Long, long ago, I made myself a promise.

It was during the worst time of my life, when all my greatest fears came true. I promised myself two things: that I would not go insane, and that I would not ever forget my name.

You see, no one has called me by name in oh, let’s see ... at least a hundred and fifty years. I repeat my name to myself, over and over and over, every single night. I do this partly so I’ll never forget who I am, and partly because it makes Kali very, very angry.

Kali is my symbiote.

Yes, that’s right - I have a snake in my head. For the last one hundred and fifty years, I have not had control of my own body for even a brief moment. Every word coming from my mouth has been spoken by Kali, not by me.

My name - the name I have repeated to myself again and again to keep from going crazy - is Lyndraia. My mother loved to tell me that she chose it because it means “cloudless skies”, and my eyes are the blue of a clear warm-season sky.

I was very young when I was chosen as a host - I had just turned fifteen seasons and I was to be married to Jothan, a local boy who was very shy but had a good heart. When Kali took control of my body, the first thing she did was kill Jothan using my own hands.

The rest of my life - if it could be called such - has been downhill from there.

I am beautiful; that is why Kali chose me. I have very thick curly blond hair and at the age of one hundred sixty-five seasons I do not look a single day over eighteen. Kali chose me for my beauty, but she has found me an extremely vexing host, as she often complains. Goa’ulds are not known for their patience, Kali least of all.

Once she even threatened to kill me and find another host. It was after I had repeated my name to myself two thousand, four hundred and thirty three times in succession (yes, I do keep count).

I do not think Kali expected my joyful and approving response to that suggestion. A single goal remains for me: to be freed from Kali’s control by whatever means necessary. If that means I must die - and it is very likely that it does - then so be it.

The events leading to my eventual realization of that goal started out quite innocently. Kali’s first prime, Ladar, a very large and very ugly Jaffa, brought news that intruders had come through the Stargate, which was supposed to be heavily guarded. When Kali angrily demanded to know why the intruders had not been neutralized, Ladar explained, with much bowing and simpering, that the intruders had taken out the Jaffa guarding the gate. Every. Last. One.

I let out a gleeful yell. Inside my head, of course.

Kali’s reaction - both to the news brought by her first prime and to my utter glee - was quite predictable. She became utterly furious. Her eyes flashed and she gave Ladar the upbraiding of a lifetime, complete with threats directed toward very sensitive parts of his anatomy, and told him that the intruders would be found and captured. Or. Else.

Even big, ugly Jaffa are not immune to fear when it comes to threats like those Kali had just made. Ladar assured Kali that the intruders would be killed, and left with even more bowing and butt-kissing.

Once Ladar was gone, Kali’s attention turned to me, as I had known it would. ‘You!’ She spat inwardly. ‘You. Will. Be. Silent!’

‘Whatever you say, Snakey,’ I responded cheerfully, then resumed counting tiles on the floor, which was what I had been doing before Ladar came in. ‘Eight hundred twenty two, eight hundred twenty three, eight hundred twenty four ... ’

‘SHUT UP!’

‘No.’

‘STOP THIS AT ONCE!’ Oh boy. Snakebitch was adopting the tone which had made big, tough Ladar tuck his tail between his legs and run like a beaten puppy.

‘Make me stop,’ I challenged.

Kali fell silent, trembling with rage. She might be able to imprison me inside my body. She might be able to use my hands to do her wicked deeds. But she could not stop me from counting tiles inside my own head.

It is a very small victory, but such small victories have kept me sane over the last one hundred and fifty years of hell.

Kali is not an important Goa’uld, although she likes to believe she is. I will share a secret with you: all Goa’ulds believe they are important. Arrogance is one of their few weaknesses and I like to believe it will be their downfall.

My own personal pet snake (Kali, needless to say, does not enjoy being called that) is trying to gain power by supervising a very important project for a System Lord named Osiris. This project is top secret and it involves the construction of a New And Improved weapon which, once completed, will be used to kill scores of innocent people. Kali and her boss (oh, but it makes her angry when I remind her that she’s just a lowly little lackey who has to bow before Osiris) are not exactly promoters of universal peace.

If this project is compromised, Kali will be in a great deal of trouble. The consequences would probably make her venomous threats toward Ladar seem rather tame. It is therefore quite understandable that she got so upset when she heard that there were interlopers on the loose.

