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Summary:  After being sent to the surface of a planet, which the System Lord they are "serving" is destroying, Malek
and his host realize that they have been compromised and their only recourse is to escape through the Chaappa'ai.  
Unfortunately, his host is fatally wounded shortly after they arrive on the surface and he is dying.  Roavan wants to
find Malek a new host and when they stumble upon a young man chained in a room, he takes the opportunity that
has fallen to them.  This is the story of how Malek and Devlin (his current host) met and blended.   

Characters: Malek/Roavan, Malek/Devlin  

Pairing: Malek/Roavan, Malek/Devlin - NOT SLASH - These are host/symbiote pairings

Rating:  R for discussion of violence and allusions to sexual slavery and captivity.  Warning: OC Character Death.   










The young man stood at the window, one hand pressed against the glass as he stared at the
throughway below and the carnage that was everywhere upon it.  Tears rolled silently down
his cheeks, but he neither sobbed nor cried aloud.   

The bars on the outside of the window kept him from breaking the glass to escape, true, but
even more so, the golden collar around his neck and the long chain attached to it would stop
him even if the bars were gone.  Of course, if the bars were gone, he could break the glass
and jump, strangling himself.  What a relief that would be; to finally end this dismal thing
called life.   

He continued staring out the window as evening approached.  The shadows lengthened, and
he could no longer see the bodies of his children lying where they had been killed by the
Jaffa.  His throat closed on the anguished cry trying to escape, as he thought about those two
precious beings.  They and they alone, had made his life bearable.  

A sex slave, he wished that the Jaffa had found and given him the same release that his
children had been given.  At least, they would not be slaves of the Goa’uld, and his son would
not grow up to become the possession of a father-in-law.  That in itself was something to be
grateful for, just as he should be grateful that sweet Marisa would not grow up to be married
to a man she neither knew nor loved, to be used to give birth to children that could be used
as bargaining chips by their grandfathers.  

He remembered his own parents.  How very different their lives had been from what he now
endured and his children had faced as their future.  His eyes were desolate, but no more
tears fell.  With the addition of the memories of his parents to that of the loss of his children,
his grief became too deep for tears.  They had been preparing to leave this world, Spartania,
and return to their own home world, when the man who was now his father-in-law struck.  

He had known that the man wanted something from him; though at the time he did not know
what or why.  All he had really known was that the man stared at him and made him
uncomfortable.  He had told his father about his feelings and the man that was always
staring at him.  His father had believed him and made arrangements to return to their own
home world.  

However, he had not told his son why.  It might have been better if he had.  At least, when
his parents were killed, he would not have trusted any of the men who said they were there
to help him.  Moreover, when he was given to that man, he might have known what to
expect.  

He knew he would have attempted to flee before he was taken to anyone’s home.  In pain
over the loss of his parents, and alone for the first time in his life, he had been devastated
and lost.  However, fate had stepped in, and at a very young age, past puberty, but only just,
he had learned what treachery truly was.  

The man he now had as a father-in-law had arranged that his parents would go home, but in
a different way than expected.  They went as corpses and the third body sent, badly
mutilated, was supposedly him.  Proof of identity had been sent with that body, and as far as
he knew, no one had ever come to check.  His father-in-law, he would not let his name even
enter his mind, had taken great satisfaction explaining in detail exactly how he had arranged
their deaths.  He had also explained how, after they had drugged him, they had taken
samples of flesh, saliva, and blood, to prove that the body was indeed Devlin.

How different his life had been with his parents.  He remembered them clearly, although ten
years had passed.  His mother was beautiful with softly curling, glorious brown hair, shot
through with gold and red, and brown eyes that laughed and reflected the sun, their golden
lights shining forth with love for him and his father.  Her voice, he could still hear it, soft and
low as she sang a love song for them.  She had loved him so, the only child she had been
granted.   

He remembered his father, too.  Tall and slender, but strong, he had been very well
proportioned.  He had always assured Devlin that he would grow into his arms, his legs, and
his mind.  That the children at school, that made fun of him now, when he was all arms and
legs and clumsiness, would someday look at him with respect and honor him for his mind
and abilities.  He had been exactly as his son, he said, when he was that age.  

Besides that, he was a handsome boy even though he had yet to grow into his height and fill
out.  In fact, he looked like one of the pictures of the princely warriors that the local historian
was always going on about.  His father had even shown him a picture of one of them, one of
the Warriors of the Light.

He did not think he looked like that, but his mother and father both told him that he was the
image of the handsome man depicted there.  “Someday you, too, will become a Warrior of the
Light and fight the darkness that abounds in the universe.”  He did not believe he was
handsome, and he did not believe he would become one of the great Warriors of the Light,
but it had warmed him that his parents loved him so much that they believed he was and
would.

His father had laughed a great deal, as had his mother.  They had been happy together;
laughing and singing was always heard in their home.  He had often wished for the kind of
love that his parents had known.  

His father had taught him to have a sense of humor, to be able to laugh at himself, to be
honorable, honest, dependable, kind, and to love women.  He had taught him that to enjoy
and honor a woman was one of life’s greatest pleasures.  However, he had never found out if
that was true, for his life had changed drastically the day his parents had been murdered,
and he had been stolen away from everything he had ever known.

He sighed now, knowing that he had never had the opportunity to truly love and worship a
woman with his heart and his body.  It was one of the most painful regrets he had.  His
mother had reveled in his father’s love of her. Looking back, he could see that their lives had
been very beautiful.  

His own wife hated him because her father had chosen him for her.  On the other hand, she
hated her father as well.  That he could understand, but he was as much, or more, a prisoner
of her father’s than she was.  At least, she could leave whenever she wished to once the
children were born.  

She was vain and selfish, of that, there was no doubt, and he had disliked her from the
start.  She had disparaged both his intellect and his body.  He had come close to hating her,
except that he realized she was a product of their twisted society.  In a society where the
father-in-law owned and used the son-in-law as a sex slave until he died and the women
were mere incubators, what else could one expect?  At least she was not chained and stripped
of both clothing and freedom.  

