The Lesser of Evils
By
Denise

Disclaimer Stargate Sg-1 and its characters are the property of Stargate (II) Productions, Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. This story is for entertainment purposes only and no money exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the author. This story may not be posted elsewhere without the consent of the author.

"Sir, I'm sorry. There is no cure," Doctor Burns says, his face appropriately sympathetic. He prattles on about symptoms, treatments and new drugs. I ignore him, my mind racing furiously. He doesn't know, doesn't care. All he sees is a steady paycheck for the next few years until it kills me. Who needs him? I have resources that he can only dream of, resources not bound by the constraints of the FDA. I know about researches and studies being done in places and by people that don't even exist.

I get to my feet and pick up my jacket off the back of the chair. "Mister Conrad?" he asks, jumping to his feet.

"If I hear the slightest rumor that anything from that file has left this room, I will bury you," I tell him. "Doctor/patient confidentiality." I turn and stride from his office. I don't need him anymore; he can do nothing for me. I'll find my own cure.

<><><><><>

"I want your opinion," I tell the doctor as I drop the file down on his desk. He looks up at me, startled. Guess he's not used to patients demanding stuff. He better get used to it. I may be dying but I'm not going to just sit back and accept it. It's about time I put some of this money to work for me.

"Is this a joke?" Brooks looks up to me, his eyebrows creeping up his forehead. Come on, doctor. Open your mind.

"Not hardly." I nod towards the folder in his hands. "That information wasn't cheap." And if I didn't know it was real, I'd think it was a joke. Aliens possessing human bodies, giving them special powers, it's incredible. And after a year of searching, it's my last hope.

"With all due respect, Mister Conrad, I think you've been had," he says in a patronizing tone. "Aliens? I…this reads like the plot for a B movie." If that's what he says after a glance I want to see the look on his face when he really reads it.

"Oh, it's real." I bend over and pull my trump card out of my bag. There will be hell to pay eventually when the folks at Area 51 realize it's gone. But…they'll get over it. Anyway, if they had decent security my contact never would have been able to smuggle it out. I set the glass jar containing the preserved symbiote on his desk, taking perverse pleasure in the shocked look on his face. I know what he's feeling; it's the same way I felt when I first read the reports.

"What the hell?" He reaches out his hand and turns the jar, staring wide-eyed at the corpse floating within. It's too bad it died. It was good in a way that the Jaffa had died on Earth and that someone had had the presence of mind to remove the symbiote before giving the body back to his friend to be cremated. The bad part of course, is that a dead creature can only tell us so much. It's like a fossil; you get a brief glimpse but not enough to truly understand.

"That creature possesses the ability to heal…anything," I accentuate the word. "It is also able to extend a person's life by slowing the aging process down to virtually nothing."

"Where did you?"

"That doesn't matter. What matters is that I have it. And now YOU have it."

"But, Mister Conrad…"

"Brooks," I cut him off. "That creature is the key to eradicating every disease on Earth, up to and including cancer. Imagine the patents on THAT." I stand, picking up my bag from the floor. "You have a week. I'll be back and I expect answers." I turn and walk from the room, unable to hide my smile. He'll find the cure…all he needs is a little motivation.

<><><><><>

"Well?" I ask the two doctors who shift their eyes and look down. Incompetent fools. They're fast enough to take my money when it was time to build them a research facility. They were eager enough to spend the outrageous wages I pay them, but they're taking their damn sweet time giving me results. "WELL?" I demand a little louder, fighting the urge to get to my feet and stalk over to them. I can't do that, not anymore. In fact, it's quickly getting to the point that I won't be able to come into the office under my own power. I need to start staying home. I can't hide the symptoms of this disease much longer. And I have to hide it. No one can suspect that I'm sick. Not just to avoid the faux platitudes and sympathy, but if Wall Street gets wind of it…Zetatron Industries will suffer. I can't let that happen. I've worked too hard to have my company go under because of this.