They had to be there to jeopardize the project - there was no other explanation. Ladar had said there were only four of them. The logical part of my mind told me that they hardly had the chance of a snowflake in a firestorm, but I cheered for them nonetheless (and not just to make Kali angry, either). If they could triumph against such incredible odds, perhaps I could also.

When she chose to visit the project personally to ensure that it was not sabotaged, Kali could not possibly have known that she was setting in motion a series of events that would lead to her own demise.

The project was based underground - in a large cavern inside a mountain, to be more specific. Kali was still seething with rage as she deactivated the force field surrounding the entrance to the mountain. When Kali is very angry she sometimes gets reckless, thanks be to all that is holy. (Kali may like to masquerade as a goddess, but she definitely does not fit in the category of all that is holy.)

As she stalked toward the project, Kali entertained herself by imagining how she would torture the intruders when they were captured. The Goa’uld love torture. Mothers probably lull their little snakelets to sleep with bedtime stories about screaming humans whose eyes have been burned away by acid.

While Kali tried to decide between using a pain stick or breaking fingers one by one, I speculated on who the intruders where, where they came from, and in what way they planned to sabotage the project. I created lots of happy little scenarios in my head, all of which ended with the project’s destruction and Kali’s extremely unpleasant death at the hands of Osiris.

Kali lost her train of thought just as she was about to decide which knife to use when she skinned the intruders alive.

She hates it when I do that.

Ladar bowed, predictably, when Kali walked into the cavern. He still looked extremely frightened by Kali’s earlier threats. The situation was nearly comical: a hulking Jaffa frightened of a petite golden-haired woman less than half his size.

Correction: it was not the woman who frightened the Jaffa, but the Goa’uld who controlled the woman; an entirely different matter and one that was not at all funny.

Ladar was right in the middle of assuring Kali, for the fifth time, that all was going well with the project when alarms began to sound. The intruders had made it inside the mountain.

There had only been one time, one window of opportunity, when they could have. Only one time when the force field had been down.

They’d followed Kali through.

My glee was increasing by leaps and bounds.

‘You made a mistake!’ I crowed. ‘You ruined everything! Just wait until Osiris gets his hands on you. Let’s see - what knife will he use when he skins you alive?’

‘SILENCE!’

Who knew it was possible to shout so loudly without actually making a sound?

Once she had ordered all available Jaffa to go after the intruders and capture them, Kali haughtily reminded me that those with the audacity to jeopardize ‘her’ project would most certainly not escape. ‘You should not be so overjoyed at the prospect of punishment by Osiris, human,’ she spat (can one spit inwardly?). ‘It will be your body being tortured!’

‘Hearing you scream would be worth any amount of pain, Snakey. Oh, and this is not your project. It’s Osiris’.’

‘If you are not silent - ’

‘What will you do? Call me a pain in the mik’ta? I am so frightened!’

Kali was saved from replying by the arrival of a gasping, wide-eyed Jaffa. “They have breached the second level, my queen,” he wheezed. “A number of Jaffa have fallen, but so has one of the intruders. It is only a matter of time; they are greatly outnumbered. I do not think they expected our attack; they had injected themselves with an isotope which they must have believed would get them past our monitors.”

“They were wrong, were they not?” The edge of Kali’s mouth curved up in a sardonic smile. “Ensure that they do not reach this level, Ket’al. I do not care what you must do; capture them or kill them, but keep them away from the project.”

“Yes, my lady.” He bowed loyally before the short-tempered, bitchy snake he actually seemed to believe was a goddess, then turned to rejoin the fight against the brave but evidently overconfident intruders.

Much to Kali’s chagrin, her orders were not obeyed; it could not have been more than fifteen minutes later when the sounds of battle spilled into the corridors of the fifth level, where the project was.

“Incompetent fools!” Kali fumed, glaring at the Jaffa who had remained behind guarding the project, as if they were personally responsible for the failure of their comrades to quickly capture the intruders.

I knew that they had little chance, but I could not help cheering inwardly for the four humans who had been courageous and crazy enough to undertake such an impossible mission. Their tenacity and refusal to surrender or retreat told me that they were likely more or less on a suicide mission. If they could only get close enough to the project -

It was not to be.

The sounds of battle waned, then disappeared entirely. A moment later Ladar appeared, gasping for breath, his left arm hanging limply with blood dripping off his fingertips. Without regard for his own injury, he bowed painfully and gasped, “My queen, the intruders have been captured.”

Kali smiled, her eyes flashing. “Bring them to me.”

Wonderful, just wonderful. Now she was thinking about knives again.

I began to pity the overconfident intruders.

