Daniel could still feel the residual heat in his face, feel the embarrassment of admitting that he had almost... But O'Neill had reacted calmly, more calmly than he had expected, to his stammered revelations about Sha're.

Now what? Daniel wondered.

O'Neill still maintained a firm grip on the front of his robe and Daniel stared down at the Jaffa's knuckles for a moment, studying the way that the skin whitened there. He was trying his hardest not to think about the last time that the two of them had been alone together, or of his temerity.

He had kissed O'Neill, and even now the memory of that kiss burned inside him, taunting him. Looking up once more, Daniel swallowed nervously. He had thought about making O'Neill grateful to him, turning the tables on the man to whom he owed his life, but he had never given any thought to what might happen next between them.

Daniel had not lived a sheltered life - he had heard the stories told of what went on in Ra's palace. It was difficult to balance those stories with the man who currently sat so close to him, the man who was currently studying him so intently.

A strange emotion, which Daniel realised was an unorthodox mixture of fear and arousal, churned inside him. He could do it, he could lean forward and kiss O'Neill without much resistance, Daniel realised, but what would that action lead to? He shuddered slightly as he recalled the stories he had heard once more, the images that they produced both shocking and arousing him in equal measure.

He's afraid, O'Neill thought with a sudden burst of revelation, studying Daniel's face. Afraid of me.

Moving slowly, O'Neill tightened his grip on Daniel's robe, pulling the other man towards him in the tiniest of increments. As he did so, the Jaffa watched Daniel's face intently, his eyes scouring it for any sign of panic. As the two men closed the gap between them, O'Neill saw Daniel's eyes widen slightly, his tongue flick out nervously across his lower lip.

That last movement shattered the Jaffa's self control, making him jerk Daniel towards him for the last few inches as the fingers of his other hand wrapped themselves in Daniel's hair. The two men stared at each other across the smallest of spaces - Daniel's breath was hot on O'Neill's face, his eyes dark with arousal.

Not afraid now, O'Neill thought, his last coherent thought for some time, as their mouths met.

When Daniel finally pulled back, panting slightly, it took a moment before he could speak.

"Not here," he gasped out.

O'Neill looked at him for a moment, puzzled. Then he realised what Daniel meant - if anything, this had been the place where the Jaffa had been held captive, a place of pain for him. Not the best place for them to look to the future, even if it had been the first place that the two men had kissed.

Daniel smiled as he watched the Jaffa get up, his smile growing as he watched O'Neill try to restore some order to his rumpled robes, brushing one hand swiftly across his tousled hair.

"What?" O'Neill snapped, though the former harsh tone he had been able to use on Daniel was no longer there.

"Come on," Daniel said, turning quickly to the doorway, in an attempt to hide the grin that was threatening to take over his face. "Let's find somewhere more comfortable."

O'Neill found himself following Daniel along a maze of corridors, pondering as he did so the strange turn of events over the past few days. Until he had met Daniel, he had always been the one in charge, the one who decided what happened in his bed and when. But when he had met the man in whose footsteps he was currently trailing, something had changed for O'Neill forever.

Suddenly, all the encounters of the past seemed a mere shadow of what Daniel seemed to be promising, even though O'Neill knew that there was much that was still a source of trepidation to the younger man. He had seen that so clearly just now, but had also seen that fear replaced by arousal.

As he turned a corner, almost walking into Daniel's back, O'Neill decided that he would do whatever was necessary, take things between them as slowly as he needed to, in order to never see that fear in Daniel's eyes again.

As he hesitated at the doorway to the chamber he had been told was his, one hand resting on the curtain that covered it, Daniel could feel O'Neill's presence at his back, the solidity of the other man both reassuring and a little unnerving.

A stolen kiss was one thing, what they might well be doing when they entered this room was quite another....

Lost in his thoughts for a moment, Daniel jumped at the pressure of a hand on his shoulder.

"Are we going to stand here all night?" O'Neill asked, his voice rumbling in Daniel's ear, his breath hot against the younger man's neck.

Daniel shivered slightly, then stepped forward, pushing the curtain to one side. He heard it swish shut behind the two of them, crossing to the small pallet that stood to one side of the chamber without turning around.

He could hear O'Neill's breathing, see his shadow as he crossed the room to stand close behind him. Daniel felt himself stiffen in anticipation as he saw the shadow change, the movement of the Jaffa's hands as they came to rest on his shoulders.

"I'm not going to hurt you, Daniel," O'Neill said, his voice husky with the emotion he had so long been trained to suppress.

As he spoke, O'Neill's hands moved slightly, his thumbs coming to brush the nape of Daniel's neck, making him moan quietly as they stroked.

