fic: Third Time Lucky (Three's a Charm) (Stargate, John Sheppard/Vala Mal Doran, NC-17)
Title: Third Time Lucky (Three's a Charm Remix)
Author: Liondragon (shusu)
Summary: Vala doesn't fit here.
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis, Stargate SG-1
Pairing: John Sheppard/Vala Mal Doran
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Stargate universes do not belong to me.
Original Story: By Tielan - LJ or FF.net
Notes: Thanks to my dear flist, spoke for the first read-through, aphelant for her fantastic beta, and to bellwings, whose canon notes saved, saved, saved my hide. Story elements inspired by rydra_wong's Walked Right Out of the Machinery. Any mistakes remain my own.
Very light pain kink. Unconventional narration, POV. This is an AU with spoilers for seasons 8, 9, and 10 SG-1, and through season 3 SGA. Background music was "Minarets" by Dave Matthews Band with Greg Howard.
***
Third Time Lucky (Three's a Charm Remix)
by Liondragon
Vala doesn't fit here. She should be used to it. Her own body still feels like a sham, a carefully put-upon con that's only good for distraction.
She is, however, home. So to speak. The smallest comforts are the sweetest. "I've got something for you, Walter!" she calls cheerily as SG-1's boots click on the embarkation ramp.
"I would not be quick to believe this, Sergeant Harriman," Teal'c says.
"All the way from the other side of the galaxy!" continues Vala, because it makes Daniel's eyes roll and Sam's eyes twinkle, and because Teal'c is actually acknowledging her existence.
"Yes, Ma'am," Walter says from the control booth.
Mitchell hands off his weapons. "One of these days, Sergeant, she's actually gonna give it to ya."
Maybe Walter blushes. They did spend a lunch-hour or two sizing him up, but it hardly matters if he's going to take them up on it - the team laughing with her is a good sign.
If you say so.
She nudges Mitchell until he gives up a wink. He knows how hard it is to get through to the Jaffa, and he also knows better than to get too excited about it while Teal'c is standing right there.
Vala bounds up the stairs because she can. Small comforts. Shared victories take the bite out of loneliness. Do you remember that, she wonders.
Shared victories are sweet indeed.
Vala smiles as she plops on the conference room chairs. She's going to spin them till someone stops them. Probably Daniel. It doesn't matter; they've walked out of devastation and they have a place to call home. Tomorrow they will do it again. The grief will wash up the moment everyone takes a seat and asks them to recount each step in stark detail. Before that moment, never mind. Vala is greedy for joy.
And she's learned how to share.
*
Qetesh does not fit anywhere at all.
*
Have you ever heard of Atlantis?
Vala nearly asks aloud. They're alone in their room, covers pulled up to their chin, a bottle of Hysterical Pink nail-polish and a paperback copy of Menander both lying half-finished at their feet. The SGC doesn't let her near any files written in the last millennium, but Sam's told her enough about General O'Neill and Daniel to piece together what 'Atlantis' means. The word wouldn't raise any flags for any of the nice young fellows watching her security feed. She'd just rather not get Sam in trouble.
An Alteran rumor. There were treasures and things of power... and then there was Atlantis.
Vala sits up in her pillow nest. She usually does all the talking while Qetesh cradles her brain and watches. It was different Before, but they don't discuss that time. Qetesh has few interests which bestir her to passion, fewer still which she has in common with Vala, and one of the latter is treasure.
Go on, Vala says.
None of us knew what it was. An Ancient seat of power. A weapon. The rumor persisted on Earth. If there had been more trace evidence left behind, I would have used it to bait Athena.
Vala's face tightens. No matter if it is her or Qetesh. Another thing they share: a sharp, burning hatred of Athena. In the greater scheme of the universe, Athena did them a favor, but there are some things each wishes they could keep for themselves.
You and I know it is a city in the Pegasus Galaxy. A city-ship, filled with the secrets of the Alterans; such a stronghold that your friends stole off without us to pry those secrets loose...
Qetesh doesn't prod Vala. Not anymore. Vala doesn't remember what it was like to be a mere host, a puppet-thing in this snake's clasp, and she suspects that Qetesh wiped the memory herself. Vala does not particularly mind. She's spent enough intimate time with Qetesh to know when she's curious.
It was taken over by the Tau'ri, Vala whispers back. The Alterans took it back last week.
This time Qetesh sighs. It tires her out to vocalize. You are Tau'ri.
I'm not, Vala says simply.
Qetesh regards her companion for a moment before falling silent.
They turn over, and switch out the light.
*
Vala rises an hour early, goes to the mess, fills her bowl with fruity rainbow cereal, and eats it with her fingers. Ten minutes later, a lanky man in a black uniform stumbles in.
Aha. Qetesh is gleeful, now that she understands. She watches him fill his coffee cup and grab a pear without looking at it. Unshaven and weary-eyed, he still appears youthful. Wide shoulders, hips ready for handling, hair and posture not-quite regulation.
Vala smiles and just closes her eyes so no one sees them glow gold.
*
They're leafing through one of Daniel's dry-as-dust tomes when Qetesh nudges her again. Talk to him.
Why, says Vala sharply.
You do not know his name.
He's mine, Vala says for the sake of bickering. All the men they've had - since they escaped the Tok'ra and Ba'al and Athena and latest of all, the Ori - are Vala's. It's only partly to do with Qetesh's new hobby of voyeurism. Vala suspects the other part of it is that Qetesh's new hobby is a variation of her old one. The records go back for ages and are easily confirmed: Qetesh switched hosts like they were old clothes, wanting them younger, more sumptuous, more beautiful. Perhaps she wants to see how Vala does on her own. Vala suspects it, but she will never ask whether Qetesh liked to watch her break too.
That doesn't matter now.
Hurry it up, then. He might fly off.
Now that is not playing fair. Of the two, Qetesh is the better judge of people. Vala supposes this assessment is true enough. The grief's still thick around the man. Little prevents him from leaving besides some flimsy social ties and his head full of classified secrets. And doesn't *that* sound familiar. Still, Qetesh is trying to rush her.
...I do know his name, you know.
"Vala, are you paying attention?" Daniel gives her that cute little scowl.
"Why of course, Daniel, you need me," Vala says automatically. Qetesh squirts the answer into her head. "The Arabic forms of alchemy may have been a symbolic translation of Goa'uld dialects, and may have been used to describe the comings and goings of Merlin's cohorts." Vala flashes her teeth. "In other words, busy work."
Daniel narrows his eyes like he knows what they're playing, but he doesn't say anything.
Vala bites back a smile and twirls her pigtails. Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard, she murmurs.
A mental click. The former garrison commander of Atlantis. The one with the gene.
An elegantly raised eyebrow is all Vala allows herself.
You should couple with him.
What!
Qetesh sits back, her silence calculating. Interested.
My womb is not a carousel, thank you.
And if the product of such a coupling gained an advantage over Adria?
Vala is about to argue. She, *they* agreed to do it Daniel's way. Instead she turns the page and says, And how do you propose to control such a child?
Qetesh subsides.
"You know, if something happens to me in the field, you might have to figure this out on your own," Daniel says. Chalk scrapes.
"I'll keep that in mind," Vala says to the room at large.
* * *
Vala concedes that Qetesh has a point. She watches Sheppard bash away at a punching bag, and that elegant fulmination of arms and shoulders and ass is one of the finest in the galaxy. Bam, bam. Bam, bam. He's barefoot, and she can see the transmission of power from his feet through his spine to his fists. The same raw anger driving him is also throwing off his rhythm, but there's definitely nothing wrong with the machinery. What the hell. It's Vala's call.
"There's a better way to do that, you know," Vala purrs. She pushes off from the threshold, and the door closes behind her.
Sheppard jerks and freezes up like a spooked animal. When he turns to face them, recognition shoots through both Vala and Qetesh. It's as though his whole body is a mask, and they just jostled it. *Very* interesting.
They both come to attention as his pretty countenance shutters closed and his body settles into a rueful slouch. "Probably. It's not the same without... uh, it's not like a real fight." He scratches his nape, and there's a glimpse of something incredibly young. "You must be Vala."
He doesn't know about us, Qetesh hisses before withdrawing all the way back.
Vala flashes her teeth. "You're John, right? Sort of late to be knocking that poor bag around."
"Kind of late for you, too."
She slips off to slink around the gym mats, and is impressed when he starts circling too. Don't let them get too close, oh yes, she knows this game. "Planet lag. It's morning back on Taoth Vaclarush." This is not exactly a lie. They've been back from Castiana for a few days. Vala has better things to do than hang on Daniel's latest breakthrough. Like this.
"I can't sleep either," Sheppard murmurs, eyes on her face.
"Your form's very good," Vala leers. "Your timing is a little off."
"Oh yeah?"
Amazing. He's flirting! Vala is pretty sure it's a defense mechanism, even if she didn't expect him to warm up so quickly. "I know what you need."
Ooh, that makes him nervous. He notices that he's pacing and comes to a halt. He doesn't know what to do with his hands, so they end up hooked on his hips.
Vala continues. "You need a sparring partner."
When Sheppard's face stops flipping through a gamut of emotions, Vala gathers up her hair and gives him a chance to size her up.
Sheppard sweeps the mat with his foot. "Sounds like fun."
Vala schools her expression. Somewhere in the back of her mind, there is laughter.
