Jacquie's Fan Fic Pages

Tunnel Vision

Tok'ra, kree!" A guard's voice rang out in alarm deep within the tunnels of Vorash.

"Oh, what now?" Jacob Carter wondered aloud.

Martouf smiled, apparently appreciating his sarcasm.

It had been a very busy month for both freedom fighters. Jacob had been captured by a rogue system lord, detained and tortured on a hell like planet. Martouf, along with a team from Earth had attempted to rescue him, and in the process, had been caught along with him. All had narrowly escaped, though in Jacob's mind, it was like any airplane landing you can walk away from -- a successful operation. Although his mission had been botched, he was alive and Sokar and Apophis were now dead.

It had taken the better part of the last three weeks to heal and debrief. He had spent a few days on Earth with Sam, and then had flown to San Diego to visit his son, daughter-in-law and two grandchildren. He had been near death, and spending time with his family had helped to ground himself. Made him believe that living the life of a Tok'ra, with all its inherent danger, was actually worth it.

His life revolved from crisis to crisis. That's just the way it was. And until the Tok'ra defeated the System Lords, it wasn't likely to change. Jacob knew only one thing: when that day finally came, he would go home to Earth and spend more time with his family.

He hurried with Martouf down the busy corridor towards the main transport hall. The rings were just arriving, delivering a large group of people. Obviously they were not a threat or the guards on the surface would never have allowed their passage.

Suddenly recognizing who the group was, he called out in disbelief. "Sam?"

His daughter was with a ragtag group of soldiers and one of her teammates, the former First Prime of Apophis, Teal'c. Most wore base dress uniforms, a few were in Air Force blue and several wore lab coats. A couple were being carried, obviously injured and covered in bloody, hastily applied bandages. Whatever had happened, happened very quickly, and from the look of things, it had been a hasty retreat. "What the hell happened?"

"We had to evacuate the SGC!" Sam spurted out, her voice heavy with adrenaline. "General Hammond stayed behind and blew the base. Dad, everything is gone."

"Samantha, what do you mean by everything?" Martouf asked.

"I mean, Martouf," she said after catching her breath. "That the Earth has been taken over by something the Asgard call the Replicators. Within days everything on the planet, everyone on the planet, will be completely destroyed. Total annihilation."

"Oh my God," Jacob uttered in disbelief. Other Tok'ra were beginning to gather in the now crowded corridor, already attending to the injured Tau'ri.

"A small group of us barely managed to get out in time," explained a major Jacob remembered meeting a few months ago.

"Davis, right?"

"Yes sir," he affirmed. "Colonel O'Neill sent us here with our wounded to seek your help. We gated to the Alpha site and were overrun with Jaffa. We lost six people before we could gate out again."

"Whose Jaffa?" Jacob asked, prompted by Selmak.

"Those of Heru'ur, General Carter." Teal'c said as a Tok'ra healer divested him of a wounded soldier he was carrying in his arms. "The base had been burned to the ground before our arrival. They left nothing."

"Where's Daniel?"

"He's out with SG-13 digging on P3X-889," Sam explained. "Our first priority was to find someplace safe to go. With the Alpha site gone, we dialed up a barren world before coming here. We're lucky you're still on Vorash or we'd have no way of contacting you."

Jacob winced, and Selmak quickly assumed control of their shared body. "Martouf, find quarters for these people and see to their immediate needs."

"Of course," Martouf replied and quickly exited the chamber.

Selmak pointed to a short, brunette woman. "You are the Tau'ri physician?"

"Yes," she nodded. "Janet Fraiser."

"Our healers will confer with you. How many are injured?"

"One critical, four major, twelve minor."

"Major Carter, how many refugees in all?" Per'sus asked as he walked into the chamber. Selmak watched his host's daughter flinch at being thought of as refugees.

"Thirty-four."

"We will discuss the details of your remaining with us after your wounded are treated and your people secured." The new High Councilor's aide whispered something inaudible, as he went on. "Who is in charge of your group?"

"Colonel O'Neill." Sam said as she dabbed at a small cut on her head.

"These... Replicators. They are contained on your world?"

"Yes."

"You are certain of this?" Per'sus inquired further, not looking convinced.

"Councilor Per'sus, the self-destruct system built into the facility was initiated by General Hammond. The resulting explosion would have effectively destroyed the SGC, as well as killing over 200 people and the chaapa-ai." Teal'c said, his usual stoic tone tinged with anger.

Selmak listened in silence to the exchange. The newly appointed Tok'ra leader was simply being thorough in querying the Tau'ri about this new threat. If this enemy could simply appear almost without warning and destroy a planet in a number of days, then it was prudent to be sure the technologically inferior Tau'ri had not accidentally brought this danger with them to Vorash. Jacob however, was incensed.

"The explosive was laced with naquadah," Sam added, exhaustion readily apparent in her voice. "Nothing would have survived for two kilometers surrounding the base. We gated from the Alpha site to a planet with no known life in order to make sure they were contained. We tried unsuccessfully to open the gate back to Earth, but it's gone. Everyone and everything on Earth will be completely destroyed within days. If maybe we could take a ship at some point and--"

"We will discuss the possibility," Per'sus interrupted curtly.

Jacob was devastated over the news that Earth had fallen to some unknown alien race. That he would never again see his son or daughter-in-law, or his two grandchildren. That only thirty-four out of six billion would survive. Selmak reminded him that he was one of the lucky ones. His daughter was alive. And for now at least, she would be staying with the Tok'ra.

Pushing the shock to the back of his mind, he took back control of his body and gently took Sam's hand into his own. For a moment, she looked up at him and they shared a sorrow filled glance. She understood too, he thought. He could see it in her eyes.

He took a deep breath and mentally prepared himself to get back to business. "Okay, Teal'c, we'll assign you an escort and you'll go back and get the rest of your group. Sam?"

"Yeah, we'll fill you in on the rest," she said squeezing his hand for a moment before letting go.

Jacob watched Teal'c as he silently confirmed his orders with Sam. A simple look and a nod were all the exchange required. They had been through a lot as a team, he knew. No doubt they were very much in sync with each other. Still, he wondered at the former First Prime of Apophis taking orders from a female second-in-command of a four person unit. Not that he questioned his daughter's ability to command, but rather was surprised by Teal'c's willingness to accept her orders. Hell, he was still surprised that Teal'c took orders from O'Neill and had pledged himself to serving Earth. Selmak didn't quite understand it either.

"What a goddamned mess!" Jacob said, shaking off his current train of thought. "Come on, we'll tend to your wounded and then we'll talk."

*****

Major Samantha Carter followed a Tok'ra soldier through the seemingly endless tunnels in the subterranean base. Her mind was numb and her body hurt, but compared to many others she was doing well. At least on the outside. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the faces of those left behind - her brother, her niece and nephew, and Cassie. Her heart bled for Janet, and for the young girl she almost considered her own, but she wouldn't let anyone under her command see her grief, and at the moment that included everyone who had come with them to Vorash.

There would be time to mourn eventually, and Sam thought if she could just keep herself busy enough, then maybe she wouldn't have to think about it at all, ever. She couldn't help but feel some measure of relief that her team got out. It was selfish she realized, but maybe later she could forgive herself. Forgive herself for surviving.