"Mister Conrad, sir. We aah…we've discovered some very interesting things," Brooks hurries to say, stepping forward nervously.

"Right," Doctor Turner hurries to say. "From what we can determine, the symbiote evolved in an aquatic environment, but for some reason never did try to take the next step in evolution and move onto land."

"We think the large fins by the head are a camouflage measure, a tactic to scare off predators, like the hood of a cobra" Brooks interrupts. "The teeth suggest that it's carnivorous by nature, but the fins suggest that it's not at the top of the food chain…"

"I don't care if it's the damned missing link!" I cut them off. I didn't hire these morons for a biology lesson. "What does this tell me about its healing abilities?"

"Sir, it's…as near as we can determine the healing abilities don't occur naturally in the creature."

"It's not something we can…extract, Mister Conrad," Brooks says in response to my sharp look. Three thousand computer geeks work for me, I can't shut them up… and I get two doctors that I can't get to give me a straight answer.

"Mister Conrad, is it possible that the healing is a…conscious behavior by the creature?" Turner suggests.

"What?"

"Well, sir, leeches need to be alive to drain blood, and maggots only eat necrotic flesh if they're alive so…maybe this creature needs to be alive to heal?"

"It makes sense, sir," Brooks agrees. "I can't be sure because the creature's blood and tissues were contaminated by the formaldehyde but my tests suggest that the creature's blood is poisonous to humans therefore its flesh would be as well."

"What are you saying?" I demand. These two blathering idiots are getting on my nerves. They may be looking to stretch this job out for a few years, but what they don't realize is once I die, so do their jobs.

"Sir, we need…"

"We need a LIVE specimen," Brooks interrupts.

There is a knock at the door and Diana steps in. "Adrian, excuse me. You have a teleconference," she reminds, shooting the men a curious look. She doesn't say anything. She won't. She's too well trained to do that. I don't know what I'd do without her. Diana has been a godsend these last few months, quietly stepping in to help me as I find more and more of my job harder and harder to do.

I felt horrible at first, sending her out to make visits that I couldn't make. My immune system is in tatters; I have to seclude myself from people for fear that I'll catch a disease from them. I've noticed that I've been getting sicker easier, cuts and scrapes take longer to heal. I find myself doing less and less and Diana doing more and more. I was afraid I was pushing her too hard. But she's thrived in the last few months. There is a confidence, a sense of assurance in her that I'd never seen before.

Once I get through this, I need to reward her, thank her for all she's done.

"Yes. Thank you, Diana. I'll be in contact," I dismiss the doctors. Both of them silently leave, still adhering to the order I'd given them, that their work is to be discussed only with me. That if they tell anyone, anyone at all, I'll destroy them.

"I don't know what you see in those men," Diana fusses, expertly setting up the teleconference equipment.

"They're working on a project for me." I shift my chair forward as she reaches behind me to close the blinds on the window.

"Of course," she answers dutifully, straightening the clutter on my desk, flipping some of the more sensitive documents over, although there's no way any of the people on the other end of the line can see what's written on them. She's good that way, looking out for me and the company.

"I want you to do something for me," I ask her, scribbling a name and number on a piece of paper.

"Anything, Adrian," she takes the paper from me and looks at it, frowning a bit.

"Call him. Tell him I want him here, now."

"I don't recognize this name."

"You don't need to. Just get him here. Today if possible," I insist.

"Of course." She backs down and smiles sweetly. She backs out of the room, softly closing the door behind her as the television springs into life.

<><><><><>

"Mister Conrad?" I feel a gentle hand on my shoulder. I force my eyes open, fighting the weakness I feel. "Telephone, sir." She holds out the receiver, not saying anything as my hand shakes with the effort.

"Conrad," I say, hoping that my weakness doesn't convey over the phone. I don't ask her who it is. Only two people have this number.

"I have it," the masculine voice drawls.

"Where is it?" I fight the relief and joy bubbling up in my chest.