*
The first match is hers. Vala has been scrapping all her life and doesn't need to be told how to win against someone bigger and stronger. The only one on the base she doesn't dare challenge is Teal'c; that's only because he's got about a lifetime over her when it comes to scrapping. Sheppard crouches into position and tosses off a grin which tells her that he hasn't learned that lesson.
Vala takes a half-step closer. If this were a real fight, she'd be slipping out of reach and running for it. But if this were a real fight, her opponent wouldn't be "going easy" on her.
Sheppard feints left, tries to crowd her out or get a hold. Vala lets him think he's seen an opening.
She's not here to fight. She's here to steal.
A twist of her hips, a pivot, and then the shock of bodily contact, knee to thigh, hand to chest. She doesn't have time to dwell on how good he smells before she feels him lose control of his center, and she knocks him off-balance. Leverage and adrenaline go into toppling the last of his support.
It's a satisfying thump when he hits the mats.
She's got him right where she wants him.
And she's not going to think too hard about what was fueling that adrenaline. Flipping hair off her brow, she smiles down at him.
"Oh man," Sheppard huffs. He lets his head fall back.
Vala taps his knee. Sheppard jumps like he's been shocked. "Watch this, next time," she advises with a sweet smile.
He narrows his eyes as though he can see right through the honey. "Right. That. Guess I'm a little rusty. Another go?"
She keeps her hand on his knee for a few more seconds, then bounces up.
Sheppard- John gets up slowly. He shakes it off, limbs loosening, and his breathing evens out. Vala tenses. No more going easy? She starts her circuit, watching his eyes drift to the side, like he's recalling something... or someone.
Without warning, Qetesh speaks in her ear. Let me test him.
Vala forces herself to smile tightly at John and not clench her hands.
Don't hurt him! she warns.
The scales over his eyes, Qetesh says inanely. He's not here with you, not quite yet.
John gets into a stance. The sweat is rolling off his brow. Vala is annoyed with Qetesh's interference, and even more annoyed that she's right. John is distracted and it's not by the sight of her cleavage.
He glances away again. This time Vala catches the flash of sadness. The *memory*. It reminds her of Daniel staring off at the image of Sha're, or Sam counting the people she couldn't save, or Teal'c when he comes back from more Jaffa disappointments. When John looks up again, it's with a renewed vigor, a bit of reckless bravado, and Vala knows that one too. So Vala lets go.
The Goa'uld are a martial race, obsessed with domination because it is the key to their survival. Qetesh's tricks are partly chemical manipulation, and partly the eloquent savagery which could only be cultivated by a species that awards style points for violence. Vala's body flows into one blow after the next, using John's attacks against him, leverage and adrenaline allowing her to exploit every weakness.
Vala doesn't exactly trust Qetesh, not the way the Tau'ri trust. She also knows this effort will tire Qetesh out before she can do any permanent damage. They allow John an opening; that's when Vala realizes that Qetesh is provoking a fight-or-flight response. They're not holding back, and John's catching on. He tries a move that ought to snap someone's neck and it takes the combination of Vala's skill and Qetesh's strength to break the hold. Vala's heart thunders. They withdraw for a moment before launching into a counter-attack.
John's hyped up. Whenever she gets close, his breath falls hot and hard on her skin. His hazel eyes are dilated and locked on her movements. When Vala ducks and literally sweeps him off his feet, she knows she has his complete and undivided attention.
His shoulders hit the mat. Vala blows her hair off her face, claims his lap, and thinks: Thank you. I think.
"Urgh," John winces.
Aw, he does look cute when he's winded and sweaty. "That was fun! Want to do it again?" Vala smirks down at him.
"No," he says plaintively. His face twists up.
Vala takes pity and helps him up. Loose body, strong grip. She drags a wrist over her brow, suppressing a giggle as he shakes himself off like a big shaggy dog.
I like him, she finally admits. He's spunky.
Qetesh doesn't answer, though Vala suspects there'll be a told-you-so later.
Sure enough, he mops up sweat with his wristband, and looks like he'd rather die under her than die of embarrassment. Which could be arranged. She sees his lips thin with determination. "All right. Third time lucky."
"I *love* an optimistic man." Vala beams at him. Eyes glittering, she barely contains the flash of gold as she stalks the perimeter of the mats.
Isn't he adorable when he's annoyed?
John studies her for a few seconds, then lunges into an offensive. Vala lets him cross most of the distance before she strikes. She can't *wait* to take him apart. To her delight, this time he's grabbing more, which means she can stop hitting and start wrestling. Knocking his weight around only makes her want to harness that power. Despite all the rubbing and grappling and climbing all over each other, he doesn't get it until she smiles at him and floors his ass.
He hits the mat hard. And he's still stunned when Vala bends down to capture his lips. His knees part as she grinds against him, and at first his response is as automatic as his superficial smile. Then she feels him twitch against her and his mouth decides to give in to hers.
The breath he releases is almost sweeter than the kiss.
When Vala pulls away, he pouts as though positively deprived. She grins. "You're not a bad kisser."
"I've had some practice," he says. His eyes drop to her breasts. Finally! He could be catching on.
His hands are still tentative, though Vala figures it's more confusion than actual lack of... interest. There's certainly ample evidence of interest. She lingers over his chest and licks her lips. "I think you could always do with more practice." Vala punctuates this with a gentle dig of her nails.
She doesn't wait for an answer before she molds her body to his, and with a twist of her hips and another deep, deep kiss, she's got him. He loosens up all the way, and there are his hands sliding up her flank and stroking her hair.
"Got you," Vala says.
He almost laughs. Then his arms tighten around her and his hips start moving, a slow churn that Vala knows well. The déjà vu hits her again. Vala snakes her forearm round his neck to take his mouth harder, and he whines, wanting more. This one is hungry, aching, so much sweeter than she thought; she doesn't know if that's Vala or Qetesh, and it doesn't seem to matter. When his eyes flutter open, they're glazed and watery. Vala ought to do something about his tightening pants, really, but she could kiss him all night, or until he comes.
"Vala," he whispers.
"Yes, sweetling," she says, nibbling his ear. What now? She should probably tell him what she did to those pesky security cameras...
"Ow," he says.
She sits up, managing to brush against his crotch, earning a brief groan. John's mouth is swollen. His tongue flicks over his lips as though he can't believe he can taste someone else on him.
"You're going to be bruised all over," Vala says thoughtfully. She drags her knee along his side, and he winces. It would be lovely to steer him to their quarters in person, but this labyrinth doesn't belong to them, and less direct methods are required. "We should have that looked at, hmm?"
He raises a brow. "My quarters-"
"Mm, no. Guest level, end of the hall. Bring your little security card." With that she pulls away.
John scrambles up and she's actually surprised when he catches her, hands framing her face, reaching up to kiss her while she stoops. The kiss tells her something he hadn't been meaning to share. They're both breathing hard, now. His eyes really are that moist, and Vala has to look away and start walking to the door.
*
Vala and Qetesh are pacing around their little space like caged cats. The goddess is nearly spent, yet she's a constant buzz inside Vala's head. It's been ten interminable minutes.
He's mine, Vala says firmly. Just in case.
Qetesh doesn't answer.
The door swings open, and Vala whirls around, teeth locked in a grin. "John! How nice of you to join us."
His hair is wet with shower water, and some droplets fly off as he stops short.
"'Us'?"
Vala advances on him, backing him into the door until it's shut. She's dried off but not cleaned up, so she's still scented by their exertions. Apparently the presence of a Goa'uld and the traces of naquadah make the host-bodies smell enticing to other humans.
All the better to eat you, the Earth tale goes. "It's just us," Vala says, cupping John's dick through the thin layers of clothing. His body relaxes even as he rubs against her hand. He must have employed heroic measures to hold himself off, and Vala moans into his mouth just thinking about it.
Something rattles next to her ear. Blast.
John almost looks rueful as he shakes the condom packet. Vala manages a smile; at least he thought about taking her bare. What a darling boy.
"Uh," he says as she digs through his clothes and pulls him out. With a gentle tug, Vala coaxes him toward the bed.
"No bruises there," Vala decrees.
John's legs hit the bed, and he scrambles after Vala. She promptly pushes him down and lifts a long leg over his hips. "Jesus," John says, "I don't care what McKay says, you can't actually lead me by the dick." He wiggles free, trying to glare.
"Who's McKay?" Vala pauses with her shirt over her head. Then she remembers a name from one of the technical meetings, and Sam wrinkling her nose. "Oh! The one stalking Sam."
"Sam... Colonel Carter?" John looks torn between wincing and staring at her bare breasts. "Rodney's not really. Okay, maybe he is. Kinda. Everybody ribs him about it." He opens his mouth to say something else, except he's waylaid by some emotion. He's not hiding it well at all. For that, Vala has to kiss him. His hands are shaking when he catches her chin, but he steadies, helping her strip, letting her lay him bare.
He is grieving.
The thought resounds in her head, an echo. Over and over Vala has known loss. That way lies numbness followed by a cascade of pain, and she remembers teaching Qetesh what hunger was when no one could offer solace from any of it.
So she holds on and doesn't let go. "John," she says. Someone dims the lights. Vala rolls over on her back, reaching blind for the bedside lubricant while John slips the condom on.
The first time's a hard and frantic fuck in the dark. Eyes closed, John loses his hesitation, and the energy he used on the punching bag propels his thrusts. Vala throws her head back and forgets what words mean, feels him bury himself in this flesh she barely knows, feels him unerringly find her lips to kiss. When he finds his pleasure, she feels him breathe out again, *relief*, however temporary.
