He had been running for what seemed like hours.

Dodging the ever-present guards, Daniel had found himself going deeper and deeper into the heart of the palace, to rooms that he had never thought might exist. He knew they were the personal chambers of those who held Ra's favour, their ornateness reflecting the position of the occupant in the hierarchy that was the court of Ra.

Even as he hurried along the corridor, searching for somewhere safe that he could rest, to recoup his strength, his mind busily catalogued the hieroglyphs that covered every available wall. They were a constant source of fascination to him - that had always been the case ever since he was a small child, coaxing the forbidden knowledge from whoever he could persuade to share it with him.

And so it was that he had discovered the truth about Ra - the truth that now made him a hunted animal.

Not that I was much better off before, Daniel thought, angrily. I was lower than an animal to Ra and his servants even before I learned to read their script.

He could still feel the bruises that marked his back, turning livid purple now, causing an ache to run through him with every movement. His head ached from the blows he had received, and every so often the walls of the corridors through which he travelled began to sway slightly, mute testimony to the pain that throbbed mercilessly behind his temples.

Must find somewhere to hide, he thought, with a growing sense of desperation. Somewhere safe...

Where did it all go wrong? O'Neill thought.

He was seated in the lotus position on the silk-covered bed in his room, performing the rite of kel no reem. Even as he sat there in the semi-darkness, illuminated by the flickering light of candles, his mind was racing.

What was this uncertainty he was feeling?

His eyes opened, as if of their own accord, and lazily traced the hieroglyphs of rank that marked the doorway of his apartment. There, for all the world to see, not that many were allowed this deep into the heart of the building, were the things he had achieved through a lifetime of work and service.

And suddenly, over the past few days, it was no longer enough.

O'Neill closed his eyes once more, trying to concentrate on the rite that had always worked to centre him before. He knew the danger of his seditious thoughts - the penalty of any betrayal was death and dishonour, but that did not stop the unsettled feeling that had haunted him for longer than he cared to remember.

It had all been quite enough for such a long time - the power, the influence. When he had been a young man, first having taken on the role of First Prime to Ra, he had found a dark enjoyment in the fear that he had seen so clearly etched on the faces of those brought before him. It had sent a frisson through him, making him more ruthless with them than necessary, as if that were needed to mark his superiority over them as they squirmed before him.

Ra had always been distant, so that had not changed - was it his imagination, or did his master seem a little troubled these days? O'Neill frowned at the thought. If that were the case, then why did he not share his concerns with those who were closest to him?

The boots of the guards echoed dully in the hallway as Daniel hurried along. The sound seemed to be growing closer, and he could feel fear rising within him like a hand that threatened to choke his very breath. Wherever he looked, there seemed to be nowhere to hide.

As he reached a junction, corridors leading away to the left and right, his head began to pound once more, louder and louder as the footsteps of the pursuing guards were closing in as well.

Which way now?

There seemed to be no difference between the two, and he chose one, blindly scurrying down it, until he turned a corner and gazed in horror at what he found there. It was a dead end - the only break in the expanse of wall that faced him was an ornate doorway covered with a sheer hanging, which glistened gold in the candlelight.

The guards were coming nearer, so near now that Daniel could almost feel the ground echo under their boots, and he was forced into a decision. Taking a deep breath to steady his shaking hand, he reached out to slide his hand past the edge of the hanging, waiting for an exclamation as he pulled it to one side.

Inside, the room was in partial darkness, illuminated by the flickering of candles.

For a moment, the stillness of the room led Daniel to believe it was empty, before his eye fell upon the man who sat cross-legged on the bed which dominated one corner. He was stiller than a statue, so still that his shallow breathing could hardly be seen from the doorway.

Daniel hesitated, unsure of what to do, when a voice calling out from behind him, echoing down the corridor, made his mind up.

Hastily, he slipped into the room, moving silently across the stone floor. One eye was on the man who sat so still nearby, but he did not move - Daniel had seen a Jaffa in meditation once before, many years ago, and he remembered how even a dropped dish had not made the man jump, so deeply had he been in his trance. All he could hope was that the same was true here.

Looking round in the flickering light, Daniel realised that there was only one place that he could hide himself, behind an ornately carved chest that stood by the furthest wall. Sucking in a breath, he squeezed himself between the chest and the wall, his ears straining for the approach of the guards.

For a moment there was silence, punctuated only by the over-loud sounds of Daniel's heart pounding. To him, as he lay there, squashed against the wall, his breathing sounded thunderous, and he was certain that they would find him easily.

He heard the muttered conversation of the guards as they reached the doorway - it took a moment before one of them entered the room, and Daniel could hear the hesitation in the man's voice as he spoke.

"I am sorry to disturb you, my lord..." he began, his voice shaking a little. "We are seeking a fugitive from our god's justice..."

"There is no-one here but myself," a voice replied, calm and controlled.

"But, my lord," the guard protested, "he must have come this way..."

"Get out!" the other voice snapped, authority lacing the words with steel.

The guard mumbled an apology - the words were not loud enough for Daniel to hear, but the tone was clear enough. A few moments later, silence fell again, as the footsteps of the guards echoed off down the corridor.

Now what? Daniel thought, not daring to relax. I suppose I'll have to stay here until whoever this chamber belongs to leaves, and then...

"Come out," the voice said, shattering Daniel's thoughts with those simple words.

Daniel froze, the breath caught in his throat for a moment before he realised that his position there was known, and that he had no choice in the matter now. But why had the other man lied to the guards, saying he was alone?