He had been chained for ten years.  Ten very long, very lonely years.  No matter how many
times he escaped, he was always caught.  He never quite made it to the Portal.  He had tried
though.  He had tried.  He had been forced to wed the daughter and get her with child.  After
that, he stopped trying to escape; he also stopped fighting his father-in-laws sexual
demands.  As long as he cooperated, he was given free access to his children.  

`He had spent hour after hour with them in this room.  It was the only time he was ever
clothed and unchained.  However, he was held hostage by their well-being.  It had been
hinted that if he did not cooperate that there was no reason to keep the girl.  Sweet Marisa
would have been sold at once and she would have been placed as a breeder as soon as she
was capable of bearing children.  He would not allow that to happen.

Now, they were gone.  Just—gone.  This very morning they came to his rooms and spent
hours with him.  They had laughed and played.  And, he had watched them and played with
them.  The anguish ripped through him again.  He leaned his head against the glass, seeing
them laughing in his mind’s eye.  They faded and he turned back to the room.  

He listened for any sounds from the level below his.  The Jaffa had come earlier and he had
heard the screams echoing through the house.  He had waited for them to come for him, but
as far as he could tell, they had never left the lower floor.  If his children had been with him,
instead of visiting their mother, they would be alive now.  Why, on this of all days, the woman
had insisted on seeing them, when she never had asked for them before, he would never
know.  Moreover, it was too late to wonder now, for they had run from the house and been
killed in the thoroughfare below.   

He thought that Marisa had screamed for him, but over the other noises, he could not be
sure.  He would always believe that it had been for him, though.  Until his dying day, he
would see them cut down by the Jaffa as he stood and watched, completely helpless and
unable to do anything.  He could not even be there to die with them.  

The anger that roared into life and suddenly swept through him, took him by surprise.  He
would do anything to be able to fight the Goa’uld, to repay them for the loss of his children.  
He did not care what it was, or what it took; he would sell his soul to the Gods of the
Underworld, if he thought he could get revenge for his children’s blood.  However, the plea he
sent was not to them, but to the Goddess of goodness and light, his mother’s favorite, asking
her to allow fate to step in and help him in his goal.  Asking that she place the chance to fight
the Goa’uld before him. He vowed to pick it up and go on in her name, as well as Marisa and
Jamison’s.  He would fight them until either he or they were dead, if only she would please
grant him this one boon.

He walked to where his chain was fastened and began to pull on it.  No longer caring if
anyone could hear him attempt to break it loose, he worked as hard as he could on freeing
himself.  He looked around for anything to help him work on freeing himself, but as it had
always been, there was nothing there.  All he had was his hands so that was what he would
use.  He would work on it until they came for him.  At least it was something to occupy his
mind and blot out the visions of his children dying.   

He might never get it loose, but at least he was no longer standing and waiting for the Jaffa to
find and kill him.  He did not even notice when the blood from his hands began to cover the
links.  He continued to try.  He wanted revenge.   

He looked around the room once again and then had an idea.  If he could get one of the posts
on the bed to break, perhaps, he could use that as a lever or a hammer.  Something to use
other than his hands, which were only becoming bloodier and, therefore, slicker and less
useful each time he tried to pull on the chain.  He could no longer grip it without his hands
sliding.  He looked around again and then ripped the casing from the bolster on the bed,
wiping his bloodied hands on it.  

Looking again at the bedposts, it did not take him long to realize that the top of the wooden
posts had spindles on them that held the canopy frame in place.  Climbing onto the bed he
quickly took one of them off.  Why had he never realized this before?  The canopy frame and
spindles were metal.

He began to work on the chain fastening in earnest, cursing, swearing, prying, and
pounding.  He did not care if anyone heard.  It no longer mattered.  The way he looked at it, if
he did not burn or starve, then the Jaffa would come back.  He had three ways to die and
only one to live.  He would try to survive.  

The perfect solution was to become free and find somewhere in the galaxy, someone in the
galaxy, that was fighting the System Lords, the Goa’uld.  He would swear allegiance in less
than a heartbeat, if he could only become a warrior.  He would never be the warrior prince
his parents had shown to him, but he would do what he could to help rid the galaxy of the
plague that were the Goa’uld.  That was something that would have made his parents proud
of him.  Prouder of him, for he had never doubted the pride they felt in him and his
accomplishments when they were alive.

He could do it; he was sure he could, if he only had a way to free himself.  He would work and
work until he had the strength he needed to fight, and he would practice whatever was
needed to learn to fight.  If only he could find a way to break his bonds, and find a band of
resistance fighters, he would join them.  Perhaps then, his life would again have meaning.  




“Malek, we must find you a new host.  You will not be able to save me.  We will slowly die
together, and that must not happen.  We have too much intelligence that needs to be given to
the Tok’Ra.  Our findings must be relayed to them, for Am-Heh is truly a student of Anubis.  
You are the only one that can do it, for I will soon be lost to you.”        

Malek embraced his host, murmuring softly, “While our information is important, so are you,
my dearest friend and mate.  If I must die, then I would die with you, for we have had many
long years together.  Besides, Roavan, look around you.  Where would we find a host amongst
the dead and dying?  No one we have seen so far is any better off than we are.  Am-Heh’s
Jaffa do not leave survivors unless they miss them entirely.  You know this as well as I.”     

“And you know, Malek, as do I, that Am-Heh sent us down to the world’s surface because
something, or someone, has made him suspicious of us.  We are meant to die here; he does not
expect our return, nor would I return in any event.”  

“We know what he is, and we have learned what we needed to learn.  He is as bad as Anubis
is.  You must not allow him to win.  The other System Lords do not realize what is in their
midst, and it may well be too late by the time they find out and banish him as they did Anubis.
The information we hold must leave here.  "Devourer of Millions” is a truly representative name
for he is most assuredly the most disgusting, vile, and evil System Lord I have ever
encountered.  I am glad to be away from him, even if it means I must die to be so.”  