Daniel took a deep breath, willing himself to relax, to trust this man who had saved his life, no matter what he had heard about him before. He could do this, no matter how little he knew what was expected of him, Daniel realised, suddenly. That realisation made Daniel shudder, arching his neck under the continued caress.

Just as he was about to turn, though he had no idea what he was meant to do, Daniel felt one of Jack's hands slide from his shoulder, as he was pulled back against the Jaffa's chest. He could feel O'Neill's hardness pressing against him, the heat of the Jaffa's body burning its way through the material of his robe.

As he was about to protest, Daniel felt O'Neill's hand slide within his robe, seeking out the heat that he himself was generating, and his hips moved seemingly of their own accord to meet the Jaffa's searching fingers.

Their bodies were close enough now that Daniel, even as he was maddened by the slow approach of O'Neill's hand across his skin, could feel the Jaffa's breath against his neck, then the press of teeth against the skin where his neck and shoulder joined.

Knowing fingers wrapped themselves around him, making Daniel cry out, as O'Neill bit down, seemingly encouraged by the sound.

With a whimper, Daniel came, shuddering. He sagged back against O'Neill, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath, the Jaffa's arm, now wrapped around his waist, all that kept him upright.

O'Neill smiled to himself, feeling the weight of Daniel slumped against him. He had been right when he had thought that Daniel was close to the edge, so close in fact that it had taken very little to push him over. He could feel Daniel's back start to stiffen once more, a sure sign that the other man was becoming aware once more of where he was and of O'Neill's own proximity.

Sliding his hand back to Daniel's hip, O'Neill straightened the other man's robe as he did so, giving Daniel a chance to recover his balance in more ways than one.

Of course, he was still unsatisfied and the way that Daniel's back was still pressing against him wasn't helping that matter at all. It was taking a degree of self-control for the Jaffa not to just shove Daniel down on the nearby pallet and take what he so desperately needed, but the look of fear he had seen in Daniel's eyes was enough for the hardness he felt to begin to fade a little when he contemplated that possibility.

And it didn't take much thought to realise that would destroy any trust that Daniel had in him, making them sworn enemies once more. As much as the fire he had seen in Daniel's eyes did something strange to him, igniting a desire in him that was a novel experience, that very edge of hatred and mistrust was taking things a little too far for comfort.

O'Neill sighed, his hand flexing on Daniel's hip, feeling the warm curve that lay beneath the shapeless robes. Strange that such a simple thing could make him feel so many ambivalent emotions, making him wonder why it had taken so long to walk away from the service of the false god, and what had stopped him doing so years before.

Daniel had half-turned in his embrace, not trying to get away at all, but watching him, a steady blue gaze. It was as though the other man could see through him read his thoughts as plainly as if they were written on O'Neill's face and in the end it was the Jaffa who looked away first.

Daniel took a number of deep breaths, trying to calm his racing heart. He had been so ready that it had taken very little help from O'Neill for him to come, slumping back against the solidity of the Jaffa as he did so.

He could still feel O'Neill's hardness pressed against him, a point of heat burning through the material of their robes as if it was searing its way through to his skin. He shifted slightly, experimentally, and felt it move a little, the intensity still there.

Daniel frowned, wondering what the hell he was meant to do next. He was not completely inexperienced, but all of his experience so far had been with women, and what he had just experienced with O'Neill left him unsettled and unsure.

Why was his mouth as dry as the desert he knew so well?

All he had heard, all the rumours, came crashing back into Daniel's memory, making his body stiffen in the Jaffa's embrace. How could he know what this man might want from him in return for what they had just shared?

He could want...

Turning to face O'Neill, Daniel looked at him long and hard, his eyes never wavering even though it was a strain to do so. He had to know what this man expected from him, even if it angered him in the process.

O'Neill's face was an interesting one, especially up close. Intelligent brown eyes were framed by slightly greying eyebrows, one bisected by a scar, but it was the mark of Ra which drew Daniel's attention. The mark of a false god, taken on when O'Neill was so much younger, and yet he was cursed to carry it now, despite his rebellion against all that mark stood for.

It was the Jaffa who looked away first, his eyes sliding past Daniel's with a sigh of resignation.

"What..." Daniel cleared his throat and tried again, cursing his nervousness. "What do you want from me?"

O'Neill looked back at him, his eyes dark with desire, an illicit flame that struck somewhere deep in Daniel, making him respond despite his own concerns. He felt O'Neill hardening again, an insistent heated pressure against his hip.

"We could lie down."

How had he managed to make that sound so casual despite the way that his heart was hammering as if it planned to make an exit from his chest?