As he carefully crawled out of what had been his hiding place, Daniel's mind was whirling, thoughts of flight and possible excuses he might make warring for supremacy.

It was lighter in the chamber now, the light of the candles enhanced by the glow of larger lamps that hung from two of the walls. The light glanced from the decorations, sparking from the rich gilding, every hieroglyph seeming to dazzle him with its inherent knowledge.

It was with some pain that Daniel got to his feet - the long run, combined with the beating he had received before his escape, had not been helped by the recent contortions necessary to try and hide. His head spun as he stood, and he blinked at the man who stood before him, the man who had lied for him.

His eyes slid past the gold emblem on the man's forehead, past the brown eyes that gazed down at him, locking onto the glyphs that marked the owner of this chamber as...

No! Daniel thought. How could I have been so unlucky?

With an effort he forced himself to look at the man rather than the surroundings, slumping his shoulders a little and looking down once his eyes met those of the other man, in a show of deference.

"Who are you?"

O'Neill studied the man as he crawled from his makeshift hiding place, his experienced eye noting the way the man wavered slightly as he stood, doubtless favouring the result of a beating in the recent past.

Why had he lied to the guards? The man who stood before him was someone he had never seen before - another day he would have cheerfully thrown the younger man to the wolves, caring nothing for what fate might await him.

But not today. Something had made him lie, had made him empathise with the plight this fugitive faced, and he had reacted without a further thought.

As he watched the man, noting the clear blue of his eyes, he saw them almost imperceptibly widen as they took in the glyphs above his door and it was then that O'Neill realised what the young man's crime must be.

"Who are you?" he asked, watching the show of deference that the younger man was making with some amusement. He had seen eyes like those before, full of intelligence and defiance, and no matter how the other man might dissemble, he knew the act for what it was - a means of survival.

Daniel saw that the First Prime of Ra was unconvinced by his show of deference. The man watched Daniel with amusement in his eyes.

Was that why he'd not told the guards? He wanted to keep Daniel for his own pleasure? Rumours about the preferences of the First Prime were rife, and Daniel had no desire to learn whether or not they were true.

The look on the First Prime's face was changing to impatience; obviously not a man used to waiting for a response to anything. Daniel knew his life was in his hands. How much blood had he shed in his service to Ra? What was another insignificant slave added to the list?

Swallowing hard, Daniel answered, "Daniel, sire." He kept his voice even and respectful. However unconvinced the man was by Daniel's stance, he felt there was no need to antagonise him. The tales of this man's cruelty spread far and wide.

The First Prime walked towards Daniel , experienced eyes measuring and calculating his appearance. He was seemingly unimpressed by what he saw.

"So why are you running? What crime against your god have you committed?" The voice was soft but cold, edged with command.

Without thinking Daniel blurted out a response. "He's not a god."

The words hung between them, and Daniel waited for death. The First Prime moved as if to hit him, but stopped and took Daniel's chin in his hand and hissed, "You deserve to die for such blasphemy."

The statement fell cold into the air between them, and Daniel wondered why he was still alive. Tired, scared and aching he just wanted this to be over.If this was the end then why was the man waiting?

"Then do it."

The man looked surprised at his defiance and apparent lack of fear. "In a hurry to die?"

"No, but you seem in a hurry to kill me."

Daniel heard his voice say the words, and was amazed at his own bravery. He had nothing left to lose. His realisation had given him strength. The First Prime of Ra, moved away from him with something new in his eyes. Respect, or maybe a sense that whatever decision he made now could change his life forever.

"Give me a reason why I shouldn't just hand you over to my guards, or simply kill you here?"

Daniel took a chance, "You have your own doubts or I would be dead already."

O'Neill looked at the young man before him and saw truth in his eyes. Was this what Ra was; so afraid of? His secret being exposed? Little things that he had dismissed as imagination, or ignored because they didn't fit into his life seemed to take on new meaning. He had a choice; he could kill this man now and continue with his life undisturbed, or he could find out just what he knew. Times were changing, and did O'Neill really want to be on the losing side? Why waste the rest of his life on a false belief?

Doubts or no doubts, there was no way he was going to let this slave get away with his presumption. He raised his hand and sent the man flying into a heap on the floor. Standing over the dazed man he hissed at him, "Well now you're here. I might as well listen. Talk fast, slave."

He stood back and waited as the other man struggled to his feet. Daniel wavered but managed to keep his balance.

Daniel wondered how much more of this he could take. His vision was blurry and he could hardly stand, but he knew he had to keep focused or he'd die here. He took a deep breath and began to talk.

"My Lord. I learned to read the hieroglyphs." He saw the anger flash in the older man's eyes and steeled himself for another blow, but none came and so he continued. "Some tell of a time before Ra, when we were a free people who lived off the land. We lived as we pleased, married whom we loved. We raised families as we wished. We died old and grey. We lived for ourselves. We were not a rich people but we were a happy one. We had a sense of who we were, and what we wanted.

"We weren't killed or tortured at the whim of one so-called god".

"We belonged to ourselves and to each other. Knowledge was freely given and shared. Loyalty was something we gave to those who were deserving, and we received it in our turn, if we were deserving. Not because someone stood over us with a weapon in hand. Our souls and our bodies were our own.

"Then he came and all that changed. He enslaved us with fear, made us hate each other. Divide and conquer, a time-honoured strategy. He took our bodies as his own, made us complicit in our own destruction. The only power Ra has is that of our own fear and the technology that we make for him."