John doesn't say anything as he discards the condom, but Vala is there. She keeps herself busy on his fingers, keeps her tongue busy on his skin. "Practice looks good on you, sweet. You're a very pleasant young man. Such a nice ass, so shapely-"
There's a high-pitched sound from the vicinity of her cleavage. His blush lights up their senses.
"-and I imagine one could have so much fun with it, hmm? And you're so talented with that mouth of yours." Vala squeaks as he worries a nipple with the edges of his teeth. In retaliation she ticks off the going rates of exchange for his skills on the galactic market, and how much of a tel'tak each will purchase.
Before she's even done with their local quadrant, John's rubbing off on her thigh. "Vala... I..." he says helplessly.
"Come finish it," she murmurs, clenching her hand in his hair. "It's all right. We have this very moment. Ours for the taking."
She hears him rip open another condom packet. Round two. This time she guides his hips to exactly where she wants him. They hear him curse his god when he enters her again, and his spine bows when she tenses her muscles around him. Vala lets him pull her so close he lifts her ass off the bed. He shudders as she swirls her hips, and as his head drops with the sensation, she brings her knee up and flips them over.
John's groan seems to rip right through him. He feels for her blindly, clutching at her body when he finds it. Vala spreads an arm on his chest, straddles his cock, and reaches between her legs to pin him down with the other arm, all the better to add to her own friction. From here there are a thousand secrets to be plumbed; Qetesh has sampled enough bodies to know.
"Having fun?" John whispers.
Vala grins whitely into the darkness. "Oodles," she says, before taking him deep, slow strokes, a gradual burn that sweeps through this body and leaves John wanting more. She nips at his mouth and feels him gasp every time she moves, every time she maps him with her fingers: the wrinkles on his brow, the fresh sweat on his skin, the planes of his belly. She can feel him tightening up, right on the edge, writhing desperately under her. Everywhere there are bumps and scuffs from their match. Here she lingers, listening to him try not to complain, even as his hands clench against her skin.
"Ahh!" he breathes.
A bruise on his side. She hit him hard there. "What's the matter, sweet?"
John throws real weight against her, and when he finds it's no use, he tries to rein in his breathing each time she brushes over the tender spot. "That's, Vala, I'm a little banged up."
"Better to feel pain than nothing," Vala says. She kisses him and kisses him until he stops struggling, rocking against him until he freezes, begging her for she knows not what. His arms are tight around her. The feeling of... not wanting to be anywhere else... is like a wave, and she moves, she's at the very precipice.
She digs her nails into his side. John jerks up, mouth open, in time to see her orgasm jarred free and her eyes flashing gold.
* * *
It's not her fault. Really. She just sneaked by the infirmary to steal some of the nice pens for Daniel. There's a little nook between the medicine cabinets and the privacy screens that are handy for waiting out a crowd. Eavesdropping was completely incidental.
John ambles in. She'd know that spiky-haired silhouette anywhere.
"Dr. Lam?"
"Colonel Sheppard. What can I do for you?"
Hands on hips. He probably has his serious face on. "Carson said you'd know about this more than he would..."
"Is he still feeding you that line about prostate exams? Because I happen to know he's fully qualified."
"Uh, no. Though I'll keep that in mind." John clears his throat. "I was wondering if you knew anything about Vala Mal Doran. He said you were posted here 'round when she arrived."
Can we trust her?
Vala tries to shush Qetesh.
She is the commander's daughter.
Really?
You never pay attention to the important gossip.
How was I supposed to know! She doesn't look anything like him.
"You know I can't release private medical data," Lam is saying.
"No, not that. I mean... I tried to sign her out of base, and it says only Dr. Jackson is allowed to do that."
John does sound peeved. And ooh, a surprise field trip?
Lam sighs. "Daniel's sort of taken her on. I don't know if they're dating or if it's just her qualifications as a research assistant. You'll have to ask him yourself."
"I may be shelved in this galaxy, but I've got clearance," John offers. "And lots of time."
Lam pauses. Taking his measure. Then she walks over to where Vala is hiding-
Steady, Vala thinks. Qetesh obliges by cutting off her oxygen for a moment, which was so not what she had in mind.
-and one of the privacy screens is wheeled away.
"We've lost track of Vala a couple of times," Lam explains quietly. "She's a former Goa'uld host."
"Those snakey things."
"Yes. I see you've picked up General O'Neill's vocabulary. Vala's been bounced around quite a bit. The Tok'ra tried to liberate her; Ba'al's captured her, and so has Athena. All likely in the hopes of getting at the Goa'uld parasite. After she managed to escape Athena, she ended up saving some key personnel. Now she's here with us."
The privacy screen squeaks as John moves it. "Why the high security? Do they think she's compromised?"
"She was picked up by the Ori while in their galaxy, so it's possible. I'm sure you heard about the Orici..."
"A couple hundred times, yeah." John has the familiar weary tone of someone who's read Adria's file.
"There are about a dozen policy designations for alien guests; I don't keep track of them all. It might be the IOA not trusting a human with Goa'uld memories in their bloodstream." Lam takes a step toward her office. "She's a handful, but I don't think you have anything to worry about. SG-1 certainly vouches for her."
John's voice has dropped to a gravelly murmur. "So she's been scanned for Goa'uld, right?"
Lam hums. "I believe the Alpha Site conducted those scans. And there are a number of personnel on base who can sense the presence of a Goa'uld."
"That's nice," John says, and Vala and Qetesh hear him draw his sidearm and click the safety.
This could be problematic, Qetesh says mildly.
The screens are dragged away and John is there glowering at them. "How long have you been there?"
Vala smiles sheepishly. "Just long enough to nab some pens." She holds up a couple with both hands.
"Colonel!" Dr. Lam exclaims. She backs up to call Security.
Vala sneaks a glance at John's handgun. "I don't suppose we could keep that to ourselves?"
I told you.
He didn't say anything for days! Vala stretches her smile to breaking.
John sighs. "Even if I tried, you'd probably take me down before I could get a shot out, right?"
Vala can't help it; she leers. "Yes, I rather prefer my taking you down rather than your shooting me."
John hears the SFs appear, and waves them off. Too late for Dr. Lam, who's quick on the uptake, but it's something. "Come on. You and I are going to have a long talk with SG-1." He starts to tow her away, then halts. "Vala. Put *some* of them back?"
Vala starts picking pens out of her hair.
*
Daniel doesn't even look up, which is gratifying and maddening all at once. "What did you do this time?"
"Got a minute?" Sam says.
He twitches a double-take at the company gathered at his door. At the rear, Teal'c hits the door control. Mitchell is fiddling with a zat. John's hands are light on Vala's shoulders, and she has to fight the impulse to lean into that rare touch.
"What's up?" Daniel says, as though he expects the answer to lie anywhere between apocalypse and taco night.
Sam drags a stool over, climbs on, and starts ripping out the security cameras.
"I'll be damned," whistles Mitchell. "Why do I get the feeling this is huge?"
John steers Vala into a chair. He keeps his hands on her like it grounds him. "Why do I get the feeling that the protocols for alien foothold situations is a little different around here?"
We only put our feet on one sensitive area, Vala pouts. There's no audible answer, just a creepy wave of amusement.
"Yours weren't that hot either," mutters Mitchell.
"We fixed that," John mumbles. "Except for this last time." Mitchell opens his hand to concede the point.
"Alien...? Vala!" Daniel spins on his chair. "You told me it was dormant!"
"Hell, she told me it was gone," Mitchell says. "What I'd like to know is why Mary Poppins and Mister Stoic didn't mention-"
"Ix-nay on the oa'uld-gay," Sam says. They dutifully wait until she's popped the last few wires. "Okay. I've got Walter looping all of us in Daniel's quarters."
"'Oa'uld-gay'?" Daniel raises a brow.
"I don't think she's gay," Vala volunteers.
"'She'?" Daniel says sharply.
Vala looks to Sam for a cue. "Samantha said the last blending made our personalities a little more rubbery."
"Plastic," corrects Sam. "Dad and I pieced together what happened. Back when the Tok'ra were beginning their experiments with Goa'uld-host separation, Qetesh was one of the first subjects. Unfortunately, Ba'al was also looking for an opportunity to attack Qetesh's strongholds. He captured Vala before the separation was complete."
"Foreplay," dismisses Vala, just to feel John's hands tense. Daniel frowns at her too.
Sam continues. "Apparently the Tok'ra had detached some of the physical connections between Vala's nervous system and the Goa'uld parasite. Ba'al wanted to attempt a re-blending. One which would keep both Vala and Qetesh intact."
"He likes me, too," Vala says brightly. "He also wanted to make both of us his queen, so there was probably a dash of brainwashing along with the blending."
Daniel winces. "Naturally they'd try that trick on each other, too."
Mitchell sneaks a glance at Teal'c. "That why you beat up that Ba'al clone, Vala?"
Vala doesn't consciously feel the shift; it's like a riptide, sucking her underwater.
When she speaks, it's with a voice she's heard in her nightmares. "No, we beat him up because it's fun. Ba'al is useless. At the time, the damage he did to us was reversible. In fact, we were able to steal the plans for his little invention."
Vala surfaces. The room is dead silent. John is frozen behind her. Mitchell and Teal'c have zats trained at her head.
She clears her throat. Twice. "Well, that was different. She's... probably going to be too tired to do anything else today. So if you would," she waves at the zats until they're lowered.
Sam says softly, "That machine saved Dad's life. That was the real reason why his separation from Selmak wasn't fatal."
