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 All In a Day's Work

Taking first watch, he smiled when the whispers of love emanating from Daniel and Casey's tent reached his ears. He understood that their love was deep…all consuming. Special. The couple was surely blessed by the true gods. Had he not witnessed with his own eyes the fact that they alone among the Tau'ri – perhaps among every human group in the universe – were touched by the power of the true gods?

Soft moans of pleasure…then a few moments of whispers. He knew they were asleep, or nearly so, when nothing but silence could be heard. O'Neill and Samantha Carter had whispered briefly when they'd entered their tent, but there were no other sounds. If they were making love, the couple was able to do so silently. From what Janet had told him, he didn't believe that Samantha Carter was a 'quiet' lover.

His smile morphed to a grin. He'd learned more about the private lives of his teammates through Janet than he ever would have known otherwise. It never would have occurred to him to inquire about personal matters; that simply wasn't done among Jaffa. If there were concerns, those who had said concerns would voice them. Tau'ri had an unusual need for privacy regarding their lives, particularly when it involved sexual relationships. While the Jaffa were discreet, no one felt the need to hide something as natural as two people loving one another physically as well as emotionally. Sex was a part of life, just as eating, sleeping…even breathing…were. However, in spite of their desire for privacy, the Tau'ri seemed to revel in discussing the details of others' lives. The more private the information, the more gossip ensued regarding it. He had found such discussions to be more rude than entertaining, although he had occasionally laughed silently over some overheard tidbit.

His wandering thoughts focused on his lover. A more fiery woman he'd never met. Strong, intelligent, determined, beautiful…all words that described Janet Fraiser well. Her compassion as a healer of bodies was unsurpassed in his mind. He'd borne silent witness to her anguish when she was unable to save the life of an SG team member who had been wounded during a mission. Or when innocent civilians brought to the SGC from other planets were too ill to save. Each death left a scar on her tender, loving heart.

The memory of the first night in her bed filled his mind. Cassandra Fraiser had informed her mother...and had made certain he was aware as well...that she had been invited to go on a camping trip with her best friend's family. That they would, in fact, be gone the entire weekend.

Janet had seen her daughter off, and had then arrived at the SGC to pick him up. Leaving his truck in the parking lot – an attempt to keep rumors to a minimum. While the security guards at the check points would know the two were together, there was little for them to speculate over. He and the petite doctor had left the base in one another's company on several previous occasions, all while carrying out their duties for the SGC.

They had spent the afternoon in quiet conversation, sitting on the sofa in her living room, Janet curled against his side. They had spoken of many things, taking the time to learn about one another in a way not possible during lunches and breaks at the SGC. Being overheard was always a thought not far from their thoughts as they laughed and talked during those times together. Often, they weren't alone, as his teammates joined them for almost every lunch, and most afternoon breaks. Morning breaks he spent with Casey Jackson, for the most part. His friendship with the young seer prevented him from changing their schedule; he enjoyed the time with Casey, listening to her chatter happily about her day.

Dinner had been just as peaceful as their afternoon, with Janet preparing dishes that were her favorites, hoping that he too would find them pleasing. He could still recall his surprise to learn that Janet was as good a cook as Casey Jackson. For what reason he would think otherwise, he couldn't say. Perhaps because of Samantha Carter's lack of culinary skill, he had assumed all women in the military also lacked the ability to cook well. The meal had indeed been enjoyable. His favorite had been the baked potatoes…sliced almost all the way through from one end to the other, drizzled liberally with olive oil, salt, a bit of garlic, and chives. Topped with sour cream, they had been delicious, a perfect accompaniment for meatloaf she had prepared. While meatloaf was far from a favorite of his, Janet's recipe was different enough that he found it most agreeable.