The slave's eyes blazed, his pain clearly all but forgotten in his intensity. O'Neill found himself almost hypnotised by the impassioned voice. A part of him screamed that this was all a lie, that it was blasphemy - but another part,growing in volume , told him he should listen. The flow of words, went on and on,until O'Neill had to stop it or lose himself completely.

"Ra isn't a god! He's an alien parasite who has enslaved our people." The passionate voice continued, never ending. Wearing him away. He had to stop it. Had to. "You included." The final phrase slammed into O'Neill's brain and he reacted as he always had, when he felt out of control.

"You will be silent slave." He raised his hand.

Daniel saw the hand come up to hit him again and tried to move out of the way, but his tired body refused to cooperate.He felt the impact against his already throbbing head, and then nothing.

O'Neill watched the man fall to the floor, his anger blazing. The arrogance of the man. A slave who had somehow learnt to read, had dared to question him. Challenge him. When Daniel remained still, O'Neill bent to shake him awake, but the effect of repeated blows had been too much. He didn't waken.O'Neill frowned in annoyance.

The impassioned, powerful voice echoed in O'Neill's head and he couldn't shake the feeling that this slave might be right. Was Ra really a parasitic alien? Had his whole life been based on a lie?

It was an uncomfortable thought. All those people who'd died in Ra's name. His own father had lost his life in one of Ra's great conquests. O'Neill had been proud of his father's loyal service and had been determined to follow in his footsteps. Was it all a lie?

He looked down at the unconscious man and realised that Daniel had received nothing from telling the truth except contempt and betrayal. He was an oddity in the world that Ra had created. A seeker of truth for truth's sake. He had had nothing to gain from this, and that was what made O'Neill begin to believe. He needed to know more, and this man seemed to be his only source of information.

As thought returned to Daniel again, a throbbing pain inside his head reminding him that he was truly still alive, unexpected as that might be, for a moment he had no idea where he was. The material that he was lying upon was soft, slippery, and dark as the starless night. His fingers gripped it in exploration, their calluses catching on its sheer surface, snagging it even as his eyes adjusted to the way the light glanced off of it.

Where was he?

He ached. Every muscle that he possessed told him that he had outdone himself, that he had over-stretched his stamina. Was the pain in his head that of sunstroke? It would not be the first time, if that was the case. He had always been susceptible, the joke amongst his family being that he had too often been caught in the sun - he had no sense, they said, no idea when to shut up and blend into the background.

Wherever he was, it was quiet. Not like the huts where he had lived with his family, before the plague had taken most of them, leaving him alone.

Daniel stretched, a tentative movement, testing the limits of his tiredness. It was then that he realised that he was naked, that the material draped across him, covering just his legs and lower back, was the same as that on which he lay. Where was he, and more importantly, where was his robe?

As he levered himself up from the softness of the bed, his arms protesting at having to take his weight, Daniel turned slightly, conscious of a movement behind him. As he turned, out of the corner of his eye he saw a hand descend onto his back, almost startling him into jerking away from its owner even before he felt the cool slickness of ointment touch the skin of his back.

He was off the bed in one movement, somehow gathering the material that had covered him with one hand and dragging it behind him in his flight.

Flattening himself against the wall, Daniel could feel every hieroglyph that decorated its surface scrape against the soreness there. Idly he wondered whether his abused back was leaving a trail of blood, even as his mind tried to make sense of what was going on here.

It all came back to Daniel in a rush. His flight, hiding here, his defiant encounter with the owner of these chambers, the blow that had sent him spiralling into darkness. As the memories came back, Daniel found himself clutching the bedcover closer around him, as if that flimsy material alone could be enough to protect him.

His heart sank as Daniel realised why he was naked. He had heard tales of Ra's First Prime, the man whose reputation alone was enough to strike a fearful obedience into the heart of the most haughty Jaffa. The man who had a reputation for something else as well...

Daniel swallowed nervously, his eyes intent on the man who stood before him, watching for any opportunity to escape, even as he knew the situation to be hopeless.

O'Neill had been a little startled by the speed and fury of the other man's reaction. He had hauled the younger man - what was his name... Daniel? - onto the bed bodily, in order to check the extent of his injuries. It had been obvious by the way he had been standing, even before O'Neill's temper had got the better of him, that he had been severely beaten recently.

Was that guilt he was feeling?

Why should he care for the well-being of anyone but himself?

Years of serving Ra, who had always been a merciless master, as well as the example of his father before him, had taught him to show none of the softer emotions. Like many of the Jaffa, he had married, even fathered children, but only because it was expected of him - in the end, his wife had been unable to bear to live with him. When he had been promoted to First Prime, that had been her cue to leave, giving O'Neill the excuse of more onerous duties to allow her that freedom.

But there was something about this stranger, this slave - a brightness in his eyes, not dimmed by the years of hard labour and hard knocks that he had obviously endured. There was a life to him that O'Neill envied, an elusive quantity that he knew had been driven from his heart long ago.

And now that same slave was glaring at him again, pressed against the wall as if he would melt into its' surface, the bedcover wrapped as tightly around him as he could manage.

Suddenly, O'Neill realised what he had thought, what Daniel had feared was happening when he had awoken so swiftly. Taking another look at the suppressed fury in the younger man's eyes, the First Prime began to laugh...

Daniel was startled by the laughter. Of all the reactions he'd imagined, amusement hadn't been one of them. In all he'd heard about the First Prime, a sense of humour had never been mentioned. It felt at odds with the rest of what he'd heard of him.

Why was the man laughing?