"I'd been wondering why Jack was so cagey about the details," Daniel says to Sam.
John shakes his head. "Am I missing something? Tok'ras have the same physical set-up as Goa'ulds, right? Why wouldn't the separation work for Vala?" Concealed in her hair, his thumb is rubbing slow circles on her nape, almost as though he's trying to feel where Qetesh is buried.
Vala cranes around to look up at John. *This* part Qetesh trusts her to tell, because this they survived together. "That would be Athena's doing. She wanted to plunder Qetesh's memories. She ended up almost completely wiping them, damaging my body and Qetesh's. It was not a picnic. I'm usually the first person to tell you that there's no profit in revenge, but in this case, if we ever get our hands on that bitch, I'm going to make an exception."
John doesn't hesitate. "I know just what you mean."
Sam looks down at her hands. "Dad thinks the only reason either of them survived was they tried to blend. Again. It must have worked, because the arrangement became permanent."
"But that's..." Daniel's eyes are wide as saucers.
Teal'c inclines his head. "I did not previously believe it to be possible, myself."
"Vala," Daniel says, awe suffusing his voice. "If enough of Qetesh's genetic memory was wiped, she... you had to start over. You managed to switch from having a parasite to having a symbiote?"
Vala simpers, because she can. "Well I wish I could say I did it all by myself." But it's Daniel, and her team, and John, so she can't keep it up for long. "Look, it's complicated. There are bits of Qetesh in me, and I think there are bits of me in her. I don't quite remember what it was like to just be myself. Either way, despite the Tok'ra being very grateful for my assistance, *and* clearing me for active duty, they wouldn't take us in. I guess we're not quite Tok'ra enough. So thanks to that and Daniel's lovely hospitality, here we are."
John squeezes her shoulder and pulls away reluctantly. "Now, unless McKay was pulling my leg," he says slowly, "Anyone who's got traces of a symbiote in their bloodstream is going to know about..."
Helpfully Vala points at her head.
"That's Colonel Carter and Teal'c, right?" John finishes.
Daniel raises a brow at Sam. "I know why *you* did it." Sam shrugs.
They all turn to Teal'c.
Mitchell can't help but ask. "Teal'c, did Vala save your life?"
"I do not wish to speak of it," Teal'c says stiffly. Vala just grins.
Sighing, Mitchell does a tight turn and gestures the zat at the doorway. "So, wait, hang on there. Exactly how many seconds before Landry blows in here and hauls us *all* off for putting one over the brass for the last year and a half?"
Daniel holds up his hands. "Don't look at me! I didn't know!"
"Don't worry about it," Sam says. "Vala's under our protection unless she does something to put us in danger, or if her sponsor-Daniel-"
"Gee, thanks."
"-determines that she's a threat. The IOA's on board with it because she's indispensable in the fight against the Ori. And none of us here can say she hasn't earned her place on the team."
Mitchell is not appeased. "Sa-man-tha. Maybe I'm reading between the lines, but if Dr. Lam didn't know about it, does that mean Vala's got bogus records?"
Sam looks sheepish. "I kinda did that. Hacked into the system."
"And they say I'm the naughty one," Vala smirks.
"What? I did it in front of General O'Neill. I mean, in his presence."
"I swear on my Momma's apple pie, I am never gonna call you Mary Poppins ever again," Mitchell says to Sam.
Daniel pinches the bridge of his nose. "Of course. This has Jack written all over it. Don't tell me... it was a standing order."
Sam allows a little fond smile. "We do have support personnel who are in the know. This isn't just a favor to Dad and our allies; this is a political decision too." She turns to Vala. "It's going to get hairy for a while, but if you can prove you have Qetesh under control, we'll be back to work in no time."
And Vala offers her brightest, most fake smile when she says, "Not a problem."
* * *
Vala has plenty of time in the dark bowel-like cell to chastise Qetesh.
Don't ever do that again.
You wanted.
Vala gathers her hair in halves and twirls them into pigtails. "I didn't ever say you could," she says. Who cares who's listening in.
Qetesh is weary, but her voice is clear. Survival.
Well, next time, say something to *me* first. This is my body too.
She doesn't know if it will be enough. At the same time, she agrees with Qetesh. Survival. It all comes down to that.
The door unlocks. Vala secures the last tie and turns her head. Someone else barging in unannounced.
She knows who it is before his shadow hits the wall. "John!"
"Hi," he says hesitantly. He does close the door behind him, but she'll forgive it this time.
He stands there for so long, not knowing what to do with his hands, that Vala has to spring up and throw her arms around him. "Hello," she says.
Some of the tension bleeds out of him but the rest remains behind his affable mask. It's all right, Vala thinks, as he turns his head just enough to nuzzle her hair. "So," he says, starting to gently disentangle from her, "You like to beat guys up, or is that Qetesh?"
Vala chuckles. "A little of both. I've always wanted to. Qetesh just lends me the means. I should mention that she does like you. And she does think your ass would fetch a good price on the open market..."
There's that cute flush. "Hey!"
"You should keep your options open," she advises seriously.
John licks his lips; Vala's hovering so close she can almost feel the wet brush of his tongue. "There's no way to reverse it?"
"We sort of destroyed Athena's brain-sucking device, so, no." Vala had also promised she'd give Qetesh another chance, after Ba'al, when Qetesh was still licking her wounds. She still has no idea who charmed whom. Perhaps the Goa'uld would have recovered and suppressed Vala again. At the time it didn't matter. No profit in revenge, and Qetesh's knowledge was worth more than Vala's body. Now, no thanks to Athena, it really doesn't matter; all that knowledge is only useful in its absence.
"You could have mentioned," John grumbles.
Vala runs a hand through John's hair. "I notice you didn't sound the alarm immediately."
"After I was done freaking out, you mean," John grits. "Vala, I've had a Goa'uld in my gun sights. Inside someone I knew."
"Not fun."
"No. You're lucky I didn't... I figured someone on base had to know about you. So I did some checking first. I've screwed up enough posts in my career. I didn't want this to be another one."
"Clever," Vala says.
"It was either that or a whole lot of senior personnel were compromised."
Which wasn't that far off from the truth. Vala smiled wryly. "I'm not popular everywhere, you know. My first week, Teal'c promised he'd destroy us with his bare hands if we let any harm come to his comrades." John runs his hands down her back, his gaze now on her face. "The truth of the matter is we've priced ourselves out of every market except Stargate Command. See, the Ori chose me because of Qetesh's latent memories, the last few scraps lying around. They managed to copy some of it to Adria. I think they were hoping Qetesh would join up- mother of the Orici is supposedly a nice consolation prize."
John's brows rise. "They didn't know about you guys."
"Yes, Qetesh was gravely insulted by the idea. The Goa'uld genetic memory is their greatest treasure. Daniel says it's corrupted them, but even then, I can see how losing almost all of it could make one a miser for those last few scraps." Vala smiles against John's cheek. "So she did them one better. She stole their secrets right back. Qetesh is the only one who understands how the Ori wrote incomprehensible Ascended knowledge into human flesh. It's the key to the Priors, and it's the key to Adria. Only a Goa'uld would have the mental cache to process it. All I did was have Daniel believing it was just me."
John grasps her shoulders, pulling her away so he can stare at her. "Okay, look, I've had my share of run-ins with Ascended... people. How do you know Qetesh won't screw you over?"
"I don't. But I also know she can't Ascend. She's stuck. John," she whispers, stepping in, running her fingers down his thighs, "Qetesh would like nothing more than to eradicate the Ori. And after that? If we play our cards right, she and I will outlive all of these Tau'ri, and then, who knows? That's a question for tomorrow. The only thing we have... is right now."
"Vala," breathes John. Like a swimmer breaking the surface who won't take air. "You're going to get us both into trouble."
"We're already there, aren't we? Oh, that's right, you don't want to get thrown out of here."
The third time they have sex, they don't even take their clothes off. John's fumbling with her loose pants, and Vala's pressing the heel of her hand against the bulge in his. "Vala, no," John says. Vala fans her other hand over his face and kisses the mask until he yields.
There's a tickle of insight from the back of her mind.
"You don't want to lose your access," Vala says suddenly. "You're afraid you won't be here if something happens to your home." It's the city he lost. Blood and bone, married to unimaginable technology, the contract written in his genes. Does it grieve for him? Perhaps the city lost him too.
"Vala," John says weakly. She's gotten her hand in, stroking him firmly, simultaneously grinding against his fingers groping over her panties.
She holds him as close as she can. "I envy you," she admits, kissing the side of his mouth. Perhaps she admits it for both of them.
John's face twists up. Whether in confusion or ecstasy, she can't be sure. "What are you talking about? You've got your team. I *saw* that, in the office," and in that moment words fail, and he touches her face and kisses her.
Vala clutches at him, overwhelmed, wave after wave of pleasure rolling through her body, theirs, one luminous moment just for the two of them. Whoever they are.
When she comes back to herself, John is still there. He repossesses his hand and takes his shirt out to wrap around his cock, both of their hands working on it. Brow touches brow. Everything slows, as though they have all the time in the world.
"Thank you," Vala says softly. "Lovely interrogation."
John laughs and groans at the same time. "Someone said, uh, I'm not, I'm not that great talking about these things," he manages. "I just think... I know this can be home too."
When he closes his eyes, Vala knows why. She leans in, feeling his thumb stroke her bare nape, briefly resting her cheek on his shoulder before reeling him in. Between them, they move, a little heat cupped away from the wind, kissing deeply until John's quick breaths stutter to a halt and his body gives in.
