Subjugation, a Stargate tale by Glacis. Rated NC17 for adult and homoerotic situations. No copyright infringement intended to MGM/UA. A completely alternate take on the episode Emancipation.

When they stumbled through the Gate, or rather, when he stumbled through the Gate, since everyone else seemed perfectly steady on their feet, Doctor Daniel Jackson had the weirdest sense of déjà vu. Squinting into the bright sunlight, he shook off the shiver running down his spine and hurried to join the rest of the team.

"Glad you could make it, Daniel. Was wondering where your mind had wandered off to, this time," Col. O'Neill greeted him. He stared hard at the other man's face, never having an easy time figuring out the deadpan delivery, then smiled tentatively, acknowledging what he hoped was the joke. Jack finally cracked a tiny smile back at him, and he ducked his head. The Colonel always made him feel like, well, a geek. And a pretty clueless geek, at that.

"Uhm, well, there was … this place … nothing." He gave up trying to explain it, since he didn't understand it himself. Settling the clunky helmet more firmly over his head, wincing at the way the weight made the earpieces of his glasses dig into his skull, he took a deep breath and started to look around. Several yards from the Stargate was a stone temple, with carvings along the wall. Wandering around, stopping to get a closer look and take some camcorder shots, he noticed that they looked a lot like depictions of gods of the various elements, reminiscent of Utu, and Inanna. At the back of the large room was a tall stone goddess, at least nine feet high, with long flowing skirts, heavy necklaces around her throat, a water jug in her hands and what looked like a large inverted shell on her head, like a helmet. He noted the resemblance to Mesopotamian monuments and kept exploring.

Listening with half an ear to the low key, intermittent chatter behind him, Jackson walked further out from the perimeter of the immediate camp by the Gate and stared through what looked suspiciously like date palms. The land was heavily vegetated, and from the planting pattern of the grains stretching out between the rows of palms, cultivated with a sharp-honed plow. He opened his mouth to share his theories about agrarian populations just in time to see a bronze-colored blur streak across his face. The air whistled and he froze, staring with some horror at the long throwing knife that now quivered, buried tip-deep in the trunk of a tree, not six inches in front of his face. The only thing he moved was his eyes.

Three men were crouched in a semi-circle around him, and from the corner of his eye he could see that several others were surrounding his teammates. Teal'c had his staff down and powered, Sam had her M-16 cocked, and Jack had his pistol out, but no one was firing. The reason was pretty obvious.

Everyone could see the knife at Daniel's throat. Except Daniel, of course, but he made up for blocked vision with the distinct impression of cold - hard - sharp against his skin. He didn't even swallow.

The two men in front of him turned, and the one holding the knife on him nudged him forward, keeping Daniel between himself and the SG-1 team. Trying rather desperately to distract himself from the death waiting under his chin and praying to every god he could think of that he wouldn't trip on a rock and cut his own throat, Daniel automatically catalogued the natives. All stocky, muscular, fair skinned, dark haired, with eye color ranging from dark blue to near black. They wore what looked like linen kilts tied with woven belts at their waists, no shirts, and woven bands around their foreheads to keep back their straight fine hair, which fell to their shoulders.

They didn't look the least bit afraid. Daniel was half excited and half terrified. As they neared the team, Jack opened his mouth to speak, and raised his gun at the same time. Praying he wasn't screwing up, Daniel did his best to ignore the chance he took and started talking, pre-empting the Colonel's demand to let Daniel go. At least, that's what he hoped he was pre-empting.

"We are friends! We come in peace!" Hoping that the plow marks and the skirts were steering him in the right direction, he tried it in a dialect of Akkadian. It was the closest he could get to Sumerian. "I don't have many words, I speak as best I can, we are friends! Friends! Friends!"

Something worked. Everybody stopped, and the hand holding the knife at Daniel's throat actually relaxed enough that he didn't feel his Adam's apple scraping the blade every time he swallowed.