"Oh little one, do not flatter yourself. I have no need to bed an unwilling slave."

Daniel flinched at the words, his anger growing. 'Little one'? The man was laughing at him. He hated being laughed at, always had since he'd been a child.

"When I woke up naked in your bed, what was I supposed to think?"

Daniel knew he was treading on dangerous ground, he'd experienced the man's anger once already. This was probably not the best direction to go in. However, the First Prime still appeared amused.

"I was attempting to ease your pain, not increase it. This ointment will ease the worst of the ache. Come back and lay down. You can stand if you like, but I'd appreciate it if you didn't dribble any more blood on my walls."

Daniel looked suspiciously at the First Prime, his humour again surprising him. However the promise of release from the pain was tempting. He kept the sheet well wrapped round him as he moved slowly to the bed. With a final half angry, half worried look on his face Daniel lay face down on the bed, his back exposed to the jaffa's gaze. The sheets were cool and soft against his heated skin.

The First Prime's touch was unexpectedly gentle on Daniel's back, as he rubbed in the cold cream. The relief was almost instant and Daniel felt a flash of anger that this wasn't available to the other slaves. As if the opulence here wasn't enough reminder of the inequality in their lives.

O'Neill was impressed again at this man's continued spirit. Others would have been petrified into submission by this point. Well, most slaves would never have gotten this far, never mind still had fight in them. It had felt for a second that Daniel, yes the slave deserved the privilege of a name, that Daniel was the one in control, that he had chosen to lay down.

O'Neill wondered for maybe only the fifth time in his life at a system that brutalised such people. There was a fire in Daniel that used properly could have been a rare asset to Ra. As O'Neill gently rubbed in the ointment he was surprised that he actually enjoyed this. It had been too long since he had been gentle with anyone.

"So Daniel, what had you planned to do with your hard-won information?" O'Neill felt the younger man tense in surprise at the use of his name. Good, thought O'Neill, keep the man off balance. He had to have the upper hand in this relationship, as the rest of his life spiralled out of control because of it.

There was a respectful knock on the door, and O'Neill wondered if he should ignore it, but knew that it would only be questioned later. He kept his voice harsh and called out, "Enter, if you must."

He felt Daniel stiffen under him, and kept his hand on Daniel's back. O'Neill's deputy entered and stopped at the sight he saw. O'Neill glared at the man.

"This had better be important if you disturb my... pleasure."

O'Neill's second stood nervously at the doorway, his eyes flicking around the room, looking anywhere but at the figure prone on the bed. Daniel tensed under O'Neill and the man's breathing quickened, but O'Neill's hand ensured he didn't move. However every muscle was tautly coiled and O'Neill felt he could bolt at anytime. He pressed harder.

"Sorry my Lord but...," the man trailed off, as his eyes reluctantly fell on Daniel's back. The weals and bruising were still evident.

"Yes?" O'Neill let his irritation show and the jaffa quailed under his glare. Whatever it had been was obviously not important enough to risk the wrath of his leader.

"Sorry to disturb you, Sire. This will wait."

The jaffa left in a hurry. O'Neill let out a harsh bark of laughter, moved away from the slave, and waited for the explosion.

Daniel didn't disappoint he rose from the bed, forgetting modesty in his anger.

"He, he thinks I'm your... your. That you... you." Daniel was virtually jumping up and down. It gave O'Neill quite an eyeful, and he leant back to enjoy the view. Whatever he'd said, the man was undeniably attractive. Despite, or maybe because of the sun roughened skin and the obvious marks of hard work on the body. He had were well defined muscles and O'Neill found it hard to concentrate.

He cleared his throat and said loudly enough to be heard over Daniel, "You want to give a different impression, I'd cover up."

Daniel flushed pink all over and grabbed the sheet to cover himself again. He had obviously realised just who and what he was shouting at and quietened considerably. His tongue flicked lightly over his lip but he didn't retreat, merely looked around the room. O'Neill tried not to smile. He was beginning to like this man.

As the First Prime spoke, Daniel realised that the man had saved his life for a second time, and that with that decision had obviously decided on a course of action. Keeping the sheet close to his chest he spoke softly, "Thank you. I should be grateful to be alive."

Daniel wasn't convinced and it showed in his tone, but when he looked into the other man's face, instead of anger, all he saw was a raised eyebrow.

"You should be, yes. Now sit down. You were about to tell me what you were going to do with this knowledge you've gained."

Daniel knew that for the first prime, the matter of the jaffa was closed. His mind was back on what he considered more important things.

The bed loomed at Daniel. He hesitated and then settled awkwardly on the floor, acutely aware of his nakedness. The jaffa shook his head and moved towards Daniel, who flinched and then covered it up with a shuffle. The other man didn't appear to notice and threw Daniel what appeared to be two pieces of cloth. Gold and blue in colour. Daniel caught them automatically, and looked at them with a puzzled expression.

"Clothing," was all the jaffa said before turning away. After a second of staring at the man's broad back, Daniel stood and shook out the outfit.

It was blue trousers and a tight sleeveless gold top. The material was softer then anything Daniel had ever felt in his life. It shimmered and as he put it on he savoured the silken feeling. So different from his own rough slave robes. Instantly he regretted his impulse. This was just another piece of evidence of how differently the two sectors of Ra's society were treated.

Daniel wondered who this had belonged to. Certainly not the man in front of him. He swallowed and said, "Ready."

The first prime turned back and eyed Daniel with a slight smile that made him uncomfortable. He felt his anger begin to return. He'd never been looked at in that way before and he wasn't sure he liked it.

