay on her back, too stunned with grief and pain to move. Too stunned that their leader, her mentor, was killed by one of his own teammates, by a person she knew the colonel held in highest regard. Too stunned to do more than breathe and wish that breath was his, not hers.

Only Jackson was in a position to watch two of the Jaffa lift Jack's limp body and carry it away. With it went a larger part of his soul than he expected. When the door slid shut, he sighed and whispered, because if he said it out loud, it had to be true: "They had to have brought the sarcophagus onboard. They'll use it on him."

Jack was confused. What was it when you caught glimpses of your seemingly lifeless body being manhandled by a couple of brutish Jaffa, Jacob getting stomped like a cockroach, Daniel hunched over, Carter sprawled out on the deck: pretty much dead? mostly dead? definitely dead but refusing to leave?

Then he heard something--a heavy scraping sound, like concrete across metal. Do dead people hear things? he wondered. Whoa . . . Do dead people think?

Suddenly, there was awareness of a soft, tickle-y, amazingly pleasant feeling and being bathed in . . . whitish light? What the hell is this? As he opened his eyes--hey, I have eyes and they work so I must not be dead, right?--he saw increasing amounts of an insanely ornate ceiling and heard the scraping sound again. It quickly dawned on him where he was.

Aw, crap! Automatically, his fingers groped his belly, as if searching for reassurance that the hole Hathor had created had healed and sealed. But in next instant, he realized that had been years ago, and now, he was in a sarcophagus because he really had died from two closely timed zat blasts.

And Teal'c had been the shooter.

His skin crawled and his heart ached at the memory of Teal'c's expression of vengeful delight as he triggered the second shot. Apophis's hold on him was incredibly strong and had shattered their bond, which had been initially forged under the Goa'uld's immeasurable brutality, all too easily. Sometimes, irony can be way ironic, he thought.

The sarcophagus's lid stopped. Jack realized it was completely open, so he waited a few moments. When no one reached in to pull him out, he cautiously sat up. He looked around the chamber, half of which was taken up by the sarcophagus. The lighting was soft and indirect except for two flickering torches on one wall, giving the room an almost romantic atmosphere.

He shook off that disturbing thought. The only other significant thing in the room was the First Prime of Apophis. He thought it odd that he and Teal'c were the room's only inhabitants. Guess T is feeling a bit confident.

"Hey, Teal'c, whatcha doin'?" He had trouble keeping his tone light.

The Jaffa whirled around to face Jack. "Devising the last few moments of your life, O'Neill."

Jack's eyes widened slightly at seeing the pain stick in one of Teal'c's hands and something that looked like a poker for a fireplace, and a heated poker at that, in the other. "Haven't you done that enough for one day? Any more than once is just . . . overkill."

"Be silent, human. I have spent too many years listening to your meaningless words. That has been torture to my ears, and I wish never to hear a sound from you again, unless it is one of profound suffering. Now leave the sarcophagus."

O'Neill stood up and considered launching himself at Teal'c, but the wily Jaffa kept his distance. By the time Jack could reach him, Teal'c would have zatted or stabbed or whatever at least twice. Instead, he jumped nimbly to the deck.

"Disrobe to your undergarments now, human," Teal'c commanded.

The way Teal'c said "human," in tone way more insulting and disparaging than Bra'tac's really irritated Jack. He didn't show it when he said, "What?"

"Do it, hasshak, or I will have any number of Jaffa gladly do it for you, and willing to make you pay for having to do such a menial task."

Jack gently shook his hands, palms out, toward Teal'c and said testily, "Okay, okay, don't get your . . . pantaloons in a bunch." He stripped to his socks and boxers--Good thing I didn't go commando--and neatly folded his T-shirt and trousers, placing them atop his boots. "Tell the laundry to go easy on the starch, wouldja? You know me and stiff clothes."

Teal'c said nothing, did not move, did not change his expression of loathing and contempt.