They had lingered over wine, their conversation turning to the topic of love…and sex. Janet was far more willing to discuss the subject than Gracie had ever been. They had discussed previous lovers, what they had enjoyed, and what they had not. Then she'd taken the wine glass from his hand, and she'd kissed him gently…

Shaking himself, mentally, Teal'c rose to his feet. That he was aroused was the natural result of his train of thought. He ignored the throbbing of his swollen manhood, and began to walk the perimeter of the camp, his gaze carefully examining each shadow. Pushing his thoughts aside, he forced himself to remain alert for any possible threat that might prevent itself.

As he patrolled the area, his eyes moving constantly, taking note of every tree, every bush, every stone of the ruins, he wondered just when he'd become so lax that his thoughts would…could…wander so. During missions, his focus was always on the task at hand, no matter what it might be. So why did it seem that he'd been struggling all day to keep his mind on his duty? It certainly wasn't the first mission he'd been on since he had been welcomed into Janet's bed.

It was, however, the first mission since their lovemaking had moved to a new dimension; one that involved sex toys and role playing. Two things he'd never experienced before Janet. He cast a glance at the tent where Daniel Jackson and Casey Jackson slept peacefully. He'd seen the picture of Casey Jackson bearing white wings on her shoulders. Daniel Jackson referred to her as his 'Fantasy Angel'. He had also seen the photograph of Daniel that Casey Jackson carried. She called him her 'Bad Boy Biker'. The seer had even explained the reason for the photo, and the fantasy that she had played out with her husband. She had also mentioned newer portraits, one of him in the clothes he'd worn when he'd been infested with a Goa'uld symbiote; their night of lovemaking creating something memorable, something precious, out of what had been nothing less than a nightmare. And one of her wearing a French maid costume, a fantasy of Daniel Jackson's. He'd looked online to learn just what she meant by 'French maid costume'. What he had discovered had caused a surge of momentary envy, that the archaeologist had a wife so willing to indulge his fantasies.

Images of the portrait Daniel Jackson's 'Fantasy Angel', and the thought of Casey in the skimpy little black and white maid uniform skittered through his mind. Did Daniel Jackson struggle to keep his mind on his work? Did thoughts of his wife intrude, in spite of his best attempts to remain completely focused? It seemed that he was always able to perform whatever tasks had been given to him. Daniel Jackson did more translating than any of the other archaeologists who now worked in the Archaeological Department. The young man never failed to have significant amounts of information for any briefings that included SG-1, and he was certain that Daniel Jackson was just as thorough in his work for other SG teams. Had the younger man learned ways of controlling those wandering thoughts? A method of ensuring that his focus was on the task at hand, and not on his beautiful wife, and the pleasure they had shared? Perhaps it would be worth discussing the matter with the archaeologist.

With sheer determination, he continued to circle the camp. The physical activity helped to keep his mind on his task, and certainly curtailed his body's response to his wandering thoughts. Undoubtedly he would be weary enough to sleep soundly when Samantha Carter relieved him.

A light breeze began to blow. He studied the sky, noted the brilliance of the stars. There were no clouds that he could detect. A storm now could hamper further investigation of the planet. While Daniel Jackson would be able to continue his work within the protection of the temple buildings, Samantha Carter would be forced to endure any rainfall during her attempts to locate the ores that they suspected were present. Performing tests on mud were less apt to offer accurate readings, as the rain could dilute, or even contaminate, the samples.

He returned to the camp, and carefully fed the fire from the supply of wood he and Daniel Jackson had gathered earlier. A glance at his watch had him filling the battered tin coffeepot with water. Samantha Carter would require at least one cup of coffee during her watch.

When the temperature dropped slightly, he went to his tent long enough to retrieve the jacket packed in his rucksack. His eyes moved upward again, although for the second time he was unable to locate any clouds that would indicate an approaching storm.

Gently waking the colonel for her turn at guard duty, urging her to wear her jacket, he waited until he was certain his teammate was fully awake before excusing himself to climb into his own tent.

