He'd gotten good at judging the times that the mess hall would be all but empty; this had been one of them, and he'd had a good forty-five minutes to linger over a cup of coffee before a group of Marines had taken the table next to him and he'd left. Daniel was back...Daniel was back in the city, and he hadn't gone to see him yet. He wasn't sure he would, either. He wasn't sure he wanted to. It was past...it was all past, now, he wasn't even sure he was still the same person, it surprised him every morning to realize he still was a person. Best to let Daniel get on with his own life. Best to move on, pretend they'd never been anything but close coworkers, try to build some sort of new happiness for himself...if he could.

His thoughts were elsewhere as he wandered back to his room, the book he'd been reading in the mess hall tucked under one arm. He wasn't sure where they were exactly, but elsewhere seemed a safe description.

For the first time in his life, he faded into the background - and he actually liked it, more than he ever would have expected to. He wasn't the most promising protege, he wasn't the one with million-dollar book deals, he wasn't the beloved servant of a God...he was just another scientist, just another set of eyes in the archives, not the best in his field, not the worst. He was starting to get used to that.

Steven wandered down an empty hallway, admiring the architecture and enjoying the pleasant weather. He'd stopped hiding in his room, gotten tired of pacing the same length of floor over and over again, but still, he tried to avoid contact with the rest of Atlantis...it was too easy to see the fear and distrust in their eyes, even though his more rational side knew that for most of them, the looks were only curiosity.

He was completely lost in thought and in the beauty of Atlantis, eyes more on the vaulted ceilings and archways than on the path around him. It was a lovely place...he'd ignored its beauty last time he was here, but now, now he had nothing to do but admire, and remember how Daniel had been so awed by it...

Steven sat on a public balcony on top of one of the lower spires of the city, looking out at the ocean, eyes a million miles away on things he'd rather not be remembering. It wasn't even being tortured that was the worst of it, he could have lived with that...it was what he'd done, more than what he'd been through, that he couldn't forget.

It was the middle of the night when he arrived in Atlantis, and there were only the essential personel around. He was grateful for the lack of fuss - there was no obvious security escort, no crowds to stare at him suspiciously, just Sgt. Lenoir waiting to show him to his quarters - different ones from last time, because his old ones were still being searched for anything he might have planted there.

He glanced around the Gate room briefly before following the sergeant. In his brief time here, with Daniel, it had started to feel like home...and even though Daniel's not here to greet him, it still felt that way; felt like he was coming home, which wasn't something he'd been used to for a long time.

He can't remember how long he's been locked in this room. Jonny had been visiting him regularly, for a while...usually zatting him when he came in, but Steven assumed he'd been running tests, trying to figure out what Ba'al had done to him.

The last visit had been a while ago...he has no contact with anyone else, has no idea what might be going on, but meals are pushed through the flap in the door at quasi-regular intervals, he's got everything he needs here to live a healthy (if not entirely interesting) life...but there's only so much time he can spend scrubbing the floor, straightening the sheets, pacing from door to small, barred window and back again. He has to sleep sometimes, or try to, at least...and every time he closes his eyes, the memories are waiting...the nightmares that come when he *does* fall asleep are almost preferable, to those.

TO: Dr. Daniel Jackson
FROM: Dr. Steven Rayner
RE: I'm alive

Daniel -

I don't know if anyone's gotten in touch with you yet, and this is the first they've let me have a computer, but I'm alive. I'm at Atlantis' Alpha Site - Ba'al let me go, erased my memories of anything vital to his security and said I was free to go back to Atlantis. It was too easy. I've asked Jonny O'Neil to figure out what the catch is - which means, of course, that he's cutting me no slack in terms of declaring me safe for human company. I'm sure he'll read this email before it gets sent, so if you don't get it, it'll probably be because it's got subliminal messages to Ba'al's minions on Earth encoded in it. I sincerely hope it doesn't.

I know I was a real jerk, and I hate that I left you like I did, but I had no choice - Ba'al had what basically amounted to a recall device implanted in my brain; he wanted me back, I had no choice but to go. I've still got who knows how many tests to go through before I'm even allowed to Atlantis, let alone Earth, and then there'll be the trial for treason - I think I can face that, now; the worst they can do is kill me, and at least with them, I'll be able to stay dead, not have to come back and face it all again the next day.

I'm not expecting you to forgive me or still love me or any of that. Honestly, Colonel O'Neill's probably better for you than I ever was, even if he is being a dick about it from what you've told me. I just thought I'd let you know, I'm still here, because I know you'll be tearing yourself to pieces thinking you should have saved me, and I don't want you doing that.

All my love (to you and only you, always),
Steven

Steven knelt in front of his Lord Ba'al, not moving until instructed. "You summoned me, Master?" he asked, the look on his face closer to boredom than to the devotion he'd tried to feign, at first. Perhaps today would be different than all the days before...perhaps this would be the time that the forces that tugged at his being every time he died would prove too much for Ba'al to overcome, perhaps this time there would be no coming back...half of him hoped that would be the case, but that would mean never seeing Daniel again...he'd lost his love for Ba'al, the firey energy that had borne him through his tortures before he'd gone to Atlantis, but it had been replaced with hope, hope that Daniel still cared, that this might end, that there might be a happily ever after somewhere...

He'd taken to silently asking, for a while, let me die, but that wish had vanished, replaced with a mantra, a wish that there would be a tomorrow, that there would be enough of them for him to see Daniel again.