They were human - three of them were, at least. The fourth was a Jaffa, large and dark-skinned, bearing the seal of Apophis on his forehead. Kali immediately recognized him as Teal’c, the shol’va who had been steadily making a reputation for himself as a sworn enemy of the Goa’uld.

My kind of Jaffa, in other words.

Of the humans, two were male and one female - she had short blond hair and looked defiantly at Kali with wide gray eyes. The older man had silvering hair and very dark brown eyes and seemed to be the leader; the younger was dark-haired and wore glasses. It was he who had been injured; I could see an ugly staff wound on his left leg. My shocked and compassionate reaction to this intruder surprised even me.

He looked like Jothan.

So much like Jothan that he could have been my intended fifteen seasons from the day I last saw him. The eyes, the hair, the face - all so much like Jothan’s. I had thought I had forgotten Jothan’s face, but now here it was, in front of me again, and I remembered everything.

Which was the worst possible thing I could have done.

With all the trouble I had been giving Kali recently, she jumped eagerly at the chance to get back at me. She felt the compassion I directed toward the younger human, and immediately her eyes fell on him and she smiled cruelly. “Bring this one forward.”

I knew what was going to happen and was powerless to stop it.

I was going to have to watch Jothan die all over again.

The young intruder who looked so much like Jothan was a strong man.

At first.

He did not scream until the fourth finger was broken, and even then his cry was very short, cut off quickly. He squeezed his eyes shut and struggled to breathe, refusing to respond to Kali’s questions, namely who are you and who sent you?

God, how I hated this.

I had been present when Kali tortured prisoners many times before, but it never became easy, and I felt personally responsible for this human’s torment. If not for my reaction to him, Kali might have chosen one of the others, perhaps Teal’c, the notorious shol’va who was universally hated by all Goa’uld who had heard his name.

The woman closed her eyes, her skin paling at her comrade’s cries, which were no longer restrained when Kali moved to his left hand. The older man began to struggle against the Jaffa holding him, shouting, “My name is Jack O’Neill and I’m in charge of this mission. Your problem is with me, not him!” One of the Jaffa struck him in the face, stunning him momentarily.

Kali ignored O’Neill, focusing her attention on the younger man. Seeming unafraid of the possible consequences, the intruder called Jack O’Neill began to fight again, attempting to free himself. “What’s wrong, snakehead bitch?” He spat. “Are you scared?”

I was really beginning to like this man.

Kali turned toward him, smiling a little. “Am I frightened? No, Jack O’Neill, it is you who should be afraid. If you tell me who you are, where you come from and who sent you, I might consider sparing your friend any further agony.”

O’Neill did not respond.

Kali did not spare the younger man, although I doubt she would have even if her questions had been answered. Have I mentioned that the Goa’uld really love torture?

By the time Kali had completed her torment of the young man with Jothan’s face, the female intruder was in tears and I had attempted to distance myself from the situation, which was hard, because I couldn’t even close my own eyes. Every cry of pain sounded in my ears and I could not do anything.

I counted tiles on the wall. I repeated my name to myself over and over and over and over and over.

It did not help.

Kali lowered the pain stick. The young, handsome, brown-haired intruder had mercifully lost consciousness; his eyes were closed, his face sweat-streaked. Kali lifted her hand and the device fitted over it began to glow.

It was all over very soon.

I knew that Jothan - my Jothan - had been dead for many, many years, but from my emotional state one might believe that I had just watched him die again. The young intruder had drawn his last breath, for I knew that Kali did not intend to revive him.

“Take them away,” she ordered with a wave of her hand. “Put them in the cells on level one. Take this one - ” she gestured toward the dead intruder in disgust “ - with you.”

“Wait!” The woman protested. “Aren’t you going to put him in a sarcophagus? Aren’t you going to - to revive him?”

“Why would I?” Kali looked at the distraught intruders, enjoying the pain she was putting them through. “I still have the three of you, including the shol’va Teal’c, who will be very valuable.”

The Jaffa’s expression did not change.

I hadn’t really expected it to.

‘Are you so happy now, human?’ Kali asked me after the intruders were taken away and thrown into cells in level one.

‘I am going to enjoy watching you die, Kali,’ I responded, remaining as calm as possible under the circumstances.

‘Correction: you won’t be enjoying anything. When I die, you die too.’

‘No, parasite, a correction for you: I died a long time ago. I exist now only to see you stomped into a gooey little snakeslime puddle in the floor.’