Settled into his sleeping bag, eyes closed, he found his thoughts wandering once again to his lover. Again he marveled at how deep the feelings he held for Janet ran in his heart. He hadn't loved Drey'auc any more than he loved Janet. While his wife had been a proper Jaffa spouse, obeying every law and rule concerning her behavior, Drey'auc had always offered her love freely, completely. They had found much pleasure in one another's arms. In spite of that love, he had learned early in their relationship to keep his doubts about Apophis to himself, for Drey'auc had been a true believer.

Shifting slightly, the Jaffa thought about what his wife and son had endured when he had disappeared, leading slaves to safety after betraying Apophis. Drey'auc hadn't known whether he was dead or alive for two years after he had joined O'Neill and the Tau'ri in their fight against the false gods known as the Goa'uld. All she'd known was that he had been branded a shol'va. When he had attempted to prevent the Prim'ta ceremony, which enslaved his son to the Goa'uld, Drey'auc had fought against him, cursing him for the life she and Rya'c had been forced to endure as outcasts, thanks to his actions. In spite of the choice he'd made – deserting his wife and child to fight against the Goa'uld – Teal'c had considered himself her husband, and she his wife.

It was his train of thought that shifted now. Fro'tac had been a close friend as the two rose together through the ranks of Apophis' Jaffa. He'd always suspected that there had been jealousy on Fro'tac's part when he'd been chosen as First Prime. That suspicion increased when he found that his 'friend' had sought out Drey'auc in the camp where she lived, shunned by the citizens of Chulak for her husband's betrayal. Though he had turned against Apophis, his love for Drey'auc had not lessened. He could still feel the bitter pain of learning that she'd had their marriage 'removed', and had married Fro'tac.

However, when he…with much needed assistance from O'Neill and Daniel Jackson and Samantha Carter…had saved their son from Apophis, Drey'auc's heart had been changed. Her eyes had been opened to the true nature of the Goa'uld during those trying hours. With Fro'tac dead, she'd returned to his arms, and his bed, and had acted the part of his wife once again. She had taken his cause as her own, during the days spent at the SGC. So much so that after she'd moved to one of the camps of free Jaffa, when her prim'ta matured she'd refused to take a symbiote from another Jaffa; she had chosen death in defiance of the Goa'uld. Drey'auc was a most honorable wife.

Drey'auc was dead. He'd shared moments of happiness, of bliss, in her arms as often as his schedule as part of SG-1 would allow. In spite of all that had happened, he held no regrets. What he had done, he'd done as much – if not more – for Drey'auc and Rya'c as he had for every Jaffa who lived. Her dying words had been of encouragement, of pride, of devotion…whispered to Bra'tac before she closed her eyes for the final time.

His thoughts moved back to the diminutive doctor who now held his heart in her tiny hands. Janet was very much alive. And his heart held no doubt of her love. Images of her, lying on the bed…beautiful and naked and waiting for him, begging him to make love to her…filled his thoughts. Stirred his body to painful awareness. Eyes closed, he could see the love in her warm brown eyes as she held open her arms, welcoming him into her embrace. He could feel the warmth of her body beneath him, taste the sweetness of her kiss.

His hand moved on its own, offering the relief his body needed as his mind continued to play out the night she'd taken him upstairs to her room…

He barely bit back his moan as the memory played out in his mind, every wonderful, amazing moment, right up to the moment he'd shouted his release, his voice echoing after her final cry of delight. He sat up carefully, reached for his pack. He was glad that he'd picked up the habit of carrying wet wipes from his teammates. For the first time since being welcomed into Janet's bed, he had need to clean himself after satiating his need. Not that he hadn't done so during his time at the SGC; he was, after all, a healthy male Jaffa. There had been numerous times when events, and…admiration…of the women involved in said events, had sent him to his quarters in dire need of release. He'd just never done so during a mission. Not while he'd been First Prime, nor as a member of SG-1.

