This time, unlike the previous time Daniel had travelled through the corridors of the palace openly, he found he was not ignored. On the previous occasion, following at O'Neill's heels, he'd probably been too engrossed in making sure he didn't get left behind. This time there was no distraction to prevent Daniel noticing the lascivious looks in his direction.

He didn't understand it, really he didn't. On the few occasions he'd been able to sneak a look at his own reflection, Daniel hadn't seen much to become enthused about. He'd been a small child, then a gangling teenager, his body growing much faster than he'd ever expected, until one day he was fully grown. Even the hard labour expected from the slaves of Ra had taken a while to affect his development, before, it seemed, suddenly giving him muscle in the right places after a time.

But clearly, even if he didn't see the attraction, others did. Daniel had seen the desire in O'Neill's eyes and welcomed it - the attention he was receiving from others, Teal'c included, was not so welcome.

He wished it was someone else he was accompanying deep into the heart of the palace. O'Neill had made it clear he didn't trust this self-styled Tok'ra - should they have trusted his instincts after all?

Too late for that, though.

The only person he really trusted, Daniel realised, was back where they had left him, hidden in the secret chamber. He couldn't help wishing he was there, even though he knew that he was doing the right thing, or wishing that O'Neill was here with them, even though it was too dangerous for him to be so.

How far had they travelled now? Being stared at, muttered about, was growing old.

The time seemed to crawl as O'Neill waited. He would have been the first to admit that he wasn't the most patient of people, but this waiting was interminable. Every second hung in the air, until it seemed as though Daniel and Teal'c had been gone for days, his imagination conjuring up the worst of scenarios. That they had been caught, or killed, and he was left alone.

The thought of it was enough to chill him to the bone.

He couldn't sit still any longer. Getting up from where he had been meditating, O'Neill began to pace, wondering as he did so at the changes his acquaintance with a certain runaway slave had wrought in him. He'd not felt so alive for what felt like forever, since he and his wife had parted ways, with vindictive words on both sides. Sara had wanted more than he'd been able to give, that desire warring with her desire for social prominence, a desire O'Neill *had* been able to fulfill.

But their relationship had withered over time; the position being the wife of the First Prime gave to her was not enough. And when his child had died all that tied the two of them together had died with him. O'Neill himself was certainly not what she wanted - sometimes he wasn't sure Sara knew herself what that elusive something was.

He'd never understood her, not really, all his thoughts focussed on how best to serve his god. Everything else had been secondary, ephemeral, and when that belief had been show for the lie it was, O'Neill had been left with nothing.

No wonder he had clutched at the idea of a relationship with Daniel. What else did he have? And if this crazy plan of the Tok'ra succeeded, what would he have left?

He'd seen the way Teal'c looked at Daniel, heard the words the Tok'ra had spoken and seen the effect they had. He was a remnant of the old, something that would not fit comfortably, if at all, into whatever new world Daniel would be involved in creating. O'Neill knew that Daniel wouldn't consciously turn him away, there was no chance of that, but what right did he have to expect that things would stay the same between them?

He had to believe that what he'd seen in Daniel's face, the pleasure that his experienced hands had evoked for both of them, could prove the foundation for something more. If that hope was lost, then what was left for him?

"We are here," Teal'c said, finally, after what seemed an endless journey into the heart of the palace.

This was unfamiliar ground, heavily-guarded and elaborately- decorated, even more so than Hathor's chambers. If Daniel had thought those ornate, he now knew himself to be mistaken - Ra's chambers glowed with gold and gems, a thousand eyes on him from the paintings which covered the walls, a light breeze rippling the hangings that draped in a dozen places from ceiling to floor.

Of Ra himself there was no sign, the massive throne which dominated the room was empty, only a cat sprawled at its foot, one lazy eye opening to inspect the newcomers.

A flurry of activity, boots ringing on the marble floor, was the only warning they had of Ra's appearance. Daniel felt Teal'c's hand heavy on his shoulder, pushing him down into a low obeisance, the grip both warning and reassuring.

"My lord," Teal'c said.

Daniel risked a glimpse out of the corner of his eye at his companion and saw that the Tok'ra had only bowed his knee momentarily, inclining his head a little as if greeting an almost- equal.

He didn't dare look at Ra, not wishing to draw attention to himself. Daniel could feel Ra's eyes heavy on him, and wished for more clothing - he felt unclean, naked, an unpleasant crawling feeling on his skin.

"You bring word?" Ra asked.

"I do, my lord," Teal'c replied, then made much of opening the bag he carried. "Apophis accepts your terms, and would enter into treaty with you."

"And what would he have from me?"

"Your good will, my lord. And he asks that you accept this token of his esteem."

