Complete
Drama, Romance
Daniel/other
Spoilers for Meridian
Season 6
G
Disclaimers:
Stargate Sg-1 and its characters are the property of
Stargate (II) Productions, Showtime/Viacom, The SciFi Channel, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions,
and Gekko Productions. The character of Ayesha, the Amahagger tribe and the lost
city of Kôr were created by H. Rider Haggard. This story is written purely for
my own entertainment, and that of anyone else who may happen to read it. No
infringement of copyright is intended. It is not intended and should never be
used for commercial purposes.
The original characters, situations and ideas
contained within this work are the property of the author.
Epilogue to King Solomon's
Naquadah Mines.
This fic is set post-Meridian,
and deals with the fall-out of the events of that episode. If you have a problem
with this, please feel free not to read the fiction, but don't complain to me
because I really won't care.
Acknowledgements:
As always, all the thanks there are to my beta reader Sho.
The Prophet, 21st August 2002
Sam Carter was enjoying a quiet moment, away from everything. There were not many places where she could do that anymore, since every time she tried to get away her team-mates would worry and try to cheer her up. That was nice, and it usually worked, but every now and then she just felt the need to get away from everything, and that was why she came here. It was a pleasant spot, despite its sad connections, but more importantly, Jack and Teal'c never liked visiting it.
Eventually someone would come by, and the moment would end with the sound of their feet or their lowered voice, but this time it was not a sound that told Sam her solitude was over, but rather a feeling almost akin to nausea. "Dad?" She asked, warily.
"I've been called a lot of things in my time, but I have to admit, that isn't one of them."
Sam settled her nerves, and slid along the bench to make room for the new arrival.
"Thanks," Nefera said, accepting the offered seat. She was dressed in a black t-shirt, red silk blouse, and a colourful sarong that showed off her legs to good effect.
"You look nice," Sam said, affably, although she could not help thinking that it was not quite appropriate attire for the setting. However, she was not sure what the correct etiquette was when accosted by someone who, through no fault of one's own, was sworn to serve one in the capacity of elite assassin, so she refrained from further sartorial comment.
"Thanks," Nefera said, studying her hands closely, looking almost as awkward as Sam felt. "I thought…you know, I'd dress up a bit, make an impression. See if I couldn't get Daniel to sit up and take notice." She laughed, her voice cracking slightly as she did so. "It seems I fell a little short of the mark."
"Make…" Sam broke off, shocked. "You didn't know?"
"How would I?" Nefera asked, and Sam noticed a slight catch in her voice, somewhere between desolate grief and resentful anger. "It's not like it made the six o'clock."
"So you came down here to…to see him?"
Nefera nodded, and finally looked up at Daniel's gravestone. "His landlady – ex-landlady – told me where to find him. She was ever so sweet about it," she added, wistfully.
"God. I'm sorry," Sam said. "I never even thought…" She choked back a sob of her own, remembering Daniel's final hours. "It was hard on us all; none of us could really get our heads around what was happening. I think it was almost a week before we realised no one had gone to tell his grandfather."
"You don't have to make excuses," Nefera assured her. "You lost a friend; why would you think to let a Goa'uld assassin know?"
"Because I knew how you felt about him?" Sam offered.
"How can you know?" Nefera asked. "I don't know. That's…that's what I came here to try and work out."
Sam reached out and took Nefera's hand. "I saw your face when you thought Jack had murdered him. I saw you when you broke Ayesha's control to try and kill Jack." She smiled a sad smile. "Come on, Nefera; it's not rocket science."
"Rocket science I can deal with," Nefera told her, sullenly. "But this?
"I didn't even know that Goa'uld could love," Sam admitted.
Nefera frowned. "Of course they can," she said. "Didn't Jolinar love Lantash? And don't tell me she wasn't Goa'uld, because you know better. Anyway, do you think that Amaunet didn't really love Apophis?"
"Well, I…"
"They were together for millennia," Nefera told her. "Compared to them, every relationship in the history of your race has been a passing fling."
"I'm sorry," Sam said. "I suppose I just…"
"You just don't like to think of those you consider evil having real feelings," Nefera accused. "Especially not 'good' feelings. You're okay with the idea that a System Lord might get off on torturing some poor innocent, but not that they could have any 'positive' emotions."
Sam bit back a retort, realising that Nefera probably had a point.
"I don't know why the Tau'ri are so enamoured with 'love' anyway. I mean, if I am…was in love with Daniel, I can state for the record that it sucks. Sure, every now and then there's the overwhelming happiness, but the come down's a bitch."
"I'm sorry you feel that way," Sam said, honestly.
"And it's not like love makes you do 'good' things," Nefera went on, apparently only just hitting her stride. "My host murdered her husband, two infant children and a luckless girl for love. Maybe a quarter of the people I killed, I killed because Amaunet over-reacted to protect Apophis, out of love. Wars have started over love," she said, becoming more and more agitated. "People die every day because of it."
"Nefera…"
The Ashrak turned to her Mistress with desolate eyes. "And it hurts so much," she whispered.
"I'm sorry," Sam said, gently.
"All my life, people have looked at me and seen a servant, or a threat," Nefera told her. "There was one person – just one – in this entire bloody galaxy, and in my entire life, who looked at me as…as a friend," she choked out. "It felt so good just being around him, but then he pushed me away and it ripped me up inside. Now he's gone forever and I feel like I should be angry at someone, but instead everything just hurts, and hurts until I can barely breathe.
"How can you think something that hurts this way is good?" She demanded.
"It doesn't always feel bad," Sam said, but without conviction. It was not as if her love-life had been a source of unending bliss either.
