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I suppose this is my way of saying, "Dear LJ, I failed at NaNo utterly and completely." Here's three chapters of Wreckage as proof. Lol.

Title: Down Here Among the Wreckage
Author: Annerb
Summary: Five years ago, SG-1 broke in half. Two years ago, Earth lost. Today, there is one last chance to fix things. But sometimes the pieces just don’t fit back together again.
Warnings: Mature for language, violence, torture, non-con, adult themes, and off-screen character deaths.
Categorization: AU, H/C, darkfic, tragedy, and apocafic for flavor. Team, Sam/Jack.
A/N: Special thanks to holdouttrout for the beta.

Part One-History
Part Two-Prodigal

Part Three-Reckoning
Prologue
Steady Pull
No Net Below
Greater Than

Chapter Five: Prelude

At the Omega Site, the walls hum and whisper.

Vala lies in her room that isn’t quite a prison cell—yet only all the more dangerous for it—and listens. She prefers the walls that are easily seen and worked around to the ones secretly woven and set in words and expectations. The open doorway seems to ask for trust, and it’s always the ones who feel the need to ask who deserve it the least.

Or possibly the Tau’ri simply believe they have the upper hand.

Either way, it makes them fools. That’s comforting in a way the open doorway is not.

After all, only fools would adopt alien technology without truly understanding it. She supposes on the surface the integration of multiple alien technologies at the Omega site is a visual reminder of their alliances, the forces they will attempt to bring to bear against Anubis. But for all their egalitarian idealism, the Tau’ri haven’t taken the time to know their allies as well as their enemies. Trust may just be their ultimate downfall. Poetic, but inevitable.

Take the Tok’ra, for example. The very species to provide the crystal structure used for the basis of this compound. They are an arrogant race uncaring, or simply incapable, of understanding the basic premise of privacy. For a race seeped in subterfuge, they understand nothing of secrets among their own kind.

So it is that these pretty crystal walls contain a certain useful property the Tok’ra would never think to identify as a flaw. But it is a weakness, this crystalline structure that builds and compounds upon natural veins of various densities. One that with the right equipment, some patience, and a little privacy, can turn the walls themselves into a surveillance system, carrying sound great distances.

Vala has all of these things in abundance.

And so she sleeps with the walls whispering in her ear, the Tau’ri secrets—mundane and otherwise—trickling into her mind syllable by syllable. She has always believed the true nature of a race is to be found not in their actions or intentions, but in their lies—the secrets they keep. The Tau’ri are open before her.

“Take Vala with you.”

Her eyes snap open, Colonel Reynolds’s voice vibrating against her eardrum, raising above all the other chatter. She adjusts the control the barest amount, zeroing in on the conversation.

“What?” Daniel’s voice this time, sharp with confusion and annoyance.

“I want someone to have an eye on her at all times. She knows way too much.”

They have no idea, she thinks, pulling the bud from her ear with a yank.

It’s not quite a prison door finally appearing, but the first creaking approach nonetheless. That’s okay. She’s prepared for this, already has five paths out of this convoluted base worked out. All she’s waiting for is the excuse.

When Daniel finally appears twenty minutes later, he’s still looking harried and annoyed. But certain. Ruthlessly so. Always so sure of the path he set them on that day in Netan’s chamber. She doesn’t know yet if this is delusion in the name of self-preservation or actual belief. She doubts she’ll have the chance to find out either way.

“They want you to stay with me for the duration of the fight,” he explains without preamble.

Vala swings up to a seated position, wondering if he’ll notice that for all intents and purposes her bags are already packed. “Why?” she asks.

His eyebrows scrunch over the top of his glasses. “So I can keep an eye on you.”

She rolls his honesty around on her tongue, trying to taste the hidden barbs. “They don’t trust me.”

“No,” he admits, no apology in sight.

She reminds herself that honesty isn’t everything. It probably just means he doesn’t think she’s important enough to lie to. She swings her feet back and forth over the edge of the bed, working variables, but really waiting for that click. That tickle at the back of her brain that has kept her alive this long.

Daniel’s staring at her as if tensing for a fight.

She isn’t quite ready to give him one, she decides. “Fair enough,” she says, gestures carefully careless, spine fluid as she hops to her feet.

His shoulders relax. His mistake.

She grabs her bag and slips out into the hall with him, eying the people rushing back and forth. The Tau’ri plan put in motion.

They pass by one of her exit paths on the way, and she reminds herself that once they are away from the Omega Site, it may only become more difficult to slip away. Her steps slow. She reaches for the wall, her fingers sliding over the crystal, feeling the hum build and change as people shuffle from space to space.

Daniel pauses, looking back at her. “Are you coming?”