Settled again in his sleeping bag, Teal'c determined to speak with Daniel Jackson as soon as possible. Given the love between the Jacksons, and the tidbits he'd learned about their love life, he was certain Daniel had moments when his thoughts…wandered. Surely the archaeologist would have advice on dealing with such inconvenience. His attention needed to be fully on the mission at hand, not the games that his lover enjoyed playing.

He crawled out of the pup tent in which he'd slept. Casey Jackson was beside the fire, having drawn the last watch of the night. His smile was an automatic response when she looked up, and smiled warmly at him.

"Good morning."

"Good morning, Casey Jackson."

"Sleep well?"

Not hardly, he thought. Even in his dreams he'd been tormented by the memories of that most special night with Janet; although in his dreams she'd been a prisoner of Apophis, held in one of the smallest cells on his ha'tak. Begging for mercy, offering her supple body – her full breasts, narrow waist, lissome hips – in return for food…for water…for being spared from beatings. She had responded to each of his demands with such fervor that he'd requested her as his own slave. Apophis had willingly agreed…

"Teal'c? Are you okay?"

The concern in the seer's voice shook him from his thoughts. "I am fine." He moved toward the fire, determined to keep his problem to himself…with the exception of a discussion with Daniel Jackson. "Why do you ask?"

"You just seemed to be a million miles away for a minute there," was the soft reply.

For a moment he feared she was aware of his thoughts, and what he'd dreamed. Shook himself slightly, reminding himself of what she'd said so often…'seer, not a mind-reader'. "I was contemplating taking time to meditate before we share breakfast."

"Oh," Casey smiled. "Well, no one else is awake yet, so you'll have peace and quiet to meditate in. Just don't know how long you'll have it."

"Even a few minutes is of value to one's well-being," he replied. Hoping that a few moments of meditation would indeed help him to focus his thoughts on his duties.

"True."

With a slight nod, he walked toward the edge of the ruins. There would surely be a place suitable for silent contemplation. He'd seen the remains of a patio…the colorful tiles had been cracked, several chipped in places. Presumably it had been a place of respite for those of the temple it had once been attached to. It would be a perfect place to sit in the early morning sun, and to meditate…to take control of thoughts that wandered far too easily.

Settled onto the warm ceramic tiles, he raised his face toward the sun. Took several deep breaths, centering himself; reaching for the calm, quiet of stilling his mind. He continued to concentrate until he could hear the sound of his heartbeat through the blood that flowed through his veins. He listened for countless moments as the beat of his heart slowed…slower…slower…as he attained the level of meditation he sought. He was alone in the universe. No thoughts, no feelings.

Peace. Absolute peace filled his being. Eyes closed, his body motionless, he was surrounded by warmth…peace. None of the distractions, nor the unease of the previous day could touch him.

Unaware that the young seer who was probably his dearest friend was watching closely, he continued to breathe deeply. Pushed further and further from his mind all discomfiting thoughts.

Soft murmured words drifted to his ears. Daniel Jackson had joined his wife, and the two were sharing a private, early morning greeting. It was impossible not to smile. The love the two shared, that was visible around them, had given his own heart the courage to dare to love again. He opened his eyes. Their love, and the words Casey had spoken in the Jackson home when she had 'revealed' the relationship between himself and Janet Fraiser…

Perhaps the risk, he mused, had less to do with his heart being broken, and more to do with his ability to competently carry out his duties as a member of SG-1. He looked toward the camp. Daniel Jackson was smiling. Casey Jackson was chattering softly. At no time had the archaeologist been unable to provide the information needed, or to communicate with leaders of alien cultures. Even when he had been frantic with the need to find her, when she'd been taken by the bounty hunter and delivered to Ba'al, Daniel Jackson had been able to perform his duties. True, he had been more emotional during those days and weeks. But he'd not failed to do the job expected of him.