O'Neill nodded, taking a half-step forward and shoving Daniel along with him in small, shuffling steps. Daniel felt the back of his legs hit the edge of the pallet bed and leant backward, one arm feeling for its surface. His fingers brushed the rough blanket that covered it, even as O'Neill bent him back across it, his mouth latching onto the place where he had bitten Daniel before.

Daniel felt his heart begin to pound again, O'Neill's mouth insistent on his neck, his body pressing Daniel down into the pallet.

I can't do this, he thought, bringing his hands up between the two of them. I can't...

It took a moment before O'Neill realised he was being shoved away and Daniel tried not to panic as he pushed the Jaffa off, his breathing beginning to return to normal as O'Neill's weight was removed from him. When they were half-seated on the pallet, facing one another, Daniel realised that his hands were still resting on the Jaffa's shoulders.

Taking a deep breath, almost afraid of what he might see, Daniel hesistantly looked at O'Neill's face. He was frowning, Daniel realised, and the expression was clearly one of concern, maybe even verging upon guilt. O'Neill's dark eyes were still filled with desire, and that fact alone made Daniel pause for a moment, but there was something more there, something...

Daniel smiled then, shoving at O'Neill in the same way he had been pushed before, landing on top of the Jaffa. He found himself leaning back, his legs holding O'Neill down, his hands still cupping the other man's shoulders, one hand now coming across to slide between the two of them.

This hadn't been quite what he was expecting, O'Neill realised, as he gazed upwards at a Daniel so different from any he had seen before.

He had seen the fear flicker in Daniel's eyes, so real that O'Neill cursed himself he had not seen it before Daniel tried to shove him off, but it had been there. And that alone had made him hesitate, which had led to the position he now found himself in, lying prone with Daniel half-lying across him, one hand slipping between their bodies now.

What was it about the Daniel he was seeing now? There was something almost feral about him, the candlelight that lit this small cave catching in his hair, his eyes darkened with passion.

"He wants this," O'Neill thought, his breath catching in his throat. "And all I have to do is let him...."

Daniel licked his lower lip then, a swift flickering movement, and O'Neill was transfixed, his eyes intent on Daniel's mouth.

Daniel shifted his weight slightly, sliding over to one side as his fingers made their way into O'Neill's robes, freeing him. He smiled to himself, thinking how swiftly their roles were reversed - it had only been a matter of minutes ago that he had been the one groaning as O'Neill brought him to climax.

This he could do. There was something confining about how they had been before, something that made him unable to breathe, something that made Daniel feel trapped. But this, this was another matter. Now he was in control.

"My lord," Skaara said, bowing low, his eyes fixed on the ground even as he straightened. Sandalled feet came into his view, halting before him in silence. "My lord, I am Skaara."

"I know who you are." The voice was cold, calculating.

"I am a humble servant of our god, my lord," Skaara continued, flinching as a handful of his hair was grabbed, twisting his head until his eyes met the cold dark eyes of the other man in the room.

"And someone who is prepared to betray his own father in that service."

Skaara nodded, feeling a small knot of fear grow in his stomach at the other man's cold, unwavering gaze. After a moment, the other man shoved him away, letting go of Skaara's hair and wiping his hand on his robe as though it was unclean. He turned away then, beginning to walk out, to leave the younger man to whatever fate the guards might dish out to him.

"I bring news, my lord," Skaara continued, desperate to win the favour of this man. "Of your predecessor, O'Neill."

The name brought him to a halt, turning slowly. Light glinted from the mark the other man bore, the Eye of Ra in gold on his forehead.

"You are the one known as Maybourne, my lord?"

Daniel slid his hand slowly under O'Neill's robe, seeking out the hardness that the coarse material outlined. Beneath him, the Jaffa moved slightly, restless, sucking in a breath as Daniel's fingers found him, the work callouses scraping sensitive skin.

He leant forward, nipping gently at O'Neill's jaw, entranced by the way the Jaffa's eyes closed in rapture, the trust that it took for this man to allow another to take the lead in this way.

"Please..."

The word was muttered, under O'Neill's breath, so quiet that, had he not been leaning forward, Daniel would not have heard it. His eyes opened once more, dark pools of passion.

"Daniel..."

Leaning back, Daniel shook his head. It did not take words for him to know what O'Neill wanted from him, and the thought chilled him.

"I can't."

O'Neill's eyes closed, in resignation, leaving a pang of guilt lurking in Daniel's heart. He wanted to trust the Jaffa, to believe that O'Neill would not hurt him, but there was still a seed of doubt within his mind, shdaows of the stories he had heard.

"Let me..." he said, sliding his weight down O'Neill's legs.