She spared a minute to think about the sacrifice General Hammond had made for them all. Her teammates and two other SG units had gathered as many personnel and supplies as was possible in the short amount of time they had before gating to the doomed Alpha site. The SGC had already been sealed off from the rest of Cheyenne Mountain to protect the stargate from the Replicators but NORAD had been one of places first hit. As if they somehow knew the importance of what lay beneath.

Sam thought the General meant to come with them, and obviously Colonel O'Neill had as well. At the last possible minute, the General had insisted he be the one to stay behind and initiate the self-destruct sequence. When the Colonel refused to leave him behind, General Hammond had drawn an HK and ordered them to leave at gunpoint.

Their last trip through Earth's stargate had landed them straight into a fire fight. Within minutes of arriving they had lost another six people, and a dozen more had been seriously injured. They were currently being treated by Dr. Fraiser and the Tok'ra healers, and she was being escorted to the main healing chamber to check on the wounded.

Before she could ask, an unfamiliar Tok'ra approached her and Major Davis, and led them to the side of the room. As the Tok'ra's voice reverberated, she knew the symbiote was currently in control. "Your wounded have been attended to, Major Carter. All but two have been released to temporary quarters."

"Thank you," Sam said as she quickly scanned the room. Two of the massive stone slabs which passed for beds were occupied. Lieutenant Astor sat on one of the rocks; her legs dangling over the edge. Tears were falling down over her cheek, but there was little evidence of the staff blast which had caught her shoulder only an hour ago. Another Tok'ra was using a healing device on her back. Physically she would be fine, Sam gauged as she looked over to the other bed.

She saw Janet standing over Lieutenant Simmons. The young control officer had taken two staff blasts to the chest seconds after she arrived through the stargate at the Alpha site. He had been trying to warn her about the attack, and in the process made himself a target. Sam was surprised when Teal'c announced that somehow, Simmons was still alive and had scooped him up while she quickly dialed them out. But she hadn't been fast enough.

"How is he?" she whispered.

One grim look from Janet told her everything she needed to know.

"What about a symbiote?" she asked, though she had already guessed the answer.

"His injuries are far too severe," the Tok'ra explained.

"You can cure cancer, but you can't save him?"

"Sam," Janet said quietly. "He's lost too much blood."

Sam closed her eyes, trying for a moment to shut everything out. Just like a child, she thought. Hot, angry tears began to well up. She tried to blink them away, but a few snuck out unchecked and she wiped them quickly with her sleeve. A hand suddenly squeezed her shoulder and she couldn't decide between pulling away or relaxing into the light touch, so she did neither. She wanted nothing more at that moment than to let someone, anyone, take her responsibilities away just for a while. She'd had quite enough for one day.

But she wouldn't let go. She couldn't let go. Not until everyone left was safe, the Colonel returned, and Graham Simmons was no longer in pain.

"I'd like to stay with him for awhile," she said as she opening her eyes to find Major Davis next to her, his hand still on her shoulder. Not surprised, she straightened up as he let go.

"I'll go and see if Colonel O'Neill is back," he said turning to leave.

"Wait," she called him back. "Can you help me get him off this damned rock?"

With a nod, he helped her carry the young lieutenant over to the far side of the room. She slid down the smooth crystal wall to the floor and Davis lowered him down into her arms. There was blood everywhere, but she tried not to let it bother her. Carefully, she nestled his head and shoulders in her lap, trying to make him as comfortable as possible under the circumstances.

Simmons began to writhe a bit, and she pulled him tighter into her arms as she whispered in his ear, unaware if he could still hear her or not. "It's okay," she shushed him. "You'll be okay. I'm here Graham... I'm here."

Instead of leaving, Davis settled himself down beside them, apparently unwilling to leave her alone with Simmons. She wasn't sure if she wanted to be alone with the dying lieutenant either. They sat quietly for several minutes, as she felt the rise and fall of his chest starting to break cadence.

"His birthday is next week," she blurted out suddenly, needing to hear something other than Graham's ragged breathing. "I didn't know until somebody sent the card around for me to sign. He'll be twenty-five."

"He has an exemplary record," Davis offered.

"You've read his record?"

He looked uncomfortable as he replied, "It's part of my job."

"Did it tell you that today was his first trip through the stargate? Not to mention his last." She tried to shake off her fear, but with the warmth from the blood that had begun to pool in her lap, it only increased. She looked over at the major, and felt a need to keep talking. "Daniel told me that Graham had a crush on me, last year."

"One of many at the SGC, I'm sure." He said, giving her a half-hearted smile.

"I was so oblivious," she continued, ignoring his comment. "So totally absorbed in my work, that I never even noticed."

"It's not your fault, Sam."

"I know," she replied and looked down at Graham, brushing her chin over his damp, sticky hair. She didn't want to talk about it. Intellectually, she knew he was right, but hearing the words only made her stomach clench. Her brain was busy showing her Simmons getting shot over and over like a recording stuck on a continuous, sickening loop. She closed her eyes tightly, trying to force it to stop. "But it sure feels like it."

They held watch in silence for several minutes. Graham was getting heavy in her lap. Her buttocks and legs were starting to go numb along with the rest of her, but she didn't care. She wasn't going to leave him alone to die. Next to her she felt Davis shift around a bit, probably trying to restore his own circulation.

She heard a gurgling sound and looked down at Graham's mouth. Tiny, foaming bubbles of blood spilled down over his chin. As he desperately tried to breathe, she started to panic, and her eyes darted around looking for help. Again, she felt Paul's hand on her shoulder, and turned to face him. He shook his head gently and whispered, "Let him go, Sam."

Somehow she resisted the urge to call Janet.

Slowly, she rocked Simmons in her protective embrace. She softly stroked his cheek, as he sputtered and struggled for the longest seconds of her life. It was so unfair, she thought, he didn't deserve this. He had been trying to protect her. "I'm sorry Graham," she apologized as he died in her arms. "I am so sorry..."

She shut her eyes again and tried not to think about anything. Not about Earth, not about duty, not about the dead man in her arms. She rested her head on the shoulder beside her and just sat.

*****

Paul Davis had spent the last fifteen minutes with Major Carter while a baby faced lieutenant slowly bled to death in her arms. He could see she was fighting to maintain her composure, and truth be told, so was he. All in all, he decided, it had been one truly shitty day. He supposed it could be worse. He could, after all, be back on Earth being torn apart by metallic lego spiders.

Even so, he was uneasy about being deep within the base of the Tok'ra resistance. Like Lt. Simmons, until today he had never actually been through the stargate. Had never been off world. He'd met a few members of the Tok'ra briefly - former General Jacob Carter and Martouf, but had never really had to deal with them either. He was a liaison and a diplomat, and considered himself good at what he did. For all that, he knew he was considered a desk jockey by the members of the now nonexistent Stargate Command.

Before today, he had guessed that at some point he might be called in to negotiate with them, perhaps even assist with a formal treaty, but now there would be no need for that. And now what? He was stranded with thirty-two other men and women from Earth, twenty feet underground. That number might rise slightly, he knew. There were three other SG teams stuck out there somewhere. Surely Colonel O'Neill would make finding them a priority in the next few days.

"May I take him now?" A Tok'ra healer interrupted.