Certainly Daniel Jackson had learned a way to control any wayward thoughts of his wife…and private moments that he held dear. I will speak to Daniel Jackson. The thought was filled with determination. He rose and began to stride purposefully toward camp, his intent to speak to the archaeologist as soon as possible.

His pace slowed slightly when O'Neill and Samantha Carter emerged from their tent. The discussion he wished to have was one best held privately. Attempting to do so with O'Neill nearby would be difficult. No doubt the general would find it necessary to join the two men if they were engaged in conversation. And no doubt O'Neill would also find it entertaining to learn of his…difficulties. While he was willing to deal with his share of being teased, this was not a subject he found amusing in the least. With a silent sigh, he resigned himself to waiting to speak to his young friend when the opportunity presented itself. Which would not, it seemed, be soon.

Breakfast was eaten with much laughter and teasing. The fact that they were alone on the planet, facing no danger or threats, allowed the fun-loving team to enjoy their time together. He even managed to join in the frivolity, his earlier disquiet nothing more than a nagging poke in the back of his mind – a good sign, he thought privately.

"So, Daniel, you have a lot of translating left to do?" Jack asked, sipping from his cup of coffee.

"I'm ready to start on the inner sanctuary," Daniel Jackson replied. "I still want photos of the main temple walls. Casey can do that while I get started on the translations."

Jack gave a short nod of understanding. "I was thinking about that underground room. Or rooms. We could take a look now, just to make sure there isn't anything there that can bite us in the ass."

Daniel nodded eagerly. "I haven't found any references to hidden chambers. At least not in the temple itself."

The general rose to his feet, tossed the dregs of the coffee at the fire. "Well, let's have a little look-see."

The fire was banked, the remains of their breakfast dealt with, and the bowls used for oatmeal were carefully cleaned. Once the camp had been straightened, the team headed toward the ruins.

"Okay, Teal'c, take lead. You can spot a Goa'uld trap faster than we can," Jack said.

With a deep breath, forcing all thoughts from his head, focusing completely on the task at hand, he flipped the switch on scope light on the P90 he carried. He carefully swept the stairwell. He could see nothing that indicated any threat or danger. Moving slowly, he, tested each stone step before lowering his weight onto his foot. Two of the stones rocked slightly, but were stable enough to support him. As he moved downward, the darkness seemed to surround him. Sliced by the thin beam of his light, he examined every nook and cranny.

The room at the bottom of the stairs was small. A doorway led into a long hallway. It appeared that a dozen rooms lay on either side of the corridor.

"Any ideas about this?" Jack asked, moving warily behind him.

"Not a clue," Daniel admitted. "My guess would be storage, just from the layout."

"I'm not seeing any glyphs at all," Casey murmured.

"Me, either," Daniel replied.

The corridor was narrow. The rooms on each side were as small, or smaller, as first room had been.

"Nothing," Daniel sighed. "Not a single mark to indicate what these were used for. I'm going to stick with my original hypothesis and say that these were storage rooms. Probably for food, maybe wine as well."

Even in the dim light provided by five scope lights, it was possible to see the disappointment that filled Daniel Jackson's eyes. He had probably been hoping to find more than just empty storerooms. He could recall the young archaeologist telling him on several occasions…after being similarly crestfallen over the lack of findings on other planets…that every expedition was built on dreams, and had to endure reality.

Jack motioned that the team should turn around. Doing so put Samantha Carter in the lead. "Well, at least we know there's nothing here to be worried about."

"Unless the place is haunted," Casey quipped.

"You are not funny, Radar," Jack replied immediately.

"Well, it's true. If the place is haunted by pissed-off store keepers, they could give us a bit of trouble."

Jack stopped so suddenly that Daniel crashed into him, and it was impossible to prevent his own body from plowing into Daniel's.

"Are you picking something up?" Jack asked suspiciously.

Casey looked over her shoulder, her mischievous grin lighting her entire face. "Nope. Just saying that if the place were haunted-"

"You are so annoying," Jack muttered, cutting off her comment.