“We escaped his Jaffa once, and they are hunting us even now, you know this.  We were very
lucky, Malek, that we only met with the one, and you were able to disintegrate him.  It is
unfortunate that he wounded us first.  

“I am sorry I did not remove us from sight quickly enough when we encountered the Jaffa,
Roavan.”        

Malek paused and then said, “None of this makes sense.  Why send us here and tell his Jaffa
to kill us?  Since he suspects that we are sholva, why did he not simply torture us when he
had us?  Why send us here, knowing there was a chance we would realize he was suspicious
of us and use this as a chance to get away?”  

“I do not think he was thinking at all, Malek.  Perhaps, he was setting this up as a hunt with
you and I as the hunted.  It is the type of thing that he would do.  He may even have hidden
something in our clothing or weapon that would guide his Jaffa to us after a certain amount of
time, when he was ready for the hunt to start.  Perhaps we should look and see, for if there is,
I believe that they will find and revive us.  That must not happen.”        

Roavan was quiet for a moment, deep in thought.  Finally, he continued, “I do not believe he
expected us to find out so quickly.  He will want the world subdued first, and then he will no
doubt start his little game. Although I said they were hunting us, after thinking about it, I do
not believe that Jaffa was doing so.  I believe that he happened to stumble upon us.  He looked
surprised before he shot us, as if he did not expect to see us there."      

Malek was thoughtful for a moment and then said quietly, “I agree.  If that is so, then our
best hope is that he will not consider that we would leave here by gate and thus put guards on
it.  He has never before disabled the Chaappa’ai; however, that does not mean he will not this
time.  I believe, from what we know of him, that he will assume, in his arrogance, that none of
the people here will know what it is, other than the way the Gods appear.  He is not aware
that the people here are in contact with others through the Chaappa’ai.  He will not believe
that any of them know how to work it, even if they do know what it is.  He will also believe that
we are unaware of his intentions.  His excuse for sending us was plausible, unless we
suspected his motives, which we do.”

“We must hope that he will be as involved in what is happening here as he was when he
destroyed the other worlds.  It is as if he is in a fever when his Jaffa are destroying a world,
and he can think of nothing else.  Hopefully, he will continue to do so, until we can leave,
Roavan.”  

Suddenly, Malek made a small sound of triumph.  You were correct and we were indeed being
tracked.  Here it is.  That house over there is just beginning to burn.”
 Malek made his way
across the thoroughfare and entered the home.  He took the tiny sensor and planted it in a
room that would soon be cut off from the exit by flames.  

“If the Jaffa follow it soon, then it will appear that we perished in the fire after seeking refuge
here.  If they do not find it soon, then it will no doubt stop working and they will not know
where to look for us.  It is a risk we must take, for if he realizes it is no longer functioning, he
could then decide to disable the gate.  Am-Heh is so arrogant that it would not occur to him
that we would find and remove his tracer.  Now we will continue down this walkway until we
find a place to rest and gather our strength.”           

M
alek continued to talk to his mate to try to distract him from the pain he was experiencing.  
“I know little of this world myself, but I do know that it is more advanced than many.  Perhaps
some of its people will make their way to the Chaappa’ai.  We must hope that they will and we
must somehow make our way to the Chaappa’ai, as well.  From there we will travel to the Tok’
Ra, Roavan.  I will get us home from here.”      

Roavan gasped, as the pain from their injuries intensified.  Malek was doing his best to block
it but the injury was not only fatal, it was very painful.  He only hoped they would live long
enough to find Malek a new host.  His death would not be quick, so he still had hope of
finding one.  He knew as well as Malek did that he would never see the tunnels again.  

“No, Malek, I cannot make it as far as the Chaappa’ai.  I do not know how far it is, but it must
be some distance for the resonance of the Naquadah is not as strong as it would be if it was
close.”  

“You are correct; it is still some distance away.  Unfortunately, I could not choose where to be
set down.  Fortunately, we are in the main city.  I assumed the Chaappa’ai would be here, and
I am glad to find that it is near, even though we started on the opposite end of the city from it.”
Malek replied to his host.  "Come, the Jaffa seem to have left this area of the town.  At least
that house, the large one, is not on fire.  It is stone, but even those can be set ablaze inside.  
We will go there, and see if there is a place where we can lie down to rest.”  

“Malek, please do not.  We must find you a host.  Please,”  
Roavan pleaded with him.

“Perhaps, if I can get the pain under control, so that you are more comfortable, I will search for
one.  Later though, after we have rested,”
Malek compromised with his mate.        

He knew what Malek meant.  He would find them a comfortable place in which to die.  He did
not want that.  It was not that he really minded dying, for his life had been long, as well as
rich and full in love.  He and Malek had fought the Goa’uld together for many, many long
years.  The only way Malek would leave him was if they found him a new host, and he was
not going to look for one.  

He sighed.  Hoping against hope, he agreed,
“Give me control of my body, and I will attempt to
find a place for us to rest, while you control our pain.  I believe that the shakiness from the
wound has disappeared now, and I should be able to keep my legs from buckling.”  

“I will be sure to catch us if we should start to fall.  There is bound to be somewhere to lie
down in this house.  It is quite large and ornate, or it was, before Am-Heh’s Jaffa arrived.  I am
surprised they left it without setting it ablaze.”        

There was carnage everywhere, inside and out.  Am’Heh insisted that his Jaffa be as brutal
as he, and they were taught to be so.  They had been here, of that, there was no doubt, fire or
not.  The servant’s bodies lay in pieces where they had been murdered.  What looked to be
the
“Lady” of the house had obviously been used hard before being butchered where she lie,
her eyes staring sightlessly.  Malek took control back from Roavan and averted their eyes, but
Roavan had already shut the sights out, as he had learned to do many years ago.  
“Malek,
perhaps if we went upstairs; It appears from here that they went no farther than the first floor,
possibly assuming that anyone on the upper levels would burn to death.”
 He frowned.  “But
then why did they not set it ablaze?”       