"First, we need to renegotiate."

"Renegotiate?" What kind of game is he playing now? "We had a deal."

"We did. And it was a good deal…but a deal that didn't take into account the difficulty of getting it."

"How much?"

"Ten million, sent to my account in the Caymans. Once I receive verification, you'll get the package." He's fleecing me. I know it, he knows it. But both of us also know that he's the only one that can get me what I need. Now that the SGC has shut down the Russian Gate program, he is my only source for a symbiote.

There are only two live symbiotes on Earth, one in the alien Teal'c, and the one my contact has acquired. I thought about getting the one from Teal'c, even temporarily to study. But after extending a few cautious feelers I soon discovered that Hammond guards that alien like he were the man's own child.

"You'll have the money in the morning," I answer, knowing it's the only one I can give.

<><><><><>

"Good news, sir," Brooks enthuses, fairly bouncing with excitement.

"And that is?" I ask him. He's come to me too many times getting my hopes up with stupid 'discoveries' for me to accept his announcement with anything more than a grain of salt.

"The symbiote, sir. It'll work."

Almost despite myself, I find a smile creeping across my face. Can it be true? Could he have finally gotten a result?

"There is one very serious side effect sir," Turner says, shooting his co-worker a sharp look.

"Well, yes, of course. But the important thing is that it'll work," Brooks pushes on, trying to brush his companion's concerns under the rug.

"What side effect?" How bad could it be? What, lose my hair? Maybe feel sick…I already feel sick most of the time.

"Nothing we can't overcome, sir," Brooks dismisses. The son of a bitch. He may be a brilliant scientist but he's a rotten human being. Can't see past his own tests. He doesn't see me, he sees a test subject. I swear the only thing that gives him a hard on is the thought of running more tests.

"WHAT!" I demand.

Turner steps forward, shaking off Brooks' restraining hand. "Mister Conrad, the symbiote heals by attaching itself to your brain and subverting your body's own defenses and control. From what I've read, the creature literally takes possession of your body. Sir, it may heal you, but it only does that so it has a working body to control."

"So? We'll remove it once it's healed Mister Conrad," Brooks says.

"Someone has already tried that," Turner argues. "One member of the SGC was infected early on. They tried surgery, it didn't work. The man died."

"Yes. But a year later another member of the SGC was infested and she survived," Brooks insists. Their tones tell me this is a long running argument between them.

"She survived because the creature died within her. No attempt was made to remove it."

"Then that's what we'll do. Kill the creature, then remove it," I tell them. Why do scientists always look for the most complex solution?

"If it was that easy, Mister Conrad, why in every report I read, are people so afraid of being hosts? Why didn't they simply kill and remove the symbiote from the second subject? In fact, in the first case, the creature tried to kill the host rather than be removed. No one on Earth has ever successfully removed a symbiote. "

"Surely there are other ways to remove these…goa'uld?"

"Yes, sir. There are," Brooks says.

"But they're all with the aid of an alien race," Turner says. "The reports mention that the Asgard, Tollan and Tok'ra all possess the ability to either remove the goa'uld or control it. But since the only way to access these people is to go through the Stargate, they might as well not exist," he finishes apologetically.

"This is not the answer I want to hear," I say. I haven't come this far just to lose it now. The cure can't be this close, this very close, only to discover that it's useless to me. "You said the creatures controlled the host?" I ask, getting a glimmer of an idea.

"Yes, sir."

"Then they must possess a level of sentience?"

The two doctors glance at each other. "Aah, yes, sir."

Do I have to spell it out for you two idiots? "Then it stands to reason that the symbiote and host communicate with each other," I say with fake patience. I see a light go on over Brook's shiny head. Whatta you know, he is alive in there.

"We can talk to the woman, the one who survived," he said, his eyes fairly lighting up with the prospect.

"Sir, she…" Turner speaks up. "From what I've read, she's always been…reluctant to talk about it, or submit to anything but the most basic of tests. What if she won't cooperate?"