Keep going.

Life with Ba'al had gone from hellish down to simply unbearable. He'd regained Ba'al's love and trust - if he'd ever lost it; he wasn't entirely sure about that. But being loved by Ba'al was almost as painful as being hated by him.

Ba'al had started letting him leave on his own every once in a while, though - never entirely on his own, but at least away from Ba'al, for a little while. And he had things to occupy his mind - translations, mostly, of carvings Ba'al was finding on planets he'd recently conquered or converted.

He constantly found his mind slipping back while he worked, to graduate school, occasionally to his more recent time with Daniel. He'd come out of a slight trance sometimes to find his notes filled with the translation he'd been working on interspersed with random lines, thoughts, things that had been important to them.

He was gazing around at the exhibit, fascinated by the heiroglyphs, the partial statues, the historical explanations. He had to sit down, though - his leg still gave him problems, he couldn't stay standing for too long at once, even a year after...after that.

He couldn't see a chair around, though, and didn't want to leave the exhibit, so he leaned against a railing, unbalancing slightly and bumping into an equally bedazzled fellow student.

"Two vast and trunkless legs of stone stand in the desert...near them, on the sand, half sunk, a shattered visage lies," the other man said, staring in wonder at a fragmented statue.

"Shelley, "Ozymandias," right?" Steven said, turning away from the exhibit to face the man.

"Yeah. You know it?"

"Of course."

"I'm Dr. Daniel Jackson," the man introduced himself.

"Dr.? You're not a student, then?"

"Oh, I am, I'm...I'm working on my second Ph.D., actually."

"Steven Rayner. No doctorate yet."

He'd finished his translations here, but the rest of Ba'al's servants who'd come with him weren't ready to leave. This planet traded with Atlantis, and Ba'al had encouraged them to continue, and not let on that anything was different. They were just packing up a shipment of supplies...

On a sudden whim, he tore a piece of paper out of his notebook and jotted a few lines down on it, dropping it into one of the supply bags while no one was looking. Just a torn bit of his notes, could quite easily have slipped out and fallen in there on its own...and half his notebook was filled with repetitions of the same poem anyway, it wasn't like it was a message or anything.

My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair.

The transmitter Ba'al had implanted in him didn't do much - not enough to talk or report, just enough for Ba'al to activate one of his emergency plans.

He could have stayed. If he'd stayed in the city, Ba'al wouldn't be able to beam him out - they'd activated some sort of jamming system. He could have hidden, trusted Daniel to keep him safe. But his entire life and possibly beyond, he would be on the run from Ba'al, and even Daniel couldn't protect him from his past, from the consequences that would be waiting for him on Earth.

He couldn't protect himself from Ba'al from a jail cell. It would be better if he willingly returned as Ba'al's Lo'tar than if he were dragged back as a failure and a disgrace. Better to go back - better to follow the plan and hope that Ba'al mistimed it by just enough that he actually would die.

For a little while, he was sure that was what had happened as he was tugged under the cold water, felt it pressing in around him, started inhaling it when he couldn't hold his breath anymore. He could feel the world start to disappear, and had entirely lost consciousness by the time the transport beam found him.

He woke up surrounded by the now-familiar white glow of Ba'al's sarcophagus, with Ba'al standing over him. As he climbed out and knelt in front of Ba'al, he found himself wishing he'd had time to write a longer note to Daniel - one that would tell him it wasn't over, he wasn't dead. Save me...look for me, don't believe I'm dead...Daniel... He doesn't really believe in telepathy, especially not across such distance, but he can't help asking, begging Daniel not to give up on him in his head.

The smoldering looks he favored his Lord with were pure hatred, but he was a good enough actor that he could pretend it was the enthrallment and lust he'd felt before. He could get through this - he just had to keep clinging to the hope that Daniel would find him, Daniel would rescue him, defend him against an army of Ba'al clones, take him somewhere where they could just be happy and together and not worry about any of this.

Ba'al killed him three times that first night, tenderly reviving him after each. Steven wasn't sure if it was supposed to be a reward or punishment. He didn't know what he hated more, the searing pain of acid eating through his skin or the fact that Ba'al made him beg for it, made him want it as much as an addict wanted his next fix.

They'd finally let him out of the infirmary - Daniel was following him around everywhere, making sure he was never alone even for a second, but he was back in his own room.

This couldn't last. Ba'al wouldn't let him go without a fight - they'd been foolish to assume the communication ball was the only way he had of contacting Steven, he'd been stupid to think he could get away, that he had a chance with Daniel. He'd been mostly asleep in the infirmary, but he'd woken up enough to hear bits of a quiet discussion between Daniel and O'Neil. Sent back to Earth. Trial for treason. He didn't think he was strong enough to go through that.

Daniel was exhausted; when he collapsed on Steven's bed, he knew it probably wouldn't last long, but at least for a few minutes, he wasn't being watched.

He grabbed his notepad from the desk and scrawled a quick note. I'm sorry, Daniel - I hope it works out with Jack.

Wouldn't do to let them waste too much time and energy looking for him. He kicked off his shoes on the way to the balcony, looking down, straight down into the ocean far below. He looked behind him, making sure the security camera was on and pointed towards him, just so they'd know what he'd done, and dove off.

He was a good enough swimmer to make sure he went straight down after he hit the water.

For a second, the sunlight playing on the water bore a remarkable resemblance to a transport beam - but then it was gone.

He never rose to the surface.