"Friends?" It sounded completely different when the native said it. He nodded anyway, eagerly, smiling hesitantly, careful not to show his teeth. One big hand came around, cupped his jaw, and turned his head around, perforce taking his torso with it. He sucked in a gulp of air, flinched instinctively from the knife that was still raised, and looked over his shoulder at the man holding him captive. Intent gray eyes stared back. Whatever the man saw must have satisfied him, because he nodded and let Daniel go.

After a couple quick, deep breaths, he figured his knees would hold him, and wobbled over to stand next to Jack. "Colonel, I think they're related to the ancient Sumerians." He glanced over his shoulder at the native soldiers, talking amongst themselves. "Their language seems to be a derivative of Akkadian, or even a precursor, and the patterning of the cropland around the temple-"

His explanation was cut off by what could only be described as a screech of rage. He whirled to find the leader of the pack with his knife pointed directly at Teal'c forehead. Daniel stared from one man to the other, trying to translate the rush of angry words spilling from the native leader. "Mask … no, mark … mark of the Gods … soul sellers … no, stealers? … Oh, damn!" The last as the knife descended, ripping through the material along the front of Teal'c's shirt and exposing the Goa'uld womb in his abdomen.

Daniel moved before anyone could start firing anything. Splaying himself protectively in front of Teal'c, hissing as the tip of the knife left a shallow slice across his ribcage, he covered as much of the larger man as he could and started talking, again.

"Friend!" Jackson insisted. The gray-eyed warrior wasn't buying it.

"Enlil's enslavers," he growled. He pointed at the womb, or rather, at where the womb would be, if Daniel had one. The knife came down, and his own shirt tore open. The edge of the knife rooted around, flipping the edges of material out of the way.

"No, Teal'c, don't move!" Daniel hissed frantically, as the Jaffa made to protest. "It's under control!" I hope, he thought, but didn't mention aloud. "No!" he continued in fractured Akkadian. The mention of the Sumerian god of war had given him confidence that he was on the right track. "Enemies of … of … Oh, hell, what would you call them?" he lapsed into English again, before shrugging and hoping for the best, "Enemies of the old gods! Friends of the people!" He concentrated on looking as friendly and unthreatening as he could while hoping that neither the man behind him or the one in front of him would decide to hell with it, and fight one another. Road kill would not be a good look for him. O'Neill must have thought the same thing.

"You know, Daniel, if you're tryin' to kill yourself, there are easier ways." He lifted his gun and aimed carefully above the head of the nearest native soldier.

"Jack! Please. Let me try." He glared at the Colonel, half begging, half daring him. This was supposed to be his area of expertise, after all. Jack stared back at him, then inclined his head. One chance. That was all he'd get. Calling on every middle Eastern dialect he could think of, he cobbled together a mishmash explanation and hoped it would work.

"Not enslavers. Friends. This man is my friend. He was made with worm against his will, but the man is my friend. NOT the worm. The wormgod is enemy. The man is friend. We are friends. We are … students. Learners. Seekers. NOT friends of the wormgod soul stealer." He stared steadily into the gray eyes, trying to reach past the conditioned response to kill, trying to establish some sort of rapport. From behind him, Teal'c's deep voice startled him into jumping -- not a good thing, with a sharp blade aimed at his belly button.

"I do not serve the gods," Teal'c said calmly, in a language that sounded a heck of a lot closer to the local lingo than anything Daniel had come up with. He stared over his shoulder in surprise. "I turned from the gods. Now, I serve these people. They are my tribe. This man is our scribe." He looked down at Daniel, face as calm as ever. "I know of these people. The Lagask. They were disruptive, prone to taking their own lives when faced with becoming hosts for the Goa'uld."

The knife raised again at the word, and Daniel found himself plastered against Teal'c like a second skin. "You are the scribe?" The hostility was as intense as ever in the warrior's face, and Daniel answered quickly, before Jack reacted to the tone and escalated the conflict.

"Yes. Yes, I am their scribe. They are my people. We are friends." How many ways could he say that? The knife wove a quick pattern in front of his face and he raised his hands, palm up.

A spate of language too dense for him to understand flowed past him, and Teal'c responded in kind, appearing to gain fluency as the debate raged on. Finally, the native slowed down and addressed Daniel directly.

"You will claim this Carrier of the Gods?"