"Then we make her cooperate," Diana says, striding into the room.

"Diana?"

"Don't worry, Adrian. Everyone has their price, we'll just find hers. Now rest," she says, smiling at me. "We'll take care of it," she promises sweetly.

<><><><><>

"They're here," Brooks says quietly, apparently trying not to wake me. Fool doesn't realize that I don't sleep that much. I may only have days or weeks left, I'm not going to spend them unconscious.

"Finally," Turner looks up from the chart he's writing in. "They were supposed to be here two hours ago."

"There were…complications."

"What kind of complications?" I ask forcing my eyes open. I almost laugh at the looks on their faces. I may be trapped in a failing body but I am still the boss around here.

"Mister Conrad, you should be resting," Brooks tries to sooth. The man is a total ass. Little does he realize that the only thing keeping him employed is that I'm too near death to have time to bring anyone else up to speed.

"What complications?" I insist.

"She aah…she didn't…" Turner starts.

"Didn't come?" I ask, alarmed. She had to come, this wouldn't work without her help.

"No, sir," they hurry to reassure. "She's here."

"Then what's the complication?" Why won't these guys just spit it out? I don't have time to play their games.

"She was aah…"

"Injured," Brooks interrupts.

"What happened?" No. She can't be hurt, she…it all depends on her helping me. What if she dies? All that knowledge will die with her.

"Nothing serious, sir. She'll be ready to start the experiments first thing in the morning."

"Good." I relax, nearly overwhelmed by the relief. Good.

<><><><><>

"The exits are sealed," I say to the woman a few feet away from me. She spins and points a gun at me, her hands and aim surprisingly steady considering what I'd been told about her condition.

"Who are you? What the hell am I doing here?" She demands, her voice cold, but I can detect a slight tremor of fear.

"My name is Adrian Conrad. You're here because of me," I tell her, watching the expressions play across her face. She frowns slightly and I can see that she's trying to puzzle it out. I hear my security men come up behind me, their arrival causing her to push figuring things out, out of her mind. As I watch, her grip tightens on the pistol.

"Back off or I shoot him," she threatens. Her reaction doesn't surprise me, not given what I've read about her and the exploits of her team. They kill gods for a living, I suppose it's arrogant of me to assume she'd be impressed by a cripple who can't even walk under his own power.

"Go ahead," I dismiss. "If I let you go, I'm dead anyway. Please, Major Carter, if you put the gun down there's a very good chance we can both live," I try to reason with her. Yes, she can shoot me, and my men. But I'm sure she realizes that she's outnumbered and outgunned. If she opens fire, chances are we'll all die. I have ordered my men not to hurt her, but she doesn't know that. She can't know that. Surely she'll realize that talking to me is the lesser of two evils.

I can see the indecision on her face. She's torn. Samantha Carter wants to get the hell out of here and go home, Major Carter is recognizing the disadvantage she's in, and Doctor Carter is curious as hell about what's going on, how we know about her uniqueness. She slumps and lowers her weapon. I don't know who won her internal struggle, but I just might owe them my life.

My men rush forward and pull the weapon from her hand, each firmly taking an arm and pulling her down the hall. I spin my chair around and lead the way back to her room. It's time to take the middleman out of the equation. I should have done this from the beginning, dealt with her face to face instead of hiding behind a curtain. What does it matter if her people know that I know? Let them find out. Subterfuge takes time, and I may have wasted too much of it already.

They march her into the room and handcuff her to the rails of the bed. "I'm sorry about this, Major. But I've run out of options," I try to explain it to her. It wasn't supposed to happen like this. She was supposed to be a willing participant not an involuntary captive. When did I lose control? It doesn't matter. I have to make this work.

"What now?" she demands, ignoring my apology. Down to business, fine. I can handle that.

"My immune system has been destroyed, the damage is irreversible."