Daniel looked at the man in front of him, really looked at him, and noticed his eyes. Although hard they still held, even after all the brutality he'd inflicted and seen, a small hint of what he could have been without Ra.

Daniel felt a small kernel of hope grow. Had what seemed to be a disaster turned into his best hope? The jaffa spoke, his voice mildly irritated but nothing more.

"So for the third time, what were you going to do when you escaped?"

Daniel took a deep breath, wondering for a moment at his own audacity, before he began to speak again. Always aware of the First Prime's eyes upon him, dark with some emotion he did not wish to even begin to consider, he told the tale of his discoveries, the things that he had learned over the past months and years. That there were others, a small band who stood against Ra, even when they had believed him to be a god, and who would be heartened greatly by the things that Daniel had discovered.

Even as he spoke of the others, Daniel wondered if he was making a major mistake - after all, this man, even though he owed him his life twice over now, was still a Jaffa, bound to the service of Ra by oaths and blood, let alone the infant Goa'uld he carried inside him.

Still, the lack of emotion that he saw on the other man's face was enough to reassure him. Surely if he had signed his own death warrant by his words, the Jaffa's face would have given him some sign of it?

He was pacing as he spoke, up and down in front of where the other man sat, all too aware of the dark-eyed gaze that followed him. Daniel could feel the warmth of that gaze, even as he tried to put to the back of his mind how the other man's hands had felt on his skin, the unexpected gentleness of them.

He stopped then, feeling himself sway slightly as he did so - the Jaffa stiffened where he sat, almost looking as though he was about to stand, to come to Daniel's aid.

You're grateful to him, thought Daniel, that's all it is. Anyway, why would he ever look twice at you? He said himself, he has the pick of the palace to choose from, men and women, all willing to do whatever he wants for the chance of advancement.

"So what will you do now?" the Jaffa asked, making Daniel pay attention suddenly. "You can barely walk, let alone make it to wherever this resistance is based..."

"I'll take my chances," Daniel heard himself say, growing angry when he saw that same small smile re-appear on the other man's face. "I've looked after myself up till now."

"And a fine job you've done too," the other man replied. "Beaten to within an inch of your life and chased halfway across the palace. If it wasn't for me, your corpse would be rotting somewhere even now, as an example to others."

Daniel felt his face redden as the other man spoke, hating the feeling of obligation that he had towards this man, the sheer fact that he owed his life to the man who stood closest to the throne of Ra.

"What do you want me to do?" Daniel snapped, heedless of the possible consequences of his words. He had come so far, dared so much, that even the thought of turning back now repulsed him.

"You need to rest," the Jaffa said, in a calm voice. "Heal. Regain your strength. And then we will go in search of this 'resistance'."

The words fell together perfectly, confirming the tiniest of suspicions that O'Neill had formerly harboured. There was something so right about this, as if somehow he was being compelled to help this strange intruder who had destroyed all his comfort in his station.

He saw Daniel's eyes widen as he spoke the words, realising then how unexpected they were.

"I'll call for some food," he continued, crossing to the doorway. As he reached it, O'Neill turned slightly, glancing back at where Daniel still stood uncertainly, by the bed. "Stay here."

With those words, O'Neill lifted the hanging that covered the doorway and left, letting the material drop behind him.

"What am I, some kind of dog?" Daniel muttered, watching the hanging that covered the door as the material stilled. "Stay here," he echoed, frowning.

Without the forceful character of its usual occupant, the room felt empty, the ceilings high and the atmosphere cold. Daniel suppressed a shudder as he wrapped his arms around himself, feeling the softness of the material he was wearing under his hands.

Daniel shuddered again on remembering the look that the Jaffa had given him when he had seen him in these clothes. It had been a look of assessment, somehow feeling as though he was being undressed by those dark eyes, and it had made him squirm.

Did I do the right thing in trusting him? Daniel wondered, as he began to move away from the bed. He is Ra's First Prime, after all...

Even as he thought it, Daniel realised the stupidity of that thought - by his own actions, the Jaffa had condemned himself to death, hiding a fugitive from the Guards, not once but twice.

And the second time...

Daniel's face burned as he recalled it. The warmth of the other man's hand on his naked skin, the pressure of those fingers keeping him still, had driven the blood straight from his brain.

He had been incensed that the Jaffa who had interrupted them had presumed that he was there to have sex with the First Prime, but much of Daniel's irritation at that idea had been due to the fact that he had momentarily wished it to be true.

Daniel crossed to the wall and began to translate the hieroglyphs there, in a desperate attempt to take his mind off the owner of this room. After a couple of minutes, he gave up, knowing his attempt to be futile.

Damn, he thought, crossing back to the bed and sitting down again.

Daniel felt the way that the bed dipped beneath his weight, remembering the way the material that covered it had felt upon his naked skin. He glanced back towards the door briefly, before settling back onto it again, meaning only to nap for a few minutes.

Before he knew it, he was asleep.

O'Neill returned with a servant in tow and indicated that he should place the food quietly and leave. The man bowed and left quickly. He was used to his lord's ways when he was 'entertaining'.

O'Neill made to wake Daniel up and then halted, as he took in the sight of the slave sprawled on his bed. The man was attractive awake, but asleep there was an innocence about him that was both endearing and beautiful. O'Neill fought the urge to touch him. He wanted to feel the warm skin once again under his hands. Caress and explore the body as it was revealed to him. This man had changed his world, and sparked emotion in him that he'd long suppressed as inappropriate for a First Prime.