- end -
Author: Liondragon (shusu)
Summary: Vala doesn't fit here.
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis, Stargate SG-1
Pairing: John Sheppard/Vala Mal Doran
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Stargate universes do not belong to me.
Original Story: By Tielan - LJ or FF.net
Notes: Thanks to my dear flist, spoke for the first read-through, aphelant for her fantastic beta, and to bellwings, whose canon notes saved, saved, saved my hide. Story elements inspired by rydra_wong's Walked Right Out of the Machinery. Any mistakes remain my own.
Very light pain kink. Unconventional narration, POV. This is an AU with spoilers for seasons 8, 9, and 10 SG-1, and through season 3 SGA. Background music was "Minarets" by Dave Matthews Band with Greg Howard.
***
Third Time Lucky (Three's a Charm Remix)
by Liondragon
Vala doesn't fit here. She should be used to it. Her own body still feels like a sham, a carefully put-upon con that's only good for distraction.
She is, however, home. So to speak. The smallest comforts are the sweetest. "I've got something for you, Walter!" she calls cheerily as SG-1's boots click on the embarkation ramp.
"I would not be quick to believe this, Sergeant Harriman," Teal'c says.
"All the way from the other side of the galaxy!" continues Vala, because it makes Daniel's eyes roll and Sam's eyes twinkle, and because Teal'c is actually acknowledging her existence.
"Yes, Ma'am," Walter says from the control booth.
Mitchell hands off his weapons. "One of these days, Sergeant, she's actually gonna give it to ya."
Maybe Walter blushes. They did spend a lunch-hour or two sizing him up, but it hardly matters if he's going to take them up on it - the team laughing with her is a good sign.
If you say so.
She nudges Mitchell until he gives up a wink. He knows how hard it is to get through to the Jaffa, and he also knows better than to get too excited about it while Teal'c is standing right there.
Vala bounds up the stairs because she can. Small comforts. Shared victories take the bite out of loneliness. Do you remember that, she wonders.
Shared victories are sweet indeed.
Vala smiles as she plops on the conference room chairs. She's going to spin them till someone stops them. Probably Daniel. It doesn't matter; they've walked out of devastation and they have a place to call home. Tomorrow they will do it again. The grief will wash up the moment everyone takes a seat and asks them to recount each step in stark detail. Before that moment, never mind. Vala is greedy for joy.
And she's learned how to share.
*
Qetesh does not fit anywhere at all.
*
Have you ever heard of Atlantis?
Vala nearly asks aloud. They're alone in their room, covers pulled up to their chin, a bottle of Hysterical Pink nail-polish and a paperback copy of Menander both lying half-finished at their feet. The SGC doesn't let her near any files written in the last millennium, but Sam's told her enough about General O'Neill and Daniel to piece together what 'Atlantis' means. The word wouldn't raise any flags for any of the nice young fellows watching her security feed. She'd just rather not get Sam in trouble.
An Alteran rumor. There were treasures and things of power... and then there was Atlantis.
Vala sits up in her pillow nest. She usually does all the talking while Qetesh cradles her brain and watches. It was different Before, but they don't discuss that time. Qetesh has few interests which bestir her to passion, fewer still which she has in common with Vala, and one of the latter is treasure.
Go on, Vala says.
None of us knew what it was. An Ancient seat of power. A weapon. The rumor persisted on Earth. If there had been more trace evidence left behind, I would have used it to bait Athena.
Vala's face tightens. No matter if it is her or Qetesh. Another thing they share: a sharp, burning hatred of Athena. In the greater scheme of the universe, Athena did them a favor, but there are some things each wishes they could keep for themselves.
You and I know it is a city in the Pegasus Galaxy. A city-ship, filled with the secrets of the Alterans; such a stronghold that your friends stole off without us to pry those secrets loose...
Qetesh doesn't prod Vala. Not anymore. Vala doesn't remember what it was like to be a mere host, a puppet-thing in this snake's clasp, and she suspects that Qetesh wiped the memory herself. Vala does not particularly mind. She's spent enough intimate time with Qetesh to know when she's curious.
It was taken over by the Tau'ri, Vala whispers back. The Alterans took it back last week.
This time Qetesh sighs. It tires her out to vocalize. You are Tau'ri.
I'm not, Vala says simply.
Qetesh regards her companion for a moment before falling silent.
They turn over, and switch out the light.
*
Vala rises an hour early, goes to the mess, fills her bowl with fruity rainbow cereal, and eats it with her fingers. Ten minutes later, a lanky man in a black uniform stumbles in.
Aha. Qetesh is gleeful, now that she understands. She watches him fill his coffee cup and grab a pear without looking at it. Unshaven and weary-eyed, he still appears youthful. Wide shoulders, hips ready for handling, hair and posture not-quite regulation.
Vala smiles and just closes her eyes so no one sees them glow gold.
*
They're leafing through one of Daniel's dry-as-dust tomes when Qetesh nudges her again. Talk to him.
Why, says Vala sharply.
You do not know his name.
He's mine, Vala says for the sake of bickering. All the men they've had - since they escaped the Tok'ra and Ba'al and Athena and latest of all, the Ori - are Vala's. It's only partly to do with Qetesh's new hobby of voyeurism. Vala suspects the other part of it is that Qetesh's new hobby is a variation of her old one. The records go back for ages and are easily confirmed: Qetesh switched hosts like they were old clothes, wanting them younger, more sumptuous, more beautiful. Perhaps she wants to see how Vala does on her own. Vala suspects it, but she will never ask whether Qetesh liked to watch her break too.
That doesn't matter now.
Hurry it up, then. He might fly off.
Now that is not playing fair. Of the two, Qetesh is the better judge of people. Vala supposes this assessment is true enough. The grief's still thick around the man. Little prevents him from leaving besides some flimsy social ties and his head full of classified secrets. And doesn't *that* sound familiar. Still, Qetesh is trying to rush her.
...I do know his name, you know.
"Vala, are you paying attention?" Daniel gives her that cute little scowl.
"Why of course, Daniel, you need me," Vala says automatically. Qetesh squirts the answer into her head. "The Arabic forms of alchemy may have been a symbolic translation of Goa'uld dialects, and may have been used to describe the comings and goings of Merlin's cohorts." Vala flashes her teeth. "In other words, busy work."
Daniel narrows his eyes like he knows what they're playing, but he doesn't say anything.
Vala bites back a smile and twirls her pigtails. Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard, she murmurs.
A mental click. The former garrison commander of Atlantis. The one with the gene.
An elegantly raised eyebrow is all Vala allows herself.
You should couple with him.
What!
Qetesh sits back, her silence calculating. Interested.
My womb is not a carousel, thank you.
And if the product of such a coupling gained an advantage over Adria?
Vala is about to argue. She, *they* agreed to do it Daniel's way. Instead she turns the page and says, And how do you propose to control such a child?
Qetesh subsides.
"You know, if something happens to me in the field, you might have to figure this out on your own," Daniel says. Chalk scrapes.
"I'll keep that in mind," Vala says to the room at large.
* * *
Vala concedes that Qetesh has a point. She watches Sheppard bash away at a punching bag, and that elegant fulmination of arms and shoulders and ass is one of the finest in the galaxy. Bam, bam. Bam, bam. He's barefoot, and she can see the transmission of power from his feet through his spine to his fists. The same raw anger driving him is also throwing off his rhythm, but there's definitely nothing wrong with the machinery. What the hell. It's Vala's call.
"There's a better way to do that, you know," Vala purrs. She pushes off from the threshold, and the door closes behind her.
Sheppard jerks and freezes up like a spooked animal. When he turns to face them, recognition shoots through both Vala and Qetesh. It's as though his whole body is a mask, and they just jostled it. *Very* interesting.
They both come to attention as his pretty countenance shutters closed and his body settles into a rueful slouch. "Probably. It's not the same without... uh, it's not like a real fight." He scratches his nape, and there's a glimpse of something incredibly young. "You must be Vala."
He doesn't know about us, Qetesh hisses before withdrawing all the way back.
Vala flashes her teeth. "You're John, right? Sort of late to be knocking that poor bag around."
"Kind of late for you, too."
She slips off to slink around the gym mats, and is impressed when he starts circling too. Don't let them get too close, oh yes, she knows this game. "Planet lag. It's morning back on Taoth Vaclarush." This is not exactly a lie. They've been back from Castiana for a few days. Vala has better things to do than hang on Daniel's latest breakthrough. Like this.
"I can't sleep either," Sheppard murmurs, eyes on her face.
"Your form's very good," Vala leers. "Your timing is a little off."
"Oh yeah?"
Amazing. He's flirting! Vala is pretty sure it's a defense mechanism, even if she didn't expect him to warm up so quickly. "I know what you need."
Ooh, that makes him nervous. He notices that he's pacing and comes to a halt. He doesn't know what to do with his hands, so they end up hooked on his hips.
Vala continues. "You need a sparring partner."
When Sheppard's face stops flipping through a gamut of emotions, Vala gathers up her hair and gives him a chance to size her up.
Sheppard sweeps the mat with his foot. "Sounds like fun."
Vala schools her expression. Somewhere in the back of her mind, there is laughter.
*
The first match is hers. Vala has been scrapping all her life and doesn't need to be told how to win against someone bigger and stronger. The only one on the base she doesn't dare challenge is Teal'c; that's only because he's got about a lifetime over her when it comes to scrapping. Sheppard crouches into position and tosses off a grin which tells her that he hasn't learned that lesson.