Claim? The knife point's pattern got a little more complex, and a little too close. He nodded quickly. "Yes, of course I will claim him." He could feel Teal'c stiffening behind him. "Teal'c? What's he talking about?"

"Yeah, Teal'c," O'Neill growled, tired of being left out of it and losing patience rapidly. "What the hell's going on?"

"DanielJackson will stand for me." Teal'c sounded stunned. Daniel risked another look, then swung back to stare at the native leader, who was now looking frankly disbelieving.

"Stand for you?" Carter chimed in. "What's he mean by that, doctor?"

"I have no idea," Daniel admitted. Teal'c sighed, then, and he looked back up, shrugging one shoulder to ease the crick he was developing in his neck. "What does it mean, Teal'c?"

"You need not do this, DanielJackson," the Jaffa announced. He looked over Daniel's shoulder at the native warrior. "I will do battle."

"NO!" No way. "Waitaminute. I'll do it." He glanced over at the rest of the team, Sam's look reserving judgement, Jack wary but not expecting too much. He glared around the clearing. "I will do it, damnit." His voice softened. "As soon as you tell me what it is." He turned to face Teal'c. "I can, and I will. What do I need to do to keep them from killing us?"

"Not us, DanielJackson," Teal'c responded. "Myself. You are tools of the gods, but not Carriers of the Gods. You will be allowed to go free."

Jackson looked up at him and opened his mouth. "No way in hell," O'Neill chimed in before he could get a word out. So he reached out and grabbed hold of Teal'c's arm, the one holding the staff, and tried again. "Please, Teal'c? Before this turns into world war three?" He ignored the quizzical look and finished, a little desperately. "Let me do this. I can do this. If I can't then what the hell am I here for?"

A world of insecurity and frustration colored the question. He knew, or at least often felt, that he was the useless one on the team, the dead weight. If, for once, he could actually do what he was there for, and get them out of a culture clash without having to resort to blasting their way out, then he was willing to do whatever he had to in order to do it. Besides, it, whatever it was, could very well give invaluable insights into the native culture and worldview.

"Mate with me."

Daniel stared up at Teal'c, not quite certain he'd heard what he thought he'd just heard. "P-p-pardon?"

"Claiming is … mating. Mate with me of your free will and the Lagask will accept that I have fallen from favor with the gods and am now one of the people. Or do not, and I will be considered a Carrier of the Gods and subject to death."

Calm. He was calm. Daniel realized he was starting to hyperventilate, and took several deep breaths through his nose. "Mate," he finally managed. "Like, uhm, sex?" Boy, that sounded intelligent. From the look Teal'c gave him, it had sounded just as stupid to the Jaffa. "Okay, we could, er, do … that." I guess, he added silently, somewhat hysterically. "So, they like, give us a tent, and we, uhm, go, uh, do … it-" well, at least now he knew what it was. "Then we come out and it's all okay?"

"No. We mate with witnesses."

"Hold it just a minute," Jack cut in. "They want you two to have sex? In public?"

Carter looked like she didn't know whether to laugh, cry, or just stand there and stare at them both like she was trying to visualize it. Then she blushed, and looked at the ground. Jack was shaking his head. For some insane reason, that royally pissed Daniel off, and his mouth started moving before his brain kicked into gear.

"Why not? In many cultures, privacy as we know it is unheard-of, and the sex act itself is considered a sacred act, one that gathers great psychic and emotive power. What better way to prove that these people have no need to fear the gods than to prove that the one they fear is simply a man? If this culture is anything like the ancient Sumerians, we have three choices. Fight, and kill people; refuse to submit to their ritual and be taken as slaves, which means we fight, and we're back to killing people; or submit to the ritual." He ran out of steam, and found himself unable to hold O'Neill's amazed look. "We don't need to fight our way out of every situation."

"What, we're gonna fuck our way out?" Jack clamped his jaw shut as soon as he'd said it, obviously more than a little freaked out by the situation and his response to it -- and even more freaked out by Daniel's response. Jackson didn't let it stop him. He was committed, or perhaps should be committed, but he was going to see it through.