What was it about Daniel that touched such a chord in him? He had bedded more beautiful men and women, had faced more formidable people, but none had made him feel so off balance, so uncertain. There was something about Daniel that touched a part of him long buried.

O'Neill hesitated, for once unsure on his course of action. Should he wake him? He didn't know how long it had been since Daniel had eaten, but did he need his sleep more?

He settled on a chair by the bed reluctant to disturb him. He wanted this man badly but why should the need be returned? O'Neill was everything that Daniel despised and rebelled against. He had no chance, and for once he had no intention of taking what he wanted by force. He wanted something more out of this relationship, but what exactly he wanted he was unsure of. He wondered how these rebels, or others as Daniel had called them, would react when their best hope of success turned up with the First Prime of Ra. He spared a grim smile at the thought of the response he'd receive. Would Daniel be enough to protect him? Could he manage not to kill people who annoyed him?

Daniel was being chased by a group of jaffa, braying for his blood, screaming his name in anger. He looked back in terror and then stumbled. He found himself unable to move and opened his mouth to cry out. He felt an arm reach down for him and he froze, waiting for the expected blow. It never came and he only felt a gentle hand on his back. He opened his eyes and looked straight into a pair of concerned brown eyes, registered where he was, and uttered the first thing that came into his head.

"Sorry, My Lord."

It made the other man smile,a surprisingly pleasant smile that made Daniel begin to respond.

"O'Neill."

The word startled Daniel, "What?"

"You might find it easier to call me O'Neill, the others may not take too kindly to you addressing me as My Lord."

"O'Neill." The word sounded strange on Daniel's lips and he tried it out a couple of times. O'Neill watched him, amusement apparent in his eyes, and Daniel suddenly felt embarrassed. He was acting like a love struck idiot, over a man who had knocked him unconscious only a few hours before and who had a reputation for cruelty that was unparalleled. The thought didn't help; he felt a rush of lust, and shifted uncomfortably.

O'Neill obviously mistook the restlessness for uneasiness at his proximity, and stood away from him quickly. The first prime waved at the food set out and indicated that Daniel should eat.

Daniel gasped as he took in the sight. He had never seen such an array of different foods. He and the other slaves were given basic food rations, and this was beyond anything he could have imagined. He virtually ran to the food, he touched it and smelt it, admiring the colours and the scent.

He heard O'Neill's amused snort and comment, "You can eat it."

Daniel turned around, suddenly angry at the man's nonchalance, "It may be nothing to you, but I've never seen this amount of food before. I'm not as privileged as you."

Daniel saw the man's eyes flash with a mixture of anger and something else. O'Neill paced the room,then focused his attention on the man in front of him. Daniel stood his ground, unwilling to show weakness by backing away. The force of the man's personality blazed out of him and without the strength of his anger to protect him, Daniel was overwhelmed. O'Neill didn't shout but the power of his voice was so compelling he had no need to.

"You speak so fluently about how we no longer own our bodies and souls, but do you truly understand how my body has not been mine since I became jaffa? Without this gift of Ra I would die." He showed the pouch to Daniel, who flinched away from the sight.

The sarcasm and pain in O'Neill's voice made Daniel wince. He hadn' t thought of it that way. He felt obscurely guilty; he'd forgotten his own passionate outburst.O'Neill was as much a slave as he was, only in a gilded cage.

He looked down at his feet, staring at them, unsure what to say. Unwilling to apologise but wondering if he should. He brushed a nervous hand through his hair. He felt the man come closer and tensed himself for a blow, but O'Neill's voice when he spoke was soft,and held a ring of conviction.

"We've a lot to learn about each other, and it isn't going to be easy but I promise I will never raise my hand to you again in anger. Now eat, while we still have time."

Daniel did not need telling a second time. Conscious all the time of the Jaffa's eyes upon him, he fell upon the array of food as if he had not seen food for days - he could not remember the last time that his stomach had been truly full. Although he could see the amused half-smile on O'Neill's face as he ate, the hardships that he had suffered in the past gave him definite priorities. He could survive mockery, but starvation was another matter altogether.

Once he had somewhat satisfied himself, Daniel found that sense of being watched to be something that overwhelmed him, making him feel more and more uneasy as the moments passed. What was it that O'Neill saw when he looked at him? What must he be thinking of the way that Daniel had almost shovelled food into his mouth, when O'Neill had doubtless never gone hungry for a day of his life. Daniel felt his face begin to burn with embarrassment.

Glancing round at the Jaffa, he took in immediately the way that the other man was merely toying with his food, noting the way that the other man's eyes snapped from their observation of him to peruse the contents of his plate.

"You..." Daniel began, more than a little uncertain. "You're not what I expected... I mean, I've heard so much of you..."

"Were you expecting me to have two heads?" O'Neill asked, without looking up. "Or horns, maybe?"

Daniel stiffened, feeling that he was being mocked.

"You have a reputation that means I should have not have been surprised if either were the case," he retorted.

What was it about this First Prime that he wanted so desperately to goad him into a reaction? Was he so weary of being alive?

"I am sure that reputation is well-deserved," O'Neill replied, looking up now.

Their eyes locked, with Daniel scrutinising the other man as if he had never seen him before. He could see more of what this man was, passing through all the things he had heard to the man who stood behind those stories. There was something indefinable in the depths, something that looked like a desperate sadness, something that struck a chord deep within Daniel, making him regret all the harsh things that he had said.

"I know stories for what they are," Daniel said, continuing to gaze into O'Neill's eyes, lost in them. "Sometimes things become more than they are."