Malek made no answer, as he had none to give.  He went up the stairway toward the second
floor.  When they reached it, Roavan took control again and walked slowly down one of the
long hallways, their injuries making quick movement beyond them.  They could hear
someone cursing and pounding on something and curious as to how this person had survived
the carnage below, they stopped in the doorway to look and see what it was that was causing
the swearing.  

A beautiful young man, almost naked and chained by the neck with a long golden chain was
the only occupant.  He was attempting to free the chain from the floor where it was fastened,
but it was obvious that he would not attain his goal.  The chain, though small, was more than
human strength would be able to break.  As they quietly watched, he stopped trying to use
whatever he had in his hands and attempted once more to pull the chain loose.  After a
moment, he leaned against the wall, which was not far from the ring embedded in the floor,
and slid down to a sitting position, his head bowed.  His hands were bloody from fighting the
chain.   

Roavan spoke to him, “May I come in?”  

Devlin looked up and gasped, as he realized that someone was standing in the now
completely open door.  He had been so lost in his endeavor to free himself that he had not
heard the door open or this man enter it.

“Yes, of course.”  Watching as the man entered the room, he exclaimed, “You are hurt.”  

Roavan laughed shortly before moaning against the pain it caused.  “No, my dear young man,
I am not hurt; I am dying.  I will try not to do so here though, as I doubt that you would like
spending your time with a corpse.”
 

Devlin shrugged, saying, “It will not matter, for I, too, will be one soon enough.  I cannot get
free, and from the sounds from below, there is no one left alive in the house.  If the Jaffa
come back, they will probably search the entire house this time.  They will find me and then
I, too, will die.  At least we will be together.  Please,” he continued, “come lie down on the
sleeping surface.  It is quite comfortable.”  

He helped the older man to lie down on the sumptuous bedding, before he asked, “How do
you come to be here injured as you are?  You are not one of the invaders, are you?”  

Roavan smiled as he realized what they had found.  This was Malek’s new host.  He could feel
it inside.  They had been led here.  

“No, Roavan, he is not.  He will not accept me, as you well know.  It takes time for a person to
believe they can live with a symbiote within them.  Unless they are dying themselves, it is very
hard to convince them, and I do not want, nor will I take, an unwilling host.”  

“We shall see, my Malek.  We shall see.”        

He watched the young man as he moved back to the window that looked out upon the
carnage in the roadway below.  He also saw the pain pass over his features, but Roavan did
not think it was for what little of the scene below him could be seen.  This was a much more
personal sorrow and pain, something close to his heart.  Whatever it was or had been, with
dusk closing in, he doubted he could actually see anything clearly now.

Roavan avoided answering the younger man’s question and asked one of his own, “Tell me,
what is your name?  I can hardly continue to call you, young man, although there is no doubt
that you are.  How many years do you claim?”  

The younger man turned back to the man that lie dying on his bed.  He smiled wryly, “I am
called Devlin, and I can claim some five and twenty years.  And you, sir?  May I not know
how you are called, as well?  And the number of years you may lay claim to?”  

“My name is Roavan, and I can claim four hundred and twenty-nine years.  I would die
within the next half century anyway, so it is no great loss to me, though I hate to leave the
mate of my soul.  I have seen much, learned much, and lived a full, productive, and
interesting life.”  

Devlin blinked at him somewhat dazed.  He stared at him until he decided he was teasing
him.  People did not live that long, did they?   “That is a goodly number, Roavan.  How comes
it that your race is so long lived?”  

“For my race one hundred and twenty is not unheard of, but rarely does one live beyond one
hundred forty.  I am as old as I am because I carry a Tok’Ra symbiote within me.  They give
long life and knowledge, strength and perfect health.  Had my injuries not been so severe, he
would have healed me, and we would look forward to that next half century together.  
However, though many wounds are not a problem, ones that are as severe as mine are
beyond their abilities to heal.”   

“I have never heard of a race that lives that long, unless they are Goa’uld, and they say that
they live forever.”  He was quiet for a moment before looking once more out the window.  “I
wish that I could kill them all.  I would do anything; even sell my soul, if only I could fight
them.”  His voice held a world of pain, hate, and fury.  “Instead I am locked here with no way
to retaliate for what they have done to my ch—” he stopped speaking abruptly and shook his
head, saying with self-derision, “As if I could fight them at all, weak and untrained as I am.”  

Roavan made to sit up and realizing what he meant to do, Devlin rushed to his side to help
him.  “What are you doing?  Should you not lie down, so that perhaps your—your symbiote
can work on your injuries?  If you are quiet and rest, perhaps, he can do more for you.  
Where are you hurt?  Perhaps I can do something to help him.”  

Roavan shook is head.  “The damage is too extensive.  Believe me; if my Malek cannot repair
it, then it is beyond repair, for he would never allow me to die, else.  All he can do for me is
keep the pain at bay and try to make me as comfortable as possible.  However, I do have
some short time left, and I should be leaving here, since I now feel rested.   I must attempt to
find my Malek a—host so that he will not perish with me.  That would be my one regret in
this life; that I cannot give him to a new mate, knowing he will be cared for and loved.”  

Devlin looked at him with narrowed eyes.  “A host?  But, do not Goa’uld need hosts?”  

“Yes, and Malek, in a way, is Goa’uld.  However, he is not as they are, and his race is called
Tok’Ra.  Against Ra, for they are a resistance group that have been fighting the Goa’uld for
two thousand years.  I cannot allow him to die with me.  He must be allowed to continue the
fight against them, to stop these kinds of atrocities.”  

“So, you were here fighting against them?  Is that how you were injured?”  

Roavan shook his head.  “No, actually, we were spies on this System Lord’s ship, but we
believe he found out about us, hence our presence here.  Moreover, our injury was from a
Jaffa, so it is very probable that he alerted them to find us, capture or kill us, and return us
to him for interrogation.  A polite euphemism for torture.  We were hoping to reach the
Chaappa’ai.  I do not believe we will make it.  So, I must try to find a host for my Malek,
although he tells me that he is content to die with me.”  

