Title: Across the Divide

Rating: T

Pairings: Malek/OC, Sam/Martouf/Lantash

Author's notes: This is a re-write of a much older story entitled "Fading Away" (that is still on this site). I loved the premise, but the story itself needed a LOT of work. So, I decided to revisit this particular part of my past. Here's to hoping this tale is much better the second time around.

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and places are the property of MGM, World Gekko Corp and Double Secret Productions. This form of fan fiction was created for entertainment not monetary purposes and no infringement on copyrights or trademarks was intended. Previously unrecognized characters and places, and this story, are copyrighted to author. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

Feedback: All comments welcome.

Notes: -Italics- denotes host/symbiote communication.

Prologue: The Agony of Defeat

The darkness was nearly absolute. Somewhere in the distance a muffled thud reverberated through the smoky corridors. Shouts and cries of panic filled the empty spaces, crushing what little hope remained. Each cry of alarm that echoed through the hazy tunnels, each shout of pain that issued forth from a fallen comrade, each new body stumbled over in the dark – it all drove home the reality of their present situation with a clarity that bordered on hopeless.

The dire urgency to flee in the opposite direction coursed through the darkened tunnels, a stream of collective unconscious thought bent on nothing more than survival at any cost.

- We can't leave them. Not here. Not like this.-

The voice of his host was so small and timid that it barely registered at first. The sadness he felt through their bond nearly sent him crashing into a prone body on the floor as he mentally turned inward in a desperate attempt at comfort. He didn't know what to say or how to begin to comprehend the grief that overwhelmed them both.

He stopped as a tidal wave of anguish and guilt washed over him. Dizzy, he let his hand rest on the smooth crystalline surface of the place he had once called home. The coolness seeped into his palm, calming, yet terribly reminiscent of a world that, until a few short hours before, had been a safe haven.

- Now it's nothing more than a glorified tomb. -

Malek leaned forward until his forehead was resting on his hand. He felt the chill from the cool stone leech some of the heat from his face, providing a slight amount of soothing physical comfort in the stifling smoke-filled tunnel.

There was no relief from the emotional pain.

He mentally reached out, his mind touching that of his host in a gesture of reassurance that neither of them were truly alone in this place. It was as much for his benefit as it was for Noah.

- I feel the same, Noah, but there is nothing that we can do here. We must try to save ourselves. -

He allowed himself a momentary glance toward the end of the tunnel. He knew, without seeing, the grisly sight that awaited him. Just around the corner, lying in a rumpled pile, were more mangled and lifeless bodies of the people he called friends. They were the closest thing he had to a family. His heart ached at the thought as a pang of regret tore through his frayed soul. He felt his stomach turn alarmingly and swallowed hard to keep from losing the contents of his lunch.

Swaying, he forced himself to take a deep breath.

Noah stirred deep within his mind, urgency temporarily replacing grief as shock gave way to the need for survival.

- I'm sorry. You are right, Mal, we need to hurry. Someone is approaching! -

The sound of distant footsteps was growing closer, the voices no longer muted by the cries of the damned and the dying.

- Jaffa! -

But Malek was no longer listening. He had allowed Noah's grief to penetrate his own heart and now he found that he didn't have the strength to go on. Still slumping against the cool crystal in exhaustion, his eyes were drawn to his hands, and something inside of him snapped. In the dim light that permeated the smoky darkness, the blood that stained his hands seemed unnaturally bright. They were a testament to his failure, a needless reminder that the world was crashing down around him and he had no one to blame but himself. He was the base commander and should have seen this coming. There had definitely been signs. Big, bold, glaring, neon signs as his friend Jacob would have said.

Jacob.

His best friend.

Was he alive or dead? Had he and Noah already stumbled over Jacob's body in the chaos and not even realized it?