Vala takes a half-step closer. If this were a real fight, she'd be slipping out of reach and running for it. But if this were a real fight, her opponent wouldn't be "going easy" on her.
Sheppard feints left, tries to crowd her out or get a hold. Vala lets him think he's seen an opening.
She's not here to fight. She's here to steal.
A twist of her hips, a pivot, and then the shock of bodily contact, knee to thigh, hand to chest. She doesn't have time to dwell on how good he smells before she feels him lose control of his center, and she knocks him off-balance. Leverage and adrenaline go into toppling the last of his support.
It's a satisfying thump when he hits the mats.
She's got him right where she wants him.
And she's not going to think too hard about what was fueling that adrenaline. Flipping hair off her brow, she smiles down at him.
"Oh man," Sheppard huffs. He lets his head fall back.
Vala taps his knee. Sheppard jumps like he's been shocked. "Watch this, next time," she advises with a sweet smile.
He narrows his eyes as though he can see right through the honey. "Right. That. Guess I'm a little rusty. Another go?"
She keeps her hand on his knee for a few more seconds, then bounces up.
Sheppard- John gets up slowly. He shakes it off, limbs loosening, and his breathing evens out. Vala tenses. No more going easy? She starts her circuit, watching his eyes drift to the side, like he's recalling something... or someone.
Without warning, Qetesh speaks in her ear. Let me test him.
Vala forces herself to smile tightly at John and not clench her hands.
Don't hurt him! she warns.
The scales over his eyes, Qetesh says inanely. He's not here with you, not quite yet.
John gets into a stance. The sweat is rolling off his brow. Vala is annoyed with Qetesh's interference, and even more annoyed that she's right. John is distracted and it's not by the sight of her cleavage.
He glances away again. This time Vala catches the flash of sadness. The *memory*. It reminds her of Daniel staring off at the image of Sha're, or Sam counting the people she couldn't save, or Teal'c when he comes back from more Jaffa disappointments. When John looks up again, it's with a renewed vigor, a bit of reckless bravado, and Vala knows that one too. So Vala lets go.
The Goa'uld are a martial race, obsessed with domination because it is the key to their survival. Qetesh's tricks are partly chemical manipulation, and partly the eloquent savagery which could only be cultivated by a species that awards style points for violence. Vala's body flows into one blow after the next, using John's attacks against him, leverage and adrenaline allowing her to exploit every weakness.
Vala doesn't exactly trust Qetesh, not the way the Tau'ri trust. She also knows this effort will tire Qetesh out before she can do any permanent damage. They allow John an opening; that's when Vala realizes that Qetesh is provoking a fight-or-flight response. They're not holding back, and John's catching on. He tries a move that ought to snap someone's neck and it takes the combination of Vala's skill and Qetesh's strength to break the hold. Vala's heart thunders. They withdraw for a moment before launching into a counter-attack.
John's hyped up. Whenever she gets close, his breath falls hot and hard on her skin. His hazel eyes are dilated and locked on her movements. When Vala ducks and literally sweeps him off his feet, she knows she has his complete and undivided attention.
His shoulders hit the mat. Vala blows her hair off her face, claims his lap, and thinks: Thank you. I think.
"Urgh," John winces.
Aw, he does look cute when he's winded and sweaty. "That was fun! Want to do it again?" Vala smirks down at him.
"No," he says plaintively. His face twists up.
Vala takes pity and helps him up. Loose body, strong grip. She drags a wrist over her brow, suppressing a giggle as he shakes himself off like a big shaggy dog.
I like him, she finally admits. He's spunky.
Qetesh doesn't answer, though Vala suspects there'll be a told-you-so later.
Sure enough, he mops up sweat with his wristband, and looks like he'd rather die under her than die of embarrassment. Which could be arranged. She sees his lips thin with determination. "All right. Third time lucky."
"I *love* an optimistic man." Vala beams at him. Eyes glittering, she barely contains the flash of gold as she stalks the perimeter of the mats.
Isn't he adorable when he's annoyed?
John studies her for a few seconds, then lunges into an offensive. Vala lets him cross most of the distance before she strikes. She can't *wait* to take him apart. To her delight, this time he's grabbing more, which means she can stop hitting and start wrestling. Knocking his weight around only makes her want to harness that power. Despite all the rubbing and grappling and climbing all over each other, he doesn't get it until she smiles at him and floors his ass.
He hits the mat hard. And he's still stunned when Vala bends down to capture his lips. His knees part as she grinds against him, and at first his response is as automatic as his superficial smile. Then she feels him twitch against her and his mouth decides to give in to hers.
The breath he releases is almost sweeter than the kiss.
When Vala pulls away, he pouts as though positively deprived. She grins. "You're not a bad kisser."
"I've had some practice," he says. His eyes drop to her breasts. Finally! He could be catching on.
His hands are still tentative, though Vala figures it's more confusion than actual lack of... interest. There's certainly ample evidence of interest. She lingers over his chest and licks her lips. "I think you could always do with more practice." Vala punctuates this with a gentle dig of her nails.
She doesn't wait for an answer before she molds her body to his, and with a twist of her hips and another deep, deep kiss, she's got him. He loosens up all the way, and there are his hands sliding up her flank and stroking her hair.
"Got you," Vala says.
He almost laughs. Then his arms tighten around her and his hips start moving, a slow churn that Vala knows well. The déjà vu hits her again. Vala snakes her forearm round his neck to take his mouth harder, and he whines, wanting more. This one is hungry, aching, so much sweeter than she thought; she doesn't know if that's Vala or Qetesh, and it doesn't seem to matter. When his eyes flutter open, they're glazed and watery. Vala ought to do something about his tightening pants, really, but she could kiss him all night, or until he comes.
"Vala," he whispers.
"Yes, sweetling," she says, nibbling his ear. What now? She should probably tell him what she did to those pesky security cameras...
"Ow," he says.
She sits up, managing to brush against his crotch, earning a brief groan. John's mouth is swollen. His tongue flicks over his lips as though he can't believe he can taste someone else on him.
"You're going to be bruised all over," Vala says thoughtfully. She drags her knee along his side, and he winces. It would be lovely to steer him to their quarters in person, but this labyrinth doesn't belong to them, and less direct methods are required. "We should have that looked at, hmm?"
He raises a brow. "My quarters-"
"Mm, no. Guest level, end of the hall. Bring your little security card." With that she pulls away.
John scrambles up and she's actually surprised when he catches her, hands framing her face, reaching up to kiss her while she stoops. The kiss tells her something he hadn't been meaning to share. They're both breathing hard, now. His eyes really are that moist, and Vala has to look away and start walking to the door.
*
Vala and Qetesh are pacing around their little space like caged cats. The goddess is nearly spent, yet she's a constant buzz inside Vala's head. It's been ten interminable minutes.
He's mine, Vala says firmly. Just in case.
Qetesh doesn't answer.
The door swings open, and Vala whirls around, teeth locked in a grin. "John! How nice of you to join us."
His hair is wet with shower water, and some droplets fly off as he stops short.
"'Us'?"
Vala advances on him, backing him into the door until it's shut. She's dried off but not cleaned up, so she's still scented by their exertions. Apparently the presence of a Goa'uld and the traces of naquadah make the host-bodies smell enticing to other humans.
All the better to eat you, the Earth tale goes. "It's just us," Vala says, cupping John's dick through the thin layers of clothing. His body relaxes even as he rubs against her hand. He must have employed heroic measures to hold himself off, and Vala moans into his mouth just thinking about it.
Something rattles next to her ear. Blast.
John almost looks rueful as he shakes the condom packet. Vala manages a smile; at least he thought about taking her bare. What a darling boy.
"Uh," he says as she digs through his clothes and pulls him out. With a gentle tug, Vala coaxes him toward the bed.
"No bruises there," Vala decrees.
John's legs hit the bed, and he scrambles after Vala. She promptly pushes him down and lifts a long leg over his hips. "Jesus," John says, "I don't care what McKay says, you can't actually lead me by the dick." He wiggles free, trying to glare.
"Who's McKay?" Vala pauses with her shirt over her head. Then she remembers a name from one of the technical meetings, and Sam wrinkling her nose. "Oh! The one stalking Sam."
"Sam... Colonel Carter?" John looks torn between wincing and staring at her bare breasts. "Rodney's not really. Okay, maybe he is. Kinda. Everybody ribs him about it." He opens his mouth to say something else, except he's waylaid by some emotion. He's not hiding it well at all. For that, Vala has to kiss him. His hands are shaking when he catches her chin, but he steadies, helping her strip, letting her lay him bare.
He is grieving.
The thought resounds in her head, an echo. Over and over Vala has known loss. That way lies numbness followed by a cascade of pain, and she remembers teaching Qetesh what hunger was when no one could offer solace from any of it.
So she holds on and doesn't let go. "John," she says. Someone dims the lights. Vala rolls over on her back, reaching blind for the bedside lubricant while John slips the condom on.
The first time's a hard and frantic fuck in the dark. Eyes closed, John loses his hesitation, and the energy he used on the punching bag propels his thrusts. Vala throws her head back and forgets what words mean, feels him bury himself in this flesh she barely knows, feels him unerringly find her lips to kiss. When he finds his pleasure, she feels him breathe out again, *relief*, however temporary.
