Chapter Text

Chapter 1

He didn’t understand why, but they let him go. It must’ve been a mix-up. An administrative error because he knew for a fact that Anubis won’t be happy. But he took the opportunity in any case. He was never one for looking a gift horse in the mouth and he wasn’t about to now either.

He had nothing more than the clothes on his back when he hurried away from the fortress. The nearby city at least offered him the anonymity of disappearing in the crowds, becoming another faceless drone, rundown and terrorised into submission.

It took him half a day to figure out that he would need money. He stole a fruit from a stall when the owner wasn’t looking and ate it in an alley. It was purple, gooey and tasted vaguely of rotten meat but at least it filled him up. It was a better fare than what he got in prison. Sometimes, if it was a good day, they forgot about him.

Don’t think about it.

He wiped his hands off on his pants. Eyed the crowds that moved with purpose past the alley way. He automatically tallied the Jaffa. Their patrols and how regularly they did it. He didn’t know how he did it. He just knew. It was one of those things. Like knowing how to defend himself. His muscle memory comes to a good stead inside the prison. He knew a lot of things. Knew that he would survive. That he’d done it before.

The guards never liked him. He was alive because of what Anubis was waiting for. He had forgotten the reason. His memory locked and the whispers started. He shook his head. Willed it to stop.

It never worked.

Crap. It wouldn’t do to freak out on his first day out. He ignored the sound of a thousand sibilant hisses that filled his head. Ignored the feel of fingers on his arm. Ignored the way the hairs on the back of his neck stood upright as his body readied itself for a fight or flight response.

He stepped out the alley. Sauntered his way down the road. Further into the city, he lost himself in a maze of streets. He reckoned if he couldn’t find himself, at least it would make the job harder when Anubis eventually came looking for him. He had at least a week, he thought. Anubis was off-world. He had heard one of the guards mention it. Had filed it away in the darkness of his mind.

Hear us…

He staggered. Grabbed his head that felt like it was about to explode. The whispers got louder and harder to ignore. He pushed his way forward until he bumped into a person.

“Hey?”

He apologised, tried to walk on but a hand came down on his shoulder and he froze. Waited for the blow that would follow and when it didn’t, he looked up. Carefully with shaded eyes, so he could assess without seeming to be aggressive.

“You okay?”

He shrugged. Nodded. But the hand didn’t let go. Pulled him in towards a yard and he just went with it before he realised that maybe it wasn’t a good idea. But his time with the guards had been a good teacher and it was hard to tell his body that he was allowed to resist.

“Here, have some water.” A tap was opened, a cup pushed under the flow and then a hand passed it over. He took it, sipped and then he gulped it down. For the first time he looked at the man. He was older, bald and kind brown eyes were assessing him intelligently. “Better?” He gave a half smile when he gave the cup back. The water sat heavy in his stomach but it did feel better.

The voices were subdued. Almost gone.

He looked around. It was a bigger yard than what he’d seen. A horse stall sat at one end; a big draught horse stood outside munching on hay. It was a bay colour with a big white spot on its nose.  The man’s house sat at the end of the yard. It didn’t look very big. Probably nothing more than two or three rooms, he guessed. Now Daniel would know…

He frowned. Who the hell is Daniel?

“I can give you some coins if you clean out Bess’ stall. Are you up for it?” The man asked. He tilted his head, squinted at the man. Consider his options.

“Yeah. Okay.”

“Good. Name’s Seth by the way.”

He nodded his head. Didn’t reply.

“You have a name?”

He frowned. Scum. Hey you. Somehow the names the guards had thrown his way wasn’t going to cut it. He shrugged. What did it matter?

“I’ve got to call you something. What do you want me to call you?” The man seemed to wait; he could see anticipation. It was weird. Why would this man care?

“You can call me Dean.” He said in the end. A brief disappointment seemed to play over the features of Seth. His eyes dropped and his lips tightened. He looked up then with false cheer. Indicated to the stall.

“You’ll find everything you need in there. Work until an hour before sundown and knock on the door. I’ll pay you after I inspect your work. You need someplace to sleep as there’s a curfew. You don’t want the Jaffa to find you out on the street.”

He nodded. Seth turned and made his way inside his house, closing the door behind him. He made his way over to the stall. The horse had been a bit messy and he wrinkled his nose but he took the hayfork, the wheelbarrow and proceeded to clean out the mess. He found the manure pile on the other side of the yard, in a little side shed built into the wall. There were doors facing outward and he guessed that someone would come by and pick it up.