"We participate in a local ritual, which just happens to include s-s-uhm, mat- um, havingeachother-" he said it as fast as he could and went on, "and we open up a dialog and find out how they managed to escape from the Goa'uld and break their dominance and we find out about their culture and they let us in the door and we don't have to turn right around and jump back through the gate before we even get a chance to learn anything at all." He swallowed a lungful of air and dove back in. "So, Teal'c, are you game?"

"No," he responded somberly. "We are to mate, not hunt, and I will be partner, not prey."

Carter snorted with laughter at that, then shut up immediately at the scorching look O'Neill gave her. Of course, it would have had more impact if he hadn't been fighting a grin himself. Daniel gave up on both of them and turned back to the native warrior, who'd been watching the by-play with uncomprehending confusion.

"So, what exactly does this entail?" The native looked at him, and Daniel tried again, this time in his approximation of the local language. "What to do to claim my friend?"

Another, much shorter, spate of words, and Jackson asked over his shoulder, "What did he say, Teal'c?"

"We will have the claiming now, in the temple, before the soldiers of the people and the slaves of the gods." Teal'c didn't sound particularly bothered by it, but then, Teal'c usually didn't sound particularly bothered by anything. There were times when Daniel envied the Jaffa's fatalism. This was not one of them.

"Slaves of the gods?" Teal'c's eyes swept the rest of the SG-1 team. "ohmigod."

"You need not do this, DanielJackson," Teal'c gave him one last out.

He didn't take it. Squaring his jaw, he stared up at the impassive face, ignoring everyone else as best he could. "Yes, I do." He reached out a hand, ignoring his own shaking as well, and patted Teal'c's chest lightly. "How much … what kind of … what sort of … whatdowehave to do?" The last of the sentence came out more a whisper than words. Teal'c looked somewhat confused.

"Mate," he responded, then turned his back on them all and headed into the temple. Jackson threw a pleading look at the broad back, then straightened his own spine and marched along in his wake.

"C'mon, Captain, let's see how far they're gonna go with this," he heard O'Neill in the background. His jaw tightened further.

He could do this. Damnit. He would do it.

Teal'c stared around the interior of the temple, ignoring the embellishments and concentrating on the layout. A low alter, round, smooth with ages of use, stood in the center of the floor. The native soldiers gathered around it in a loose ring, weapons held at the ready. Behind him, he could feel the warmth of DanielJackson, his breathing hurried, his temperature elevated. He did not understand why the man would be willing to offer himself in this manner, but he appreciated the bravery inherent in such an act. He had made the nature of the sacrifice known, and the scientist had agreed. That was enough.

His life as a Jaffa had been about control. Power wielded in the service of the God, emotions subjugated to service, thought subjugated to duty, life subjugated to loyalty. When he had made the decision to sacrifice his family and his position in the hope of one day freeing his people, he had given up everything. Allowed himself to fall from a place of pride and power to that of one who was nothing. In return, he had been accepted as a friend to these people. Now, one of his new family was offering to give himself in order to save Teal'c's life. From the beginning Teal'c had known that Colonel O'Neill would be a worthy leader, and he had become a good friend. Captain SamCarter was still, in many ways, an enigma, but was a warrior in her own right. But it was DanielJackson, who had the most reason to hate the Goa'uld he had served and the infant he carried, who would protect him on this world from those who would kill him.

There were times when he wondered if DanielJackson ever thought before he acted.

There were other times when he was secretly pleased that the Human apparently did not.

This was one of those times.

Mating was simple. Privacy was not known during ritual, and he had participated in mating rituals before, in the service of Apophis. But DanielJackson?

This could be a very interesting experience. For both of them.

Staring first at the altar, then at the crowd, desperately ignoring Jack and Sam, and trying hard not to look at Teal'c, it suddenly dawned on Daniel exactly what 'claiming' could mean. Ooooooh, no.

"Teal'c?"

The Jaffa barely paused in his disrobing. He was huge. Daniel hadn't really noticed the amazing resemblance the other man had to a brick wall before.