John doesn't say anything as he discards the condom, but Vala is there. She keeps herself busy on his fingers, keeps her tongue busy on his skin. "Practice looks good on you, sweet. You're a very pleasant young man. Such a nice ass, so shapely-"
There's a high-pitched sound from the vicinity of her cleavage. His blush lights up their senses.
"-and I imagine one could have so much fun with it, hmm? And you're so talented with that mouth of yours." Vala squeaks as he worries a nipple with the edges of his teeth. In retaliation she ticks off the going rates of exchange for his skills on the galactic market, and how much of a tel'tak each will purchase.
Before she's even done with their local quadrant, John's rubbing off on her thigh. "Vala... I..." he says helplessly.
"Come finish it," she murmurs, clenching her hand in his hair. "It's all right. We have this very moment. Ours for the taking."
She hears him rip open another condom packet. Round two. This time she guides his hips to exactly where she wants him. They hear him curse his god when he enters her again, and his spine bows when she tenses her muscles around him. Vala lets him pull her so close he lifts her ass off the bed. He shudders as she swirls her hips, and as his head drops with the sensation, she brings her knee up and flips them over.
John's groan seems to rip right through him. He feels for her blindly, clutching at her body when he finds it. Vala spreads an arm on his chest, straddles his cock, and reaches between her legs to pin him down with the other arm, all the better to add to her own friction. From here there are a thousand secrets to be plumbed; Qetesh has sampled enough bodies to know.
"Having fun?" John whispers.
Vala grins whitely into the darkness. "Oodles," she says, before taking him deep, slow strokes, a gradual burn that sweeps through this body and leaves John wanting more. She nips at his mouth and feels him gasp every time she moves, every time she maps him with her fingers: the wrinkles on his brow, the fresh sweat on his skin, the planes of his belly. She can feel him tightening up, right on the edge, writhing desperately under her. Everywhere there are bumps and scuffs from their match. Here she lingers, listening to him try not to complain, even as his hands clench against her skin.
"Ahh!" he breathes.
A bruise on his side. She hit him hard there. "What's the matter, sweet?"
John throws real weight against her, and when he finds it's no use, he tries to rein in his breathing each time she brushes over the tender spot. "That's, Vala, I'm a little banged up."
"Better to feel pain than nothing," Vala says. She kisses him and kisses him until he stops struggling, rocking against him until he freezes, begging her for she knows not what. His arms are tight around her. The feeling of... not wanting to be anywhere else... is like a wave, and she moves, she's at the very precipice.
She digs her nails into his side. John jerks up, mouth open, in time to see her orgasm jarred free and her eyes flashing gold.
* * *
It's not her fault. Really. She just sneaked by the infirmary to steal some of the nice pens for Daniel. There's a little nook between the medicine cabinets and the privacy screens that are handy for waiting out a crowd. Eavesdropping was completely incidental.
John ambles in. She'd know that spiky-haired silhouette anywhere.
"Dr. Lam?"
"Colonel Sheppard. What can I do for you?"
Hands on hips. He probably has his serious face on. "Carson said you'd know about this more than he would..."
"Is he still feeding you that line about prostate exams? Because I happen to know he's fully qualified."
"Uh, no. Though I'll keep that in mind." John clears his throat. "I was wondering if you knew anything about Vala Mal Doran. He said you were posted here 'round when she arrived."
Can we trust her?
Vala tries to shush Qetesh.
She is the commander's daughter.
Really?
You never pay attention to the important gossip.
How was I supposed to know! She doesn't look anything like him.
"You know I can't release private medical data," Lam is saying.
"No, not that. I mean... I tried to sign her out of base, and it says only Dr. Jackson is allowed to do that."
John does sound peeved. And ooh, a surprise field trip?
Lam sighs. "Daniel's sort of taken her on. I don't know if they're dating or if it's just her qualifications as a research assistant. You'll have to ask him yourself."
"I may be shelved in this galaxy, but I've got clearance," John offers. "And lots of time."
Lam pauses. Taking his measure. Then she walks over to where Vala is hiding-
Steady, Vala thinks. Qetesh obliges by cutting off her oxygen for a moment, which was so not what she had in mind.
-and one of the privacy screens is wheeled away.
"We've lost track of Vala a couple of times," Lam explains quietly. "She's a former Goa'uld host."
"Those snakey things."
"Yes. I see you've picked up General O'Neill's vocabulary. Vala's been bounced around quite a bit. The Tok'ra tried to liberate her; Ba'al's captured her, and so has Athena. All likely in the hopes of getting at the Goa'uld parasite. After she managed to escape Athena, she ended up saving some key personnel. Now she's here with us."
The privacy screen squeaks as John moves it. "Why the high security? Do they think she's compromised?"
"She was picked up by the Ori while in their galaxy, so it's possible. I'm sure you heard about the Orici..."
"A couple hundred times, yeah." John has the familiar weary tone of someone who's read Adria's file.
"There are about a dozen policy designations for alien guests; I don't keep track of them all. It might be the IOA not trusting a human with Goa'uld memories in their bloodstream." Lam takes a step toward her office. "She's a handful, but I don't think you have anything to worry about. SG-1 certainly vouches for her."
John's voice has dropped to a gravelly murmur. "So she's been scanned for Goa'uld, right?"
Lam hums. "I believe the Alpha Site conducted those scans. And there are a number of personnel on base who can sense the presence of a Goa'uld."
"That's nice," John says, and Vala and Qetesh hear him draw his sidearm and click the safety.
This could be problematic, Qetesh says mildly.
The screens are dragged away and John is there glowering at them. "How long have you been there?"
Vala smiles sheepishly. "Just long enough to nab some pens." She holds up a couple with both hands.
"Colonel!" Dr. Lam exclaims. She backs up to call Security.
Vala sneaks a glance at John's handgun. "I don't suppose we could keep that to ourselves?"
I told you.
He didn't say anything for days! Vala stretches her smile to breaking.
John sighs. "Even if I tried, you'd probably take me down before I could get a shot out, right?"
Vala can't help it; she leers. "Yes, I rather prefer my taking you down rather than your shooting me."
John hears the SFs appear, and waves them off. Too late for Dr. Lam, who's quick on the uptake, but it's something. "Come on. You and I are going to have a long talk with SG-1." He starts to tow her away, then halts. "Vala. Put *some* of them back?"
Vala starts picking pens out of her hair.
*
Daniel doesn't even look up, which is gratifying and maddening all at once. "What did you do this time?"
"Got a minute?" Sam says.
He twitches a double-take at the company gathered at his door. At the rear, Teal'c hits the door control. Mitchell is fiddling with a zat. John's hands are light on Vala's shoulders, and she has to fight the impulse to lean into that rare touch.
"What's up?" Daniel says, as though he expects the answer to lie anywhere between apocalypse and taco night.
Sam drags a stool over, climbs on, and starts ripping out the security cameras.
"I'll be damned," whistles Mitchell. "Why do I get the feeling this is huge?"
John steers Vala into a chair. He keeps his hands on her like it grounds him. "Why do I get the feeling that the protocols for alien foothold situations is a little different around here?"
We only put our feet on one sensitive area, Vala pouts. There's no audible answer, just a creepy wave of amusement.
"Yours weren't that hot either," mutters Mitchell.
"We fixed that," John mumbles. "Except for this last time." Mitchell opens his hand to concede the point.
"Alien...? Vala!" Daniel spins on his chair. "You told me it was dormant!"
"Hell, she told me it was gone," Mitchell says. "What I'd like to know is why Mary Poppins and Mister Stoic didn't mention-"
"Ix-nay on the oa'uld-gay," Sam says. They dutifully wait until she's popped the last few wires. "Okay. I've got Walter looping all of us in Daniel's quarters."
"'Oa'uld-gay'?" Daniel raises a brow.
"I don't think she's gay," Vala volunteers.
"'She'?" Daniel says sharply.
Vala looks to Sam for a cue. "Samantha said the last blending made our personalities a little more rubbery."
"Plastic," corrects Sam. "Dad and I pieced together what happened. Back when the Tok'ra were beginning their experiments with Goa'uld-host separation, Qetesh was one of the first subjects. Unfortunately, Ba'al was also looking for an opportunity to attack Qetesh's strongholds. He captured Vala before the separation was complete."
"Foreplay," dismisses Vala, just to feel John's hands tense. Daniel frowns at her too.
Sam continues. "Apparently the Tok'ra had detached some of the physical connections between Vala's nervous system and the Goa'uld parasite. Ba'al wanted to attempt a re-blending. One which would keep both Vala and Qetesh intact."
"He likes me, too," Vala says brightly. "He also wanted to make both of us his queen, so there was probably a dash of brainwashing along with the blending."
Daniel winces. "Naturally they'd try that trick on each other, too."
Mitchell sneaks a glance at Teal'c. "That why you beat up that Ba'al clone, Vala?"
Vala doesn't consciously feel the shift; it's like a riptide, sucking her underwater.
When she speaks, it's with a voice she's heard in her nightmares. "No, we beat him up because it's fun. Ba'al is useless. At the time, the damage he did to us was reversible. In fact, we were able to steal the plans for his little invention."
Vala surfaces. The room is dead silent. John is frozen behind her. Mitchell and Teal'c have zats trained at her head.
She clears her throat. Twice. "Well, that was different. She's... probably going to be too tired to do anything else today. So if you would," she waves at the zats until they're lowered.
Sam says softly, "That machine saved Dad's life. That was the real reason why his separation from Selmak wasn't fatal."
"I'd been wondering why Jack was so cagey about the details," Daniel says to Sam.