If Kali could have killed the man with Jothan’s face again, just to cause me more pain, I believe she would have.

Sometimes I think she only puts up with me because she knows I want her to choose another host.

Kali returned to her own personal quarters - they’re quite over-decorated, if you want my opinion, which Kali doesn’t - and sat down in an ornate and ugly golden chair, basking in the afterglow of having just gotten to torture someone to death. Of course, the death was made only sweeter by the fact that it had caused me pain.

You may have already ascertained that Kali and I don’t exactly get along.

It’s hard sharing a body with someone you despise beyond description, especially when that someone has control.

She was certain that her capture of the shol’va Teal’c would bring her great rewards from Osiris. The project had not been sabotaged; surely she would be rewarded for a job well done. Visions of power began to dance in her snaky little head.

Ah, beautiful irony - that was the exact moment when it all started falling apart.

The alarms were the first clue.

Somehow, some way, the resourceful and determined interlopers had managed to escape their holding cell. It seemed that the woman, who was very intelligent and somewhat familiar with Goa’uld technology, had discovered a way to disable the force field that kept them from leaving.

Presumably still very, very angry after having witnessed the gruesome death of his comrade, the leader, Jack O’Neill (he must be quite special to have two names, I thought), took out a lone Jaffa with his bare hands. That Jaffa’s zat’nik’tel was used to take out more Jaffa, their zat’nik’tels were given to the other surviving intruders who used them to take out more Jaffa, and so on and so forth.

They could have escaped. They could have left their dead teammate lying in that cell and they could have gotten away easily. They could probably have even taken his body along with them and still gotten away easily.

I knew - and, unfortunately, Kali also knew - they wouldn’t do that. We had both seen their faces as they watched their friend die horribly.

They would look for the sarcophagus.

And when they found it, Kali would be waiting there for them.

Kali was overconfident, for which I will forever be grateful. It was the arrogance factor rearing its ugly head, and, as I had always hoped, proving to be a weakness.

She was waiting by the sarcophagus when the intruders found it. Jack O’Neill was in the lead; he had recovered both of his strangely designed projectile weapons and was holding the larger one out in front of him, the other strapped into a holster at his side. The woman was just behind him with a zat’nik’tel, and bringing up the rear, carrying both a staff weapon and the dead body of their comrade, was the shol’va Teal’c.

Kali’s biggest mistake - her final mistake, as it turned out - was not activating her hand device until after the intruders had seen her.

She was certain she had time to create a force field that would stop anything they could fire at her, be it the primitive projectile weapon or a zat’nik’tel. She had not realized how quickly the leader would react at the sight of her.

Kali was a split second too late.

She did manage to activate the force field, but the bullet had already passed it by. I felt the bullet strike my upper chest, causing a sickening stab of pain and an immediate gush of blood. I had never been so grateful to anyone as I was to the leader at that moment.

I was fading away, and Kali with me; I felt myself begin to fall but never knew when I hit the floor.

When I awakened, it took me a brief moment to realize why I felt so strange. Then realization hit.

Kali was still unconscious.

For the moment, at least, I had control of my body.

I must have been unconscious for some time, because the formerly dead man with Jothan’s face had already come out of the sarcophagus; he had a slightly bewildered expression but looked none the worse for wear. His eyes widened when he saw that I was aware. He spoke in a soft voice to the leader, who quickly turned his weapon toward me.

I managed to focus my eyes on the handsome silver-haired man, the leader, Jack O’Neill. It felt incredibly good to have control of my own body, but it had been so long that I had almost forgotten how to use my voice.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

The man with Jothan’s face gasped. “Jack, I think we’re talking to the host,” he explained to his comrade. Turning his attention back to me, he asked, “What’s your name?”

“I am Lyndraia.” How I had feared I would never be able to speak my name aloud again. “I swore an oath long ago - that I would live to curse the name of the Goa’uld who made me her slave.”

I proceeded to do so, taking advantage of my temporary control, ignoring the pain radiating from my wound and using every dirty epithet, in both my own language and in Goa’uld, that I had learned during my years as a host.

A twinkle was beginning to show in the brown eyes of the leader. “I think I like this girl, Daniel,” he said with a grin. Daniel ... it was a good name, but not so nice as Jothan, I thought.

“You think we could get her back to the SGC and call in Jacob to help?” Jack O’Neill asked.