If he could not do exactly what the Jaffa wanted from him, at least he could give him some pleasure, as much as he was able to give. Daniel tried to shake off the memories, the dark feeling of foreboding that hung over him like a cloud. Things were different now.

O'Neill bit back a sigh of frustration at Daniel's words, closing his eyes to hide his disappointment. He had chosen this, when he had allowed Daniel to take a lead in what happened between them, so now he must bear the consequences of that decision.

Even if the thought of being inside Daniel, of being surrounded by him, made him burn with desire. Even if that thought haunted him, making even the blissful sensations of Daniel's hands on him a mere shadow of what he truly desired.

But he had never had to take what he wanted by force - there had always been enough people in the palace who were willing to give him what he desired in exchange for their advancement. That thought was enough to turn his fantasies of forcing Daniel, of making Daniel pay back what he owed - had O'Neill not saved his life more than once? - into something dark and bitter that horrified him.

That act, even though it might give O'Neill what he needed now could only destroy whatever trust that existed between them. Better that he take what Daniel was prepared to give than throw what they had built away for one lust-driven moment.

"What do you know of O'Neill?"

Skaara looked up, boldly, at the question.

"I know where he is, my lord," he said, still looking at Ra's new First Prime. "And I can take you to him."

Maybourne paused, calculating. Could he trust this traitor? Surely a man who would betray his own father bore watching, to say the least.

"And as a reward for this service?"

"I seek only to serve my god." Skaara risked another glance at Maybourne as he spoke. The other man had walked away from him and was standing by a low window, looking out. "There is another man, my lord. One who is important to he who was First Prime. I believe he is also a fugitive from the justice of our god - his name is..."

"...Daniel," Maybourne breathed, not moving from his place by the window.

Daniel closed his eyes, willing the memories to go away. All he could think of was the hands on him, the cold laughter as he was pushed down onto the bed, the fingers twined into his hair, holding his head still.

He was lost in them, no-one to rescue him, no-one who even knew where he was.

Just the smell was enough, the ripe musk making him gag, making him struggle against the hands that were... no longer there.

"No!"

When he came to himself, he was crouched against the wall at the other side of the cave, a dishevelled O'Neill peering worriedly down at him. He had taken the time, Daniel realised, to tuck himself in, his rapidly diminishing erection hidden from view.

"Daniel?" O'Neill's voice was riddled with guilt, shadowed by the concern on his face. "Daniel, what's wrong?"

Daniel ran his hand across his face, feeling the pricking of tears. He shook his head, not trusting his voice, then held out his hand to push O'Neill away as the Jaffa came closer.

"Don't... don't touch me," he grated, his voice sounding strange to his own ears.

"I shouldn't have tried to make you..." O'Neill began, his voice faltering when Daniel began to laugh, a horrid brittle sound that echoed strangely round the small cave.

"Why does it always have to be about you?" Daniel asked, looking up, his eyes still suspiciously bright.

O'Neill had squatted down now, so their eyes were at a level, his dark gaze incisive. Daniel looked down, watching his fingers flex together.

"I was wrong," O'Neill continued, "it wasn't me, was it? Something happened, something that makes you afraid."

Daniel's silence was eloquent and O'Neill frowned. He had already calculated who had been responsible for the marks he had seen on Daniel's body the first time they met, the wounds he had tended himself, and now he suspected he knew who was responsible for other wounds that Daniel carried. Ones that were less easily tended and less visible, but no less painful.

"Daniel...." Maybourne breathed the name, almost unable to believe this day had come.

For a moment he was no longer in the lofty-ceilinged chamber with the traitor Skaara, but back in a smaller room, darker, filled with the scent of fear. He remembered eyes full of fear but with a lurking defiance, a body pressed beneath his own, shaking beneath his exploring hands.

He had come so close to taking what he wanted, then it had been torn from his grasp by an ill-timed summons from the First Prime.

Maybourne had considered his choices, before reluctantly stepping back, watching with amusement as the object of his interest pressed himself against the furthest wall, his eyes blazing with anger.

He would see to whatever it was O'Neill wanted and then he would return and take that defiance, stripping it away with pain and terror, until the younger man was cowering before him.

How could he have known that the fool guard would let Daniel escape?

Daniel took a shaky breath, trying to calm his racing heart. He was safe here, he knew that, but the memories he had tried so hard to suppress, pushing them to the back of his mind, had come crashing back upon him.

O'Neill was still there, crouched before him, the concern clear in his dark eyes.

If he had ever thought that the Jaffa would judge him for what had once happened, those eyes alone were an eloquent denial of that fear. Eyes full of understanding, that had seen the worst of things and still retained compassion.

"I'm sorry," Daniel said.

O'Neill shrugged.

"You have nothing to be sorry for, Daniel. I..." He paused, as if searching for the right words. "What was done to you..."