John shakes his head. "Am I missing something? Tok'ras have the same physical set-up as Goa'ulds, right? Why wouldn't the separation work for Vala?" Concealed in her hair, his thumb is rubbing slow circles on her nape, almost as though he's trying to feel where Qetesh is buried.
Vala cranes around to look up at John. *This* part Qetesh trusts her to tell, because this they survived together. "That would be Athena's doing. She wanted to plunder Qetesh's memories. She ended up almost completely wiping them, damaging my body and Qetesh's. It was not a picnic. I'm usually the first person to tell you that there's no profit in revenge, but in this case, if we ever get our hands on that bitch, I'm going to make an exception."
John doesn't hesitate. "I know just what you mean."
Sam looks down at her hands. "Dad thinks the only reason either of them survived was they tried to blend. Again. It must have worked, because the arrangement became permanent."
"But that's..." Daniel's eyes are wide as saucers.
Teal'c inclines his head. "I did not previously believe it to be possible, myself."
"Vala," Daniel says, awe suffusing his voice. "If enough of Qetesh's genetic memory was wiped, she... you had to start over. You managed to switch from having a parasite to having a symbiote?"
Vala simpers, because she can. "Well I wish I could say I did it all by myself." But it's Daniel, and her team, and John, so she can't keep it up for long. "Look, it's complicated. There are bits of Qetesh in me, and I think there are bits of me in her. I don't quite remember what it was like to just be myself. Either way, despite the Tok'ra being very grateful for my assistance, *and* clearing me for active duty, they wouldn't take us in. I guess we're not quite Tok'ra enough. So thanks to that and Daniel's lovely hospitality, here we are."
John squeezes her shoulder and pulls away reluctantly. "Now, unless McKay was pulling my leg," he says slowly, "Anyone who's got traces of a symbiote in their bloodstream is going to know about..."
Helpfully Vala points at her head.
"That's Colonel Carter and Teal'c, right?" John finishes.
Daniel raises a brow at Sam. "I know why *you* did it." Sam shrugs.
They all turn to Teal'c.
Mitchell can't help but ask. "Teal'c, did Vala save your life?"
"I do not wish to speak of it," Teal'c says stiffly. Vala just grins.
Sighing, Mitchell does a tight turn and gestures the zat at the doorway. "So, wait, hang on there. Exactly how many seconds before Landry blows in here and hauls us *all* off for putting one over the brass for the last year and a half?"
Daniel holds up his hands. "Don't look at me! I didn't know!"
"Don't worry about it," Sam says. "Vala's under our protection unless she does something to put us in danger, or if her sponsor-Daniel-"
"Gee, thanks."
"-determines that she's a threat. The IOA's on board with it because she's indispensable in the fight against the Ori. And none of us here can say she hasn't earned her place on the team."
Mitchell is not appeased. "Sa-man-tha. Maybe I'm reading between the lines, but if Dr. Lam didn't know about it, does that mean Vala's got bogus records?"
Sam looks sheepish. "I kinda did that. Hacked into the system."
"And they say I'm the naughty one," Vala smirks.
"What? I did it in front of General O'Neill. I mean, in his presence."
"I swear on my Momma's apple pie, I am never gonna call you Mary Poppins ever again," Mitchell says to Sam.
Daniel pinches the bridge of his nose. "Of course. This has Jack written all over it. Don't tell me... it was a standing order."
Sam allows a little fond smile. "We do have support personnel who are in the know. This isn't just a favor to Dad and our allies; this is a political decision too." She turns to Vala. "It's going to get hairy for a while, but if you can prove you have Qetesh under control, we'll be back to work in no time."
And Vala offers her brightest, most fake smile when she says, "Not a problem."
* * *
Vala has plenty of time in the dark bowel-like cell to chastise Qetesh.
Don't ever do that again.
You wanted.
Vala gathers her hair in halves and twirls them into pigtails. "I didn't ever say you could," she says. Who cares who's listening in.
Qetesh is weary, but her voice is clear. Survival.
Well, next time, say something to *me* first. This is my body too.
She doesn't know if it will be enough. At the same time, she agrees with Qetesh. Survival. It all comes down to that.
The door unlocks. Vala secures the last tie and turns her head. Someone else barging in unannounced.
She knows who it is before his shadow hits the wall. "John!"
"Hi," he says hesitantly. He does close the door behind him, but she'll forgive it this time.
He stands there for so long, not knowing what to do with his hands, that Vala has to spring up and throw her arms around him. "Hello," she says.
Some of the tension bleeds out of him but the rest remains behind his affable mask. It's all right, Vala thinks, as he turns his head just enough to nuzzle her hair. "So," he says, starting to gently disentangle from her, "You like to beat guys up, or is that Qetesh?"
Vala chuckles. "A little of both. I've always wanted to. Qetesh just lends me the means. I should mention that she does like you. And she does think your ass would fetch a good price on the open market..."
There's that cute flush. "Hey!"
"You should keep your options open," she advises seriously.
John licks his lips; Vala's hovering so close she can almost feel the wet brush of his tongue. "There's no way to reverse it?"
"We sort of destroyed Athena's brain-sucking device, so, no." Vala had also promised she'd give Qetesh another chance, after Ba'al, when Qetesh was still licking her wounds. She still has no idea who charmed whom. Perhaps the Goa'uld would have recovered and suppressed Vala again. At the time it didn't matter. No profit in revenge, and Qetesh's knowledge was worth more than Vala's body. Now, no thanks to Athena, it really doesn't matter; all that knowledge is only useful in its absence.
"You could have mentioned," John grumbles.
Vala runs a hand through John's hair. "I notice you didn't sound the alarm immediately."
"After I was done freaking out, you mean," John grits. "Vala, I've had a Goa'uld in my gun sights. Inside someone I knew."
"Not fun."
"No. You're lucky I didn't... I figured someone on base had to know about you. So I did some checking first. I've screwed up enough posts in my career. I didn't want this to be another one."
"Clever," Vala says.
"It was either that or a whole lot of senior personnel were compromised."
Which wasn't that far off from the truth. Vala smiled wryly. "I'm not popular everywhere, you know. My first week, Teal'c promised he'd destroy us with his bare hands if we let any harm come to his comrades." John runs his hands down her back, his gaze now on her face. "The truth of the matter is we've priced ourselves out of every market except Stargate Command. See, the Ori chose me because of Qetesh's latent memories, the last few scraps lying around. They managed to copy some of it to Adria. I think they were hoping Qetesh would join up- mother of the Orici is supposedly a nice consolation prize."
John's brows rise. "They didn't know about you guys."
"Yes, Qetesh was gravely insulted by the idea. The Goa'uld genetic memory is their greatest treasure. Daniel says it's corrupted them, but even then, I can see how losing almost all of it could make one a miser for those last few scraps." Vala smiles against John's cheek. "So she did them one better. She stole their secrets right back. Qetesh is the only one who understands how the Ori wrote incomprehensible Ascended knowledge into human flesh. It's the key to the Priors, and it's the key to Adria. Only a Goa'uld would have the mental cache to process it. All I did was have Daniel believing it was just me."
John grasps her shoulders, pulling her away so he can stare at her. "Okay, look, I've had my share of run-ins with Ascended... people. How do you know Qetesh won't screw you over?"
"I don't. But I also know she can't Ascend. She's stuck. John," she whispers, stepping in, running her fingers down his thighs, "Qetesh would like nothing more than to eradicate the Ori. And after that? If we play our cards right, she and I will outlive all of these Tau'ri, and then, who knows? That's a question for tomorrow. The only thing we have... is right now."
"Vala," breathes John. Like a swimmer breaking the surface who won't take air. "You're going to get us both into trouble."
"We're already there, aren't we? Oh, that's right, you don't want to get thrown out of here."
The third time they have sex, they don't even take their clothes off. John's fumbling with her loose pants, and Vala's pressing the heel of her hand against the bulge in his. "Vala, no," John says. Vala fans her other hand over his face and kisses the mask until he yields.
There's a tickle of insight from the back of her mind.
"You don't want to lose your access," Vala says suddenly. "You're afraid you won't be here if something happens to your home." It's the city he lost. Blood and bone, married to unimaginable technology, the contract written in his genes. Does it grieve for him? Perhaps the city lost him too.
"Vala," John says weakly. She's gotten her hand in, stroking him firmly, simultaneously grinding against his fingers groping over her panties.
She holds him as close as she can. "I envy you," she admits, kissing the side of his mouth. Perhaps she admits it for both of them.
John's face twists up. Whether in confusion or ecstasy, she can't be sure. "What are you talking about? You've got your team. I *saw* that, in the office," and in that moment words fail, and he touches her face and kisses her.
Vala clutches at him, overwhelmed, wave after wave of pleasure rolling through her body, theirs, one luminous moment just for the two of them. Whoever they are.
When she comes back to herself, John is still there. He repossesses his hand and takes his shirt out to wrap around his cock, both of their hands working on it. Brow touches brow. Everything slows, as though they have all the time in the world.
"Thank you," Vala says softly. "Lovely interrogation."
John laughs and groans at the same time. "Someone said, uh, I'm not, I'm not that great talking about these things," he manages. "I just think... I know this can be home too."
When he closes his eyes, Vala knows why. She leans in, feeling his thumb stroke her bare nape, briefly resting her cheek on his shoulder before reeling him in. Between them, they move, a little heat cupped away from the wind, kissing deeply until John's quick breaths stutter to a halt and his body gives in.
- end -