“We could always try, sir,” the golden-haired woman said, her eyes flickering quickly to the doorway, “but whatever we do, we need to do it now. I planted the C4 on level five while Kali was busy with - ” she gave Daniel an apologetic glance. “Anyway, we’ve got three minutes before this whole mountain goes up, and we’ll need every second of that to get back to the Stargate.”

The leader reached out as if to lift me into his arms, but I grasped his wrist and looked into his eyes. “No!” I said sharply. “Please ... I have waited for so long. Please kill me now. It is the only way for me to be free.”

“That might not always be true,” he replied enigmatically. “We know some people who just might be able to get rid of your snake and leave you unharmed.”

I had never heard of such a thing, and rather than refusing his offer of help and insisting that he end my suffering, I allowed myself to hope for a brief moment. It was a terrible mistake.

As the leader, the one called Jack, lifted me into his arms, I felt Kali begin to awaken. In the split second before she retook control, I managed to cry, “No! Look ou - ”

Jack reacted, but not quickly enough. Kali lifted his smaller weapon from its holster and shoved him back, leveling the weapon at his chest. Her eyes flashed furiously but she was weak, and to my surprise I realized that she did not have complete control over my body.

I had to make the weapon move. I had to point it at myself and save the leader, Jack O’Neill.

Focusing every ounce of strength I possessed on my task, I felt the weapon begin to turn, but then Kali tightened my finger on the trigger, there was a shot, and the leader fell, blood spurting from his chest onto the cold stone floor.

I had failed in this task, in saving the good silver-haired man who had wanted to free me, but I would not - could not - fail in my final bid for freedom. Inch by inch, unyielding, I turned the barrel of the weapon toward my bloodstained chest. Kali fought, but this time I was stronger. I had been waiting for this moment for one hundred and fifty agonizing seasons. I do not believe the willpower of ten Goa’ulds would have been enough to stop me.

The pain, when it came, lasted only for a split second. And in the brief moment afterward, before everything faded away, I felt the most incredible sense of elation, triumph beyond anything I could have imagined.

I had won!

“We need a medical team in here!”

Major Samantha Carter hit the ramp yelling, her short blond hair in disarray. She was carrying the front half of a makeshift stretcher; Dr. Daniel Jackson emerged from the ’gate behind her, carrying the other end. Their alien teammate, Teal’c, followed close behind them, bearing the limp, bloodstained body of a blonde, beautiful girl who appeared to be in her late teens.

Dr. Janet Fraiser checked Jack O’Neill’s pulse, her lips tightening when she saw how much blood he had lost. “We need to get him to the infirmary, stat!” She called, transferring his limp form to a gurney with the help of the other medical personnel.

Gently, almost reverently, Teal’c lowered the limp girl to the floor at the end of the ramp. Dr. Fraiser turned her attention from O’Neill for just a moment, looking down at the young woman. “Who’s that?”

“That’s Kali, the minor Goa’uld in charge of the project,” Major Carter responded wearily. Seeing the petite doctor’s eyebrows shoot up, Sam sighed and added, “It’s a really long story, Janet.”

“Kali’s host, Lyndraia, may have saved the life of O’Neill, DoctorFraiser,” Teal’c put in. He was gazing down at the woman with something like sadness in his normally impassive face. She was petite and looked very fragile now that her face was so still.

Dr. Fraiser shot Sam a look that clearly said she wanted to hear the entire story as soon as possible, just before the gate room exploded into a flurry of action and Janet rushed out beside Colonel Jack O’Neill, who had chosen a most inopportune time to flat line.

“Any change?”

Sam looked up into the blue eyes of her teammate and close friend, Daniel Jackson. She shook her head in response to his question and focused her eyes on the still figure lying on the bed, attached to all kinds of tubes and monitors.

“Janet says there isn’t anything more she can do.” Sam released a shuddery sigh. “There was just too much damage, too much blood lost ... if I’d just reacted sooner, if I’d been more cautious - I should have known the Goa’uld could awaken at any time!”

“Sam, it wasn’t your fault,” Daniel said firmly, giving her a hug. For a moment they were both silent, listening to the almost hypnotic beeping of monitors.

“How’s Jack doing now?” Sam asked finally.

“Janet says we can see him in a little while,” Daniel responded. “It was pretty rough for a while, but they replaced the blood he lost and got him stabilized, as you know. Give him a few days and he’ll be throwing a fit, wanting to go home.”

Sam managed a smile at that, a smile that faded quickly. Fixing her gaze again on the golden-haired girl being kept alive by life support, she said softly, “I only wish we could have saved Lyndraia.”

