Here is the conclusion/epilogue to this story. I hope you enjoyed it!

The Queen’s Best Part Seven
Rated: PG

Hathor stroked Jack on the cheek. Her fingers traced down his long neck towards his clothing. She ripped it open, exposing his strong chest. She continued to probe him, running her fingers through his fine chest hair and grinning lustfully, satisfied. He was clamped down helplessly to a table, unable to stop her advances.

“You will make a fine host,” she purred. “We always knew you belonged with us, in one form or another…Jaffa…or as our new king…”

“Go to hell,” Jack said, struggling against the heavy metal restraints pinning him to the table.

Hathor smirked. “It is useless to resist us,” she said, turning to pull the Goa’uld symbiote she intended to implant inside him out of the pouch of a nearby Jaffa.

Dramatically, knowing that Jack’s friends were about to witness his transformation, she whirled around with a flourish to reveal the Goa’uld now writhing in her hand, its beady red eyes glowing. When it saw Jack, strapped and half naked on the table, it shrieked, snapping its fanged head at him eagerly as if preparing to devour him. Hathor cooed at it gently as if it were a child and placed it on Jack’s bare chest. He recoiled when he felt the disgusting, leathery texture of the Goa’uld on his chest. He tried to move to get it away from him, but he was held down tightly, his motions limited by the restraints. He watched in horror as it began to slither towards the back of his neck.

“You are strong,” Hathor said. “You have the body of a warrior.” Once again, she ran the tip of her finger down his face.

Her finger was close enough for Jack to bite it, drawing blood. Hathor quickly drew her finger away, her expression a combination of anger and excitement. She laughed.

“You have spirit,” she said, grinning. “I admire that in you, our love. You are also stubborn. Those qualities will prove quite useful when you join us to defeat our rival System Lords.” She knelt close to his ear. “You are our warrior king, twice as powerful as Ra ever was,” she whispered.

The Goa’uld found the back of Jack’s neck. Hathor twisted his head to the side to allow for better penetration. Once again, Jack desperately tried to resist her, but she pressed a button near the table that rendered him completely paralyzed, his dark eyes transfixed on her as if in a hypnotic trance. For a brief moment, he thought he saw regret and sadness in her expression, something he didn’t expect from her. It faded quickly, though, and her eyes glowed. She laughed as the Goa’uld began to pierce his skin, tearing into his flesh. He screamed as the pain intensified, the sharp teeth of the symbiote gnawing at him, thrusting itself into his neck. For a brief moment, he thought he could see the despair on the faces of his team before he faded into oblivion, the Goa’uld taking control of his body and his mind.

These images shifted abruptly, and Jack found himself strangling MacGyver, his hand encased in a Goa’uld hand device. He tried to stop, horrified by the painful expression on his cousin’s face as he gasped for breath, but he couldn’t do anything. The Goa’uld in him forced him to squeeze tighter, slowly ending his cousin’s life.

“Mac, I’m sorry,” he sobbed.

“No…you’re…not…” MacGyver gasped.

“I can’t stop…I can’t…”

The images faded and changed again, this time revealing MacGyver strapped to the table, a Goa’uld symbiote slithering its way to his neck. He stood with Hathor, watching as his cousin was about to become a host. His eyes glowed, and he felt himself smiling, pleased with what was about to happen—but how could he be? How could he stand by and watch this happen?

“Soon, he will join our royal court and serve us,” Hathor said, smiling.

MacGyver screamed as the snake bored into the back of his neck.

***

“NO!” Jack shouted, jumping up and gasping.

Sweat poured down his face, and as he looked around, bewildered and terrified, trying to make sense of his surroundings, reality slowly returned to him and he discovered that he was in MacGyver’s bedroom, a twisted, tangled, sweaty mass of sheets entwined around his legs. Light streamed in through the filter of the window shade, and Jack realized how late it was in the morning, the clock on the nightstand reading 11:00. He had slept a long time, but to him it felt as if he had been asleep for weeks, the snake that had been inside him confining him into darkness and a state of dormancy. It still took him awhile to remember what it was like to be fully revived as himself again with nothing to control him. To be liberated from the overpowering influence of the Goa’uld seemed almost unreal, like a dream. He told himself that waking up in his cousin’s bedroom had to be nothing but a pleasant, tempting illusion meant to torment him while he remained a prisoner inside his mind.