Davis looked down at Carter, and left the decision to her. He wasn't about to rush her into letting the lieutenant go, either physically or emotionally. At her nod, the healer gently lifted Simmons' body and took him somewhere out of the room, leaving them alone. He was surprised by how respectful the Tok'ra appeared to be, and wondered briefly if their funeral practices were even remotely similar to those on Earth. He knew he would find out soon enough.

"You okay?" he asked Sam quietly.

"Yeah."

"You need a minute?"

"More than that," she mumbled, staring into the floor. "But I'll settle for five."

He started to get up, intending to give her some privacy, but as her brave front suddenly dissolved, he found he couldn't leave. Instinctually, he pulled her close and she turned into his embrace, burying her head into his shoulder.

Though she was shaking, her sobs were silent and restrained and he knew she was holding back. They only had a few minutes before something else would require their attention, and as closely as they had worked together over the last week going over the specs for the almost completed X-301, he knew he wasn't going to be the one to comfort her. That would be reserved for someone who knew her better, her father maybe, or one of her teammates. Or perhaps she would seek solace from Martouf, he thought. From the reports he'd read, they had a unique though twisted, bond.

As he held her in his arms, he struggled to keep his own emotions in check. The devastation gnawed at him. As much as this desperately needed time out was meant for her, he realized he needed it as much as she did. He wanted to tell her that everything was going to be all right, that they were going to be okay, but he couldn't bring himself to say the words. He wasn't sure he believed them. So he stayed silent and concentrated on keeping his own living nightmare at bay.

Abruptly, she squeezed him tighter and then let up a bit. Her breathing had slowed down, her tears were gone, and he was suddenly aware of how close she actually was. Taking a deep breath, he whispered, "Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"You ready?"

"Yeah."

Paul pulled away and got up off of the hard crystal floor. He caught her elbow and helped her up, and they stood together a few inches apart. Her deep blue eyes stared into his, and he saw his own grief reflected there. A moment passed between them in silence and she looked as if she was going to say something, but then turned away staring at something behind him.

"Martouf," she said, the surprise in her voice apparent. Davis turned around and found the Tok'ra standing in the entrance to the chamber. He wondered how long Martouf had been there.

"I did not wish to intrude, Samantha." Martouf said. "I came to tell you that temporary quarters have been constructed and your wards are settling in. We have seen to their immediate needs, and mostly they are resting."

"Thanks. Is there any word from Colonel O'Neill?"

"Not as yet."

"I would have expected them to return by now," Paul noted.

"It has not been that long since the escort left, Major Davis. They will likely return soon. In the meantime, perhaps both of you would like to get cleaned up and have something to eat? Some in your group had not eaten in over a day."

At the mention of food, Paul cringed. After everything that had happened, he wasn't feeling particularly hungry and part of him felt sick at the thought. Still, he knew it had been hours since he'd had anything to eat, and maybe it would help settle his stomach. "Yeah, that's a good idea," he managed.

"That's probably a good idea," Sam said at the same time.

"Good," Martouf nodded. "We'll stop on the way and find both of you clean clothing."

Paul looked down at his once white uniform shirt. It was torn, covered in dirt and speckled with his own blood from mostly minor cuts he hadn't yet attended to. His one larger wound was only skin-deep, but ran the width of his chest - a souvenir from the doomed Alpha site. It had been bandaged by one of Fraiser's medics on the staging planet. As the battle induced adrenaline had worn off, it had really started to sting. He also sported a large red-brown stain from where he'd been holding Sam. It would definitely be good to get cleaned up, he thought.

He glanced over at Carter as she briefly inspected her own uniform. The black and green BDU's almost concealed the sheer amount of blood soaked into them. He saw her fingers trace the bottom of the stain just below her thighs and she nodded at the Tok'ra. He watched Martouf gently move Sam's hand away from her bloodied uniform and grasp it within his own. Then the Tok'ra ushered her out of the chamber.

Davis followed them quickly into the maze that was the Tok'ra base. He hoped he never found his way back to that room ever again.

*****

As he led the two Tau'ri majors to a washing chamber, Martouf was still having difficulty believing that their world, the First World, was now under the control of an alien race. Lantash snapped deep within his mind, and reminded him that if he was having trouble comprehending it, then he should be extremely concerned with just how Samantha and her companions were going to handle living through the destruction of their world. They will adapt, he assured his soul mate, they are tenacious and resourceful.

'They will need to grieve first,' Lantash reminded him.

'Yes,' Martouf agreed. 'And it will be a long process.'

Subconsciously, Martouf carried on his conversation with his symbiote. Almost instantaneously, thoughts passed between them without the barriers of words... about how to deal with the newly arrived, whether or not they would stay with the Tok'ra, and how they would handle being near Samantha Carter on a regular basis.

"This place should come with a map," Major Davis unknowingly interrupted.

"I will show you a layout of the facility later if you would like," Martouf answered.

"That would definitely help."

Major Davis fell silent behind him, and Martouf found his attention captured again by the young woman on his right.

"You may clean up here. This bathing chamber is for our soldiers, and there are spare sets of clothing." He said, pointing out the darker colored uniforms many of his comrades seemed to prefer since Per'sus had become High Councilor. Lantash wasn't sure if the new look was political or simply a fashion statement. An odd one at that, he added.

"Thanks," Samantha said quietly as her eyes darted around the room and then at Davis and back to him.

"I'll change over there," Major Davis said suddenly as he grabbed a handful of clothing and headed to the far side of the slightly darkened room.

Martouf wondered for a moment at the awkward exchange between them before remembering that the Tau'ri sought privacy for such everyday events as washing and changing. Another difference for them to become used to while they are here, he thought.

He saw Samantha's hesitation, and went to retrieve a shirt and a pair of trousers for her from the trunk. "These may be a bit large, but they will be more comfortable than what you are wearing."

"Yeah, my uniform is pretty much soaked." She looked down at her shirt again, and it seemed obvious to him that she was reliving her recent memories.

"Did you know him well?" he asked.

"Simmons? Not as well as he would have liked."

"I am sorry he will not have the opportunity."

She chose not to say anything more, and turned away from him as she threw off her thoroughly stained jacket. As she started to pull off her undershirt, he heard a stifled, "Ouch!"

"Wait," he warned, moving quickly to inspect her back before she could finish. He found several light cuts and bruising between her shoulder blades. "The blood is dried and is pulling. Let me."

"I guess I scraped up my back more than I thought," she said.

He gathered the ruined material from the bottom and carefully pulled it up until he felt subtle resistance. "I am going to have to cut the shirt off."

"Okay."

He withdrew a sharp knife from his belt, and expertly pulled it through the flimsy fabric. When he indicated he was done, she pulled what was left of the shirt over her head. "You'll need to take off your underclothing, as well." He watched as she reached behind her back to unhook the garment, and she let it simply fall to the floor.

Martouf was somewhat surprised when she didn't immediately cover her breasts, though her back was still towards him. She is probably too exhausted to care, Lantash surmised. "Samantha, I'm going to wash the wounds so the fabric will come off. It may bleed a little bit."

"It's minor, just do it."

"It should still be covered," he insisted.

"I'm not bothering Janet," she blurted out. The forcefulness of her objection startled him.

"As you said it's minor," he replied trying to placate her. "I did not intend for you to trouble your physician. I can treat it for you."

"You're right," she consented. "You must have tended to hundreds of injuries in your lifetime."

"Too many," he said.

"I just didn't want to bother Janet. She's been through a lot."

"You have all been through a lot, Samantha."