That didn't go so well. Okay, there has to be one thing that can reach you. It's just finding the damn thing . . . "So, Teal'c, since I'm standing here mostly naked, could you check the back of my neck?" He pointed to emphasize the location. "See if that scar Hath-whore's snake made is gone? And why doesn't that wound heal without scarring anyway? I mean, you'd think a snake wouldn't want that scar -"

Teal'c, in a fit of rage, dashed to within arm's length of O'Neill and, wielding the pol'tar like a foil, drove it into his freshly healed throat while touching the pain stick to his groin.

The effects of the two weapons trapped him into immobility. Consciousness held onto him for nearly two minutes. Fiery pain choked him as this time Teal'c's assault caused his trachea to rupture. Agony coursed through him from the pain stick, and this time, the light emerged not only from his eyes and mouth, but from his opened throat. And this time, he could think of nothing, so overwhelmed was his brain.

Once unconsciousness took him, death was only moments later.

Teal'c, breathing heavily, stepped away from the body. A near-orgasmic wave rushed through him. With quiet fury, he said, "They are not snakes, Tau'ri. They are children of the gods."

O'Neill's eyes shot open in the same second he realized he was conscious, maybe even physically alive. Quickly determining he was in the sarcophagus again, he stretched out his senses to check on his status.

On my back, right arm beneath. Legs akimbo. Where the hell did I come up with that word? Oh yeah, my email word of the day a few weeks ago. Can't move. Have to wait to check out the family jewels. Neck feels . . . itchy-crawly-scratchy. Kinda my own Itchy & Scratchy Show. Crap! I'm still healing. Did I die this time? Had to. T almost decapitated me, for cryin' out loud.

Teal'c.

He's just the hand of that cowardly, slimy, fuckin' Goa'uld. It's not him.

It's not him.

It's not him.

Is this contraption getting smaller? Shit! Get me the hell out of this damn thing!!

O'Neill, falling back on his special ops training, snatched control before he could escalate to hyperventilation and a full-blown flashback that promised to pull him back into his own personal little black hole outside Mosul. A part of him laughed somberly at how easy it had been. Too goddamn much practice makes perfect, Jack me boy-o.

Now back in firm control, he tested his limbs again. His right arm moved slightly, as did his left leg. The other two limbs weren't following commands yet.

Then he noticed a thrumming throughout his entire body. It was gentle, as if a huge and contented cat had taken up residence inside him. He began to feel better all over, and the pain he hadn't been completely aware of began to dissolve as a tranquilizing, off-white light started to fill the sarcophagus. The thrumming faded, replaced with the tickle-y feeling he had had in his last resuscitation. No wonder Daniel got addicted to this thing. The itchy-and-scratchy sensation at his throat faded as well.

And the top began moving. His gut knotted because he knew what awaited him.

He waited, not moving, until the sarcophagus was fully opened. He waited longer, straining to hear any sound outside his feel-good box.

He smelled Teal'c--musky, primitive, feral--before he saw the Jaffa peer down at him. He never heard him, not even in that clunky, clangy Jaffa uniform, though that didn't surprise him. This was Teal'c, after all. And he stayed just out of O'Neill's reach.

"Get out, human."

"Ah, I don't think so. You're only gonna kill me again and dump me right back in here. Why don't you save yourself the trouble and just kill me right here, right now." He felt almost as defiant as he sounded.

Teal'c shot him a cold, penetrating glare. "You will obey me, or you will suffer more than you can imagine."

T, you have no clue how much it hurts to see you like this, O'Neill thought somberly. "Teal'c, listen to me!" he said with urgent force. "This isn't you! You are a free Jaffa! Apophis has worked some kind of . . . snake voodoo on you! I can't count the number of times you've said it's better to die free than to live as a slave to some Go'uld."

Teal'c sniggered. "Those words were merely part of a simple ruse that you so eagerly and mindlessly embraced. However, you are correct in one thing--I am free. Free to serve my lord god Apophis to the best of my abilities. I willingly devote my life to him."

Jack rolled his eyes. He despised himself for what he was about to say to his friend. It was the lowest blow he could think of, the last one that might possibly shake him up, but he was desperate enough to stomp on his mental Achilles' heel. A momentary jab of acid grief tore at him. "Teal'c, if he really was a god, if you really were his spy, his much-loved First Prime, then why would he have brainwashed your son and sent him on a mission to destroy himself, you, your wife, and everyone else on Earth?"