"And sometimes not," O'Neillsaid, looking away. "I have done many terrible things in the service of my... in the service of Ra."

Those words, which the Jaffa need not have spoken, let alone the tone in which they were uttered, drove deep into Daniel's heart. That the other man had corrected himself, knowing now that his service to his god had been a lie, was surely a sign that things were changing?

O'Neill had watched the other man eat with a sense of enjoyment - Daniel had fallen upon the food like a vulture, as if he wanted to make up for his lack of experience by trying everything that was to offer. He had bitten back a moan as the younger man's agile tongue had flickered out across his lips, wiping some stray sauce from his mouth. All O'Neill could imagine was that tongue doing something else, something that Daniel would surely never agree to, even should he live to be as old as a Jaffa.

Picking at his own meal, O'Neill considered Daniel's circumstances, putting himself in another man's place for the first time in his life. The fact that Daniel was so hungry was no surprise - O'Neill had seen the rations that the workers received, knowing that the best and choicest of all things went to the palace, for those favoured by Ra. But, even though he had often feasted on the fruit of their labours, the Jaffa had never considered what it must be like for those who produced it. What must it be like to hunger and yet know that others feasted on the things you grew?

No wonder they hate us, O'Neill thought. We should think ourselves lucky that we have not been overthrown. If it were not for Ra...

We should go soon, Daniel thought, surprising himself with his reluctance to leave this place. He had only been here a number of hours and already there was something comfortable about the room, replacing its former cold and alien feeling. Was it the room, or the man with whom he was currently sharing it?

Daniel chanced a swift glance over to where the Jaffa sat, now nursing a cup of wine. That same look he had seen before was in O'Neill's eyes - the other man was far inside himself, contemplating something that Daniel could not even begin to describe. Suddenly the quiet in the room they shared seemed oppressive.

"I..."

Even as Daniel began to speak, O'Neill's head snapped round, the dark eyes focussing on him once more. Daniel swallowed, a little nervously.

"I need to say something," Daniel continued, his voice far steadier than he expected. "But it seems as though every time I open my mouth the wrong things come out."

O'Neill was silent, his eyes thoughtful.

"I am grateful to you for saving my life, if a little puzzled by your actions."

"That is... understandable," O'Neill replied. "My reputation..."

"...is nothing that should make me forget what I've seen," Daniel said, interrupting O'Neill with a small smile on his face. "I've learned not to believe everything I'm told, but suddenly I forgot all about that."

"You were..."

"...afraid. Yes, I was. But that was no excuse."

"You should get some sleep, Daniel," O'Neill said, his words cutting across what the younger man might have wanted to say next. "I must meditate again. This day has been a little... strange."

Daniel watched as O'Neill settled down cross-legged onto the nearby rug, listening to the Jaffa's breathing as it evened out into the stillness of kel no reem. Finally, after a few long minutes had passed, Daniel moved as quietly as he could to the bed, even though he knew it would take far more to disturb O'Neill, before curling up on its soft surface.

It was dark when O'Neill moved again, stretching in the candle-lit room as he got up from his position on the floor. This time, however, his attempts to meditate had been less than satisfactory, troubled as they were by thoughts of the man who was currently lying sprawled asleep on his bed.

Why? O'Neill thought. Why him? What is it about him that troubles me so much that I can't seem to get him out of my mind?

As he stood, one of the candles by the bed guttered, the last light that it shed flickering across Daniel's face before going out. Almost instinctively, O'Neill's eyes fell to Daniel's face, seeking what expression it held even as the darkness hid those features from him.

With a small sound, the man in question moved, his hand, still visible, clutching at the slick material of the bed cover.

O'Neill took a step forward before he realised that he had even reacted, the helplessness of that sound cutting through him in an unexpected fashion. The last time he had heard a sound like that, it had issued from his child, locked in a nightmare. O'Neill frowned as he thought of his son, remembering the grief that his wife had gone through, the grief that he, as First Prime, had not been allowed to share. It would not have been seemly for one who stood at the right hand of Ra to be seen to be so weak. Yet he had envied her, envied the freedom she had to bewail her loss, their loss, when he must remain stoic.

Crossing to the ornate chest behind which Daniel had hidden on his first coming to these chambers, O'Neill opened it and removed another candle. Normally he would have waited for the servants to do this, leaving it to them as part of their duties, but suddenly he needed to be doing something. And the fact that this particular 'something' gave him a reason to be close to Daniel and have a good excuse to be so was a thought that the Jaffa quashed ruthlessly as soon as it was born.

This time, at least, Daniel managed not to flinch when he woke suddenly and found the Jaffa nearby. The other man had his back turned slightly, so that this time Daniel was able to watch him for a moment. He watched as the other man trimmed the wick of a candle with deft fingers, feeling his mouth suddenly become dry as he followed the movements of O'Neill's hands.

Daniel swallowed, suddenly nervous.

What's happening? he wondered. This is... not wrong, just... strange.

There was something capable about the Jaffa, something he had somehow been able to trust despite the way that all his instincts had screamed at him. And so far he had not been disappointed.

Daniel shifted slightly on the bed, and the slight rustle of the fabric was enough to alert O'Neill. Fascinated, Daniel saw the Jaffa stiffen at the sound, even as his hands settled the candle they held in its place.

"You are awake, then," O'Neill said, turning to look down at Daniel.