- Malek? -

The pressure of angry tears, hot and traitorous, pricked dangerously at the corners of his eyes, but he refused to disgrace himself by allowing them the leisure of falling. There would be a time to mourn the dead and kill himself with guilt later. Perhaps he should die in this wretched place, but Noah's was an innocent life that he could not justify forfeiting. He wiped his hands frantically against his pants, trying vainly to rub away the blood, to remove the stain of crimson betrayal before it seeped any further into his soul.

Smoke billowed into the corridor from the direction they had been fleeing, burning his lungs, and he coughed as more tears, this time from the smoke, threatened to fall. Malek pushed away from the wall and rubbed an unsteady hand over his eyes. Whether it was to remove the blood, dirt, and tears, or in a futile attempt to remove the sight of so many kindred souls needlessly slaughtered, he wasn't sure. In the next instant, he found his feet moving again, drawn onward like a moth to a flame by a new sound, and the dim light of hope.

Stumbling through the vanishing darkness, familiar voices rang through the dim light now penetrating the tunnel as he drew closer to the gateroom. He carefully stepped over and around chunks of broken crystal and prone bodies on the floor. Some faces he knew, some he could no longer recognize, and some he refused to look at.

Involuntarily, his mind flashed back to his office and the first few moments of the attack. One second he was having a conversation with his second-in-command and the next second the man was lying on the floor, a pool of blood rapidly forming beneath his head as he gasped for breath. The light in the tunnels flickered dimly, casting everything into shadow.

He saw himself crawling towards the wounded man, hands pricked bloody by shards of crystal before he reached his friend. He shifted around the mass of fallen crystal until he could gently lift Tavin's upper body into his arms, cradling his head in the crook of his arm. His friend tried to speak but only a small stream of blood came rushing from his trembling lips.

In mute horror, amid the screams that echoed around them, Malek watched as one of his closest friends died in his arms. For a moment, his mind froze. The world faded away around him and he could hear nothing but his own heart pounding wildly in his ears. He couldn't move, couldn't breathe, couldn't hear his host screaming at him to run. Then everything happened in an awful rush of fear induced adrenaline that he hardly remembered sprinting from his office and into the heart of a disaster zone.

Shaking his head to clear it, Malek forced all thoughts of Tavin out of his mind. He needed to focus on the present if he had any hope of getting out of this alive. Rounding a corner, he was nearly blinded by the welcome light from a swirling vortex. Sweet relief coursed through his veins as his heart beat out a fretful cadence in time with the fearful voices of his surviving comrades. On the verge oblivion, he watched in awe as they vanished, two at a time, through the event horizon. But to where?

- To hope. -

Hope? Was there such a thing in the midst of such destruction? Could there really be sanctuary waiting for them on the other side? Or were they merely walking from one disaster straight into another?

"Time to go!"

There was a moment of confusion as he stepped forward, following his friends to salvation, and then there was pain. Acute and indiscriminate as a staff blast ripped through his side from behind.

His hands immediately flew toward the blinding pain. Warm blood oozed through his fingers as he stared dumbly at the wound as if trying to figure out what all the sticky red stuff on his hands was. Time and space melted together as he sank slowly to his knees. His vision blurred on an approaching figure, though be it friend or foe he could not say for sure.

- Don't leave me. -

Thoughts that mirrored his own echoed dully though his mind. Dreams of far away lands, and voices of dead friends swirled together in a seething mass of blinding blue fading leisurely to black as he finally crumpled completely to the floor.

Lights danced in front of his eyes, blocking the face that was fighting to surface. Eyes of the most majestic green smiled at him from beyond the darkness, beckoning him onward. He reached out but his hand closed on empty air.

Suddenly he felt strong arms slide around his waist. The floor disappeared from beneath him as pain shot through his side, up his spine, and behind his eyes. Effortlessly, he was drifting toward the light.

- We die free. -

His words or someone else's, it didn't matter in that moment. The truth of the statement rang clear in his mind, infinitesimally negating the horror of the moment. It followed him into the blissful embrace of negative space, a small comfort amid the agony of defeat.