Seth was pleased with his effort. Gave him three coins and told him that he could come back if he wanted. Earn some more money. He left after, eyed the setting sun and set about trying to find loggings. Which was harder than he had imagined.

That first night out, he played hide and seek with the Jaffa guards.

He lost.

He woke later with bruises covering his body, thrown in a cell with a bunch of others who had been unlucky enough to be caught outside. He kept quiet. Stayed in the corner, the wall to his back so he could watch everyone.

He met Marcus.

Marcus was big. His eyes glowed red. Somehow he knew that where he came from it wasn’t normal. But here…here Marcus was the boss. Everyone in that cell knew the man. Seemed to keep a wide berth around him.

“You’re new.”

He had looked up. Didn’t reply. Marcus squatted down beside him, arms loose over his knees. “I’m Marcus.”

He nodded. The man waited him out and he sighed. “Dean.”

Marcus reached out and he flinched. Realised the man was giving his hand for a greeting and he took it. Careful to shift his centre of gravity in case he needed to defend himself. The man took his measure of him. The smile Marcus gave him wasn’t kind.

“When they release us, come with me.” He said. “You hungry?”

His stomach growled despite the fact that he wanted to decline. In the end, he went with Marcus. He didn’t think he had much of a choice, really. At least the food wasn’t too bad. He went back to Seth. Cleaned the stall again and made three more coins. This time he made sure to find a hiding spot before the sun went down. Managed to stay safe that night.

It worked for two more nights.

The Jaffa found him the third night. He endured another beating. Didn’t complain and kept to himself in the cell filled with humanity in all its forms, stinking of fear and anger.

He used the time to think. There were some things that seemed clearer than others. The fact that the sky had two moons. He knew that was wrong. One was coloured red, blood-coloured by whatever pollution hung in the air. The other had a sort of greenish hue. He wondered if it supported life. If it was big enough for a host of plant life.

The stars seemed wrong. His eyes had automatically drifted south, looking for the polar star. When he didn’t find it, he was disorientated. Lost in the maze of alleys he had found himself as he tried to evade the Jaffa guard that first night out. It got him twisted around and he ended in a cul-de-sac. Curled on the ground already, protecting his head and ribs as the sounds of boots echoed off the walls. It made taking the beating easier. They had stopped not long after, bored that he hadn’t even given a token resistance. Had dragged him off and thrown him in the cells.

A lot can be said for learning the enemy. For knowing how they thought. What made them tick. He found that somehow he was good at it.

As to the planet he currently was residing on.

It was a crappy planet. He instinctively knew that. The buildings all seemed circa 1940's. Big blocks of industrialised cement coated in grime and something ugly green that he didn't want to think about as being alive. The city streets were narrow and cobblestoned. The alleys were little more than narrow crevices between the buildings.

The government sucked just as bad. When Anubis wasn’t in residence, he left the governance to an overlord that had his own Jaffa guard. He liked to let the people know who was in charge, which just …sucked. He grimaced at his word choice. Not elegant at all but then again, who was he kidding. No one apparently.

He made it out of the cells the next morning. His bruises had bruises but that was nothing new. Seth was a little sympathetic but didn’t say much and for that he was grateful. He wasn’t about to explain that he was used to the abuse. That this didn’t even come close to the things he’d seen and endured.

Nope. Definitely not going there.

The whispers seemed to quiet around Seth for some reason. The ghostly feel of hands almost gone. He endured in silence. Did his job and earned his money.

Three men tried to rob him afterwards. He left broken bodies in his wake as he ran away. He made his way down a familiar back alley. Paused, hand on the wall when another headache blinded him momentarily and he closed his eyes, leaning against the wall as he tried to ride the wave of pain as it throbbed right behind his eyes. Nausea assailed his senses and he tried his best not to give in but in the end he couldn't fight against the overwhelming queasiness and he gagged, spitting out nothing more than the little water he had drunk not so long ago.

Crap.

He wiped his mouth with a dirt crusted hand, leaving behind another brown smear on his face. Pushing himself away from the wall, he stumbled his way further down the alley. A noise had him swung around, his hands raised defensively. A rat or something similar big with a tail scurried over his feet and disappeared down the alley. The sudden movement didn't help the lingering nausea. His knees gave out and he sank down next to the wall and vomited. It felt like a lifetime before the heaving stopped.

He oh so much loved the sour taste of bile in his mouth, he thought darkly, can't wait for the next time.