“Too bad we didn’t have time to use the sarcophagus,” Daniel said, his blue eyes regretful.

“I know.” Sam ran a hand through her already disheveled short blond hair. “But there was no time left. We barely made it back as it was. If we’d put anyone in that sarcophagus, it wouldn’t have had time to finish. They’d have died in the explosion.”

Daniel didn’t want to inspire false hope in his teammate and close friend, but he had to ask.

“Sam, have you talked to your dad lately?”

For a moment Sam was quiet, but when she realized what Daniel was getting at, a smile began to grow on her face.

“Daniel, you’re a genius!”

“Sam.” Jacob Carter smiled at his daughter as he stepped onto the gate ramp. Sam returned his grin, giving him a warm hug.

“Dad. It’s been way too long.”

“I agree. I understand you have a situation here that you could use my help with?” Jacob followed Sam, Daniel Jackson, and General Hammond toward the infirmary, where Doctor Fraiser was waiting for them.

“Yes,” Sam replied. “It’s a pretty long story, Dad, but we have a Goa’uld here - Kali. She was in charge of the project the Tok’ra talked us into sabotaging. The Colonel shot her, allowing her host - Lyndraia - to emerge briefly.”

“She saved Jack’s life,” Daniel added, the emotion in his eyes very clear: he wanted Lyndraia to be both free and alive.

Sam took the story back up. “The Colonel wanted to bring Lyndraia back with us in hopes that her symbiote could be removed, but when he tried to pick her up, Kali awakened and grabbed his pistol. Lyndraia fought Kali and managed to throw off her aim enough to save Colonel O’Neill’s life. She then turned the gun on herself and fired again.”

“Was Jack injured?” Jacob asked.

“Yes, and he gave us all a pretty good scare when he flat lined right after we got back, but a few blood transfusions later and Janet says he’s going to be fine. Lyndraia is the reason we called you here.” Sam sighed. “She’s being kept alive by life support, Dad. Her wounds are too serious for the symbiote to heal.”

“You want me to use the healing device?”

“Yes, and when you’re done - assuming the damage isn’t too severe for you to fix - do you think you could take her back to the Tok’ra and get the symbiote removed?” Sam fixed her eyes on her father’s face. “Lyndraia fought so hard, Dad. It seems like she deserves a chance.”

“I’ll see what I can do, Sam,” Jacob Carter responded, allowing his Tok’ra symbiote, Selmak, to take over as he slipped the healing device onto his hand and stood over the still body of Lyndraia, the young woman who had refused to give up.

If this was the afterlife, it was not exactly what I had expected.

First of all, my chest hurt - not terribly, just a deep, annoying ache like that of a wound half-healed. And when I opened my eyes a bit, I saw white walls and a ceiling with a small crack running down the middle.

Wait.

I opened my eyes.

Not Kali - me.

This must be the afterlife.

I could handle cracked ceilings and white walls. That was fine. Just as long as I was free of Kali’s control.

If this really was the afterlife, I soon discovered, it included some strange company.

Such as people who were still alive.

They were alive last time I saw them, anyway.

The blond-haired woman intruder was sitting in an uncomfortable-looking chair beside my bed. Her head was leaned back against the wall and her mouth was hanging open - she was quite obviously asleep.

Do people drool in the afterlife?

Teal’c, the shol’va (my kind of Jaffa, I always say), was leaning against the wall near the door, arms crossed, dark face impassive. I found myself wondering, incongruously, whether he ever smiled.

Just as an experiment to make sure I had control of my entire body, I moved my legs. The sheet rustled and the blond woman awakened with a jolt, hitting her head against the wall. “Ow!” She yelped.

She opened her eyes, rubbing the back of her head, and smiled when she saw that I was awake. “Lyndraia. How are you feeling?”

“Like myself.” My voice left no doubt that this was considered a good thing. “Where is Kali?”

“Kali will never bother you again.” She smiled at me and looked quite pleased with herself. “We called the Tok’ra in and they removed her, Lyndraia. You’re yourself again.”

Ah! The Tok’ra. If there was any specific race that Kali hated most, it was the Tok’ra, meaning, of course, that I held them in very high regard.

“So I’m not dead?” I asked hopefully.

The woman laughed, still rubbing her obviously aching head. “No. You’re not dead.”

“Good. I was starting to worry when I saw the cracked ceiling. I was afraid the afterlife wasn’t quite what it was said to be.”