There was no way to hold back the chuckle that filled his throat, his amusement coming from both Casey's teasing, and Jack's reaction to it.

"Okay, smartass, lead on," Jack ordered, pointing toward the stairwell into which Sam had already disappeared.

"You know, if I’m as smart as you insist I am, you really should listen to me," Casey continued.

Daniel snorted loudly, tried to hide his laughter behind a cough.

"Don't encourage her, Daniel," Jack deadpanned. He glared at the slender blonde. "I'm seriously writing you up when we get back to the SGC. Insubordinate as hell."

"Be my guest," was the giggled response.

"Serious here, Radar."

"I know you are. But since I'm not in the Air Force, other than General Hammond telling me to stop picking on you, which he won't because you pick on me, your little report won't amount to squat."

Although O'Neill tried to pretend to sneeze, immediately blaming it on the dust in the narrow corridor, the team CO snickered at Casey's retort. Wisely, he thought, the general otherwise remained silent on the matter.

They all blinked several times when they emerged from the dark stairwell, their eyes readjusting to the bright morning sun.

"This isn't close enough to the temple to have been storage used by the priests," Daniel murmured, his gaze moving from the temple back to the opening that led underground.

"Is it possible for other buildings to have been here?" Casey asked. "Maybe this was a kitchen, or even a business."

"Not within the temple complex itself," Daniel replied. "The temple complex was a holy place. I suppose it's possible that Zeus did things differently than Ra and the Egyptians."

"Well, it's nothing to worry about, and that makes me happy," Jack said. "Carter, ready to go play in the dirt again?"

Sam smiled. "I just need to do a few readings, collect a few more samples. We'll have to go further than we did yesterday."

"Okay…regular check-ins, campers," Jack said.

"Right," Daniel replied distractedly, writing the findings of the buried rooms in his journal.

"You do your thing, we'll do ours," Casey said, grinning at her CO.

"Keep your hands to yourself, Radar," Jack retorted.

"Same to you, General," the seer tossed back.

Rolling his eyes, Jack led Sam back toward the team camp, where her equipment waited.

Daniel looked up, chuckled at the raspberry Casey blew when Jack glanced over his shoulder at her. "I like missions like this," the archaeologist said quietly. "Nothing to be worried about, just interesting buildings to examine."

He agreed wholeheartedly. Given that his own thoughts seemed to wander randomly, and had been since the beginning of the mission, it was truly a blessing that there were no threats of which to be concerned. He watched as the Jacksons laced their fingers together, then wandered toward the buildings where they would spend their day.

"I will examine the perimeter," he said, sighing mentally. He wished to speak to his young friend about the problem that haunted him. But he wished to be discreet about the conversation. He would, as a result, be forced to wait until Daniel Jackson was working alone.

It was nearly noon when he watched Daniel Jackson wander into the smallest of the standing buildings. Casey Jackson had remained inside the second building; he could see her with the camera, carefully capturing each wall on film. He approached the archaeologist slowly, trying to work out in his mind just how to broach the subject of lovers and wandering attention. With a glance over he shoulder to ascertain that O'Neill wasn't on his way back into camp, he stepped into the shady entry. The younger man didn't seem to notice his presence. He took a deep breath. "Daniel Jackson, may I speak with you?"

Daniel glanced up. "Hey, Teal'c. What's up?"

"There is a…personal matter…which I wished to discuss."

It was apparent in the way that his head flew up that the comment had surprised his young friend. Daniel cleared his throat. "Sure."

"It concerns your…er…my…it concerns sex."

Daniel's eyes widened in surprise. He adjusted his glasses, a bit nervously, his observer thought. "Oh…uh…okay."

"Casey Jackson has spoken of your…'role play'."

The archaeologist's cheeks turned red. "Uh…"

"She did not share details," he said hurriedly, wanting to reassure his friend. "Only her gratitude that you were willing to…indulge…her fantasies."