"Yes, but she lost her daughter today, Martouf. So just drop it!"

Her outburst caught the attention of Major Davis and Martouf saw the Tau'ri look over at them from across the chamber. Just as quickly he turned away, obviously uncomfortable with Samantha's current state of undress.

He had been preparing to simply clean the wounds, when Lantash had another idea. Instead, he retrieved a healing device from a small cabinet on the wall. Fitting it to his hand, he concentrated for a moment, and let his symbiote assume control of their shared body.

"You will feel warmth as the healing device begins to work. It will only take a moment." Lantash explained, as he held the device between her shoulder blades. Within seconds, the crystal began to glow as it sprang into life. The cuts and bruises healed seamlessly before his eyes, as though they never existed.

Finished with her back he deftly moved in front of her, attending to the cut at the crown of her head before she could protest. The wound healed, he moved behind her again and inspected his work thoroughly, taking a moment to appreciate her beautifully shaped back. "Done," he told her, taking the device off his hand.

"Too bad it can't just erase the last twenty-four hours," she said grabbing a cloth next to the raised tub.

In deference to her, he moved away as she washed up, using the time to heal Major Davis' abrasions. As he used the device on the Tau'ri, he wondered how well the two knew each other, after having watched them together in the healing chamber. He also took note of the lengthy, but mostly superficial gash across Davis' chest. It was covered in a kind of clear, protective sheath. "A knife wound?" he asked, knowing it was so.

"Yes," Davis confirmed.

"What happened?" Lantash probed as he worked to heal the cut, wondering about the circumstances behind this particular attack. The edges of the wound were scrolled, indicating the use of a ritual blade used by Jaffa priests. All other wounds sustained by the Tau'ri were from staff weapons, the healers had informed him.

"I got in the way," he said flatly, and offered no additional information.

Obviously the young officer was unwilling to talk about it, so Lantash held off from further query, asking Martouf to revisit the topic at a later time. Such a wound could be significant.

When Samantha was dressed, she turned back towards him, almost looking like a tek'nal, he thought. And very much like Jolinar. He tried to bury the thought by nodding approvingly at her and wished he could spare her the immense grief and pain she would have to endure in coming days. "I am sorry," he said. "For all you have had to suffer through."

"Thanks," she said quietly as she pulled on an over tunic.

"Well, can I pass for a Tok'ra?" she asked.

"Of course," he nodded as Major Davis joined them. "Both of you."

"I don't know how well that's going to go over," she muttered, obviously unsure.

"It's not as though we had a choice," Davis said in a reassuring voice.

"Your uniforms were heavily soiled and in need of repair," he reminded her. "Why should it matter?"

"It shouldn't," she said.

As the daughter of Jacob Carter, host to Selmak, as well as being a former host to Jolinar, the Tok'ra considered her one of their own. And as all of the Tau'ri were dedicated to fighting the Goa'uld system lords, there were all in essence, Tok'ra.

Lantash didn't understand the problem.

"Didn't you say something about food?" Samantha asked.

"Of course," he said with an apologetic glance. "This way."

He would have to ask her about it later, he thought, and added it to his mental list. He allowed Martouf to take control of their body, and led them back into the tunnels.

*****

Colonel Jack O'Neill was not a happy camper.

He had been to hell and back recently, and he considered today a return visit. His right knee was shot, not quite literally, and he was furiously tired. He had sent half his team ahead to see if the Tok'ra were home and accepting visitors, and was still angry at Daniel for having the nerve to currently be off world with SG-13 fawning over rocks. Well, he thought, at least Daniel was probably safe. For the moment.

He couldn't say that for the rest of his group. They were taking cover in the trees close to the stargate on a planet only Carter seemed to remember. The demolished Alpha site had been heavily guarded by snake heads, and he'd lost half a dozen survivors to that unexpected disaster. He had sent Carter, Teal'c and Davis ahead with the wounded to scout whether the Tok'ra were still on Vorash. If they weren't, several of the injured soldiers were likely to die anyway, so he took the chance.

He was starting to lose faith when suddenly, the first chevron on the stargate lit up. "Look sharp!" he ordered. Pulling himself back into low brush cover, he trained his weapon just in front of the opening gate. He wasn't about to lose anyone else today.

"About bloody time!" he yelled as Teal'c walked out of the blue, swirling vortex. Korra, Aldwin and six other Tok'ra soldiers accompanied him. Lowering his weapon, the Colonel motioned for everyone to gather close to the DHD.

"We returned as quickly as was possible, O'Neill." Teal'c replied.

"How many are here?" Aldwin asked.

"Including me, thirteen."

"We should return quickly," Korra said, already dialing the gate.

"No argument here," he replied as the gate whooshed open.

Years of military discipline kept his eyes and weapon ready over the exposed area of the gate while the few still under protection fled to safety. When the last of his men had stepped through, Colonel O'Neill crossed into the blue event horizon and within seconds found himself on the sandy, rock scattered world of Vorash.

Jack hated this planet.

It was barren and dull with no oceans, no trees and no cities. And for the moment, it was home. He hated that most of all.

He didn't feel like chatting as the Tok'ra led them to the transportation rings, and for a moment he let his mind wonder how they knew exactly where to stand when there was no visible platform of any kind. He thought about asking, it might be important if they were going to stay here for any length of time. He tried to bury that thought, but as he felt his body thrust down through twenty feet of solid rock, it seemed prudent not to think about anything being buried for too long.

Just what the hell were they going to do now?

As the tunnels materialized around him, he saw his second approach him; her father just behind her. She looked exhausted, but cleaner than the last time he had seen her. He immediately tensed as he noticed that both her and Davis were wearing Tok'ra style outfits. "Carter?" he asked gruffly.

"All of our injured personnel have been treated," she reported. "Thanks to the Tok'ra and the healing devices, all but one will recover."

"Simmons?" Jack asked, his voice low. When she didn't answer, he glared at Davis.

"He didn't make it, sir."

"New quarters have all been grown," Jacob interjected. "And your people are settling down for the night. The High Council is considering whether or not you'll be able to stay on an extended basis."

"Thanks," was all he was able to say. Jack knew he should be grateful. Grateful that they were now safe for the moment, that there were any survivors at all, and that he and his team were among them.

Beyond the basics of human survival, he had no idea of what to do next. He wasn't sure he really wanted to stay with the group of reformed snake heads. He wasn't about to let anyone under his command consent to becoming a host, and without that concession the Tok'ra probably wouldn't let them stay. No matter how much influence Jacob thought he might have with the Tok'ra council, that one little matter was always going to stand in the way.

"Quarters are this way, Jack." Jacob piped up, and led them down one of the tunnels.

The former USAF General showed them the recently grown chambers they would be living in for the foreseeable future. All those ranked Captain or higher had their own space with everyone else sharing two or more to a room. He was next door to Carter, with Teal'c on the other side and Davis across the hall. Jacob mentioned that Dr. Fraiser was given an anteroom off the main Tok'ra healing chamber. Overall, it wasn't too bad. The lack of doors more than annoyed him though, and he could almost see directly into Davis' quarters.

"A few curtains would do wonders," he quipped.

Jacob sighed, "I'm sure we can come up with something if it bothers you."

"Lots of things about this bother me."

"I know, Jack. It sucks."