An infuriated Teal'c yelled, "Aaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!" as he reached in and grabbed the hair on the top of O'Neill's head. He dragged him out of the sarcophagus. He wanted to tear this human apart for having to follow him when he, the greatest First Prime of the greatest god, was a superior leader, for having to pretend friendship to all the Tau'ri and--nauseatingly--the Tokra, and for disrespecting his family.

O'Neill held on to Teal's forearms to keep from having his hair pulled out and to ease the pain. He caught a glimpse of the pain stick in his left hand. Now Teal'c's face was two inches directly across from his, which meant he was at least two inches off the deck. Which meant Teal'c would have a hard time reading his body.

Panting heavily from emotion, the Jaffa said with a vehemence unquestionably aimed at O'Neill and not the Goa'uld, "There was good reason for Apophis's actions, of that I am sure. I was not informed of such because my lord did not deem it necessary to explain himself."

O'Neill schooled his face to show pity, hoping it would enrage Teal'c even more and distract that incredible warrior mind long enough. Keeping his hands and arms rigid, he channeled the rest of his body's energy into his right leg, taking care only to tense those muscles. He raised his knee with the speed and force of someone racing from death. Which he was.

The knee connected hard with the under-protected genitalia of the Jaffa. Teal'c grunted and released his grip on O'Neill's hair and the pain stick. His hands went directly to the abused area as he bent forward and stumbled backward.

Expecting just that reaction, O'Neill was prepared for the short drop to the floor. He landed in a pounce-ready crouch despite the throbbing in his knee and immediately scanned the room for weapons, other Jaffa, and the exit. His right hand searched for and found the pain stick while he noted he and Teal'c were still the only ones present and the exit was behind T. Of course.

He grasped the handle of the pain stick and shot towards Teal'c, who was already recovering after a few seconds. He held the stick out in front of him and closed in.

The First Prime had recovered enough to reach out for the instrument of torture. He twisted to his left so he could grab the stick behind its prongs and rip it from the hand of the annoying, pitiable human.

O'Neill anticipated the reaction and jigged to his right. Just before they came within reach of each other, O'Neill dropped to the deck and executed a pop-up slide. A split second later, he jammed the stick into the underbelly of Teal'c's outstretched upper arm.

Teal'c roared in shameful agony; he had been bested by a mere human. Despite the pain that virtually paralyzed the affected limb, he swung his right arm around, planning on cuffing O'Neill's ear with his fist.

Again, O'Neill had expected that move and--duly impressed but not surprised that Teal'c could move while being pain-sticked--pushed up on his bent knee. He managed to keep the stick in contact with Teal'c arm, even when the Jaffa's fist slammed into his unprotected flank. Jack oofed at the hard contact but kept rising until he head-butted Teal'c's chin. He fought the dizziness the move brought on. He whirled back and to the left to put some distance between him and that hammer of a fist but still maintained the pain stick's contact. Without the distraction of the torture, he knew he didn't stand a chance of overpowering his teammate and escaping.

The light emanating from Teal'c's mouth winked out momentarily as his teeth banged together. One tooth punctured his tongue, and his mouth began to fill with blood. He found this beneficial, as the added pain helped him to focus him better. He spat out the accumulated blood, which sprayed O'Neill's bare chest. As he waited for the opportunity to strike the human's bobbing head--hopefully fatally--he said through clenched teeth in a voice at once both intimate and frosty, "I will not kill you yet, O'Neill. I will keep you alive to watch the deaths of Major Carter and Daniel Jackson many times over, until their hearts and minds are shriveled and dry. Then I will kill you one last time." On the last word, he swung with most of his considerable force.

Jack, while keeping in constant, erratic motion, had set up his next parry to the Jaffa's next thrust. The verbal thrust was ineffective--his disciplined response was not to respond at all, because he couldn't allow threats to touch his emotions. Now, as he faced the physical thrust, he brought up his left leg and centered it where it would do the most damage just as Teal'c leaned into his swing. He cried out as the flat of his foot, which he felt break in several places, crashed through layers of armor and chainmail and into Teal'c's symbiote pouch. He barely noticed the solid punch to his chin. He dropped the pain stick.