“How’s the patient?” A voice called cheerfully from the doorway as the woman tried to figure out whether I was being serious. I began to doubt the woman’s assurance that I was in fact not dead, because the voice belonged to Jack O’Neill.

He was pushed into the room in a chair with wheels, looking pale but unmistakably not dead. He looked surprised when he saw me. “Oh. You’re awake.”

“You have remarkable powers of deduction,” I replied very seriously. Jack O’Neill looked quite surprised.

I was feeling somewhat disoriented; I had been certain that Jack O’Neill had perished in the underground cavern that housed the project, however far away that might be by now. “I thought Kali killed you,” I told him.

“Nah.” Jack O’Neill shrugged. “It was just a little hole pumping out a few gallons of blood. Nothing I couldn’t handle.” He gave the woman a stern look. “Carter, I swear, if you say I shouldn’t be up yet, I’m going to - ”

“Why would I say a thing like that, sir?” She made her eyes wide and very innocent, then stood up stiffly. “I’m gonna go talk to Janet, sir. I’ll be right outside.”

Teal’c peeled himself off the wall and uncrossed his arms. “I am going to find nourishment, O’Neill,” he announced.

O’Neill looked offended. “I show up and everybody leaves. Fraiser won’t let me take a shower, I swear. It’s not my fault!”

The woman smiled. “Of course not, sir.” She gave me a little wave before following her teammate, the shol’va, out into the corridor.

I really like shol’vas.

I tried to sit up and groaned. It felt as if I had been run over by an entire army of Jaffa in full armor.

“Careful; you’ve been shot,” Jack O’Neill said unnecessarily.

I shot him a slightly annoyed glance. “No - you cannot be serious.”

His eyes widened almost comically and he yelped, “Carter! You have to see this!”

Carter (what an unattractive name for a woman!) appeared in the doorway having nearly died of immediate heart failure when her injured leader shouted. “Sir! What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Come here!” He enthusiastically motioned her over, then winced a little (remembering, evidently, that he had been shot as well) and turned back to me, not appearing to realize that I was considering his behavior quite bizarre. “Say that again,” he ordered.

“No - you cannot be serious,” I responded obediently.

Carter (what must her mother have been smoking to give her such a name?) eyed her leader, seeming to agree with my opinion about his behavior. She looked as if she was debating whether to lock him up now or wait until he lost his mind entirely. So many choices, so few answers.

“Caaarter,” he almost whined, “don’t you see? It’s sarcasm! From an alien!”

“Alien?” I sputtered. “What planet are you from, Jack O’Neill?”

“Earth.”

“Then you are the alien. I am not an alien.” I am capable of being somewhat stubborn on occasion, as Kali discovered long ago.

“Oh, yes, you are ... because we’re on Earth!” O’Neill appeared very happy to be able to disclose this choice piece of information to me. “That makes you an alien!”

“Oh.” I was somewhat deflated when I realized I could find no suitable argument with which to combat this new revelation. Dropping the matter entirely, I switched to asking questions. “How did I get here? Why am I still alive? I know I was fatally injured.”

“We got you back through the ’gate,” O’Neill explained, “and - ”

“Teal’c got you back through the ’gate,” Carter corrected. “Colonel O’Neill was too busy bleeding to death and we were too busy trying to get him medical attention. You were still barely alive when we got you here, and we called in the Tok’ra. They used a healing device to save your life, and then they removed your symbiote.”

“Kali,” I spat.

“Yes.” Carter nodded. “You’re very fortunate, Lyndraia - my dad thought at first that he might not be able to save you. As I’m sure you’ve noticed, he couldn’t heal you entirely, but you’re well on the way to recovery.”

“Your father?” I questioned. “The Tok’ra live on Earth?”

“No,” Colonel O’Neill (what is a Colonel anyway?) responded.

I had decided that he had far too many names and that he was also attempting to confuse me. “So Carter is not from Earth? She is also an alien?”

“No, she’s from Earth.”

“Her father is an alien?”

“Nope. Her father’s from Earth too.”

“I do not like you, Colonel O’Neill.”

“I love you too.”

“Sir!” Carter was trying very hard not to laugh. “I think you’ve met your match.” She turned to me, her eyes twinkling. “My father is from Earth, Lyndraia, but he joined the Tok’ra and took a symbiote when he found out he was dying.”

“Ah.” I nodded my understanding; I respected Carter’s father’s right to choose a Tok’ra symbiote over death, but I personally would perish in agony before I would allow another snake inside my head. Even a good snake. It has taken far too long for me to get to be myself, and I would prefer to stay that way, thank you very much.