Daniel froze in place, not even daring to breathe. This wasn't part of the plan, not as Teal'c had explained it before they left their impromptu sanctuary.

"Exquisite," Ra said.

Daniel risked another glance. Teal'c had moved, closer to the dais on which Ra's throne stood, a small item in his outstretched hand. Ra's eyes were fixed on his gift now, a look of avarice on his face, and Daniel studied him for a moment. So this was their false god, the one whose whims led to the death and suffering of thousands?

He heard the gasp as Ra's hand met the item Teal'c was holding out, and knew it for what it was. The Goa'uld's body stiffened suddenly, eyes widening as he took a step back.

"My lord?" That was one of the slaves attending Ra, cradling a cat in his arms as he stood by the throne.

Ra gasped once more, the hand which bore a Goa'uld device flying to his throat, as if the very act of speaking choked him. He took another step backwards, the back of his knees hitting the edge of the throne, before slumping into its embrace. His hand was frantic now, the other hand gripping the armrest spasmodically.

It was as Daniel thought - the 'gift' Teal'c had brought, ostensibly from Apophis, contained some powerful poison, doubtless with a needle to deliver a fatal dose to whoever touched it wrongly. He couldn't tear his eyes from the sight of Ra's death throes, wanting to be able to describe every moment to his friends in the resistance, burning those images of the death of a false god into his brain.

Ra's eyes blazed gold once, then dimmed again.

In his sanctuary, O'Neill heard the bellowing horns, the familiar alarm sound that in the palace could mean only one thing - an attack upon Ra himself. An assassination attempt, whether successful or otherwise, there was no telling which.

He couldn't stay here any longer. If Daniel had failed, if the Tok'ra's plans had failed, then they were both probably dead by now. If they were lucky. In that case the best O'Neill could hope was that Ra would not order them revived by sarcophagus use in order to torture them to death over and over again. But the chance of the vengeful Goa'uld demonstrating that kind of mercy was slim, to say the least.

If they had succeeded, against all odds, O'Neill wanted to be there. He had been as much a slave to Ra as Daniel, despite the differences in their treatment, he had just not realised it until there was nothing he could do to change that. He would continue to be Ra's slave as long as his body relied on the symbiote he carried, as surely as if he were shackled.

His hands flew across the surface of the wall, fingers questing for the hidden catch that would make the entrance swing open and allow him to leave.

Within moments O'Neill was in the corridor, then had to flatten himself into the nearest alcove as a dozen guards thundered past, too intent on getting to the heart of the palace as soon as they could to take any notice of anyone who they might pass.

With a sinking heart, O'Neill followed them.

Each step he took brought him closer to the guard at the back of the group, before a much-practiced blow took his victim down silently. O'Neill wrested the zatnikatel from the guard's hand, glancing up the corridor and discovering it empty before using it - once, twice. Bending down, he pulled the helmet from the guard's body, before using the zatnikatel a third time.

As the realisation of Ra's death spread within the throne room, there was an eruption of sound - one of the slaves screamed, a high piercing sound, echoed almost immediately by the bellowing of a horn to sound the alarm. All too late for the Goa'uld, other than to summon guards to wreak a bloody revenge on his assassins.

Daniel got to his feet hastily, crossing to where Teal'c still stood. The Tok'ra hadn't moved, his eyes fixed on where Ra slumped on his throne, the device that had killed him still cradled in his outstretched palm.

"Teal'c?" Daniel said, hesitantly reaching out to snag a handful of the Tok'ra's sleeve. "We need to get out of here." Teal'c moved as if coming up from deep underwater, slowly turning to Daniel as if he'd forgotten anyone else was there. "We need to go!" Daniel urged.

"Go?" Teal'c echoed. His eyes blazed gold, making Daniel take an involuntary step back. "Why should I go, Daniel?"

There was something wrong in this scenario, Daniel realised suddenly. The guards who should have been keeping Ra safe had kept their distance, the slaves attending him were eyeing the two of them with a mixture of fear and respect. Daniel was the only one who had broken the tableau, the only one who had moved out of their accustomed role.

"He's dead. Your mission..." Daniel began, only for his words to grind to a halt as Teal'c began to laugh. The laughter was cold, mocking, sending a responsive shiver through Daniel as he let go of Teal'c's sleeve and backed away. "There was no mission, was there?"

The laughter died, Teal'c's dark and now expressionless eyes watching him with calculation.

"No." The voice was the same, almost - it had a coldness to it now, a thread of steel through the rumbling tones. "No mission. No Tok'ra. Only myself."

Teal'c turned to the guards, gesturing towards the throne with one hand even as he secreted the device he had used to kill its occupant.