Teal'c howled and staggered back, first one hand and then the other grabbing O'Neill by the ankle and dragging him along. O'Neill's arms pinwheeled in an effort to keep himself upright. The larval Goa'uld was hugely agitated and fed its host a extra burst of adrenaline. The Jaffa pushed with all his might.

Jack went flying backwards at a speed he didn't believe possible without a hand device. His flight came to an abrupt and rude ending when the small of his back caught the edge of the sarcophagus. He crumbled to the floor in a heap. Consciousness began to leave him, but he fought back. He had to act now, with T at his most vulnerable.

And vulnerable he was. The Goa'uld had sustained an injury and the pouch had ripped at one of its points. Teal'c was on the deck, his hands over the pouch, unable to shout, almost unable to breathe. At that moment, however, he could think of nothing but snapping the Tau'ri's neck.

Between his foot injury and whatever had happened to his back, O'Neill had to crawl to Teal'c because T had the only zat gun in the room strapped to his hip. As long as there was an outside chance Daniel was right… Slowly, he elbowed his way across the few yards to Teal'c.

Two excruciating minutes later, the zat was within his reach. He clawed it off and as he pushed back a couple of feet, he said in a hush, "Sorry about this, big guy. But if Daniel's right about this, you'll thank me for it later."

The sound of zat fire crackled in the air dank from battle sweat. O'Neill convulsed in fits and starts, pain shooting through him relentlessly until he passed out.

The Jaffa, who had entered the chamber undetected by both Teal'c and O'Neill, called for help. Within minutes, Apophis's beloved First Prime was in the sarcophagus. Immediately after that, two Jaffa carried him from the chamber to another room to ready the unconscious human for his punishment at the hands of the great Jaffa he had injured.

O'Neill's return to awareness was sudden and painful. He was pretty sure the rude awakening was due to a prod to his navel with the hot poker-thingy that Teal'c had used earlier to practically take his head off. The fiery pain lanced through to his back, where it spread out from there. He inhaled audibly.

"Human."

Jack said nothing in response to Teal'c. Instead, he used his energy to determine his position--which was familiar but certainly not welcome in the least.

Someone--likely the Jaffa who had zatted him, along with some help--had strung him up by his wrists. His arms were splayed out and up at an angle to maximize the misery in his shoulders and his toes touched the deck with enough pressure to remind him his foot was all too broken.

A short jab with the pain stick got his attention. He opened his eyes to see Teal'c before him. He could see nothing but concentrated hate in those dark brown eyes. "Hey, Teal'c. What's next, buddy? I'm so tired of this vicious but surprisingly melancholic cycle of torture, death, and resurrection we just can't seem to get out of . . . How about we let Apophis have a turn at dying, eh? He's done it so well in the past. Twice, remember? Then we'll order pizza--AAUUGGHH!"

Teal'c held the pol'tar to Jack's chest, right over his heart, until it had burned through to bone. "Silence, Tau'ri slave. You will acknowledge Apophis as your god and learn obedience or you will die."

O'Neill, panting, said in short, pained spurts through gritted teeth, "Not gonna happen, Teal'c. Ever. So go ahead, kill me."

The Jaffa smirked. "As you wish." He turned away to set aside the pol'tar and the pain stick, revealing Apophis sitting in an elaborately adorned chair. Then he grasped the handle of a barbed whip and proceeded to uncoil and crack it with one flick of the wrist.

Jack stiffened involuntarily. It was obvious Teal'c was a pro at this and would spare him nothing. He started controlling his thoughts in preparation for the inevitable. Only this time, it would be much worse. This time, his friend, however enslaved to Apophis, was doing this.

With incredible speed and accuracy, Teal'c swept the whip across O'Neill's abdomen twice and left behind an X deeply etched into his skin. An ominous laugh bubbled up from his own belly when he saw the pained and loathsome expression on his victim's face. "Do not worry, Tau'ri, for you will not carry a Goa'uld there. You will receive my mature symbiote, who will make every moment of your puny life as miserable as you have made mine for all these past years."