Faint strumming of guitar chords could be heard downstairs, and Jack knew that it was MacGyver who was playing. Slowly, he got out of bed, feeling dizzy and weak, clutching the side of the bed until the spinning sensation subsided. He stumbled toward the door and down the spiral staircase, finding the act of walking under his own volition strange and almost foreign. It took him a moment to get used to it again. He approached his cousin quietly, watching him play and hoping not to disturb him. MacGyver looked pensive yet peaceful as he played, absorbed in his own thoughts, his head bent slightly toward the instrument. Jack smiled at him, glad to see that he hadn’t caused him any permanent damage while he was a Goa’uld. His smile faded as the almost melancholy chords MacGyver played touched him and triggered memories of Hathor’s strange post-mortem, human-like expression and MacGyver’s painful grimace as he inflicted torture on him, powerless to stop it.

Sensing his presence, MacGyver stopped playing and looked up at Jack. His cousin looked pale and drawn, his silvery hair disheveled and a vacant look to his dark eyes.

“Jack,” he said in concern, watching him carefully. He placed his guitar aside, laying it down on the sofa near him. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m not a human puppet anymore,” Jack said, a ghost of a smile on his face. “Thanks for asking.”

“Your team called me here this morning while you slept,” MacGyver said. “Thor contacted them, and he said he’s already working on improving the Goa’uld removing machine used by the Ancients. He told them that he thinks he can modify it to the point that anyone will be able to use it, not just Ancients. That means there’s hope for all those hosts out there. It could soon signal the end of the Goa’uld.”

“Well, that’s just dynamite,” Jack said, smirking. He turned and headed toward the kitchen.

“Would you like me to make you some breakfast?” MacGyver asked, watching him.

“No thanks, I’ve got it,” Jack said, opening the refrigerator.

He wrinkled his nose in disgust at the lack of promising food in the almost barren space. He found a glass pitcher of orange juice and took it out, standing over the sink.

“There are some glasses in the cupboard near the…”

MacGyver didn’t get to finish his sentence. He watched in surprise as Jack angrily hurled the pitcher into the sink, shattering it and sending fragments flying.

“Damn it! For crying out loud! Can’t a guy get a decent drink around here like a beer or something?” He shouted.

MacGyver approached him carefully, knowing his frustration had nothing to do with the absence of alcohol in his house. Jack sighed deeply and collected himself, gathering the broken fragments and tossing them in the trash. He did it so quickly that he cut his finger in the process.

“Let me help you,” MacGyver said, grabbing a paper towel to apply pressure to Jack’s bleeding cut and offering it to him.

“Oh, don’t make a big fuss about it! I can manage,” Jack growled, turning violently away from MacGyver, humiliated. He hated anyone, including family, seeing him so vulnerable.

Even with his back turned, MacGyver could tell that Jack was sobbing. He was quiet and subtle about it, but the small, convulsive movements of his shoulders couldn’t keep it completely hidden from MacGyver.

“Jack,” he said quietly. “It’s gonna get better. You have to believe that.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Jack said, his voice cracking with emotion. “Don’t even try to get into my thoughts and talk to me that way, either, because I won’t say anything.”

“I wasn’t going to do any such thing,” MacGyver said. “You know how I still feel about the whole…telepathy thing, even if it did help us find a way to save you.”

“Yeah, well, whatever,” Jack mumbled.

“Listen, Jack…”

Jack turned around to face MacGyver, his eyes burning with rage. “What do you want?” He barked. “You want some kind of serious talk about what happened to me? Well, forget it! I’m done talking about it!”

“All right,” MacGyver said. “How about we don’t talk about it anymore? How about we move on and continue with our lives?”

“Fine by me,” Jack said.

“Jack,” MacGyver said, smiling. “How about I buy you a beer?”

Jack’s features softened, and he even managed to smile. “I’d like that,” he said.

“Let’s go, then.”

The two of them walked out the front door of MacGyver’s houseboat, into the world and on to new adventures.

The End