Devlin gave a twisted smile.  “Yes, I suppose you must at least try.  I would offer myself, but
as you can see,” He pulled on his chain, “I am staked out for the next wave of Jaffa to find, so
coming to me would be pointless.”  

Roavan smiled.  “My dear, Devlin, Malek can break that chain with no problem whatsoever.  
Unfortunately, he cannot at this point give me the strength to do it, or I would see to it that
you were freed.  I am sorry that I am unable to do so.  Should I find a host for him, he will
return to free you…Unless you are serious about becoming his host?  It would not, I promise
you, be a pact with the Gods of the Underworld.”  

Devlin looked at him, his eyes widening.  It was easy to see the thoughts running quickly
through his mind.  Almost whispering, he said, “She has placed you here, as I asked.  All I
must do is allow myself to agree.  Perhaps I deserve my end; I do not know.  You and Malek,
however, do not.  If what you say is true, then I will become his host for you.  I would be
allowed to fight the Goa’uld, correct?  That would become my mission in life?  To destroy
them?”  

“Yes, that is what it would mean.  If you are serious, then I will tell you what to expect.”  

“To, to expect?”  Devlin hesitated, but a moment, before nodding, “All right, what should I
expect?”  

Roavan lie back down on the sumptuous bedding, before beginning to speak, “Once Malek
enters you, he will—blend with your mind.  From there he can communicate with you.  You
will gain all of his memories, his knowledge, his healing power, his strength, in fact
everything that he can give you, will be given.”  

“In return, you will allow him the use of your body part of the time.  It is a partnership, but
you have final say as to who uses it and when, unless you are on a mission and then you
must be guided by Malek, for his knowledge is immense.  It is very simple to share it and not
unpleasant in any way.  The Tok’Ra, unlike the Goa’uld, do not force their hosts to do
anything, short of letting them get killed.  Never will he allow you to be killed, unless, like
now, he could not prevent it.”  

He paused to catch his breath.  His time was growing closer.  “You will always have a friend
with you, someone to help care for you and protect you as much as he can.  Over time, a very
special, intimate bond will form between the two of you.  In all my years, I have never
experienced anything remotely like it, for the Tok’Ra love deeply and forever.  You will know
what I mean when you blend with him, for you will inherit his love and mourning for me, as
well as the love he has felt for all of his other hosts down through the past two millennia.”  

Roavan stopped talking, obviously worn out by the conversation.  It was now also obvious to
Devlin, as well as to himself, that he had little time left.  He would never find another host for
his
“friend”.  If Devlin did not take his—his symbiote, then it, too, would die.  He could not
allow a warrior fighting the Goa’uld to die.  This man was the answer to the plea he made
earlier to the Goddess.  It was her light that had led this man and his friend here, and
allowed them to come upon him in his need.  This was what he wanted, needed, to do.  She
had sent the strength he had requested, and now, he would be free.  

Roavan could see the hope begin to lighten his eyes, but then a shadow crossed over them.  
“You say that your memories are shared?  Must they all be shared?”  

Roavan looked more closely at him and seeing the fear and loathing in his eyes and on his
face, told him gently, “Malek will be able to tell which memories you do not wish to share or
reveal to him.  He will respect your wishes.  However, in the same way, you must respect his,
for he, too, may have memories that he does not wish to share.”  

“Over time, once the trust and love have deepened, you may find that those memories no
longer need to be kept from him, but if that never happens, then he will never intrude.  
Malek will set aside a private place for you and your thoughts that are not for him, just as he
will set aside an area for himself that is private from you.  Only by deliberately probing,
would you be able to see into it just as he could yours.  But, neither of you will without
permission, I promise you.”  

“It will take a little time to adjust, but you will learn.  Soon, you will not know how you
survived without him, nor would you want to.”  

Devlin nodded decisively.  “If he will promise me, that he will never look into my memories of
the last ten years of my life, or question me about them, ever, and if he will promise to teach
me what I need to know to fight the Goa’uld, then I will gladly become his host.”  

Roavan took one of Devlin’s bloodied hands into his and squeezed it weakly, whispering,
“We
must say our goodbyes,”
before closing his eyes and turning inward.  

He smiled softly and embraced Malek, saying,
“I can feel my life leaving me, Malek.  He is
willing; you must go on for me, and for every other host who has loved you and helped to carry
on the battle against the Goa’uld.  You must continue.  He is young, and with you, he will be
strong.  I believe that he has spent the last ten years as someone’s sex slave, and he does not
wish you to see that part of his life.  He is probably afraid you will regard him as a weak
person, for whatever untrue reason he has in his head.  It is an easy enough stipulation.”  

“I am not so sure that he is truly willing.  I think he is more desperate.  He will wish me to
leave after I free him.  I cannot do that, Roavan, my mate.  You know that it would be too
dangerous to do right away.”        

Malek paused, as he caressed his mate before saying, “However, I can feel in your heart how
much you want me to live. I can also tell how important it is to you that I finish our mission and
return to the tunnels with our information.   Therefore, I will go now, but later, I will find a host
that truly wishes to have me.  I will do as you wish to put your heart at peace.”        

Roavan returned the caresses, smiling softly, “Thank you, Malek, my mate.  You will not regret
it.  I believe he does want you, and he will come to love you as much as I do.  We have had
many good years together.  Our memories are many and wonderful despite all of the horror we
have seen and lived.  Do not mourn for me, as you did your last mate.  Know that I am at
peace and watching over you.  I carry you in my heart to the other side, and there I will rejoin
all of our fallen comrades and our mates of the heart.  Go with a full heart, my Malek, my
mate.  Remember me with all of the love I held for you.”      

Devlin took the time, while Roavan said his goodbye to Malek, to wash the blood from his
hands, thereby giving them privacy.  He then rejoined him on the bed, and stretched out
next to him gazing at him with both anxiety and nervousness.  Opening his eyes, Roavan
looked into the beautiful, but anxious golden brown eyes watching him. He tipped his lips in
a serene smile.  “We have said our goodbyes.  I am fading quickly, so you must take him
now.”  