"Nothing happened," Daniel said, feeling the weight lift from his shoulders with the compassion in every word that O'Neill spoke. "At least, not what Maybourne wanted to happen."

"Maybourne," O'Neill repeated, the coldness of his voice making Daniel pause for a moment.

He had suspected, but now he had proof. He had seen the scars Daniel carried for himself, but now he knew who was responsible for them.

O'Neill rose from his cramped position, crossing over to the pallet and sitting once more. Daniel followed him, sitting as far away as the pallet would allow, pulling one foot up to rest on its surface as he leant back against the wall.

O'Neill looked at Daniel, a long appraising look which the younger man met boldly, his chin raising slightly in defiance. The Jaffa found himself almost wanting to smile, despite the circumstances which had brought them here - there was something about Daniel's resilience he admired, though he would never tell him that.

Maybourne deserved his bad reputation - he had always dogged O'Neill's heels, wanting to exercise the power that belonged to the First Prime of Ra. O'Neill had no doubt that, now he was no longer in the way, Maybourne had achieved that lofty position he had coveted for so long.

The thought of Maybourne anywhere near Daniel, let alone having the chance to make him so afraid, was like a cold fist curling within his stomach.

I'll make him pay for every scar, O'Neill vowed. No matter what it takes.

Daniel frowned, watching the light die in O'Neill's eyes as he spoke Maybourne's name - it was like watching the man he had come to know over the past days disappear, replaced by a stone-faced stranger.

And somehow it had to do with him, he knew that.

"This is not your fight, O'Neill," he said, wincing slightly at the way the Jaffa's eyes snapped to him as he spoke.

"Maybourne served me, Daniel. That makes his actions my responsibility."

The coldness had returned for certain, Daniel realised; O'Neill's voice was like the desert at night, an icy wind blowing through the very real menace his simple words outlined.

"What he did, what he chose to do is his responsibility, not yours."

Don't do this, O'Neill, Daniel thought. Don't go back to what you were because of me....

Daniel watched the expression on O'Neill's face thaw a little as his words sunk in, almost as if the Jaffa could read his thoughts. Or maybe it was becoming more difficult for O'Neill to pretend indifference, to hide himself away behind that blank impassive stare?

"Unless his evil actions were at your command," Daniel continued, watching O'Neill carefully as he spoke.

Those words had struck home, Daniel realised, seeing the anger flare in O'Neill's eyes.

"You think I..." O'Neill started to rise, colour flooding his face, either to pace the floor of the small cave or to leave it completely.

"No." Daniel leaned forward, capturing his sleeve and pulling him back down. "I know you didn't."

They were face to face once more, the grip Daniel had on O'Neill's sleeve holding them motionless.

"You know?"

Daniel smiled, scenting victory. He could see the arousal in O'Neill's eyes, even before the Jaffa moved to close the space between them once more; there was no mistaking it.

"You have your orders," Maybourne said, stepping aside to allow the guards to pass him. As their leader passed, trailing his men on their way to the cave entrance, he laid a hand on the Jaffa's chest, the gesture halting him in his tracks. "Remember my words?"

"Kill them all, except O'Neill and the one they call Daniel."

Maybourne nodded, letting the Jaffa pass him.

Soon, he thought. Soon...

Although Daniel was a heavy weight, draped across O'Neill on the narrow pallet, it was a burden that the Jaffa accepted tolerantly. Daniel shifted in his sleep, muttering something quiet that O'Neill could not decipher, a frown crossing his face like a gust of wind across the sand dunes.

O'Neill lifted his hand, brushing back a lock of hair, smiling to himself as Daniel stilled at his touch, the level of trust between them clear even when Daniel was not fully aware of where he was.

How could Maybourne have lived up to his reputation that way?

He had long heard rumours that the Jaffa terrorized the inhabitants of Ra's palace, but had discounted them as merely that, stories without substance, told by people with a grudge against Maybourne. No-one had ever stood up and said what was happening, though now O'Neill had to wonder at his own lack of interest in finding out the truth.

If not for Daniel, how long would he have continued blindly in the service of a false god, turning an equally blind eye to the evils committed by those who were under his command?

O'Neill frowned.

He had promised Daniel that he would not seek revenge, agreeing that it was not his place to do so, but that agreement rankled with him now. He wondered how much of this was down to Daniel, to a sense that Maybourne wanted to despoil something that was rightly his?

O'Neill stifled a smile at that thought, well able to imagine what Daniel's response would be to such a possessive statement, the expression that would cross his mobile face if such a thought were to be spoken.