"She's certainly fulfilled enough of mine," Daniel murmured, a smile on his face, even though his cheeks were still ruddier than usual.

"Janet Fraiser also had a fantasy she wished to fulfill," he said. He watched as surprise filled cerulean blue eyes.

"Oh-kay," Daniel said slowly.

"In doing so, I have found it very…difficult…to keep from…to prevent the memories…I am finding it most difficult to concentrate on my duties," he admitted.

Daniel's smile widened. "I take it this just happened?"

"The night before this mission began," he confirmed.

"Teal'c, I have to be honest, memories of Casey can flood my mind at the damnedest times. All it takes is a flash of something red. Or white. Or a feather."

Apparently the colors and the feather, something he understood had been part of the fantasy involving Casey Jackson's appearance as a French maid, had played a large role in the 'games' that had been played. There had not been any such items used the night he took the role as guard, and Janet became his prisoner. Perhaps once he was able to control those thoughts, the memories of that night, there would not be such 'triggers' to haunt him. It was a bit of hope he grabbed at almost desperately. "How do you keep the thoughts from intruding…how do you control your thoughts?"

Ducking his head, Daniel nibbled slightly on his lower lip. "I don't. I mean, it's usually easy enough to push any thoughts that are…intruding…to the back of my mind when I'm busy working on something. But the memories can be triggered at random. Sometimes I can be working on a translation, and images of Casey are just…there."

"But you are able to push them away?"

"For the most part, yeah. It's a little harder if we've just…indulged."

He found the gaze of his friend almost disconcerting.

"I guess you're having trouble keeping your mind on this mission, and not back in the bedroom with Janet?"

"I am." It was almost a relief to confess to someone. He'd often found Bra'tac a most compassionate confessor, when the need arose. It seemed that Daniel Jackson could…and would…fill that position, when it was required.

"I think, Teal'c, it's not any different from anything new or exciting that we discover. If there's something that catches our attention…or makes us extremely happy, we tend to focus on that thing for awhile. Something…special…with a lover, can remain in our thoughts almost constantly right after…right after it happens. Then, as time passes, it's less…distracting."

"You believe that the…thoughts…that are intruding upon my concentration will diminish?"

"In time. If you continue to role-play, there will be more memories that will…intrude. But, it's sure worth it," Daniel grinned broadly.

The look of pleasure on Janet's beautiful face as they had made love, the sounds of rapture that had filled her throat, and the air around them, pushed forward. He would endure anything to see her brown eyes sparkle with such love…and lust. To feel her hold him so tightly as their 'role-play' ended…the whispers of love and gratitude during the warm afterglow of their lovemaking. "Indeed."

"My guess is, you're being too hard on yourself for having your thoughts wander. Right now, this is a pretty boring mission for you. Nothing to do but wander around these ruins," Daniel continued. "Just relax. Enjoy the memories when you can."

There was no immediate threat to the team. In fact, he had found himself rather bored as he paced the perimeter he'd established around the Jacksons as they worked. "When you find yourself…disinterested…in the activities around you-"

"I take a very pleasant stroll through my memories," Daniel admitted with a sheepish smile. "And trust me, Teal'c, Casey has seen to it that I have a variety of very pleasant memories to visit."

"Of this I am certain," he murmured. Casey Jackson was a most passionate woman. It was only logical that her passion was freed in the arms of her husband. He took a deep breath. "Thank you, Daniel Jackson."

"You're welcome." Daniel started to turn away. "If you're feeling particularly bothered by the memories of your night of role-playing, you might want to examine why the thoughts are more bothersome than pleasant."

He could feel the frown that tugged at his eyebrows. "I will do so. Perhaps there is more to my feelings of disquiet than thoughts that intrude upon my mind."

Daniel nodded. "I'm still gonna go with the theory that you're just being too hard on yourself."

The attempt of reassurance was appreciated. With a nod of acknowledgment, he moved away. He would meditate as soon as possible. Certainly he would be able to find the answers he sought.