"Get rid of that," he said, then watched silently as they obeyed swiftly, two of the guards removing Ra's body as if he was of no consequence. "And cease the alarm. Your god is in no danger."

"So," Daniel said, as he watched Teal'c take Ra's place on the elaborate throne. "O'Neill was right not to trust you."

"He was." The slaves who had attended Ra clustered close once more, moving tentatively at first until Teal'c reached out and caressed the head of one of them. "And Ra was right to replace him."

There was a flurry of movement at the door, the blaring of horns outside ceasing as swiftly as they had begun.

"My lord," said the newcomer, hurrying forward to kneel briefly before Teal'c. "May I be the first to greet you in your rightful place?"

Teal'c smiled, leaning forward in his seat as their visitor arose.

"Maybourne," he said. "My faithful servant."

The stolen disguise allowed O'Neill to make progress through the halls without hindrance, as well as taking advantage of the fact that the guards were single-mindedly heading into the centre of the palace. They didn't bother to check anyone's identity, all their energies fixed on obeying the summons.

By the time he reached the throne room itself, O'Neill was on edge, every nerve singing with tension and concern. The alarm had stopped, and he wasn't sure whether that boded well or ill.

He could hear voices from inside, hidden as he was by the massed ranks of guards already present, voices he recognised, as well as one he had come to hate.

It was his worst nightmare come to life, the last person he wanted to see.

"You are so trusting, Daniel," Maybourne said, turning to him with a predatory smile. "You think O'Neill didn't know my lord's true identity?"

"I don't believe you." It couldn't be true, could it? Could O'Neill have lied to him, misled him that way? He'd known that Teal'c was a host, that was true enough, but was it possible to tell Tok'ra from Goa'uld? "You're lying."

It was impossible. O'Neill had no reason to lie to him, not now, if he ever had. What would he gain from such an act? It was just another attempt by Maybourne to disconcert him, that was all.

Maybourne shrugged. "Believe what you want," he said. "It doesn't matter any more." His expression grew even more threatening - it took an act of will on Daniel's part to stand his ground as Maybourne approached, his only solace the fact that the jaffa seemed disappointed at his lack of reaction. "This time there's no-one to come to your rescue."

"O'Neill didn't tell me your true name," Daniel said, pitching his voice towards where Teal'c sat, watching over the proceedings like a spider at the heart of its web. He ignored the implications of Maybourne's statement, the possibility that he had sent guards to deal with O'Neill and he was truly alone after all. "I assume you're not really a member of the Tok'ra?"

Teal'c's eyes flashed gold at this. "Those weaklings? I would not lower myself to associate with them." He stood, shoving off the attentive hands of his slaves and came down the steps from his usurped throne, crossing to where Maybourne and Daniel stood in a couple of strides. "You wish to know the truth?"

"Always," Daniel replied.

"My lord," Maybourne began, "you promised..."

"Enough!" Teal'c turned to Maybourne. "Your guards may leave our presence," he continued. "We are safe enough."

Somehow Daniel managed to rein back a smile at the way Maybourne cowered, the dangerous situation he found himself in sobering enough. The dismissal of the guards was an unexpected one, the menace in Maybourne's expression as he watched the two of them still real enough to chill the blood in Daniel's veins.

"What does it matter?" Teal'c continued, as the guards left. "The resistance will soon be stamped out utterly, and the body of your friend O'Neill will rot at the gates of my palace as an example to all who would defy the gods."

He seemed so certain about this, certain enough that Daniel felt the cold fingers of doubt at the base of his spine. If O'Neill was already dead... he couldn't think about that. He'd be the one who was dead if he didn't play this right, play to the weaknesses Teal'c had already exhibited and use him against Maybourne. It was time to choose the lesser of two evils and hope he had done the right thing.

"I would know who is behind this clever plan," he said, even as the words almost choked him. Flattering one of the Goa'uld was the last thing he wanted to do, but that was a certain way to gain his favour, like it or not. "Surely you are one of the System Lords in disguise?"

Had he laid it on too heavily? Teal'c looked at him a moment, as if judging his honesty, and Daniel tried to look as though he believed what he'd said, even as he knew it to be an utter lie. He could never again believe that the Goa'uld were gods, and only Ra's arrogance had ensured that Teal'c's plan succeeded. If his guards had been more vigilant, less certain that no-one would dare attack their god, the assassination attempt could have been thwarted with relative ease.

Teal'c looked pleased, taken with the flattery it seemed. Daniel stood his ground, since the alternative was to back away towards Maybourne and that was the last thing he wanted to do.

"I spoke the truth when I said that the name of my host was Teal'c," he said. "But the symbiote it carries is not Selmac. It is Horus."