He peered into Carter's small abode and saw a few things neatly laid out. There were blankets on a slightly raised bed, and a small trunk was open revealing among other things: a Goa'uld hand device, a healing device, and several sets of Tok'ra clothing. He stared hard at her, taking in her appearance, and snapped without thinking, "Didn't take you long to move in, did it?"

"Sir?" she questioned, confusion written all over her face.

In the moment he no longer cared, the sudden surge of fury overwhelming every other impulse in his utterly drained body. "Let's get one thing straight Carter," he tore into her. "We are not... repeat... not going to be joining the Tok'ra even if we do stay here. Do you understand that, Major?"

"Go to hell, sir!" she threw back as she turned and bolted from the corridor. Martouf gave him a furious glance as he swiftly ran after her.

He was about to go after them, but a firm grip on his arm stopped him. "Let her go, Jack. You've all been through enough today."

Barely able to keep himself in check, he glared at Jacob who quickly let go of him, but didn't back away.

"With all due respect, Colonel..." Major Davis intervened, his usual diplomatic grace suddenly gone. "Give her a fucking break. Her uniform was soaked through with blood. Simmons bled to death in her arms ten minutes after we got here."

He didn't reply to Davis' outburst. Every ounce of him was crying out to say something. To find some snappy, sarcastic comeback to combat the bleak situation they found themselves in. But nothing popped into his head. Nothing, except the total and utter crap of the last twelve hours. He could see Hammond's face as clear in his mind's eye as the damned crystal walls all around them. Simmons' face too, was etched in his brain; the few seconds in which he so royally screwed up and got himself killed for the privilege. He should never have been in the field, and wouldn't have, except for today.

Today, when only a minute ago, he'd yelled at Carter because she'd had the nerve to change out a bloodied uniform. When, of all people, the damned Pentagon pencil pusher had told him what for. And then, Colonel Jack O'Neill had shut up, and shut down. At the moment he didn't care who saw or what they thought. He just didn't give a damn. He turned into the wall with both arms supporting him, and cursed the whole frigging universe for throwing this on his plate.

"O'Neill," Teal'c broke in a few minutes later.

"What?" he yelled back, angry as hell.

"Our people are safe here," the Jaffa said. "We should clean up, eat and rest. We need not do anything more tonight."

If anyone-- anyone but Teal'c had said anything at that moment, he might have torn them limb from limb right then and there.

But it was Teal'c.

"Yeah," he sighed. "Okay."

*****

"Samantha?"

On some level she heard Lantash calling her. Though it was usually Martouf who addressed her by her full given name, she could count the number of times he had done so on one hand, so infrequently did they have contact with the Tok'ra and Martouf in particular. In fact, she was sure she could count the number of times Lantash had said her name on one finger. She stopped and turned around to face him, not in a mood to chat.

"What?" she grumbled at him.

"You still have not eaten."

"I'm not hungry."

"You cannot care for your people if you do not care for yourself," he insisted. "You must eat something and then rest."

"Lantash--" she started.

"You may consider it an order if you wish."

"Excuse me?" she said, absolutely indignant. "I don't take orders from anyone except Colonel O'Neill, and as you can see at the moment... I'm not too keen on that either." Never in her life had she screamed at her superior officer and certainly she had never, ever walked out on him. Maybe she had acted like a child, but he had jumped to one hell of a conclusion. She hoped both were squarely the result of exhaustion. Still, right or wrong, the guilt was already starting to bubble in her brain.

"Jacob charged me with ensuring that you eat and get at least four hours of sleep before allowing you to do anything else." The Tok'ra stated curtly.

"Allowing me?" she repeated slowly, not liking at all where this was going.

"Yes," he pressed. "He wished me to remind you that as an Air Force General, he is still your superior officer and to relay this as his order if you objected."

Lantash's eyes flashed deep yellow, yet she knew it wasn't a change from symbiote to host. From the memories Jolinar left in her mind she knew they also shone when the Tok'ra was angry, impassioned or amused. She kicked herself as she finally clued in and recognized the look on his face. He was teasing her, attempting to lighten her mood. Yes, he was most definitely amused, she thought. She wondered why she hadn't seen it before.

"You know what I hate most?" she asked, trying to respond in kind.

"That he is right?"

"Yes," she nodded. "And that you're conspiring with him."

"Only because it shadows my own agenda," he said.

"Which is?"

"To get you into bed."

She chortled and staring hard into his dancing eyes, it dawned on her. "You're flirting with me."

"This surprises you?"

"Yes," she admitted.

"Why?"

"Well, aside from your questionable timing, it's a side of you I haven't seen before," she explained. "At least in my memory."

"That is simply the lack of time we've had together, Samantha." He was smiling openly at her now, and despite her current state of exhaustion, she found it hard not to return the gesture.

She knew he had followed her to calm her down and to do exactly as her father wanted, but she also believed that he did care for her. At least on some level. Without further thought, she surrendered to his demands. "Which way to the kitchen?"

*****

After quickly downing a liquid meal replacement, which certainly tasted better than any similar substance she'd had back home, Sam admitted she was drained. A few hours of sleep was exactly what she needed, and now Martouf was taking her back to her quarters. As they wound their way through the base, she found herself absorbed by the bluish-grey crystals which formed the base. "Why is the tunnel structure so different on Vorash?"

"The crystalline formation of the tunnels changes according to the composition of minerals they are created from. This planet has a higher level of iron and boron than our previous planet. I will explain further after you have slept if you wish."

"Okay," she agreed. She noticed they were heading back near the healing chamber when Martouf abruptly retraced part way back to the main corridor. She didn't question where they were going, she was far too tired to care. When they made their way to a small room off an antechamber, she looked briefly around the room. "These are your quarters," she said, though she had never before been in his private space.

"Yes," he nodded. "You will not likely be disturbed here."

She debated whether or not to protest, but the part of her that didn't care anymore held firm. Her eyes studied the belongings in the room. There was only a futon like mattress on the floor, two small trunks, and a shelf built into the wall which held a number of items she didn't immediately recognize or remember. Sam turned back towards him, almost swallowing her words. "Being alone is probably a good idea."

"Do you wish to be alone, Samantha?" he asked softly.

"Not really," she admitted.

"Shall I stay, then?"

She simply nodded, as he took her arm and led her over to the bed. Following his lead, she sat down and she broke the contact between them as she undid her military issue boots and pulled off her socks, noting he had done the same. She watched him pull the baldric off his chest, and feeling nervous she asked, "What is that? I know it signifies something, but I can't really remember."

"When a member of the Tok'ra takes a pledge of martial service and becomes a tek'nal - a soldier, they are given the braid. Its three lengths represent the host, the symbiote and our objective. Queen Egeria wove the first braid."

As he explained, she realized she was simply stalling. She knew if she said anything else, she would either fall apart or completely retreat from him. She really didn't want to do either.

She felt more than a little awkward as he turned down several blankets from the bed. Gently, he grasped her hand, intertwining their fingers as he had the day they first met, and she felt as though she had known him much longer than two short years.

Sam tried to block the stray thought, knowing it came straight from Jolinar, but part of her wanted to believe that maybe, just maybe, not all of the feelings came from Martouf's deceased mate. As she settled herself beneath the covers, her doubts about being in his quarters boiled up again... doubts about being alone with him. Doubts about being here, in his bed.