She shakes her head. "I don't care what's wrong with you, nothing gives you the right…"

"The human race has progressed to where we are today because of men who broke the rules and risked everything," I interrupt her. "Most often because they had no choice. The only thing that can save me is an alien symbiote. You call them Goa'ulds."

An odd look crosses her face and I can see that she's torn between the truth and keeping up her façade. "How do you know about that?" she asks, settling for the truth. Good. I don't have enough time to parry with her.

"We know about the Stargate, everything," I tell her.

"Well, then you must know a symbiote would leave you a prisoner inside your own body?" she tries to reason. Yes, I know. I've read the reports. But surely they have exaggerated. Or they were weak minded. Or maybe it is a real risk. It's a risk I'm willing to take. What's worse, life in prison or the death penalty…hope of eventually being released or the finality of death?

"That's why we're working on a way to have it removed," Turner speaks up, stepping forward.

"And you're the key to that," Brooks agrees.

"It's beyond our current medical science," she argues.

"You survived your encounter with the alien Jolinar," Turner points out.

"That was different. The symbiote made a conscious choice," she says, her tone like that of a mother lecturing a child.

"Maybe so, but the process you went through could provide us with the answers we're looking for."

"You can't deny, being able to extract a symbiote from a human host would be a monumental breakthrough," Brooks says, evidently hoping to play to her ego. Idiot, he should realize that this woman doesn't give a fig about her ego. I've read the files, she's accomplished more in the past few years than these morons will in their lives.

"A lot of very smart people have been working towards that end already," she tells him. Aah, so she knows about the research at Area 51. I wonder if she knows the full extent, that the second Teal'c's symbiote matures he's to be shipped off to Nevada for study?

"Maybe they aren't quite desperate enough," I say, breaking up their arguments. Arguments don't matter. They'll do what I'm paying them do to. I start to cough, and unlike the dozens of times before, I can't stop. I can't breathe…oh God, I think I'm going to die.

<><><><><>

They get me into the other room, the one set aside for my treatment. I catch a glimpse of the symbiote swimming around in its tank. It's time we meet, I think. I wonder if it knows that I'm plotting its death? Does it know that our fate has been intertwined since I learned of its existence? I hear them talking, debating. I don't have time for them to discuss this. "Diana? Diana?" She needs to make them do it. They'll listen to her. "It's ok," I tell her as she comes to my side.

"You can't do this, please," she begs.

"It's my only chance," I insist.

"We're going to have to restrain him," Turner says. I willingly suffer the indignity of them tying me down hand and foot. Just like they did to Carter. I'm sorry, Major. I'll have to apologize to her, assuming I live through this. Is this how she felt, so helpless? No wonder she wanted to shoot me.

They bring the tank closer and I can turn my head, catching a glimpse of the creature swimming within. It's time now, time for us to join. Time for us to meet our fate.

I watch them use large forceps to grasp the creature, Diana and Turner taking noticeable steps back. I would too, if I were them. In fact I want them to, I want no confusion with the creature about who its host is to be. Despite myself, I feel my heart start to race as they lay the creature on my chest. I can feel it crawling across me leaving cold tendrils of moisture as my clothes absorb the water from its slick gray skin. Its eyes glow red as it rears up, it's maw opening wide. Over the pounding of my heart I can hear it hiss as it's head swings back and forth, almost as though it's evaluating me, seeing if I meet its standards. In a flash it leaps into the air and dives into my throat, ruthlessly burrowing through my flesh. Despite myself, I scream, a sound I hear echoed in Diana's voice. Oh my God, what have I done?