She glances at his face, the position of his hands, studying the angle of his spine as he stands there. Strolling past her exit, she takes his arm. “Where to, handsome?”

He sighs, shrugging off her arm and aiming them towards the hangars.

She’ll take the Tau’ri’s open doors for now, let them think it means something. All she really needs are their walls.

Their idealism will take care of the rest.

* * *

Cam flattens himself against the wall, narrowly avoiding getting run over by a cart stacked with crates careening down around the corner.

“Whoa there,” he chastises the out of breath young man behind the wheel. Kicking Anubis’ ass is going to be tricky enough without maiming each other during the prep phase. “Slow down.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” the kid says, face flushed red under the beads of sweat. “Dr. McKay said these crates needed to get to the gate ASAP and if they were late, I could deal with Teal’c’s…displeasure.” He goes a bit pale at the thought, and Cam doesn’t entirely blame him.

He waves him on, making a mental note to remind McKay not to mess with the assistants’ heads. “Just try not to kill anyone, okay?”

“Sure thing!” the kid calls back over his shoulder as he disappears down the hall with absolutely no less velocity than before.

Cam shakes his head and crosses over to McKay’s office, banging his fist on the door. “Hop to it, McKay. Project Santa Claus is a go.”

McKay looks up from his desk, giving him a harried look. “I can’t believe Reynolds let you give the mission such a ridiculous name.”

Cam shrugs, not really feeling the need to have this argument yet again. “Come on. We’ve got a few chimneys to hit before the big day.”

“Chimneys to hit?” McKay sputters, looking like his head is going to implode with righteous indignation. His hands get all flappy, and that’s just never a good thing. “We’re talking about beaming cargo onto an occupied world from a cloaked ship without being detected or blown up! It’s nearly impossible!”

Cam blinks calmly back at him. “And you think getting little Betty Sue’s pony down a chimney was easy?”

That manages to temporarily stun McKay into silence, and Cam mentally tallies a point in his column. As usual though, McKay doesn’t stay silent for long.

“You are completely bent, you know that?” he says. “I don’t even know why I bother trying anymore.”

“Because you’re a misunderstood genius and that’s your lot in life,” Cam says. “Now grab your stuff and let’s go.”

McKay continues to grumble to himself as he darts around the room, packing up his necessary equipment. Of course, McKay’s definition of the word necessary has always been unique.

“That’s it!” Cam says after ten minutes of watching him stockpile everything he owns. “We are out of here now.”

Physically steering McKay out into the hall, Cam takes the precaution of looking both ways. These days you can never be too careful.

“I thought we were in a hurry?” McKay snipes.

Cam ignores him, stepping out into traffic and making a beeline for the hangars. They’re maybe halfway there when someone calls out his name.

“Colonel Mitchell!”

Cam twists around to locate the source, spying Kate Ortiz working her way across the hall.

“Kate,” he says, giving her a smile. He glances at the small pack over her shoulder, sparing a moment to compare it to the fifty-ton steamer truck currently threatening to break McKay in half. “You heading out?”

She nods. “I’m with the Valedian fleet.”

“Ah,” he says, shifting slightly when she gives him an expectant look, like waiting to hear where he’s being deployed. “I’m…somewhere else.”

Her eyes sparkle with humor. “Top secret mission,” she says, tapping the side of her nose. “Gotcha.”

He grins. “Something like that.”

“Well, in that case, I guess I’ll see you on Earth,” she says, holding out her hand.

He takes her hand, giving her a crooked grin. “It’s a date.”

Her eyebrow pops up, and Cam feels his face flush. “What I meant, of course--.”

Kate tugs on his hand, lifting up to press a kiss to his cheek. “Just when I thought you’d never ask.”

“Really?” he asks, only belatedly realizing that sounding that incredulous probably dents his cool just a little.

Her smile softens, something sobering in the look she gives him. “Good luck, Cam.”

He squeezes her fingers. “You too.”

She steps away then, glancing at McKay and giving him a nod as if she is not even remotely bothered that he has been standing there avidly watching them. “Doctor McKay.”

McKay stares after her as she walks away, his mouth hanging open.

“Not a word, McKay,” Cam grumbles. “Not a word.”

McKay hikes his pack up with a grunt. “You mean like ‘cute’? Or maybe just ‘pathetic’?”

Cam plants a hand in the middle of his pack, pushing him down the hallway. “Move it, Rudolph.”

“Oh, for God’s sake.”

* * *

There’s something hard in Vala’s eyes as she surveys the planet they’ve just landed on. “Who are we meeting again?” she asks, her voice casual as if she’s simply forgotten the information, and not that he’s never told her.