As she continued to doubt, Martouf silently caught her up in his arms and just held her. She felt his warmth as he gently stroked her back, and for the second time in as many hours, she felt protected and comforted in the arms of another.

All misgivings faded as she collapsed fully into his embrace, and at that moment, she was actually thankful for some of the jumbled up mess Jolinar had left in her mind. Being held by him just felt right, as though this was where she was belonged. She finally felt safe and she let go, allowing the tears to come.

She held back nothing and cried over the cruel loss of her brother and his wife, her little niece, and her nephew who had just started kindergarten the month before. Cried for Cassie and General Hammond; for the destruction of Earth and her way of life.

And she wept for Graham Simmons.

The next morning she remembered how Martouf had simply listened, how his soft, whispered sounds had soothed her, how he gently kissed her hair as she held onto him long into the night. She didn't recall when she had finally fallen asleep, but when she awoke, she was alone in his bed, the room was dimly lit and she didn't remember dreaming about anything except the warmth of his embrace.

*****

Seven hours after swearing at O'Neill, Paul Davis was feeling just a hint of remorse. He had spent half the night staring at the crystal ceiling before admitting defeat, and had wandered back into the Tok'ra infirmary, seeking help. One of the healers had taken pity on him, giving him a foul tasting concoction, and mercifully it had done the trick. Now, thanks to a few hours of drug induced, almost restful sleep, he felt his body was on the mend. His mind however, was another story. He refused to even think about how long it was going to take to get over the emotional hurdle of his planet being annihilated.

He had managed to find his way back to the Tok'ra communal washroom, and was pleased to find it empty. He wasn't looking forward to sharing toilet facilities with, well, anyone else. He managed to finish up quickly just as Lt. Adams, one of the gateroom techs wandered in, looking somewhat sheepish. "I'm done," Paul said awkwardly. "It's all yours."

She didn't look any happier than he was about the situation, "Thanks, Major. Maybe we can organize a kind of schedule."

"Good idea, Lieutenant." O'Neill's voice rang out behind them. "I'll wait... out here."

"Thank you, sir." Adams called out to the corridor.

As O'Neill turned to stand outside the doorway, Paul took his chance. "About yesterday, Colonel--"

"Forget it, Davis."

"Yes, sir." He knew an order when he heard one, and quickly dropped all pretense of apologizing. He was only offering it out of courtesy anyway, hoping it would smooth over their working relationship. With so few of them left, he couldn't afford to piss off his new commanding officer.

"You seen Carter this morning?" O'Neill asked.

Paul shook his head, "Not since last night."

"Surprise, surprise."

Davis pretended not to hear the Colonel's muttered words. Even with his limited visits to Stargate Command, he wasn't oblivious to the gossip concerning Colonel O'Neill and his second-in-command. The entire team was tight knit, and in part, that closeness allowed them to do the things they did so well. It was why they were allowed to remain a team for so long.

More than a few of his superiors had suggested that the flag team be broken up to help round out the units. But General Hammond had fought fiercely to keep them together, and Paul had been supporting the General's position to the Joint Chiefs for the last six months.

As to the truth of the rumors, he had no idea.

He knew that after everything SG-1 had been through in the last several years, that there couldn't help but be something between the two officers. What that might be, he didn't know and whether military regulations even applied anymore, he wouldn't hazard a guess.

The last week had proved that he wasn't exactly immune to Samantha Carter either and professional or not, he had felt his own jealous pang when he realized she hadn't come back to her quarters last night. Judging by O'Neill's behavior, he was feeling much the same way. The colonel made no secret of his feelings for the Tok'ra, and Martouf in particular.

"Major, how about you see what you can do about this little... facilities problem of ours?" O'Neill ordered.

"Yes, sir." Paul nodded, turning to leave.

"And if you happen to see Carter, tell her I need to talk to her."

"Yes, sir."

As he wandered through the base in search of someone to query about the bathroom situation, he found himself nearing the Tok'ra kitchen and cafeteria facility, and decided to begin his search there. He hadn't eaten much in the last two days and for the first time, he actually felt hungry. The large open area was filled with dozens of Tok'ra soldiers and other operatives including as he'd learned last night - scientists and civilians.

Well, not quite civilians he remembered, though he had been told that was the closest English word equivalent. The Tok'ra hierarchy was complex, and not as simple as branding one either a 'soldier' or 'civilian'. He would have to speak to Malek again to clarify a few points.

In amongst the Tok'ra, he spotted a group of SGC members including Doctor Fraiser, Lieutenant Astor, and several others. They were sitting together in a corner of the room not far from the entrance. Paul grabbed some breakfast from a long buffet table, and went over to sit with them.

"Morning," he said as he sat down. "Does anything pass for coffee around here?"

"Not that I've found yet Major," the petite doctor answered.

Several others chimed in with the required, "sir".

Everyone seemed almost as ragged as yesterday. The doctor looked as though she hadn't slept for a week, and her eyes were red and puffy. She had been forced to leave her adopted daughter behind, Davis knew. Everyone had been forced to leave someone behind, he was reminded brutally as his mind tortured him with images of his own family.

He still hadn't allowed himself the luxury of grief. The Tok'ra base wasn't very private, and he didn't want to let anyone share his pain. For that matter, he simply wasn't ready to accept the fate of Earth just yet. He knew the others were more or less in the same place.

He attempted to break through the almost unbearable silence, "I'm looking into some of the... differences that our group is going to need addressed. Shared washroom facilities, door coverings, that kind of thing. If anyone has any general or specific issues that need to be dealt with, let me know and I'll see what can be done about it."

"It's true, then? We're staying here with the Tok'ra?" Lieutenant Astor asked, her voice wrought with fear.

"For now," he explained per his conversation with Jacob earlier in the morning. "Their High Council is meeting this morning to discuss the terms and permanence. We should know soon."

"I will never, ever submit to being a host!" Astor exclaimed.

"Me either!" One of the marines bellowed. "No fucking way am I letting one of those things inside me." Two of his teammates backed him up with nods and thumps of approval.

The sudden outbursts began to attract attention from the nearby Tok'ra, and the noise level of the room rose quickly with thinly veiled disapproval. "The Tok'ra have a symbiotic relationship with their host," he started to explain.

"No one will ever be forced to be a host!" Major Carter broke in angrily from just inside the doorway. "It's what makes the Tok'ra different from the Goa'uld. You should all know that by now."

"But you didn't exactly volunteer to be a host, did you ma'am?" Astor challenged, rising to her feet.

He could feel the tension between the two women escalate as everyone - both human and Tok'ra - in the room turned to face them. The din of conversation came to a complete halt. He knew the situation was spiraling, and he felt decidedly responsible. "Lieutenant," he warned her.

"No sir, I won't keep quiet." Astor went on, her eyes wild. "Everyone knows what happened to Major Carter. What's to keep it from happening again to any one of us while we're here?"

"Stand down, Astor." Carter ordered.

"No, ma'am. I won't."

Her flat refusal infuriated him and he'd had quite enough. "Sergeant Wilder," he spat out as he stood up, dishes rattling as he put his plate down hard on the table. "Escort Lieutenant Astor to her quarters and confine her there until further notice."

"Yes sir," came the expected reply.