O'Neill resisted the urge to vomit, despite the swift rise of bile to his mouth. He now realized that zatting him wouldn't have worked. Apophis's hold was far too strong. For the first time, Jack had to admit that Teal'c was very likely lost to him forever, and that tormented him more than he had ever imagined.

Grinning widely, Teal'c strolled around to stand behind O'Neill. "The scars from your previous experiences with the human equivalent of the ro'laan have faded considerably, Tau'ri. You undoubtedly committed a severe transgression at that time, as you have now."

He turned to the two Jaffa standing several paces behind him. He nodded to them. They ran around him and promptly pulled down and off O'Neill's shorts and socks.

As if whipping him to death wasn't enough, Teal'c had to add humiliation. But he wouldn't let that psychological gambit work. "Gah!" he cried out unintentionally as the left sock came off.

Each lash stung more with the salt from his sweat. On occasion, the whip, or ro'laan as Teal'c had called it, snaked itself around him, or the tip nicked the tender flesh of his groin. Yet he kept his defiant stare on Apophis, and he repeated over and over to himself, as if his brain was an old vinyl record stuck in a scratched groove, It's not Teal'c, it's Apophis.

Teal'c considered each tear in the human's flesh to be a tiny installment in payment for the wrong O'Neill had done to Apophis. And the debt was great. He was only too happy to serve as the collector. He swung and flicked and snapped the ro'laan tirelessly, ruthlessly.

Jack thought about that old Chinese torture, Ling chi. Teal'c was truly an expert at this, and only let the lash cut so deep. So he would die a death of a thousand cuts at his friend's hands, though he suspected death would come well before the thousandth cut. He tucked the physical pain away, though with each stroke, it became more difficult, as did his ability to derive a level of comfort from his not-Teal'c mantra. But he easily maintained his stare at Apophis, who looked back at him with victorious arrogance. Out of nowhere, he found the energy to mouth a fervent Fuck you.

Apophis approached O'Neill, which caused Teal'c to stop. "Continue," he ordered.

Teal'c bowed his head and said, "Yes, my lord." He resumed, his next lash across O'Neill's calves.

Apophis raised the hand that wore the ribbon device. "Your impudence does not serve you well, O'Neill," he said conversationally. The jewel glowed simultaneously with Apophis's eyes. The pale yellow streams hit Jack's forehead.

Every neuron in Jack's brain seized, sending magnificently harsh rockets of anguished suffering through his body. The mantra slowed, then vanished, as the ribboning continued over several eternal minutes. Eventually, his mind began mumbling to itself, its last coherent thought that at least this time, he had made ol' snakehead, not Teal'c, do the deed, and then it vanished as well.

Consciousness did not return for O'Neill until the sarcophagus cover was nearly open. Third time's the fucking charm. This go-round he sensed nothing but the light and the feeling of being . . . discombobulated, disconnected somehow. There was no pain; in fact, he felt great, albeit a little sleepy. But he couldn't help feeling like there was a loose spark plug rattling around, not quite firing up to full capacity.

He derailed that train of thought once he remembered he was stark naked, clothed only in crusted blood. He swore under his breath at Teal'c. For O'Neill, this was psychological warfare for the private man he was and for a soldier who'd had to employ this tactic on others. Aw, crap, Jack. The worst thing about this whole clusterfuck is what's happened to T. So get over yourself.

He shrugged, his skin crinkling with dried blood. He couldn't think anymore; new ideas on how to reach Teal'c just weren't going to happen. He was hungry--obviously something the sarcophagus didn't affect. And he had a new sense of unease that defied definition. It was just that he knew something was wrong, and it wasn't with him. Plus, his need for real sleep--not the sleep-of-the-dead-coming-back-to-life--seemed to be growing exponentially.

Before he could commit to sleep, he heard the door to the chamber open, followed by the metallic racket of at least two, probably three, Jaffa in full armor. Moments later, two Jaffa hauled him from the sarcophagus none too gently. They landed him on his feet and kept him wedged between them in addition to holding his upper arms in their vise-like grips.

And facing a hostile Teal'c with a primed staff weapon.

Depet reshwet here, eh, Teal'c? O'Neill thought wearily. He coughed mildly, the Goa'uld words in his head seeming to stick in his throat. "Hey, T, you mind telling these . . . bruisers"--he thought it best at this time not to call them "snakeholders"--"not to get so close? I'm chafing from their armor."