If we speak of ownership, O'Neill thought, feeling the warmth of Daniel's sleeping body leach through him, driving away whatever cold places still existed within him, then who owns who between the two of us, Daniel?

This had been what he had sought for so long, but had never realised it, the reason why the liaisons within the palace, as willing as his partners had been, had left him unsatisfied. O'Neill knew now that he had wanted more than sex with a willing body - though freely available, that had never been enough to satisfy the emptiness within his soul since his child had died.

No, he had wanted more, wanted something that none of those casual encounters had been able to give - he had wanted trust, wanted someone to look at him the way that Daniel did, his eyes dark with a desire that was not fuelled by dreams of advancement.

And he had found it, even if it had been in the last place he could have expected it.

The screams and the sound of staff weapons firing were the first indication that anything was wrong.

O'Neill had drifted off to sleep, his hand fisted in the material at the back of Daniel's robe, but he had stiffened instinctively at the sound of weapons, long years of training kicking in before he was even fully awake.

"What is it?" Daniel muttered, pushing himself back off O'Neill and rubbing his eyes with one hand.

"Trouble."

Reluctantly, O'Neill released his grip on Daniel's robe, wincing slightly as the circulation returned to his hand.

"How could the guards have found us?" Daniel asked, frowning as he realised the answer to his own question. "Skaara."

O'Neill nodded, his face solemn, as Daniel rolled off him and got to his feet.

Leaving their cave, they found themselves in the midst of chaos, the corridor outside filled with bodies surging towards the exit, the cries of others echoing down the tunnels.

"Help me!" a voice cried nearby, and O'Neill turned, allowing the press of bodies to separate him from Daniel. losing the tenuous grip he had earlier had on Daniel's sleeve.

Sha're was there, half-supporting a heavily-pregnant woman, scowling up at him. Without a second thought, O'Neill took her other arm, the woman's warmth seeping into him, her grateful smile making him forget Daniel's whereabouts for a moment.

The next time he looked, he could see Daniel a fair way down the corridor, separated even more by struggling bodies, their eyes meeting as Daniel shrugged slightly with frustration and began to push towards where O'Neill was standing. Behind him, a guard appeared, grabbing at Daniel with a predatory smile.

"Daniel!" O'Neill yelled, concern lending an edge to his voice.

Daniel looked across, saw the concern on O'Neill's face and then glanced round, just in time to meet the guard's fist, before crumpling soundlessly against the nearby wall.

Daniel's head pounded as he was half-dragged, half-carried through a long succession of corridors, before finally coming to a halt. He lifted his head tentatively, finding himself in a hall which looked familiar, if only from passing through it in his headlong flight days before.

And they were not alone, he discovered, turning his head slightly towards the sound of advancing feet. The grip his Jaffa captors had on his upper arms increased, as though they expected some response from him, some reaction to the person with whom he was about to come face to face.

"Daniel."

Daniel let his head fall, closing his eyes in resignation for a moment as the full horror of his situation ran through him. He was back with Maybourne, as he had expected and feared, and this time there was no First Prime to save him, knowingly or otherwise. This time, Maybourne held all the power.

Daniel took a deep breath, willing himself to concentrate, pushing the pounding behind his temples into the background. He looked up, past the sneer on Maybourne's face and into the other man's eyes. As he had expected, there was no mercy there, just a blazing desire.

"Maybourne," he replied, wincing as the Jaffa holding him pulled him upright before forcing him to his knees.

"I've thought of this moment for a long time, Daniel," Maybourne said, moving closer. "You here, on your knees before me. And this time, there will be no interruptions."

"I cannot stay here, Kasuf," O'Neill said, frowning, as he paced the length of the room. The resistance had fled once more, this time taking refuge in an abandoned village, half-standing houses providing their only shelter.

"And what good will it do Daniel if you charge into the palace like a rampaging mastage and are captured by the guards, O'Neill?"

"You don't know the danger Daniel is in..."

Kasuf frowned at this, his voice hardening when he spoke.

"If any should know what Maybourne is capable of, O'Neill, who better than the people he has been trying to kill for so long?"

O'Neill sighed, slumping down onto a nearby piece of wall and cradling his head in his hands.

"You will rescue him, O'Neill," Kasuf continued, his voice softer now. "But you must use cunning, not strength, if you are to be successful. Your heart tells you to act now, but you must have a plan or merely join Daniel as a captive."

At a signal from Maybourne, the Jaffa stepped back, letting go their grip on Daniel's arms and allowing him to slump down onto the cold marble floor of the reception hall. Abused muscles in his shoulders protested the sudden change, sending a twinge through Daniel's arms and down into his back.

Despite this, Daniel straightened up as best he could, raising his head and eyeing Maybourne defiantly.