I am me.

I am free.

I firmly told myself that I would remain calm, that I would not make a fool of myself in front of these good people who had saved me in more ways than one.

I was, of course, lying to myself.

When my deafening whoop died away, Colonel Jack O’Neill (any other names you wish me to know about, sir?) unplugged his ears and looked calmly at me as if ex-Goa’uld hosts recovering from life-threatening injuries caused damage to his eardrums every day. “I take it that’s in response to Kali’s death?”

“Yes.” I felt as if my face would split in half from my smile. I would never be able to regain the life I had lost so many seasons ago, and I would always have memories of the horrible things Kali used me to do during the time I was her host ...

... But I was free!

Smiling faintly, I stood facing Jack O’Neill, Carter, Daniel and the shol’va Jaffa Teal’c. I owed these four a great deal - they had freed me from Kali, saved my life, given me a chance, and now, they had found me a home.

The inhabitants of Etaria were gentle, human like me, and similar in culture to the people I had lost so long ago. Having been hurt many times by the Goa’uld, they were more than willing to welcome me, a woman who had survived being a host. I gave them hope - hope for the family and friends they had lost to Goa’uld symbiotes.

“Thank you,” I said to all of them, feeling not for the first time that words were not sufficient to express what they had done for me. I stepped forward to hug Daniel, the man with Jothan’s face.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered as he gently wrapped his arms around me and returned my hug.

“Sorry for what?” He asked. “For what Kali did?”

“No.” I looked up into his eyes. “For what I did. When I saw you, and realized you were injured, I felt very sympathetic because you looked so much like Jothan. That was why Kali chose you.”

While I recovered from my injuries on the planet called Earth, Daniel and I had shared the stories of those we had loved and lost to the Goa’uld, discovering a common bond in our similar experiences. Daniel had not been the host - his Sha’re was chosen instead - but I knew he had hurt just as I had, both when Sha’re’s symbiote had tried to kill him and when his wife had finally perished along with her symbiote.

“It wasn’t your fault,” he whispered back, giving me one last squeeze before releasing me. “If I’d been in that situation and had seen a woman with Sha’re’s face, I would have reacted the same way.”

I stepped back and smiled my thanks for his reassurance. He was not and never would be my Jothan, but he was a good man, and I hoped he would someday find another woman worthy of his love. I hoped the same for O’Neill, although I could not help thinking that he would have to find a patient woman who could bear his attitude. O’Neill and I had been together far too much while we recovered from our injuries, and had tormented each other incessantly.

He seemed somewhat surprised when I hugged him too, but he returned the hug as Daniel had done. “Thank you, Colonel Jack O’Neill,” I said softly. “You have too many names, but you are a good man.”

“You’re welcome, Lyndraia,” he responded, but couldn’t resist getting in one last jab. “You don’t have enough names, but you’re a good woman. For an ex-snakehead.”

Disregard what I said previously. A patient woman will not do. O’Neill must find a saint.

I hugged Carter (I had discovered that her first name was really Samantha, which was better, but still not pretty enough for her), then Teal’c, whose face was expressionless (I had not really expected it to be anything else).

The Etarian villagers were waiting for me, but I could not seem to tear myself away from these four who had freed me. I had come to care for them, for all of them, far more than I wished to admit.

“You will keep in contact?” I asked hopefully.

“Sure,” Colonel Jack O’Neill replied. “We’ll come visit. We have a trade agreement with the Etarians, after all.”

“Good.” I allowed myself a small smile, telling myself firmly that I would not cry. “Because if you did not come visit me, I would have to track you down and shoot you all, and that would be very regrettable.”

O’Neill snorted, then turned toward Daniel. “Better start dialing home. We’re due back soon.” Turning back to me, he gave a sloppy salute. “Take care of yourself, kid.”

“Kid.” I tried to laugh, but it came out almost as a sob, making me angry because I had promised myself I would not cry. “I will have you know, Colonel Jack O’Neill, that I am a great deal older than you.”

He shrugged. “You look like a kid to me.”

The man is impossible.

I should not have watched them leave. I should have been greeting the Etarians, my new people, when the team called SG-1 stepped back through the Stargate on their way to Earth, but I could not make myself turn away.

A warm breeze blew tendrils of hair against my face as I watched them depart, hoping it would not be long before they returned.

“Thank you,” I whispered one last time as they disappeared. “Thank you ... for everything.”