He took Roavan’s hand in his.
 “How—how do I do that?”  Devlin’s heart began to beat more
quickly, and he realized it was from both fear and excitement.    He would be free at last, free
to leave this horror he had lived for the last ten years.  Free to leave this place, which had
given him so much pain.  Again, he asked, “What must I do?”  

The other man smiled.
 “Kiss me, Devlin, and my heart shall pass unto yours.”        

Devlin did not hesitate at all, but leaned over and joined his lips to Roavan’s.  He felt as if he
was suffocating for a moment or two and then he felt something take over his mind and body
and focus their eyes on the figure beside them.
 “Goodbye, my dearest Roavan.”  He heard
himself say, just before the first wave of intense sorrow hit him.  

He gasped at the emotional pain that coursed through him.  This being had loved this man
more than Devlin had thought it possible to love anyone.  Would he ever feel that way about
him?   Looking into the serene face of the other man, he realized that he, too, had felt this
overwhelming love for this being.  Malek.  His new…new.  He did not know what to call him.  
What had Roavan said?  His heart.  A thought floated into his mind.  His soul’s mate.  Roavan
had been Malek’s soul’s mate.  And Malek had been his.  

He heard his new mate’s voice for the first time, talking to him, explaining what they must do
now.  He felt his body stand and walk to a mirror to examine the golden collar and chain.
 “It
appears to be real gold, although it is probably mixed with some other metal to strengthen it.  
We will keep the collar.  The chain, however, can be dispensed with.  It is not something we
need, as it is not gold.  Pure gold is soft enough to bend and it would have mashed with you
pounding on it.”

Devlin liked his voice.  It was deep and had a resonance that reminded him of humming or,
perhaps, purring.  It was very soothing.  He watched in the mirror as the chain, for so long
his captor, broke as if it was nothing.  He swallowed quickly.  Roavan had not lied.  He was
quite strong now.  Next, he watched as Malek examined the collar.
 “We may have to leave
this until we reach the tunnels.  This is much too thick to break without hurting us, since I am
fairly sure that other metals were added to give it strength.  From the feel of it, however, I
would guess that it still contains a high content of gold.”  

“We will take Roavan’s cloak, for I do not believe you would wish to walk around with no more
clothing on than you are wearing, and besides, it is white and would draw attention to us,
even in the shadows.  Unfortunately, none of the clothing we were wearing is fit to wear, as it
is blood-covered.  Perhaps, we will find something else as we journey toward the Chaappa’ai.”  
After donning the cloak, Malek took his ribbon device and his zat’ni’ktel from its pocket.

Malek stopped and looked down at the older man.  Devlin now realized, as the newly risen
moon’s light streamed across his face that he looked quite a bit older than he had thought he
was, when he entered the room.  He also saw the look of peace upon his face.  He almost
envied him that, and hoped that in a few hundred years, when it was his turn to pass his
heart onto another host that he would be able to do it with such serenity.
 

“We would have had another fifty or sixty years together.  I will miss him.”  
It was simply said,
but the emotion that coursed through them was anything but simple.  It was devastating.  
Malek touched Roavan’s face one more time, before he raised the zat’ni’ktel sending three
charges into his body and disintegrating it.  He then turned resolutely toward the door.  
Roavan had wished him to live to fight another day, and he would see to it that his last wish
was granted.  He would live to fight another day and another after that.  

However, they must still arrive at the Chaappa’ai before being spotted by the Jaffa.  They
would not recognize him now, but that would not matter.  All life was to be destroyed here as
the people had refused the offer of life for slavery.  He had sent his Jaffa to gather some of the
people for work slaves, some for possible concubines, and others as breeders.  The rest were
to be slaughtered.  Every man, woman, and child.  

They needed to find the Chaappa’ai, and if it was still operational, which he suspected at this
point it was, they would go home to the tunnels.  Devlin saw them in his mind and smiled at
the feeling of home they gave him.  He had not had a home since he was fifteen.  He was
looking forward to arriving at these tunnels.  They took the stairs down to the first floor.  

Once there, Devlin looked through his eyes at the scene that Malek was walking through.  
Malek realized that the
“Lady” of the house had been Devlin’s mate.  He felt nothing for her
as Devlin recognized her.  Not even pity.  As they turned to move to the door to leave, a man
who was only slightly shorter than Devlin stopped them.  

“Where do you think you are going, and where did you get that cloak?  You will take it off
immediately.”  

Malek felt Devlin’s overwhelming fear, loathing, and despair.  The man lifted the whip he
held in his hand and threatened Devlin with it, but that was as far as he progressed.  The
emotions swamping Devlin upon seeing this man justified Malek’s decision and subsequent
actions.  Before the man could do anything at all, Malek reached out with Devlin’s hands
and, swiftly and efficiently, broke his neck.  There was a look of dismayed surprise on the
man’s face as he died.  Devlin’s emotions, from relief to joy to satisfaction, all raced through
him.  Then he began to laugh hysterically, as he remembered the look on his father-in-law’s
face as he died.  He was jubilant, but Malek asked no questions about the incident.  This, he
knew, was one of the subjects that Devlin wished to keep to himself.  Feeling the quick rise of
hysteria in Devlin, though, Malek quietly asked,
“Devlin, are you all right?”        

When Devlin managed to gain some control over his emotions, he answered him, saying,
"I
have never been better.  Do not worry about killing him, Malek.  Moreover, if you think it is
bothering me, you could not be more wrong.  I am quite content,”
he paused briefly, before
continuing,
“no, that is too mild a description.  In all honesty, I am extremely thrilled to have
him dead, and to have it done by my hands was absolutely perfect.”
 Then, becoming
completely solemn with all traces of his near hysteria now non-existent, he stated earnestly,
“He received far less than what he deserved, and I swear to the truth of that statement.  
Believe me on this; I will cherish that moment forever.”
 