Nefera's voice quavered. "Did…did he ever even know how I felt?" She asked.
"I don't know," Sam replied. "Jack told him about you trying to kill him, but I don't think either of them ever really knew why. I…never found the words to tell him. I wasn't sure it was my place."
Nefera nodded. "Did he…" She stopped, unable to go on.
"He liked you," Sam said, knowing what Nefera wanted to ask, but unable to tell her what she wanted to hear. "I don't think he knew why, and I don't think he really wanted to like you; he just did. He knew it was stupid, but he trusted you too."
Nefera smiled through her unshed tears.
"That's important, isn't it?" Sam asked.
Nefera nodded. "My whole purpose in life is to serve," she said. "It's all I was taught to do; ever. Do you know what my greatest pleasure in life used to be?"
"Killing?" Sam hazarded, since that was the only thing that she knew Nefera had done in her past life.
"No," Nefera replied, although apparently not offended. "And it wasn't when my mistress, Amaunet, would congratulate me on a job well done, either. It was when she would assign me a task in the first place." Nefera grew nostalgic. "She would summon me, and say: 'Mafdet' – which is my name, although please keep on using Nefera, I prefer it these days – 'Mafdet, I have something that I need you to do for me. It's too important to trust to my regular agents.' That bit always moved me; that bitch always knew which buttons to press."
Sam was startled by the venom in Nefera's voice. "You didn't like her?"
"I adored her once," Nefera replied. "But that comes later.
"After she told me what needed to be done," she continued. "Usually, who needed to be killed, she'd say: 'You will not fail me, will you?' And I would reply: 'I am thine Ashrak', and that was enough. I didn't need to swear oaths or make promises, that one phrase told her that I would never stop, never quit until the task was complete, or I was dead."
Nefera's face clouded with age-old pain. "But then, one day, I was almost caught by my target, because I had been betrayed, under torture, by another of Amaunet's agents, sent in just in case I failed. I'd always known that Amaunet liked to hedge her bets, I'd even been the fallback operative on a number of missions, but I never thought she would have sent someone to cover my failure."
"You were supposed to be her best," Sam realised.
Nefera nodded. "So why send a lesser servant in after me? Unless she thought that there was a risk I would betray her."
"You are a Goa'uld," Sam pointed out.
"I am. But I am also Ashrak," Nefera insisted. "I was chosen, raised, trained and conditioned to be absolutely trustworthy. I existed to serve, and I took pleasure in knowing that she relied on and trusted me, but from then on I knew that she did not. After that, every time she asked: 'You will not fail me, will you?' I heard a threat. There was no pleasure there any more, because there was no trust. I hated her so much."
"Why did you stay with her?"
"I was her Ashrak," Nefera said, as though it were obvious. "And an Ashrak never turns. I really don't think our Masters understand that," she added. "Otherwise Ayesha would not have believed that I would kill you, then swear to her; not even under the influence of her power. She would have known that I would die myself before letting you come to harm."
Sam shivered, still uncomfortable with the thought of anyone being prepared to serve her so unquestioningly.
"If you needed me, you'd call, right?" Nefera asked.
"I would," Sam assured her, without hesitation. Before today I wouldn't have, she realised. But now…
"I want to give you something," Nefera said. "I brought it for Daniel, but I want you to have it now." She reached into her bag, and brought out a hardback book. It was a science fiction novel called Maid of the Knife, written by Ashley Steele.
"I…don't know what to say," Sam said, honestly.
Nefera smiled, wanly. "Ash Steele is my nom de plume," she explained. "This is – kind of – my autobiography; sort of 'James Bond' meets 'La Femme Nikita'. In space."
Sam looked at the back cover, and read that Ashley Steele – a bottle-blonde Nefera, looking fetchingly predatory in a leather catsuit – was born in Montreal, and spent six years as a lawyer before becoming a writer. "A lawyer?" Sam asked.
"It was the nearest I could think of to ruthless killer," Nefera told her. She gave a short laugh. "That sounded so much funnier when I thought it up."
Sam opened the book and saw that it was signed. The inscription was to Daniel, and she could not help smiling. "Daniel would have turned bright red if you showed him this," she told Nefera.
Nefera shrugged. "It's honest," she said, standing up. "You'll let me know if you like it? The book, not the inscription."
"Sure," Sam agreed, watching as the assassin walked over and place a bread roll and a bottle of beer on Daniel's grave. "Um…what are you doing?"
"Offerings for the departed," Nefera told her. "I notice none of you have been leaving him anything, so he's probably getting hungry by now," she added with a smile.
"Is that a Goa'uld tradition?"
Nefera shook her head. "The Goa'uld prefer to forget their dead," she said. "They don't like reminders of their own mortality. This is an Abydonian custom."
Sam nodded. "He'd have liked that," she agreed. "So; are you going now?"
"Nothing much to hang around for," Nefera answered with a shrug. "I mean, I could sit here and be miserable, but I can do that at home and it's warmer there."
"Are you sure you'll be okay?"
"No," Nefera admitted. "But then again, is anyone?"
Sam stood, and hugged Nefera, who returned the gesture a little awkwardly. "Take care of yourself," Sam said.
"I always do," Nefera promised. "Be well, Mistress." She turned and walked away.
Sam watched the Ashrak go, then gathered her things to leave as well. The solitude had been broken, and that was always her cue to go. Just before she walked away, the wind ruffled Sam's hair. She turned back to the empty grave, and saw to her amazement that the bottle of beer was open and half drunk, and two large bites were gone from the bread.
"Goodbye, Daniel," she said, smiling.