“We’re meeting up with the infiltration strike force,” Daniel says again, still sidestepping the simple inquiry. He doesn’t really know why he’s being so obscure, other than the way a little wrinkle of a frown appears between her eyes every time he does it. It’s only fair that she get to be the uncomfortable one every once and a while.

She makes a small sound of annoyance, and Daniel smiles to himself. Glancing around, he’s surprised that none of the Tok’ra are here to meet them, just three cargo ships sitting in the sun. Hell, he thought someone would bother to come up. He wanders towards a small strand of trees, trying to remember exactly where the rings are.

“There,” Vala says, pointing off to the right.

He looks at her in surprise, but she’s already turned away, walking unerringly to a small break in the bushes that looks familiar. Crossing over to stand next to her, he asks, “How did you know--?”

She tugs him closer as the rings sweep up and around them, slamming his body up against hers, but also keeping his heel from getting clipped.

“Thanks,” he mutters, stepping quickly back away.

She gives him a toothy smile, one she probably uses to get whatever she wants out of people. “I’ll just add it to the list.”

Daniel frowns. He has zero doubt that she’s keeping one; he just doesn’t want to contemplate what the final payment may be.

“Uh, hello,” a familiar voice says, and it’s only then that Daniel that they’ve been deposited in the underground cave. Jacob and a dozen other Tok’ra are standing in a circle a short distance away. Something about the positioning and the atmosphere of the room tells Daniel they have stumbled into the middle of a ceremony of some kind.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “We didn’t mean to interrupt.”

Jacob waves away the apology, the group breaking up. “We were done.”

Daniel waits while Jacob speaks quietly to a few Tok’ra before crossing over to greet them.

“Hey, Jacob,” Daniel says, gesturing to Vala. “Do you know Vala Mal Doran?” As a friend of Jack’s, Daniel doesn’t know how much experience she’s had with the Tok’ra.

The slight widening of Jacob’s eyes clues Daniel in that an introduction may not have been necessary. In an instant he can see that there’s a history here way beyond Jack. One he’s clearly missing big pieces to, but he can see it, the way Vala doesn’t back down, her gaze steady, even as Jacob’s eyes slide over and around and through her, never quite touching.

Guilt. The universal language.

“Oh,” Vala says with a careless wave. “The Tok’ra and I are old friends.”

Daniel doesn’t miss Jacob’s wince.

He’d love to ask exactly what this is all about, but one of the Tok’ra reappears at Jacob’s side.

“It is done, Selmak,” she says, bowing her head.

“Good,” Selmak replies. “Head to the surface with the others.”

Now Daniel can hear the telltale liquid hum echoing down the tunnel. Turning, he can see the light of the next hallway collapsing.

“You’re destroying the base?” Daniel asks, surprised.

Jacob turns back to watch the tunnel collapse in liquid light. “One way or another, we’re closing up shop.”

Anubis has undermined their very purpose, erased patterns and hierarchies they have depended upon for centuries, just as he’d done to the Jaffa. If there are no more Goa’uld, in the service of Anubis or otherwise, they have nothing to masquerade as, nothing to mimic. They have tried to shift to smugglers and information gatherers, but it’s always had the feeling of a stopgap measure, not a role that actually fit.

The time of the Tok’ra is near an end.

Vala’s eyes bore into Jacob’s back, but Daniel can’t quite read her expression. Not satisfaction so much as…grim understanding?

She turns, catching Daniel watching her. She lifts one eyebrow as if to say, ‘Are we going to stand around here all day or what?’

She’s right. They need to leave now if they are going to make the rendezvous in time. They don’t have time for puzzles and unspoken mysteries. Not even a moment to spare to grapple with the precarious future of the Tok’ra.

“Jacob,” Daniel says, touching his arm.

Jacob recovers, tearing his eyes away from the display. “Right. Of course,” he says. “We’re ready.”

* * *

Teal’c stands on a low rise, supervising the delivery of cargo from the Omega Site to Hak’tyl. He had thought the sheer number of weapons provided for his strike force was overly ambitious, knowing the number of able-bodied Jaffa to be depleted to practically nothing.

But the valley below is dotted with a great many tents, dozens of figures moving closer to help distribute the supplies, to hear the details of the battle plan.

Teal’c mentally tallies the warriors, noting class and caste, the symbols on their foreheads. It’s a tiny glimmer of what he had always hoped for—horus guard next to serpent, symbols mixing and blurring and lines no longer so clearly drawn. They are Jaffa, not enemy soldiers. And moving between them with confidence and ease, the Hak’tyl women, geared for battle.

The last great Jaffa army.

Ishta appears by his side, following the line of his gaze.

“I did not expect so many,” he confesses.

“They do not fight for Earth,” she says, her voice soft. There is no heat in the words, no callous disregard for the suffering of the Tau’ri, but rather a careful truth. When the call came, it was not the fate of Earth that drew them. They do not fight for territory, they do not fight for lords, they fight for nothing less than their very existence, their way of life.