“I do, Devlin, I do.  We will be all right, I promise you.  Now, we must find the Chaappa’ai so
that we may begin the journey to our base.”   

“We should change into his clothes first.  The cloak we took from Roavan is not large and I am
taller than he was.  You must also look for the key to the collar.  It is always on him.”        

Malek looked at the man on the floor.  Devlin was correct, and he was closer to him in size
than Roavan had been.  Besides that, all they really had on was the cloak and the loin cloth.  
It was barely enough to cover them, and the last thing they needed or wanted was to draw
attention to themselves.  They needed something darker and more practical, and this man
was wearing a very long dark cloak over some very ornate, but dark colored, robes and
leggings.  Yes, his clothes would do nicely.  

“I believe you are correct, Devlin.  I will change us quickly, so that we may be on our way.”  
Malek felt Devlin smile when he found the key and unlocked the collar.  He pocketed both
the collar and the key.  

Very shortly thereafter, they walked out the door, and Malek felt the hesitance as Devlin
looked down the throughway.  He felt his hosts wish to go there, for a moment, before that
feeling was squashed.  There is nothing there, was the thought he gathered.  He had given
him control once they were dressed, and now he was not surprised when he turned from
whatever called to him and faced the direction of the Chaappa’ai.  Whatever Devlin had lived
through, it had made him a very strong willed man.  One that was not afraid to take on hard
tasks and, though he may not know it yet, he was also not one to give up easily.  Malek was
already seeing traits in his host that were exact matches for his own personality.  They would
have a very close blending.  Roavan had been correct.

Devlin started forward and slipped into a deserted alleyway, telling him,
“It is this way,
Malek.  Although I was only there once, I know exactly where it is, for I escaped and tried to
reach it many times.  I always failed, and as I grew older I—stopped trying.  There were other
factors that kept me here, then.”        

Malek answered, saying, “Lead the way, Devlin, and do not worry, for as you control the body,
I will be able to monitor the area around us without having to also navigate.  You will soon
become used to us sharing your body.  I know it must be uncomfortable and strange at first,
though, and I will do my best to mitigate any problems we seem to have if any appear.”  

“It is all right, Malek.  I have not had real control of my body for ten years.  Your handling and
managing of it is much preferred, and I will be most happy to give over control to you any time
you wish it.  It is the least I can do for you in return for setting me free.  I mean this truly,
Malek; you may use it whenever you wish in any way you wish.  Just being able to walk
somewhere, without a leash and collar on, is a wonderful feeling.  Well, I mean, I know I have
no choice in where we go, but if I wanted to walk on the other side of the street I could do so—
do you understand?”
 Devlin asked a little anxiously, hoping that Malek could and would
understand exactly how important that ability was to him.

“Yes, Devlin, I believe I do," Malek assured him, but then paused before reluctantly changing
the subject.
 "However, there are things about the Tok’Ra that you must know.  Roavan was
not completely honest with you, and I could not bring myself to disappoint him by not going to
you.  Although we deny it, physiologically the Tok’Ra are Goa’uld.  However, our Queen,
Egeria, disagreed with the other Goa’uld and their treatment of their hosts.  She believed that
we should share the body, not control it without permission.  She would not use a
sarcophagus, and she warned us against using them as well, for she believed they drained
the goodness from our hearts.  She changed hosts more often rather than use one.  So, that is
one way in which we differ from the Goa’uld.”  

“Her feelings, and therefore ours, through our genetic memory, are that, although we do give
many gifts to the host, it is still a fair trade, for without the host we cannot survive for long out
of water.  We cannot see well, we have no hands and feet, and we cannot talk.  Those are the
things that the host gives to us in exchange.”  

Continuing to speak candidly, Malek said in his forthright way, “As you saw, even when you
are not in control, you can still feel, see, talk to me, and experience the world around you.  I
could shut you out completely, cause you intense pain, do any or all, of the horrors that the
Goa’uld inflict upon their hosts, but it is not our way.  Part of what the agreement we made
entails is that I protect you to the best of my ability, that I take your pain or block it when I
can, and that I see to it that your body is in excellent health. I agree to give you free access to
the majority of my memories, but like you, I also have some personal memories that I choose
not to share.  That is perfectly acceptable to us, unlike the Goa’uld who rape their host’s
minds.  I will agree to become dormant when you wish for total privacy.”  

After a short pause to gather his thoughts, Malek continued,“There are many things that you
will have to learn, but it will take little time, for already our minds are mingling, and you are
assimilating more and more of what the partnership is like.  There is one other thing I must tell
you.  I cannot leave you now for some space of time.  Changing hosts is not easy, and Roavan
should have mentioned that we could both die during the blending.  We call it blending because
we feel that is what we do.  We blend our two beings into one.  However, I digress. I will be
able, after some time has passed, to change hosts.  If you feel at that time that we are not
compatible and that you cannot live with me in your mind, then I will look for another host.  
You will not have to live the remainder of your life this way, if it becomes abhorrent to you, and
that I promise you.”        

Devlin did not answer for a few minutes, as they continued stealthily toward the Chaappa’ai,
but after giving it some thought, he replied,
“I cannot tell you how I will feel in the future, but I
can tell you how I feel about you now.  I like you.  I realize what you are and, still, I trust you
to do as you have told me you will.  I will be your home, for as long as you wish to remain with
me, Malek, and I believe that I will come to love you as all of your other hosts have done.  I
have seen into your mind and heart, and I can feel the love and respect you have had for all of
them.  Some more than others it is true, but none of them did less than love you, and I can see
no reason that I would not follow their lead and come to love you, as well.”   

"Thank you,"
Malek answered quietly.

“We must turn down the alley here, I think.”  He paused.  “Malek what is that odd, almost
humming, or well, I am not sure exactly how to describe it, but it is becoming stronger.  Do you
feel it as well?  Stupid question, of course you do, we both feel it.”  