In the flickering light, the other man seemed huge, a solid mass of muscle looming over Daniel. A rush of heat, an unexpected surge of desire, as dark as the wine he had so recently drunk, surprised the younger man and he was suddenly glad of the semi-darkness, as it would hide the reddening of his face.

"We..." Daniel hesitated, his mouth suddenly dry again. "We need to go soon."

"Indeed."

Reluctantly, Daniel sat up on the bed, his eyes still intent on the shadow that was O'Neill. Much as he wanted to wallow in the luxury that he was so newly experiencing, Daniel knew that every moment they lingered increased the danger he was in, should he be caught. Should they be caught.

"I could go alone," Daniel said, suddenly, feeling the weight of responsibility for the man who had twice saved his life settle on him like the heaviest of burdens. "No one would need to know that you helped me."

"It's too late for that now, Daniel," O'Neill replied, turning away from where the other man sat.

As a result, he missed the slight sigh of relief from Daniel - he had not truly wanted to go alone, the whole thought of braving Ra's guards alone scared him more than he liked to admit, but he had not felt that he could make the Jaffa's decision for him.

"But we cannot go empty-handed," O'Neill continued, as he searched through the papers that occupied a small table in the corner of the room.

Daniel's curiosity drew him from the bed, all thoughts of resting driven from his mind. He hovered a little uncertainly behind where O'Neill stood, as though undecided on his own safety near the Jaffa, before his need to know overwhelmed any other concerns he might have had.

As if he could feel Daniel stood beside him, even without looking up, O'Neill began to speak.

"As difficult as you found it to trust me," he said, "think how much harder it will be for this resistance of yours to do so."

Daniel felt his face redden slightly again at this reminder of how things had been between them. The slightness of the clothing that he currently wore, combined with the proximity of the Jaffa was proving a heady mix. It was as though Daniel was suddenly more sensitive, somehow more alive, the warm air brushing his skin like an intimate caress.

"So," O'Neill continued, seemingly oblivious to the turmoil that Daniel was experiencing beside him, "we need something to allow them to trust us."

Finally, out of all the parchments that he had considered, O'Neill seemed to find one that met his needs. With a curt nod, he began to roll it up, leaving the others, those he had rejected, in an untidy pile on the table.

"Now we can go."

The next hours were a quiet parody of Daniel's former headlong flight. O'Neill stalked through the quiet corridors of the palace like a jungle cat, his step certain and determined. They met few people on their travels, and those that they did meet seemed to have decided that it was best to pretend that they had not seen them - one glance at the glowering expression on the Jaffa's face was enough to send even the bravest of Ra's guards scurrying in the opposite direction.

Daniel hurried at his heels, knowing that all people saw when they looked at the two of them was Ra's First Prime being accompanied by a favoured slave.

He knew that most, if not all, of those they encountered would not have been able to even describe what he looked like. And why should they be able to? After all, he was merely a slave to them, of as much interest as a piece of furniture, attracting interest only if it failed to do what was asked of it.

That thought was enough to make him angry again, his eyes fixing on O'Neill's back as he followed the other man through the maze of corridors. The steadiness of the other man was a reassurance to him, even as he realised that they were nearing the outside world.

Suddenly Daniel was very glad that he was not alone - would he ever have been able to find his way out of here without someone to show him the way?

As they reached a doorway, Daniel saw the Jaffa hesitate, before the other man turned to him, the rising sun turning him into one dark mass once more.

"From here on," O'Neill said, "our presence will be less easy to explain away, so we may need to hide at a moment's notice."

Daniel nodded, unable to summon any words through the lump of fear that seemed to have occupied his throat.

O'Neill paused, and Daniel felt the weight of the Jaffa's dark eyes upon him. He knew that every thought was as clearly laid out on his face, now lit by daylight, as if he had spoken them aloud.

"Trust me," O'Neill said, his voice quieter now.

This is too dangerous for him, O'Neill thought, seeing the expression that had crossed Daniel's face when he spoke. Maybe I should be the one travelling alone...

Even as he thought it, O'Neill knew that there was no way that he could possibly reach the camp of the resistance alone, even if he could persuade Daniel to allow him to do so. They would kill him as soon as they realised who he was, and there would be little he could do to persuade them to hear him.

Not that Daniel would let him do it anyway. Even in the short time he had known the other man, O'Neill had come to realise that there was an unexpected strength in him, something that had led him to defy everything that others took as the truth, risking all that he had.

There was as much chance that he could persuade Daniel to let him continue alone as there was that the sun would rise in the west tomorrow.

O'Neill turned on his heel, conscious of Daniel's presence at his back, willing himself to concentrate on keeping the two of them safe.

In the end, it was far safer than they had expected. Following Daniel's whispered directions, O'Neill had led the way through the huddled tents that surrounded Ra's palace, his face wrinkling occasionally at the smells that the rising sun strengthened.

There had only been one occasion when the two men had been forced to seek shelter, the noisy advance of Ra's guards giving them ample warning.

What had been the most alarming for Daniel had been that they had little choice of a hiding place, ending up flattened into the shadow of a half-fallen wall, O'Neill's body pressed hard against him as the darkness of the Jaffa's robes hid Daniel in his lighter clothing.

Daniel had held his breath for as long as he dared, feeling his head spin slightly, trying to still his minutest movement for fear that they would be discovered. Whereas before he had feared only for himself, even, he realised, when he had suggested that he travel on alone, now Daniel's agile mind presented him with images of O'Neill being tortured and beaten for what he had dared to do.

The warm strength that was pressed against him, the roughness of the clay bricks against his back, that was all that was real to him at that moment.