"I'm not afraid of you," he rasped.

"You should be, Daniel," Maybourne replied, coming closer and grabbing a handful of Daniel's hair. Tightening his grip, the Jaffa twisted Daniel's head, making him look up and half-pulling him from the floor at the same time. "And I intend to make sure that you are..."

He had to admit that it was a good disguise.

No-one who had known him as First Prime would possibly give him a second glance, dressed as he was. O'Neill frowned at the smell, grimacing as the mastage he was leading chose that moment to slaver up his arm, long agile tongue coating his hand with drool.

I hope you appreciate this, Daniel.

The thought of Daniel made him hesitate for a moment - the fact that he was in Maybourne's clutches sent a shiver through O'Neill.

I'll kill him if he's touched you, I swear it.

"You know what to do," Maybourne said to the waiting Jaffa, letting go of Daniels' hair and pushing him away to slump on the cold floor.

Before Daniel could react, before he had a chance to gather himself and try to escape, the Jaffa had grabbed him again, taking hold of his arms in a strong grip and pulling them along behind them relentlessly.

He could feel Maybourne's presence, like a lurking evil, even though the First Prime was not in sight, as the Jaffa brought him into a smaller chamber.

As he struggled against their grip, Daniel was pulled towards a set of hanging manacles, which were quickly fastened around his wrists, leaving him at their mercy. His feet could reach the floor, barely, if he stood on the balls of his feet, and Daniel could already feel an ache beginning in his calves.

Out of the corner of one eye, Daniel saw one of the Jaffa produce a knife and froze in position, sucking in a breath as it was used to cut off his robe. Cool air caressed his skin as Daniel tried not to redden, humiliation flooding him.

"Very nice," Maybourne's voice said from behind him.

Daniel's body shifted uneasily as he turned slightly in his bonds, feeling suddenly more comfortable if he was facing his captors. A sudden brush of fingers across the skin on his back made him flinch, pulling away from them as far as the manacles allowed.

"No rescue this time," Maybourne taunted, "this time you're all mine, for whatever I choose, for as long as I allow you to live..."

He had come closer, his hand now trailing across the thin skin of Daniel's side, until he was face to face with his captive. Maybourne's smile was predatory, cold, full of the promise of pain.

"Whatever you've given O'Neill, I'll take," Maybourne continued. "Before I'm finished with you, Daniel, you'll be begging for my favour."

"Never," Daniel said, with more conviction than he felt.

Maybourne smiled at his defiance, raising his hand till Daniel could see what it held.

Daniel could feel panic welling up inside him as he looked at Maybourne, twisting away from him as the First Prime brought up the blindfold. His movements were futile - it was tied across Daniel's eyes in a matter of moments, leaving him helpless in the darkness.

"Think on this, Daniel," Maybourne hissed into his ear, a smile pervading his words. "You're mine..."

As he had thought, the guards at the entrance hardly gave him a second glance. But that was not solely due to his disguise, but also the fact that their job was more to keep people inside the palace than out.

O'Neill smiled to himself as he thought of the long hours he had spent on such duty, as a younger man, never dreaming that he would know the power of being First Prime of Ra, or that he would then be prepared to throw it all away.

That was something the guards would not easily be able to understand, even if there were words in which O'Neill could describe it. It was as though Daniel had thawed some part of him that he did not realise had frozen, and that was something which he was determined not to give up, no matter the cost.

It had been a long time since he had felt such hope, despite the desperate circumstances they found themselves in, O'Neill realised, as he slipped into the inner part of the palace. Here his presence would be less explainable, there would be no chance of his bluffing his way if discovered here, no explanation he could give once the guards saw his face.

He could only use his intimate knowledge of the palace, and his long experience of the routines within which the guards worked, to allow him to slip unnoticed to where he hoped he would find Daniel.

If Daniel still lived...

What would he do if he was too late? O'Neill considered this, turning over in his mind a hundred different ways in which he could prolong the agony of Maybourne's death. Without Daniel, what then?

He had known darkness and silence before, but this was different. There was none of the peacefulness of night-time, the relaxation of sleep after a long day's toil - instead Daniel shook with fear at every breath of air that caressed his skin, his own heartbeat seeming to deafen him.

He had no idea how long it was since Maybourne had left him, tied and defenseless, though it was clear that this was a part of the First Prime's plan to break his spirit. Was he there, even now, watching silently?

Daniel held his breath, straining for the slightest of noises which would tell him that he had an audience.

His senses were stretched to their limit, the inky darkness in which he found himself wrapping itself around him. Daniel could feel each draft of air across his naked skin, feel the burning in his calf muscles as he tried to support himself, the way the edge of the manacles cut into his wrists.