They travel to Earth together, perhaps to the end of their kind. But perhaps a foundation too.

This march is all they have left.

“Come,” Ishta says, drawing him away back towards the gate.

Sergeant Lee meets them at the platform. “This is the last of them,” he says, gesturing at a pile of long, thin crates.

Ishta touches the top crate. “Are these the items I requested from Dr. McKay?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” Lee confirms.

Teal’c watches with interest as she opens the crate, not knowing what request she has made of Rodney McKay. She pulls out a staff weapon, and it is only after a moment of inspection that he realizes it has been modified to fire the drone pulse.

Ishta turns to him, holding the staff out in offering. “It is time you carried your staff once more, Jaffa.”

Teal’c swallows, feeling pressure crawling up his throat. He curls his fingers around the cool metal, feels the weight pull and tug at his shoulders.

“I thank you,” he says, words hoarse with the weight of nostalgia, of rightness.

She nods. “Welcome home.”

* * *

Jack hunches over a worn piece of paper, the hum of the ship quiet under his body.

The last day has been about pen and paper and draining important thoughts out before they disappear. There’s no English left, just the tick of the pen in short lines and dots that Jack can only hope will make more sense to Daniel than they do to him. It’s important.

There’s always been something more to Anubis. Even Anhur, as useless as he was, was enough to confirm this. And now with the Ancient knowledge unspooling…it’s there, just right out of reach.

His pen continues to tick along.

It means something. Something.

His fist hits his thigh in frustration.

“Jack,” Carter says, voice cautious.

She’s never far now, eyes following him (no longer filled with anger or accusation or even sadness, but back-breaking resolve), tracking his each and every slip, never quite able to hide a flinch every time a foreign word escapes. It was a relief when the chaos in his mind finally swallowed his ability to speak all together. Words have never done anything but trip them up.

He can hear it sometimes, the echoes of a thousand conversations between them, ones said and ones not and some he thinks he maybe only ever had in his head. He can’t be sure.

Closing his eyes, he breathes out. It’s getting harder, holding on to things. His hand clenches, but the pen still clatters to the floor. He gropes for it, knowing there are more things to be written, more half-formed thoughts to purge, but Cater gets there first.

“Enough,” she says, picking up the pen, slipping it into her pocket and out of reach. “That’s enough.”

He tries to find any last vestige of fight left, but the truth is that he’s slipping faster than ever, and she knows it. It’s over. It’s about time his body admitted what his mind has long known.

He holds the papers out to her.

She takes them cautiously, her eyes sliding incomprehensibly across the lines of symbols. “Daniel?” she asks.

He nods, wanting to emphasize how important this is, but not having the words. The way she carefully folds them and tucks them into her pocket tells him that she knows anyway.

It’s all he can do.

“You should rest,” she says, hovering near his elbow.

He pushes to his feet, automatically turning towards his berth, but she gestures towards the center of the hold instead. He’s not sure why, but doesn’t have the words to argue anyway. Clearing a stack of boxes, he sees that she’s set up a rudimentary pallet on top of a low collection of crates. It’s only when he lies down that he gets it.

She’s left the doors to the front cabin open, giving Jack a clear view of the stars flying past them. Lying there watching them, they give him the illusion of falling fast, tumbling downward.

It’s nothing he hasn’t seen a thousand times before, streaking beams of light speeding past him, but he can’t quite remember the last time he actually watched them. The feeble attempt resurrects a barrage of half-forgotten missions, close calls, and being so painfully alive. There’s nothing untouched or solid enough to latch onto anymore though. He doesn’t try. Holding on only makes things slip faster.

He closes his eyes.

When next he wakes, she’s lying next to him.

She’s not touching him, a nice careful distance between their bodies, but she’s there, being here with him, staring out at the stars as they streak past. Even with the lights turned down, there is just enough starlight to see her face, and, God, she’s still so damn beautiful.

He tenses as the dangerous thought fills his mind, waiting for the inevitable.

It doesn’t come.

There’s nothing in here but him now, him and the culmination of knowledge of a species far more advanced than any of them dared imagine. Wisdom too, which he hadn’t expected. It fills all the dark spaces, pushing out anything extraneous.

Smothering that dark voice.

He says the only word he has left. “Carter.”

Moving inch by inch in a slow crawl that only either of them could ever appreciate, her hand crosses the space between their bodies, fingers brushing across the back of his hand.

It’s the first time she’s willingly touched him, made that move across the impenetrable distance between them.

He turns his hand, his palm opening, and feels her fingers thread through his.

Somehow, it doesn’t feel like he’s falling quite so fast anymore.


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