The End of Last Stand

Horns blew. Footsteps pounded. Small twigs and the weak trunks of fallen trees cracked at progressively closer distances.

The young man leaned back against the lichen- and moss-covered tree he'd been left by, wearily closing his eyes and trying to listen attentively to the approaching clamor, the gray stormcloud of Jaffa closing in on his position. Once he arrived at their base camp, he could set everything right, kill three birds with one stone: a vial of poison. The enemy would be killed, his comrads would escae, and he would at last be at peace.

That reminded him of one of the novels he'd read in high school. Yes, he was definately "pulling a Sydney Carton," as his friend had called it.

His symbiote found the though amusing as well and with the little-noticed effort of expressing this, both of their minds went black, leaving a Tok'ra and a Tau'ri alone, undefended, and unconscious in the hands of a platoon of Jaffa.