<><><><><>

I feel it moving within me, squirming around, finding its way through my tissues to where it wants to be. I can feel it move and I want to rip it out. It digs through my flesh with a seeming disregard to my feelings. It hurts, oh God it hurts. My muscles react and convulse, trying to protect me from the alien invader. This is wrong, so very, very wrong. Mankind wasn't meant for this. How could I have been so stupid, so arrogant. Get it out, get it out, just let me die, get it out of me. I feel a sharp stab of pain at the base of my skull then a sudden rush of warmth through my systems. It floods through my nerves like warm, soothing water down my back in the shower. In its wake, the pain fades. Pain that had insidiously crept through me and become a constant in my life is now gone. It's absence is like those first few seconds of silence after a loud rock concert, it's a relief, a relief of a tension I'd gotten so used to that I hardly noticed. It worked. I can feel strength flowing back into my body. It's been so long since I felt strong. I want to tell them, I want to open my mouth and let them know…but nothing happens. Why can't I talk? Has there been damage? Did it sever my spinal cord? What's going on here?

"Diana?" I say…but it's not me. I'm not talking…it is.

"How do you feel?" She asks, moving to stand by me.

"The pain is…is gone," it says. Diana, it's not me…come on, realize that it's not me.

"We're going to need to run a full set of tests," Brooks says. For once I agree with him. Run your tests. Then you'll know, you'll know that it's not me. I'm not talking, IT is.

"How long?" she asks quietly turning from me and walking across the floor to the doctors.

"For what?"

"You said you'd find a way to get it out of him. How long are you planning to leave him this way?" Aah, so she knows. She knows it's not me, she'll help me.

"We don't even know what kind of effects it's having…"

"We have a bit of a problem in that area," Turner speaks up. To hell with Brooks' reputation, I shoulda put Turner in charge. He's young but at least he's level headed.

"What are you talking about?" Diana demands. I never did tell her about the side effect, never had time.

"Major Carter's test results clearly indicate that she holds the key to a safe extraction process," Brooks says.

"That's good."

"Unfortunately we know just enough to know the answers are there…we just can't get at them."

"Why not?" Diana demands.

"Because Adrian didn't approve of the method that's ultimately necessary," Brooks said. Damn straight I don't approve. I want the answer, I want to live, but I'm not committing murder to do it. A few days out of her life, I was going to compensate her anyway, that was the least I could do, but kill her. No. I do have a moral or two left.

"What does that mean?" Diana asks.

"It would require a direct examination of her brain tissue," Turner says, almost reluctantly.

"Do whatever it takes," Diana says, her voice chilling me to my bones. What? No. Diana, no, don't do that. Brooks, Turner, stop. Don't do what she says. I'm the boss around here, not her. Don't do it, damn it, come back here you two freaks. Get your ass back here! I don't want to hurt anyone….I…I don't want to live that badly.

<><><><><>

"I know this has been hard on you Diana, I'm sorry," I say…no. IT says. I'm…I'm just here. I…it's like I'm watching a movie, I'm an observer not a participant.

"I just want you to get better." Oh, I know you do Diana. You've been such a support but…I thought I knew you. The Diana I thought I knew never would have so callously sacrificed one life for another.

"I am better. I can feel it. If you just let me out of these restraints, I could show you." NO. No, it wants to get away, I can sense the panic in the creature's 'voice'. It hates to be a prisoner, it's…it's afraid of captivity.
Captivity is to be powerless, it doesn't want to be powerless, it wants power, craves power like a vampire craves blood.

"I can't do that." Yes. Don't do it Diana. Don't believe it.

"I've been cooped up in hospitals for the last six months. All I want to do is go outside and breathe some fresh air," it says. That's what I want to do. It's…it's not happy with my body, it's pillaging my mind now? No. Stop it, get out. You have my body, leave me my mind.

"But you have that thing inside of you," she says, her face wrinkling in disgust. Good, be disgusted with me. Then you won't trust me. Please, don't trust me.

"It's not controlling me. I'm controlling it. Can't you tell? Please, they don't have to kill Major Carter, I'm fine. Everything is going to be ok." Yeah, it'll be ok…when I evict you.

"I wish I could believe you?" No. She's wavering. No, Diana, stay skeptical, don't trust me, don't believe me. Please, please don't listen to me. It's not me, it's it.