"Silence!" Teal'c shouted.

O'Neill shot him a frustrated look.

Quickly, Teal'c changed from antagonism to smugness. "They are the ones truly harmed by close proximity to you, human. You reek of death and fear and cowardice, and that offends them. You will wash, then return to the dregs of the former SG-1 until my lord Apophis commands you to do otherwise."

"Like that's my fault," Jack muttered sarcastically as they marched him, still sandwiched between them, out of the sarcophagus chamber, with Teal'c on their six. Though he would never say it out loud, he was relieved to get the chance to wash up. He could smell himself, and the blood was a harsh reminder of Teal'c's performance with the whip.

They entered the next room, smaller than the one they'd just left, but just as opulent and gold-gaudy as the other. It was something akin to a dressing room, but with a few extra amenities, such as a sunken tub of yellow-veined white marble large enough to seat two comfortably and more than that intimately off to the right.

The Jaffa, who O'Neill dubbed Fric and Frac, led him directly to the tub.

"Stand in there," ordered Teal'c.

The Jaffa holding him prisoner shoved him into the bath. He stumbled, stubbed a toe--"Ow!"--but kept himself upright. "Okay, if I can't sit down, where's the showerhead?"

Teal'c said, "Kree!" to the other Jaffa. They jogged over to the nearest corner, where they picked up two five-gallon barrels. They returned to the tub's edge, one stationing himself in front of the prisoner, the other in back.

Jack spread his arms out slightly. "Oh, Teal'c, come -"

His plea was cut short by ten gallons of water hitting him all at once. The force stung him, but the cold was worse. But he was thankful that somehow they had missed his head, or he'd be choking on the water and even fending off larynospasm. He stood shivering and rubbing himself both to get warm and to get the coating of blood off. "Hell, Teal'c, you coulda at least breathed on the water for a few minutes to warm it up! And the shrinkage . . . well, just remember this is a temporary mini-version of the real me."

Teal'c's guffaw gushed with superiority and arrogance. "All of you is small, Tau'ri."

"I resent that, Teal'c. You're only about an inch taller than me." O'Neill continued to scrub with just his hands and watched the water at his feet turn darker pink by the minute. He decided that maybe he wouldn't wash his face.

"And much smarter, stronger, and faster than you, weakling. I restrained myself only at the direction of my lord, as he did not desire for you to know the full capability of his Jaffa." Teal'c paused to enjoy the sight of the weakling human standing naked and vulnerable as he washed off the remnants of his latest death. He curbed a sudden yearning to torture and kill him again. There is time for him to atone for his sins against my lord and against me. Many times over. "Enough!"

O'Neill sighed, looking forward to being reunited with Daniel, Carter, and Jacob yet dreading it because they would insist on knowing what had happened in all the time they'd been separated and he wouldn't--couldn't for so many reasons--tell them anything. More goddamned secrets. Shivering, he trudged up the steps to the edge of the bath. "Well?" he challenged Teal'c.

Teal'c made the staff weapon, which he had kept unwaveringly trained on O'Neill since he had been extricated from the sarcophagus, jump with potentially lethal energy. "Jaffa!"

One of them, the one he had christened Fric, threw a large rectangular piece of pebbly fabric at him. It wasn't terry cloth, but it was fairly absorbent, and the rough texture helped to get the rest of the blood off. He toweled off quickly and tossed it back before remembering he still hadn't washed his face. He dared not ask for it back; he was too tired to handle any more painful consequences just for the chance to scrub his face. Pick your battles, flyboy. You'll get the chance to snap their freakin' necks soon enough. He looked around for Fric's companion.

Frac was standing several yards away, next to a golden table O'Neill recognized as reminiscent of Ancient Greek design. On it were his clothes and boots. He was already taking his first step toward it when Teal'c called out, "Kree!" He didn't say anything, not willing to risk delay in getting dressed by even a second. In less than two minutes, he was fully clothed, warmer, and strapping on his watch.

Without taking his eyes or his staff weapon off O'Neill, Teal'c growled, "Jaffa. Go and do your master's bidding. I will return the tar to his prison."