Davis was relieved when Astor went quietly. As soon as she was out of sight, he sat back down and continued with his breakfast, expecting the others to follow his lead. And one by one, they did. He wasn't used to giving commands, but that would have to change and quickly. Next to O'Neill, he was the ranking officer, if only by a few months, and he would have to get used to it. Though he suspected that the Colonel would continue with Carter as his second-in-command, but that didn't bother him. He knew where his strengths lay.

He watched as Sam and Martouf picked out something to eat, and he wasn't surprised when they chose to sit together alone. As soon as he finished his own breakfast, he walked over to their table, feeling the need to apologize to them both. Martouf's eyes flashed as he approached, and Paul knew when he spoke that it would be to the symbiote. He tried not to let his uneasiness show too much. "May I join you?"

"Please," the Tok'ra replied gesturing to an empty chair.

"I'm sorry about what happened earlier," he said to Lantash as he sat down. "Unfortunately, I think we've just scratched the surface with the topic of blending."

"It is to be expected," the Tok'ra answered, his voice reverberating. "Your world has fallen, your way of life exists no more. We do not require you to fall at our feet and offer yourselves as hosts. That is not our way."

"I understand," intellectually he added silently. "But some of our people aren't entirely convinced of that."

"It's going to take time," Sam explained quietly. "Probably a long time. And some of our people will never be comfortable with it."

"Such as O'Neill."

"I wasn't going to mention any names."

"You did not have to," Lantash said.

"Speaking of the Colonel," Paul said, though he was hesitant to bring it up. "He's looking for you, Sam. He... knows you didn't come back last night. Just thought I should warn you."

"I appreciate that."

"Anytime."

"I should go and talk to him," Sam said as she pushed away her plate away and stood up. Her resolve was clearly reflected in her eyes, but Paul didn't envy her next conversation with O'Neill.

"Is where you slept last night somehow a concern of his, Samantha?" Lantash asked heatedly.

"Of course not. It's what happened before that, that needs straightening out."

The Tok'ra exhaled loudly, "I see."

"It'll be fine," she assured them as she left the chamber. "I'll catch up with you later."

Paul watched her go, noticing they were both still wearing the Tok'ra uniforms they had been given last night. He felt more than a little awkward in them, mostly from the looks he been given from the other service personnel. He wondered if his Air Force uniform could be washed and repaired, or if he was stuck wearing the borrowed clothes. At least he still had his jacket.

"How well do you know Samantha, Major Davis?" Lantash suddenly asked him.

"Not very well, but then I'm stationed at the Pentagon." He thought about it for a moment, then corrected his mistake. "Was stationed at the Pentagon, I mean. It's a long way from Stargate Command. I was the liaison officer between the SGC and the leaders of our military. I've only worked with her on a few brief assignments."

"Including this past week."

"That's right."

"You're a diplomat."

"That's fairly accurate."

"She trusts you," Lantash stated.

"Well, we've been through a lot in the last couple of days," Paul explained. He found the Tok'ra's line of questioning confusing, and they made him feel as though he needed to defend himself.

"How do you feel about blending, Major Davis?"

"I understand that it's a partnership for the Tok'ra," he said neutrally. "That the host and symbiote share the host's body. And I will do everything I can to alleviate the mistrust among our people."

"A very diplomatic answer, though you evaded my question." The Tok'ra was staring hard at him, his eyes flashing.

"I'm not evading your question," Paul assured him. "I simply don't know the answer to it yet. If we're still here in three months, ask me again."

"Do not think I will forget."

"I'm certain you won't," he said, glaring back at Lantash. He was tired of feeling interrogated, and decided to push the conversation somewhere useful. "Can you direct me to whom I would ask about growing private bathing facilities for our personnel?"

"Cannot the men of the Tau'ri appreciate the female body without being embarrassed?" The Tok'ra asked, obviously amused. "Or losing control?"

"Actually, we see it as being an issue of respect," he said, refusing to let Lantash taunt him. Grateful for his background in negotiation, he realized that this was just the beginning of learning to live among the Tok'ra. He wondered if it was going to be his permanent home.

"Just out of curiosity," he asked. "How long are the days on the planet?"

"Twenty-nine hours."

Figures, Paul thought. It had already been one hell of a long day.

*****

O'Neill heard her "sir" long before he saw her. Although he had told Davis that he needed to talk to her, he had spent all morning purposely avoiding his second-in-command. He simply wasn't good at this kind of stuff, and still didn't know exactly what he was going to say to her. And seeing her again in that damned Tok'ra outfit still grated him the wrong way.

"Colonel," she began quietly as he turned around to face her. "I need to--"

"No. You don't." Jack interrupted, not wanting to hear the words from her.

"Sir?"

"Drop the sir, Carter. Just for a minute, would ya?"

She squinted at him, confusion written all over her face. He liked having the power to confuse her. Sometimes, it didn't take much. Just him saying a word or two she didn't expect. Like now.

"Okay," she agreed.

"I'm sorry for all the crap that happened yesterday, Sam."

"I know."

"No, actually you don't," he said again. There was no way she could, and he needed her to understand how he was feeling without giving away too much. Without falling apart himself. "I was out of line. I'm sorry about Simmons... and the thing about your uniform. The whole nine yards."

Jack watched her deep blue eyes well up at his words. Her actions mirrored his thoughts. He didn't want to be drawn back into his own grief, so he looked away, not willing to risk loosing face, even with one of the few people he inherently trusted.

"Are we really staying here?" she asked, breaking a long minute of silence.

"You tell me," he snorted. "Can you think of anywhere else for us to go?"

"That depends if you want to be a farmer or not."

"Hey," he warned even as her face carried a trace of a smile. "It turns out I'm not such a bad farmer."

"You don't want to be a farmer any more than I want to be a--"

"A Tok'ra?" He was sorry as soon as the words left his mouth. He was digging himself in deeper, something he couldn't afford to do given their dire situation in the tunnels. Carter was still glaring at him. "Look, we'll figure something out. First we need to find Daniel, and SG's Two, Nine and Thirteen."

"If we had anywhere else to go--" she started.

"I know, I know." Jack held up his hands in surrender as he went on, "It makes some kind of sense staying here. But as you may have noticed, I don't really want to be here." He had to be honest with her, and himself.

"I know that sir, and there are lots of our personnel who agree with you. We certainly had evidence of that this morning." She rolled her eyes and sighed.

"What happened?" he asked, knowing it had to be an interesting story whatever the outcome.

"Astor freaked out about not wanting to be a host."

"And the problem?" he asked with feigned innocence.

"We were having breakfast." Carter explained. "Surrounded by Tok'ra. Major Davis had to confine Astor to her quarters."

"Sorry I missed that," his brows furrowed as he tried to imagine the scene.

"Sir?"

"Davis giving orders."

When he saw the grin on her face forming, he knew he'd achieved his goal. They were now back on course, back on the same side. Not that he'd really worried about that, but it still felt better. More normal. More... comfortable. "Let's just see what your dad can work out. If they toss us out on our asses, we'll figure out what to do then."

"Yes, sir. Sounds like a plan."

"And Carter..."

"Yes," she asked.

"See if you can find a change of clothes somewhere. I've seen some civilian clothing that you might be able to borrow."

"I've seen some, too. Several of which seem to defy the laws of gravity."

He pictured his second-in-command in one of the little numbers he'd seen earlier in the morning on a Tok'ra scientist. Not that Carter would ever wear anything remotely like it, he knew. It would be far too... impractical. He quickly filed any further thoughts of Sam's wardrobe from his conscious mind. "On second thought, maybe you should keep these for now."