When he was done he gave himself another minute as he just breathed and concentrated on not throwing up again. Skittish now, he rose and started towards an abandoned building that rose like a broken bird's claw, dark against the star brightened sky. He hadn’t wanted to do this but he just didn’t want to spend another night out here, dodging Jaffa guards. He needed some rest.

"Who goes there?"

"It's me, Dean."

His voice sounded raw. He grimaced when a shadow detached itself from the wall. Average height, blond hair, blue eyes. Hollywood material. The screen would just love the guard's good looks.

"You know the rules."

For a moment despair hit him hard before he rallied, straightening his back and returning the glare of the other man.

"I've only managed to get five credits. Pickings at the market were slim today."

Silence met his statement. Placing his hand in his pocket, he felt the hard edges of the coins he had spent mucking the day for. Thinking of the meagre food waiting inside had his stomach rumble even while the nausea at the thought of food made him rethink his desperation to find a way inside. But he couldn't stay the night out on the street. There were a lot worse things out there than inside this building. He was learning. It involved bruises.

"Joruus, what's going on?"

Another man stepped from the doorway of the building. It was Marcus. He could just make out the weird red glow of the man's eyes. It was focused on him, ignoring the guard stuttering a response that he had failed to find enough coins to pay for protection tonight.

"How much?"

He took out the coins, holding them with an outstretched hand as the other man glanced down briefly before assessing him again. The distant sounds of footsteps threading rhythmically had all of them staring into the darkness, as if they could see through the walls towards where the Jaffa was starting their nightly patrols.

He could see that the guard was frightened, could see it in the way the man was wetting his lips, his eyes big and his breathing shallow and fast.

"Marcus?" The guard’s whisper was soft, the question and desperation both there, wanting to make the bigger man aware of the impending danger as well as to make the decision about what to do with him.

Marcus nodded at Joruus in acknowledgment before turning his back on him, dismissing him to a night on the streets.

He had promised himself that he would never beg.

But the sounds of the footsteps coming closer threw up memories of pain. Pain and overwhelming loss that had nothing to do with his nightly curfew violating lessons he had endured by the guards.

He couldn't deal with those memories again. Even if they were nothing more than feelings and glimpses of people he didn’t know.

"Please."

Marcus paused, his body filling the entrance, his shoulders wide enough to brush the doorway. For a brief moment he thought that he would have to fight his way inside and was already contemplating moves that he'd use on Joruus, moves that would incapacitate the other man and he didn't really give a damn if it ended up with Joruus being dead.

Then Marcus gave a brief nod before disappearing into the darkness of the room beyond the entryway. A moment later both he and Joruus followed Marcus inside as the footsteps started to echo off the surrounding walls.

The muffled sound of a staff weapon followed by a brief distant scream chased them as they moved quietly deeper into the ruins, aware that they were not yet safe.

A moment later they came to a standstill in front of a pockmarked concrete wall. A rat scurried through a hole in the wall, its long tail giving a last twitch before disappearing all together. He could hear its little footsteps as it pat-a-patted along some piping behind the wall. He wondered if it had been the same rat that had passed him in the alley.

The sound of dripping water reminded him of rivers and the sense of peace and tranquillity. He closed his eyes briefly, trying to catch the fleeting memory but it flirted away, leaving blankness behind. The whispers replaced whatever he had thought he felt.

All that was left was desperation. And fear, pain and the feeling of emptiness where his heart is supposed to be.

Nausea returned with a vengeance. He stumbled towards a darkened corner where a pile of stinking refuse had been left to rot. The smell added to his senses and he dropped to his knees, temporarily weakened by another emptying of his stomach. He heard the brief scraping as the hidden door was finally opened.

Less than a second later he heard it close.

He scrambled to his feet, taking several steps to the wall, angry that Marcus and Joruus had not waited for him. A voice distorted and metallic came from the alley. Pressing his lips together, he fought down his panic. His hands moved across the wall, searching the pockmarks for the hidden trigger that would open the door.

"Kel shak?"

"Mel nok tee."

The creak of leather alerted him that one of the Jaffa had probably entered the ruins. Everything inside him went quiet. Still.

His mind calculated his options. Fight or flight.

"Sarit."

With sudden clarity he knew what he had to do. Knew too that if his plan failed that there was a good chance he would be back at the fortress. Three was apparently the magic number that Mr Overlord had decided would be when you got to be taken to the fortress for re-education.

He was never going back there.

Not after what happened the last time.