So, they had both been used, taken advantage of by this unscrupulous Goa'uld to usurp the position that Ra held. O'Neill stood silently by the door as the guards passed by him, his hand clenching on the stolen zatnikatel. He would have only once chance of this, if either he or Daniel were to survive.

Once again, Daniel played a dangerous game, but he could understand exactly why he did so. To be turned over to Maybourne once more must be Daniel's worst nightmare and so he was attempting to use Teal'c's... Horus' own ego in order to curtail that. And by the very fact that he had obtained the Goa'uld's true name so easily, O'Neill had to think that Daniel's plan was working.

It had to have been unsettling for him, the sudden appearance of his nemesis, but O'Neill had to admire the calmness of Daniel's voice. Even though he was probably shaking like a leaf inside, his voice betrayed nothing of this.

"And all this," Daniel said. "All the things you told me, they were merely a ploy to gain access to Ra?"

He was backing away all the while as he spoke, keeping distance between himself and Horus, not liking the predatory expression that seemed to have been transmitted from Maybourne to the Goa'uld. They were, indeed, fit for one another.

"I needed to know what O'Neill knew," Horus said, as he crossed back to take his throne once more. His expression didn't change. "To gain his trust so I could destroy him." He turned to Maybourne then. "Where are your guards with his body?"

"Coming, my lord," Maybourne said, turning all his attention from Daniel to Horus.

He watched the two of them carefully, looking for the chance of escape, slim though it might be. Where would he go? Even if O'Neill was alive, Maybourne had suborned Skaara in order to gain information about the resistance, so there was little chance of sanctuary there.

Suddenly he saw movement from the corner of his eye, the dull grey of a guard's uniform identifying the newcomer as someone not welcome.

"Well?" That was Maybourne once more. "Where is O'Neill?"

The guard moved into the throne room, three or four steps, before coming to a halt. There was a hiss as his helmet swung back, exposing the guard's face as he raised the zatnikatel in his hand to cover both Maybourne and Horus.

"Right here," he said.

It was probably the most foolish thing he'd ever done, if O'Neill had allowed himself a moment's contemplation of what he intended. Except that there wasn't time, not if both he and Daniel were to survive this.

The slaves had scattered from beside what had once been Ra's throne, their sense of self-preservation as strong as ever. They had survived Ra's rages, for the most part, by knowing when to retreat from him, and they would survive this change of ownership. O'Neill could only hope that he and Daniel would do the same.

"You dare?" Horus said, eyes blazing gold.

"I dare plenty," O'Neill replied. His eyes flicked to Daniel, who gave him an encouraging half-smile as he edged slowly away from Maybourne and Horus. "You thought I'd been taken in by your little act?" Time to build on what Daniel had started, chip away at Horus' arrogance and use that against him. "With him as your accomplice?" O'Neill nodded towards Maybourne, whose face darkened with anger.

They were both unarmed, as far as he could see. Both reliant on the success of their cunning, rather than on weapons. Horus' hand began to move towards the bag he carried, as quick as a snake striking, and O'Neill focussed on him, firing the purloined zatnikatel. As he did so, he saw Maybourne move, headed straight towards Daniel, hoping doubtless that the fear he'd instilled in the former slave would serve as a weapon.

Horus hit the ground heavily, his hand half-in the bag. He couldn't take any chances, couldn't turn to deal with Maybourne even though every instinct screamed at him to go to Daniel's aid until he knew this particular threat was eliminated. O'Neill bent slowly, his eyes on Horus for any sign of movement, pulling the bag away from him, then fired the zat twice more.

By the time he turned to deal with Maybourne, he could see that it was an even match between them. Maybourne had relied on a fear that Daniel had somewhat overcome, discounting the former slave's determination and stubbornness. As he zatted Maybourne to unconsciousness, O'Neill swore he'd not make the same mistake himself.

"O'Neill!" Daniel said, struggling for a moment beneath the weight of the unconscious jaffa. "This isn't funny." His face was full of emotion, the adrenaline still racing through his system.

"Here," O'Neill said, as he holstered the zatnikatel. He took hold of Maybourne by an arm, pulling him to one side so Daniel could slide out from under.

As Daniel came to stand by him, looking down at the jaffa, O'Neill's fingers itched to do what he had done to Horus. He felt a touch on his wrist, the sensation of Daniel's fingers curling round, skin on skin. Suddenly all the doubts he'd had, all the concerns O'Neill had harboured about the reality Daniel's feelings towards him melted away at that one simple touch.

"It's over," Daniel said. "Let the people decide what should be done with him. The jaffa have been judge and executioner for long enough."