He had never been so completely alone, even after his family had died. He had spent much time mourning them, with the people of his village watching him as he lived in solitude, not expecting him to speak if he did not wish to, respecting his silence. But this was different.

The darkness and silence made it difficult not to think about what might happen next, a thousand tales of Maybourne's cruelty mingling together in his mind. And he was defenceless, naked and alone.

He had thought...

Daniel bit off that thought before it could complete itself, shaking his head at his own foolishness. Short hours before, he had been in the arms of someone who cared for him, he was certain of that, and his own fears had prevented him from giving to O'Neill what Maybourne now planned to take.

If only he had known...

O'Neill paused at the door to the small chamber, fearing what he might see when he entered the room. It opened silently, not even a creak to warn inhabitants of his presence.

The room was dimly-lit, candles flickering from the wall, casting wavering shadows across the skin of the one person who was there. He was not surprised to see that Daniel was naked, his skin lightly covered with sweat, the scars on his back that had been so new when they first met still visible.

Daniel sagged in his bonds slightly, his legs shaking slightly as they tried to support his weight.

Without a second thought, O'Neill crossed the room in a couple of strides, seeing the way that Daniel's body stiffened as he realised he was no longer alone. O'Neill couldn't risk the chance that he might cry out, clamping his hand across Daniel's mouth to ensure his silence.

He had no idea how he knew he was no longer alone - it could have been the smallest of noises, or possibly the movement of air across his sensitised skin. Still, when a hand was pressed across his mouth, rough cloth and a warm body pressing against his naked back, Daniel began to struggle.

What could he do, chained as he was? Daniel felt the man's arm wrap itself around his waist, in an attempt to hold him still, even as he tried to bite into the hand that was clamped across his mouth. It took a couple of moments for him to realise that the warm breath at his ear was a voice repeating his name, a few moments more to identify the owner of that voice.

All the fight went out of him in a heartbeat, sagging gratefully against O'Neill's body as the other man held him up. The hand was removed from across his mouth.

"O'Neill," Daniel croaked, after a moment, when the initial terror had begun to subside. "I thought..."

"Shhh," O'Neill muttered, pulling off the blindfold. Daniel turned towards him, as much as his bonds allowed, blinking after the darkness in which he had been immersed.

"What is that smell?" he rasped.

A wave of relief swept over O'Neill when Daniel spoke. He had feared the worst from the moment he had seen Daniel taken away, the entire time they had been apart he had been tormented by images of what Daniel might be suffering. Those four words had told him that his fears had been unfounded.

"It's traditional to be grateful if you're being rescued," O'Neill muttered into Daniel's ear as he reached up to release him from the manacles.

"Even if your rescuer smells of week-old mastage?" Daniel retorted, unable to hide a wince of pain as his hands were freed.

"Indeed."

"Tradition is a strange thing," Daniel replied. "But I am grateful," he continued, turning in O'Neill's embrace to face him, feeling the rough cloth of the Jaffa's borrowed robes scratch slightly across his skin. "And I intend to show my gratitude..."

O'Neill swallowed at those words - suddenly the small chamber in which they stood seemed airless.

"We should..."

"Go?" Daniel asked. O'Neill nodded. "Like this?" he continued, stepping back out of O'Neill's embrace and looking down at himself.

"I think that might be a little conspicuous."

"Do you have a better idea?" Daniel asked, crossing his arms.

O'Neill gazed at him for a moment, smiling to himself as the stubborn look on Daniel's face began to change, to be replaced by one that looked more like embarrassment. Stepping back to the doorway, O'Neill checked that the corridor was still deserted, before pulling off his robe and handing it to Daniel.

Daniel looked down at the robe, clearly reluctant.

"This is your better idea?" he asked, looking up at O'Neill, who stared at him impassively. After a few seconds had passed, Daniel took the robe from the Jaffa's outstretched hands, nose wrinkling at the odours that drifted from it.

"All I need now is a helmet," O'Neill said, brushing a few stray mastage hairs from the uniform tunic he had been wearing under the borrowed robes. "Hurry up and put that on."

O'Neill crossed to the doorway once more, as Daniel dressed. It was still clear, and he summoned Daniel to his side with a curt gesture.

"If we should be captured," he began, looking round at Daniel.

Daniel shook his head.

"We don't have time for this," he said, "and I don't want to think about it."

O'Neill looked at him, eyeing the stubborn set to Daniel's jaw which belied the paleness of his face. Although they had known each other for such a short space of time, he already knew that look well, knew that there was no point in arguing.

"Then we had best not be captured," he said, leading the way out into the corridor, one hand snaking out to grasp onto the sleeve of Daniel's robe and pull him unceremoniously after him.