"Do I have to actually … pene-, uhm, scre-,uhm … who's doing whom?" He could feel the blush all over his entire body. Teal'c, by now completely naked, stared down at him.

"This is a temple of Enki. The goddess is ruler here. I am to be claimed. The goddess claims by taking in, by enclosing, conquering the male. You are to take me into yourself. Does this answer your query?"

Daniel Jackson had never fainted in his life. Now, feeling uncannily like a vestal virgin up for auction, he nearly did.

"It is more easily done if you are unclothed," Teal'c offered helpfully.

"This is nuts, Daniel!" Jack yelled up from the audience. Eight blades were instantly leveled at his throat.

"Shut up, Jack," Daniel yelled back, knowing he would pay for that when they got back to Earth. "Or they'll cut your throat and we'll still have to do this!" Then he shucked his clothes at lightning speed and wished, not for the first time, that he was a built a little less like a farm boy and a little more like, well, Teal'c.

"Ohmigod," came Carter's voice. Daniel could swear he could feel his entire body blushing. He risked a glance over his shoulder. Sam was staring at his ass, and looked for all the world like a little kid in a candy store … with an unlimited tab.

The blush intensified. Okay, so maybe he could do worse than looking like a Midwestern farm boy.

Then a dark, huge hand closed over his shoulder and drew him close to a chest that resembled the Great Wall of China, and Daniel gulped. Licking his lips, he whispered just loud enough for Teal'c to hear him, "Never done this before."

Teal'c stared down at him, one brow lifting, then let go of his shoulder and reached for his clothes. Daniel growled in response, and reacting before Teal'c could trigger a bloodbath by backing out, he latched on to the broad shoulders, attached himself to the tree trunk thighs like a leech and kissed Teal'c for all he was worth.

Teal'c just stood there.

Daniel intensified his efforts, and to his complete astonishment, it actually worked. Teal'c's mouth opened, his jaw dropped, and he nearly inhaled Daniel's tongue. It was the wildest headrush Jackson had ever had. The world tilted, then rolled, and Teal'c's arms held him like bands of iron as they landed gently in the middle of the altar. Then the grip loosened, and those hands began to roam over him, never stopping, rubbing strongly at his muscles, warming his skin. They kissed until he thought he was going to pass out from lack of oxygen, then he threw his head back, undulated against the hard warm body beneath him, and moaned, loud and low.

The sound was echoed and thrown back to him by the observers, who began to chant in time with their movements. He was only dimly aware of the sound, and completely oblivious to the eyes watching him, as Teal'c proved that he was no stranger to making love to a man. By the time they'd rolled over the altar a few times, with Daniel always ending up on top, and Teal'c had kneaded, licked or stroked every inch of him, Daniel was more than ready to sink down on top of him and 'conquer' the man. It was pure, unadulterated sex at its deepest level, and after months of solitary celibacy, the touch felt incredibly good. He threw back his head, anchored himself with one hand in the middle of Teal'c's chest and the other behind him on one massive thigh, and moved like the waves breaking over the sand.

The followers of the goddess of water were pleased. Teal'c was relieved, and not a little surprised. Jack was in shock.

Daniel was in another world. Literally.

Sam Carter stared at the two figures entwined in the middle of the altar, naked bodies thrusting against one another for the edification of an entire audience of strangers (and two fellow team-members), and couldn't tear her eyes away.

This … was wild.

Doctor Jackson, who she'd pegged as a Standard Issue Shy Guy with a Past, had leapt on Teal'c like a starving dog on a raw T-bone, tackled him, practically sucked his lungs out of his mouth, then wound himself around the bigger man like a snake and proceeded to devour him.

It was … pretty damned hot.

After feeling each other up all over hell and back, they'd rolled around like a couple of wrestlers, naked, sans oil, no jock straps, no helmets, no rules, and no referee. Then Daniel had pinned Teal'c, straddled him, and sat down on an erection that looked like it couldn't possibly fit where it had to go.

It … had. And from the way Daniel was rocking and rolling, it must've felt pretty damned good. Teal'c was groaning fit to beat the band, Daniel had his head thrown back and was riding him like a cowboy on a bronco, the natives were swaying like a bunch of deadheads at the height of the Garcia era, and she had an almost overwhelming urge for a cigarette. And she didn't even smoke.

