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.

She whimpered and fell as he pulled his hand from her. He stood over her quivering form and stared, trying to identify the sensations bubbling in his chest.

He'd dreamed of this moment for so long, fantasized about chasing her down, marching across whole planets to find her, searching for months and months while she ran, fleeing him in terror as he relentlessly sought his goal. He would finally emerge victorious, finding her alone, cowering among the ruins of her world, surrounded by the rotting corpses of her victims, all the others she beguiled and deceived.

He'd wanted to see the fear in her eyes, hear the terror in her voice as she begged him, pleading for her life. He wanted her on her knees, begging for mercy. He wanted to make her hurt, to make her feel the way he had when she'd used him, tricked him into betraying his brethren-- abandoned and abused.

He wanted to feel joy as she screamed, to draw pleasure from her pain, to gain peace from his vengeance.

Because they know, when it comes right down to it, I would rather be dead than be trapped like this forever.

Rather be dead.

Rather be dead.

Rather be dead.

She had changed a little, in appearances anyway. Her face was more angled and less soft, her hair longer. But he knew she had not changed inside. She was still a user, still a manipulator, still a human.

He should kill her right now. He ran his hand through her hair, feeling its soft strands tangle around his fingers. She was helpless to resist him, helpless to fight, unable to even protest. He trailed his fingers down her neck, her pulse thrumming under her skin. So delicate, so fragile were these humans. Their bodies were so vulnerable. Not like his and his brothers and sisters.

He caressed her throat with his thumb, feeling the ridges of her trachea under his touch. So easy too kill, just a little pressure, hardly any effort at all and she would die, slowly suffocate under the touch of a single finger.

Feeling the steady beat of her pulse, he placed his other hand on her chest and closed his eyes, concentrating intently. His body merged with hers, meshing and melding. He penetrated her skin and slid around bone and sinew, finally reaching his goal. His fingers re-formed and closed around her heart and he felt it lurch under his touch.

Her pulse skipped and he opened his eyes, staring at her. Her face was pale and her lips open. He tightened his grip and she gasped, her heart beating faster, responding to the danger even though her mind was unaware.

In that instant he knew.

This was what made her strong, what made her different, what made her human.

He could break her mind. Given enough time, he could crush her will and make her his. He could keep her, have her, possess her for all eternity.

Soon, she would grow tired of fighting and she would capitulate, surrender to him and she would be his. He would own her, own her mind and body and, perhaps, even her soul.

But not her heart.

The frail organ in its warm cocoon, knocking against his fingers, the part that set her apart from him, would forever be denied to him.

He closed his eyes, a cold emptiness settling into his chest. For a second time in his life, he knew the bitter bite of failure, the dawning realization of an unattainable goal.

Danger.

Danger.

Danger.

Assaulted with reports from his brethren, he opened his eyes, looking down upon her. He tightened his grip around her heart, hearing her gasp again as it fluttered against his palm.

Time was short, the danger growing. He should kill her now, crush her heart and leave her behind, a final testament of his resolve and his abilities.

Part of being human is having compassion, learning to forgive.

With a sigh, he relaxed his fingers and released his grip, knowing that it was not compassion that he felt, not forgiveness, but satisfaction.

He would not be the cause of her death, but the cause of her life.

She would live every day wondering why she lived, knowing that she owed every one of the rest of those days to him, always wondering why he had spared her life, wondering but never knowing.

He withdrew his hand, leaving no mark upon her body to compliment the traces left within her mind. She would remember, he had insured that. She would never forget their time together, just as he never forgot.

He got to his feet, concentrating as he summoned his children, telling them to leave her upon the surface of the planet. If she was right, her friends would find her. If not, she would die marooned, knowing they had abandoned her, left her for dead as she had left him.

He studied her for a few seconds, memorizing every feature, every pore, then turned as she was borne away, his attention now turning to more important matters. The threat was growing near and they had no time to lose.

They were the last of their kind and they must survive. It did not matter the cost or the means, he was now the leader and he would save his children, even if it meant that another race would die, they would survive.

~Fin~

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