Malek laughed softly and sent a gentle caress to his new host, who was surprised at the
gesture and the fact that he could feel it as a true sensation of the body, not only of the
mind.
 “That feeling of me touching you is called tactile emotion, where you feel a sensation
associated with an emotion as if it was really being done.  It is another thing that is given to
the host.  Most come to enjoy it.  As for the other feeling, the humming within us, it is the
reaction of the Naquadah in our blood.  You are “feeling” the Chaappa’ai.  We are drawing
near to it.  We must hope that they have yet to put a guard on it,”
Malek answered the
unspoken question, as he also responded to Devlin’s comment and explained his own worry
about the Chaappa'ai.  

“So far, the streets have been deserted, except for the bodies.  I have not even seen a Jaffa,”
Devlin commented as he continued carefully making his way through the streets and alleys.  

“They will be busy gathering more people to use as slaves and concubines.  They will be raping
and killing as they go.  I suspect that they are very busy, but we know that some of them are
looking for us, that is, they will be hunting Roavan and myself,”
Malek stated somewhat
starkly, pain evident in his voice.
      

Finally, they were close enough to see the Chaappa’ai.  Malek frowned, as they drew ever
nearer to it, before saying,
“Devlin, I believe that I should take control, if you do not mind.”  

“Not at all.  I will be content to watch and learn,”
Devlin quickly assured him.      

Malek surveyed the scene as he took control.  While there were no guards watching it, there
were people milling around everywhere.  In addition, there were more arriving by the
minute.  No doubt, guards would soon follow and unfortunately, either they could not decide
where to go, or no one here knew how to operate it.  He walked confidently towards the
dialing device.  He might as well see if it was in operating order, or if they did not know how
to use it.  

Reaching the device, they heard the group arguing about where to go.   The more people, the
more confusion there would be and the crowd was growing larger rather quickly.  

He walked up to what appeared to be the two main opponents and listened.  They were
debating the possible worlds to which they could go.  He looked around and realized that
many had possessions with them.  He turned to the two men.  “I do not wish to interfere, but
Jaffa guards will soon be posted here.  If you intend to survive, you must go somewhere, and
then argue the final destination from there.  The longer you tarry here, the more likely the
gate will be disabled by the System Lord that is attacking your world.”  

Both men looked at him as if they did not understand him.  He waited for them to say
something, but when they did not, he stepped around them and began to dial the address of
a
“safe” world.  The Tok'Ra used it as a stopping point as they hid their true destination from
prying eyes.  It was a nice world, comfortable climates and abundant plant and animal life.  
The only thing keeping it from being overtaken by the Goa’uld was its lack of naquadah, or
anything else of value other than its climate and abundant food.  

He turned back to them and the other people that had gathered as he dialed the gate before
he input the last glyph.  “Any of you are welcome to follow me.  The world is unpopulated,
and so would be an admirable place to continue your discussion about where to go, away
from prying eyes and possible retaliation.”  With those words, he pressed in the last glyph
and pushed the center.  The Chaappa'ai activated and Malek turned, mounted the steps, and
walked into the event horizon.  He could feel Devlin’s tension and read his thoughts as he
walked toward the shimmering blue pool.  He would not be comfortable until they were off
this world.   

No sooner said, than done.  They emerged into the balmy weather and sunny day of Kwern.  
He had little time to wait before the others began following him through.  Now they would
have to wait until they were all through the event horizon before they could go on, but that
was all right.  At least some of the people of Spartania would survive.  He found a comfortable
place to sit under a shady tree.  

People arrived for quite some time before the Chaappa'ai shut down.  The two men that had
been arguing were not here.  “Is this everyone?”  Malek asked a woman who was standing
and staring at the Chaappa’ai as if she was lost.  She probably was for that matter.  

She nodded, as she answered, “Yes, except for the two who were arguing.”  

Malek nodded and input the glyphs for the next “safe” world.  “Thank you.  There is no point
in going through to the next world I am going to, for there is nothing there.  However, you
should consider going to another world.  If they do reopen the Chaappa'ai to here, there is a
danger that the Jaffa will see the address as people are going through, or that they will follow
them through.  Do not tarry here for long.”  Malek gave her the address for a world that he
knew took in refugees.  “They are kind and will help you find a place to go.”  

The woman smiled slightly and nodded.  Then her smile widened.  “I just realized that I am
free.  Instead of making slaves of us, they actually freed some of us.  Thank you for the gate
address.”  

“You are welcome. Please do not let anyone follow me.  It would not be safe for you, or for
them, where I am going.”  

She nodded, and Malek turned and entered the event horizon.  Stepping out on the other
side he watched as the gate shut down.  One more safe world and then they would return to
the Tunnels.  

“We will be home soon, Devlin, I promise you,”  Malek assured him.

“Yes, I know.  I believe you,” Devlin replied, his voice full of the trust he already felt for his
new mate.  
   

Malek smiled at him.  He was going to like his new mate.  He mourned the one he had lost,
but tried to keep that pain from affecting Devlin as much as possible.  He felt a very deep well
of anguish in his new mate’s heart that was caused by something in his private place.  

He could not undo what had caused it, but he could make sure that in his new experiences
there would be some joy.  They could both use some of that, and they would find it in their
future.  Of that, he was very sure.  

He hugged Devlin and feeling the pain of whatever had happened beginning to close in on
them, he released some calming chemicals to soothe him.  It would take time for both of them
to recover from what they had lost.  Until then, he would cradle him with his internal
embrace.  

He felt Devlin return his caress and whisper into their joined minds,
“We will survive this
pain together.”  

“Yes, we will.  We are almost home, Devlin.  This is the address of our current home-
world.”        

Malek felt the excitement begin to rise and banish the shadows.  He pressed the center of the
dialing device.  The Chaappa'ai blossomed and when it settled, he and Devlin walked up to
it.   He gave control to his new mate, and Devlin reached out and touched the fluctuating
blue pool first with his fingertips and then with his palm.  Drawing a deep breath, he stepped
into their future.
 

The End




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My Heart Shall Pass Unto Yours