But they sure were.

By the time Daniel screamed to a climax, in concert with a good half the audience, and Teal'c roared out in harmony, Sam was feeling a lot like a puddle of melted candle wax. She didn't dare look at Jack, although she had to admit she'd peeked, and he wasn't unaffected by it all. Even in a flight suit, that bulge still showed. Mental images overlaid the visuals she was already getting, and the puddle dissolved in a hiss of steam.

Fanning herself, she forced herself to address the colonel, once the two men on the altar had apparently passed out and the locals were gathering around them.

"Should we, uh, do something, sir?" God, her voice was breathy. She resolutely refused to look at him.

"Oh, I think the team's done enough, don't you think, Captain?" Oddly enough, he sounded pretty breathy himself, and the usual bite just wasn't there. She risked a look. O'Neill was reeling. She nodded.

"Yup. Go home now?"

"No," came Teal'c's voice, slightly less steady than it usually was. Nice to know mind-blowing sex could at least shake his composure somewhat. Daniel, beside him, looked like he'd been hit by a truck. "To leave now would be a deadly insult to the Lagask. It would negate the effort DanielJackson has made to open dialog with these people."

"And I'm wiped," Jackson managed to rasp out. "From what I can gather, there's a five day celebration next. They should have some information on why the Goa'uld stopped using them for hosts. If we can figure out what it was that turned the Goa'uld off this planet, maybe it could help. Us. Out." With that, he swayed, passing out with surprising grace into Teal'c's arms.

"He is fatigued," Teal'c pronounced.

"He's in shock," Jack decided. Sam figured they were both right.

"I dunno, sir, a feast sounds pretty good to me right now." And maybe a big ol' jug of wine. Little thirsty, here. She grinned. "Shouldn't let the, uh, sacrifice be in vain, right?"

He glared at her. But he didn't argue. She took that as assent, and followed the procession out into the village. There was a jug out there with her name on it. Maybe with a little liquid assistance she could forget the amazingly erotic sight of Daniel Jackson and Teal'c putting on the sex show of the century.

Then again, maybe she wouldn't.

Jack O'Neill stared across the fire at Doctor Daniel Jackson, resident anthropological, mythological and sociological genius and first rate pain in the ass. The expression, even in his own thoughts, made him wince. Gritting his teeth, he went over to where the scientist was animatedly discussing mental resistance against the Goa'uld and plopped down beside him.

Even in the darkness, he could see the younger man blush.

He smiled, friendly as he could make it, at the local. Eventually, the guy shut up and turned to talk to Carter, on his other side, leaving Daniel free so Jack could talk to him. Before he could get a word out, Daniel started speaking. The firelight glinted off his glasses, shielding his eyes, and Jack stared at his profile, since Daniel wouldn't look over at him.

"Don't say it, please. It's okay. I'm okay, Teal'c's okay. Sometimes anthropologists have to do things like that, dress like the people they're studying, live with them, even participate in religious rituals, respecting the beliefs of the people they're trying to learn from. And it could have some real benefits. There are some mental techniques Ahlit has been describing to me that could be really useful in battling the Goa'uld, so something like what happened with Kawalski might be avoided next time, or if one of the Stargate team members is taken they can perhaps work as a double agent, or-"

Jack reached out and covered the rapidly moving mouth with his hand. "S'okay, Daniel." Wide blue eyes finally met his as Jackson lost his fascination with the fire and actually turned to look at him. "Really. Just wish I'd remembered to bring my camera." If possible, the eyes got even wider. "Great training tool for first contact technique."

He let go of Daniel's jaw, which stayed dropped open, but no noise came out. Then he reached out, snagged a piece of roast beast of some sort from the spit hanging over the fire, and popped a bit in Daniel's open mouth.

"Gotta keep up your strength." He smiled guilelessly into the bright eyes staring at him, and calmly ate his own share. "Never know when you might need it."

No need to mention the camcorder he'd mounted on a tripod in the corner of the temple before all the fun started. That would be his own little secret.

end