Each of them gave Teal'c a short bow at the waist before leaving. "Move, O'Neill, or feel my wrath in your chest." Again he revved his staff.

O'Neill walked several paces ahead of the primed weapon Teal'c had aimed at his back. Even though it was just the two of them now, he knew better than to try anything, with that much distance between him and the weapon. Besides, he was a little tired of dying. And he wasn't sure Teal'c would actually put him in the sarcophagus again, his hostility being so over the top.

He stopped at the door to SG-1's holding cell and looked over his shoulder at his friend--or at least the shell of his friend. When Teal'c didn't move forward, O'Neill said, "Well, either you open this door or you gotta tell me the code."

After several seconds, Teal'c gave Jack the code, who keyed it in.

Teal'c brutishly shoved Jack into the room. Expecting such treatment, Jack easily managed to keep his feet. A quick glance around ensured him that his fellow prisoners were apparently okay, and looked pleasantly surprised to see him. That they were slow to stand, especially Carter, worried him. Carter should have been on her feet and ready to act within a second of the door starting to slide open.

"Hey, kids. Miss me?" he said flatly as he gave them a half-circle wave. Slowly, he turned to face Teal'c.

"As enemies of Apophis, you are my enemies. Speak with O'Neill if you wish to know what awaits you." Teal'c brought his weapon upright before pressing the buttons to close the door.

O'Neill stood there, with his fingers picking at his trousers, and stared at the closed door for several breaths. He shook his head a few times, then faced his team and Jacob again. "Everybody okay?"

"Yes, sir," said Sam. She was finally standing erect, though a bit shaky and mostly able to mask her slowly diminishing discomfort and her elation at having him back and apparently unharmed. Regardless, her smile couldn't get any bigger.

Daniel, smiled broadly and restrained himself from bear-hugging Jack, and Jacob nodded without speaking. Daniel, however, studying Jack closely, perceived that something wasn't quite right. He wondered if this was the result of the sarcophagus or something else…

"How are you, sir?" Sam asked evenly.

There was a heartbeat of a pause before O'Neill replied, "The knees, the back . . ." He looked directly at Jacob. "Speaking of backs . . . Jacob?"

All three regarded Jack with amazement. How could he have known about Jacob's back unless he had survived the second shot?

"Uh . . . uh," Jacob stammered, "Selmak took care of it."

"Good." Suddenly, O'Neill felt the need to sit. And to sleep. Preferably in that order.

Jackson moved closer to him, continuing to scrutinize him, brow furrowed.

"What?" Jack asked irritably.

"It's good to see you, Jack. We thought you were dead." No, it's great, actually, but I can't exactly tell you that right now, can I? After a pregnant pause, he continued, "What did Teal'c mean, about what awaits us? And I don't suppose you wanna talk about what happened either."

"Déjà view, Daniel. And no, not really. Again." This time O'Neill spoke and glared at him with barely controlled, bitter anger.

Jackson took a step back. "Uh, didn't think so," he said, subdued.

Sam caught herself staring at the colonel, more curious than ever about what had happened in his time away that would make him so snarly. Wisely, she decided not to pursue it further either. She looked away quickly, to her father, who tilted his head to one side and raised and lowered an eyebrow.

O'Neill cleared his throat. "Let's get some rest. Daniel, take first watch." Staking out the nearest space to the door, he backed up against the bulkhead and slid down it. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes, wordlessly proclaiming that he'd said all had to say about . . . his time with their psychopath teammate, or anything else for that matter.

But he didn't sleep, or even rest. To try to leave the last stretch of torture and death behind, he started playing James Morris singing Wotan in his head. But that lasted only a few bars. Thoughts of Teal'c and what he'd done kept intruding. He could feel sweat gather in his armpits and in the small of his back. So, he tried something else. He began running possible scenarios on how to take over the ship, even if it meant taking out Teal'c and shoving him in the sarcophagus and killing Apophis--again.

Though there was plenty of room to spread out in their prison, none of them could stand the thought of being any farther from O'Neill than necessary. Daniel chose to sit against the wall, too, close to Jack. Jacob and Sam sat cross-legged opposite them.