"Jack!" Jacob bellowed through the corridor, Martouf at his heels. "We've been looking for you two."

"Doesn't this place have some of public address system?" Sam asked.

"Of course," Martouf replied. "But it's only for emergencies."

"What's up, Jacob?" Jack asked.

"The council has made its decision," the elder Carter grinned. "You can stay."

*****

Suddenly filled with a mixture of surprise, trepidation and relief, Sam felt herself gathered up in her father's arms for a quick hug. The fact that she would now be living near him on a daily basis was comforting. Even if it meant spending more time with Selmak. While mostly she liked her father's symbiote, she found Selmak quite abrasive at times.

Just like Lantash, she thought as she glanced at Martouf. His smile let her know that he was pleased by the news. "What kind of terms?" she asked as her father released her.

Colonel O'Neill interrupted, "Wait a minute! I don't want to have to repeat all of this over and over again. Let's gather everyone up, and tell all of them at the same time."

"Yes, sir."

Ten minutes later, all of their personnel had arrived in the empty council chamber at Martouf's suggestion. Like everyone else, Sam was anxious to hear the details of their new living arrangements. Unlike everyone else, she was also worried about being around Martouf for any length of time. And Lantash's flirtatious banter had affected her deeply as well. After last night, it might be all too easy to want more than either one had given her.

"First of all," her father began. "I want to assure all of you that no one will ever insist that any of you become a host. Having said that, I don't think it's such a bad deal, either."

"Jacob--" Jack cut in, clearly annoyed.

"The council has decided you can stay, and you'll be integrated as much as unblended humans can be within our society. You'll retain authority over your people, Jack. And you'll be responsible for them and their behavior as well."

"Hey, we're on the same side here."

"Yes we are," Jacob continued. "And maybe you should remind yourself of that on a daily basis. Look, this isn't going to be a cakewalk for any of us. We don't usually let in large groups of people. Especially ones who tell us in advance they will likely never volunteer to be hosts. It's going to take some time to work through the kinks." Her father stopped, and indicated for Lantash to go on.

"You will all attend vigorous upgrading and training to develop your skills to a reasonable level. You may be somewhat useful on missions where we need unblended humans as spies."

"Good to know," Jack quipped, obviously unimpressed.

"You will will also be asked to assist with the day-to-day operations of this base. Some of which are very basic but essential to our survival and yours. Is that understood?" Lantash asked.

"So long as we're not treated as slaves or servants," he agreed.

The colonel was doing well considering the circumstances, Sam thought. Especially considering who he was talking to. If he and Martouf simply just didn't get along, then he and Lantash were like predatory alpha males. One barely restrained step away from disaster. She wasn't going to like being the buffer between them.

"I assure you O'Neill, that everyone on this base contributes to basic survival needs," Lantash said.

"I am so not peeling potatoes," she heard him mutter under his breath.

"Jack," her father said. "It would be best if you assign an official liaison for any requests, complaints or negotiations."

"Major Davis, that's you."

"Yes, sir."

Sam wasn't surprised at the Colonel's choice of liaison. Though she knew more about the Tok'ra than anyone else in the SGC, clearly this was Davis' arena. Over the past week, she had also learned that he could take exceedingly complex technical information, analyze it, break it down and spoon feed it to the Joint Chiefs or anyone else for that matter. She had also lost a bet to him during the process, but the Replicators had rudely interrupted his collecting the prize. She idly wondered if he would ever mention it again.

"Carter, you'll continue as second-in-command."

"Yes, sir."

"Sam, we'll also do some lessons with the hand and healing devices. I know you have some experience with them already, but it really is important." Her father explained. "Okay?"

She nodded her response to her father, hoping that maybe later she could talk him out of learning how to use the Goa'uld weapon which was designed not only to kill, but to torture as well. Besides, learning either of the devices would further set her apart from her teammates, and that didn't feel right either. Every time she remembered the look Daniel had given her after killing Seth on Earth last year, she felt like a monster. Or maybe it just made her feel more like a Tok'ra. She wasn't sure.

They were all going to go through more physical training, Tok'ra history, tactics, infiltration techniques and apparently language lessons as well. Sam silently wondered if she would ever read a book in English again. Not likely, she sighed and tried to put it out of her mind. It was better if she didn't think about things like that.

"There is one more thing," Lantash cautioned. "You will all be required to formally pledge a vow of service to our cause before you will be entrusted to even the most basic information. If any of you go back on your word to us, you will be branded a traitor, hunted down and executed."

"That seems a little harsh," Janet grumbled.

"It's no different during wartime on Earth," One of the marines chimed in, surprising nearly everyone in the room.

"Point taken," Janet said. Although Sam could see she wasn't entirely convinced.

"Look, I won't force anyone to stay here." The Colonel stood up and began to pace as he spoke to the rag-tag group. "If there is anywhere else anyone really wants to go, we'll consider it. Either individually or as a group. But for now, staying here is our best bet and first thing's first. Today, our priority is finding SG's Two, Nine and Thirteen and bringing them back here, safe and sound. Everyone got that?"

He received a half-hearted, "Yes sir" in return.

"Excuse me? I didn't quite hear you."

As she stood up, doing her best to inspire enthusiasm that she certainly didn't feel, she saw the others rise to their feet. As loud as she could muster, she gave Colonel O'Neill what he was waiting for, "Sir, yes, sir!"

This time, everyone save her father and Lantash, responded in kind. O'Neill assigned them into three units, and they began to plan strategy for the search of their missing personnel. When the meeting finally broke up, Sam felt a tiny bit better about how things were going to work with the Tok'ra. Selmak had found seven volunteers to help them, and Colonel O'Neill had accepted.

It was a place to start.

*****

Three days later, Sam was finding it difficult to comprehend that this wasn't just a short mission with the Tok'ra. That it wouldn't just be over, and she would step back through the gate, take a shower, debrief with General Hammond and leave to go home. Maybe stop at a Starbuck's along the way for a chai tea latte and over to the grocery store for a Lemonzest Luna bar.

Suddenly she felt guilty about missing the little things.

They had found SG's Two and Nine exactly where they should have been, but so far all their attempts to locate Daniel and SG-Thirteen had resulted in failure. They had picked up several leads, and small teams consisting of both humans and Tok'ra were following them up.

The colonel insisted it was only be a matter of time until they found Daniel. He was downright difficult to kill, and even harder to make stay dead, Jack had told her. Sam hoped he was right. She couldn't bear the thought of losing another close friend so soon after everything else.

Sam had headed the unit that found SG-Nine, and was burdened with explaining their plight to the four officers on the team. Three of them had been married, two with young children and telling them what had happened to Earth and their families was almost like reliving the entire experience all over again.

After returning from the mission, she had found a deserted bathroom facility, promptly vomited the entire contents of her stomach and returned to her quarters where she had cried herself to sleep. When she woke up, she decided she wasn't going to spend the next night alone.

There were forty-three of them now, all in varying states of acceptance of their situation. One recently transferred officer was experiencing severe claustrophobia from being underground in the crystal tunnels. Some were still putting up a brave front. Some were falling apart, and some, like her, sought solace in another's arms.

She just never imagined whose arms they would be.

Come back soon for the second story in this series entitled, "Solace"...