It was during his watch that night that he finally had a moment to contemplate his earlier conversation with Daniel Jackson. The conclusion that something other than the memories – the very pleasant memories – of indulging Janet's wishes was bothering him had been the most prevalent thought on his mind.

One moment seemed to repeat in his mind more than any other of that most enjoyable night. The moment when she'd first shared her desire. Mind-numbing fear had risen in his heart, fear that Janet might believe him capable of such behavior.

He examined her response to his unintentional protest. The absolute shock that had filled her brown eyes; shock that he would believe she would, or even could, think such a thing. The suggestion that he might have been cruel to the captives of Apophis had brought out her protective inclinations. Her assurances of her love, and her belief in him as being 'gentle' were honest and true. Her belief in him as bright in her eyes as it had been in the firmness of her words. That love, that faith in him, washed over him in waves of warmth.

Allowing his thoughts to linger over the memories of that most special night brought another rush of warmth, this one physical. It was a fact that he'd enjoyed every moment of their 'game', hearing her beg for mercy, the eagerness with which she performed any and every demand he made…Oh, how he had enjoyed each and every caress! The feeling of dominance had made his blood boil with lust. Her willingness to please him had left him weak with love.

Dominance. 

The word bounced around in his head as he came face to face with the crux of the matter. During his tenure as First Prime, he'd lost count of the number of times women, and a few men, had offered to perform whatever sexual favors he might demand of them in an attempt to garner his favor. Not once in all the years he had served Apophis had he ever accepted those offers. There were moments when he'd been tempted, particularly when attractive women…learning their place as a slave for Apophis…had dropped whatever covering they might have had, offering supple bodies in return for his protection. It wasn't always easy to look away from voluptuous curves and firm breasts and the soft curls that barely hid clefts of womanhood. Not once had he indulged his baser needs. Even when other Jaffa had done so, right in front of him. Instead, he found ways to lessen the burden of slavery; from making certain the slaves were fed, and clean, and warm at night, right up to sneaking individuals back through the Chappa'ai, returning them to the homes from which they'd been stolen.

The epiphany came quietly, as so many do. He smiled when he realized that it was the lurking fear that he'd harbored dark desires, that he'd wanted to be the dominant, abusive guard, taking whatever he wanted from a terrified slave – even if that slave had been willing – that had been so unsettling. What happened in the bedroom of his lover was nothing like what he'd seen and heard in the prison cells of his Goa'uld enslaver. Where there had been only desperation from the prisoners of Apophis…a sacrifice of their souls as well as their bodies, there was only love and desire and mutual pleasure in Janet's arms. Her fantasies were her own, and bore no resemblance to the dark memories that haunted him at times.

Casey Jackson had once told him that Apophis had wounded his soul as clearly as the Goa'uld had wounded the bodies of his prisoners. He had found her words to be quite insightful. Memories of what he'd been forced to do as the First Prime of a false god would torment him for the remainder of his life. Being Immortal, that would be a very long time, he admitted to himself. He continued to hold his feeble attempts to atone for the atrocities he committed as a talisman against the worst of the pain. He would never forget what he'd been forced to do. He had, however, learned to live with his past. And vowed to live each day of his present and future making up for all he had done. It was the best he could do.

It was no small amount of comfort to know that his heart had never become so hardened that he could abuse prisoners in the most humiliating of ways. Acts that were meant to be tender…gentle…beautiful…remained that way for him. He'd not sullied his heart…his very soul…by twisting such a beautiful thing as making love into something dark and hateful.

When O'Neill relieved him in the early hours before dawn, he was finally at peace. He would treasure the memory of being Janet's 'guard'. He would eagerly anticipate such 'role play' again. And would be able to enjoy both the activity, and the memory, knowing that not once had he ever been, nor had he even been tempted to be, an intentionally cruel Jaffa.

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