"Look at me. You know me better than anyone in the whole world. I did this for you. So we could be together. Just let one hand go so I can touch your face." NO. Get out of my mind. I didn't do this for her, I did it for me. I wanted to live. I…oh God, it's using me against her. It's manipulating her. NO. Diana, no, please don't listen to me.

I feel her hand take mine, her fingers fumbling with the buckle. NO. Oh God, no, Diana, no, please, please…I…don't hurt her. Whoever you are, please don't hurt her.

Please?

<><><><><>

I think I now know what people mean when they talk about an out of body experience. I can feel my body running through the halls of the abandoned hospital. The creature controlling me has one goal, escape. I can sense it trawling through my brain, trying to find a way out. It's wasting its time. I've never explored this place. I've spent most of the last six months confined to bed. It does feel good to be mobile again. I'd almost forgotten what it was like to be able to move on my own. I can feel strength returning to my muscles. I get so lost in the returning sensations that I discover I'm not even paying attention to where my body is going. I've made my way down to the basement of the hospital, the slippers I'm wearing are an insufficient barrier to the stagnate water.

Why did it go down? It must be one of the creature's base instincts to seek a place of refuge. I hear approaching footsteps and feel myself leap several feet, my fingers wrapping around a pipe and pulling my body up with a strength I've never possessed. I watch the man pass below me. Although he's dressed casually, he holds his pistol like a professional. A policeman? No. A cop would be wearing a uniform or at least a windbreaker. Who would be here? After he passes, I drop down and head in the opposite direction.

"Where are you going?" the man asks. I turn to face him, noting that his gun is aimed unwaveringly at my chest.

'What is that device?' I hear.

'What? What's going on?'

'In the human's hand, what is it?' The man's mouth never moves. I'm not talking, he's not talking and we're the only ones down here. I must be hallucinating. I feel a sharp twinge as the base of my skull.

'What is that device?' Then it hits me. We're not alone. My God, it IS sentient. It's not just controlling me; it's trying to talk to me.

'For the last time, human." It twists in the base of my skull. I want to scream in pain but it won't let me.

'A gun,' I think at it. 'It's a gun.'

'A weapon?'

'Yes.'

"Shoot me and you'll kill the host," it says aloud. I'm being held hostage by myself.

"Don't make me," the man says coldly. I know my voice was different, I could hear it resonating. But this stranger isn't surprised. He knows. He knows what I am, what I've become. No one on Earth should know.
Major Carter. I remember now. Her friends. They've come to get her. I'm sorry. I didn't' mean to hurt her, you have to believe me. It was all Diana's idea…Diana. Oh God. I…NO. IT, it killed her. It squeezed her throat, I felt my fingers break the bones…I'm a murderer. Kill me, please kill me. Don't let it hurt anyone else.

'Be silent,' the voice in my head growls.

'You killed her. You didn't have to hurt her.'

'Pathetic human.'

There are two sharp cracks and the human falls. A dark shape flows from the shadows. "You wanna live? Come with me," he says.

I feel the creature's indecision. It wants to flee, it hates humans, we're nothing to it. That's why it kills. It looks upon us like we look upon a fly. If it escapes, it'll kill again. 'He knows a safe place,' I tell it.

'Human?'

'That one was going to kill us, he saved us. He can give us sanctuary,' I think, hoping that it can't discover the truth. I don't like this new man; anyone who shoots someone in the back is not to be trusted. But I also don't want this evil loose in the world. I sense a note of defeat from the creature. It wants desperately to get away, but it feels weak. I think it's worn out from healing me. 'If that man was one of Major Carter's friends, they'll have two deaths to avenge. They'll hunt you down. They're also the ones that control the stargate. You'll never get off this world.'

The creature sends me a wave of hate then moves forward, accepting the stranger's offer. I try to hide my elation. I have no idea who this stranger is, but wherever he's taking us, it has to be the lesser of two evils, it has to be better than letting this abomination loose in the world.

~Fin~

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