Title: All Things Lost
Author: Jewels
E-mail: jhantor@yahoo.com
Disclaimer: All publicly recognisable characters and places are the property of MGM, World Gekko Corp and Double Secret Productions. They're not mine, never have been mine, even though I wish they were.
Summary: A woman long thought dead appears seeking the remnants of her past.
Rating: G
Spoilers: None
Category: General
Notes: I've been meaning to write a fic along these lines for some time, though in all its other permutations, it ran along more standard fic-lines. Well, by standard I mean the format more often used. Lots of conversations, blah blah. Finally, this idea appeared, and it's been sitting in my notebook, awaiting completion. And here it is.
Date Completed: 01/02/03

**

"Of all I had, only honour and life have been spared."
- Francis I, King of France

**

Suha Devi was a world that most organised governments had decided was more trouble than it was worth to attempt to annex. Even the Goa'uld wanted little to do with the planet that was renowned for being a haven for those who would rather not have attention drawn to them. By most, the Jewelled Planet (so called for the way that its great crystalline moutain ranges sparkled in the light of the system's twin suns, making the world look like a glistening gem from space) was classified as an 'anarchic free trade world'. Most also thought that was far too simplistic a designation.

The main hive of activity on Suha Devi was the citadel upon the outskirts of which stood the Stargate. The gates that led into the vast open air market that dominated the grounds of the city were little more than a token gesture towards security. Anyone could come and go as they pleased, for to try and control people was against the basic philosophy that underlined the anarchic world.

In the shade of a building overhang, perhaps a mile and a half inside the city gates, was a woman who sold pahis, a small green fruit that could only be grown on one world because of their requirement for a certain mineral in the soil found nowhere else in the known galaxy. Thus it was rather a sought after delicacy, and only a few sellers from that world ventured away to peddle the fruits off-planet, and only one to Suha Devi.

Her face was heavily lined, as creases cover a much manhandled piece of paper. The sun of the suns beating down on her face for so many years meant that her appearance had aged her before time had. Who knew what her true age was? Only her customers knew that she appeared old. She wore a motherly and inviting expression as she bade her customers welcome. And on a day of indeterminate date (for no two planets calenders ever manage to match, and few on Suha Devi wished to adopt the rigid 'galactic standard' calender, devised by the Goa'uld, for their own purposes), she was selling her wares as she always did, when a young woman, swathed in the bright clothes of a desert dweller, approached, waiting until the last of a rush of customers wandered away.

The old woman turned to look at her, taking in her rich-looking clothes and heavy gold jewellery, which combined gave her the look of a brightly shelled desert beetle, scuttling towards shade under the sun. "Can I help you, miss?" She said cheerfully, gesturing to her stall. "These pahis are on special today. 50 for the price of 45. A bargain to be sure."

The young blonde woman kept her hood up, ostensibly shielding her eyes from the midday sun, looking at the old seller and paying no attention to the succulent looking green fruits that somehow managed to stay fresh looking even in the wilting heat of the suns. "I'm looking for a man."

The old woman gave a short bark of laughter, the lines in her face deepening with the action. "We're all looking for a man, my petal."

"This is a very specific sort of man. A Tok'ra."

The old woman squinted through the glare of the suns to try and focus on the newcomer's face. "You're not one of them Ashraks are you? Folks 'round here wouldn't like you, if so. Don't take kindly to their customers getting assassinated. Especially ones that always pay on time."

The woman tilted her head. "If I were an assassin, it would be foolhardy to tell you."

"Aye, and what's to stop you lying, petal, eh?" The old woman shifted on her stool. "No. And even if y'aren't an Ashrak, you'll get nought out of my mouth. People come to the Jewelled Planet because they's got reason to hide. Bad for business if I start tellin' stories."

"I can respect that," the younger woman said, though the shop seller noted she sounded rather unhapy about that. "What if I were to tell you I was a friend of Jolinar of Malkshur? Would that ease your conscience and your tongue?"

"Jolinar, eh?" The old woman's face darkened for a moment, and then lit up with remembrance. "Ah yes, that feisty young lady who raised an army against Apep. Didn't turn out too well either, if I recall rightly."

"That's one way to put it," murmured the younger woman.

"And you say you'd be a friend to Jolinar?" The old woman shook her head. "Nay, petal, for it is far too easy to claim allegiance to another without their presence to confirm it."

The younger woman sighed, a faint look of despair crossing her features, and for a moment the old woman took pity on her.

"I will tell you one thing." She said, somewhat ponderously. "If y'are a friend to the Tok'ra, it'll bear meaning for you. Speak to the Tau'ri."

The woman said nothing, as if waiting for more. "That's it?!" she finally demanded, when the old lady held her silence.

"More th'n I shoul've given you," the old woman grumbled. "Now if y'll excuse me, miss. Ah, yes, good sir. Those pahis are on special today..."

As the shop seller turned to her next customer, the younger woman slipped off into the crowd, pondering over the advice she had been given.

**

The young woman who had been talking to the pahi seller drifted through the streets of the commerce citadel, her mind clouded by frantic thoughts that had been stirred by the seller's words. She moved with the crowd's flow, not caring where she went, for she had no destination in mind, and so did not notice when she drew the attention of a pair of men. She walked past them, and did not see when they slipped into the shadows, moving rapidly and soundlessly through the crowd in an attempt to cut her off.

She turned down a narrow alleyway, intent on gaining a little quiet for her to mull over this reference to the 'Tau'ri', which she was having trouble placing. She vaguely recalled hearing the term mentioned at some point in the past, and while she had known then what the meaning of the word meant, she could not remember it now. It was as she passed a small alcove, a niche in the sandstone from which the citadel was hewed, that she found herself caught unawares.

She yelped in fright as a hand reached out and grabbed her arm, pulling her into the alcove. Crime was rare, though not unheard of, on Suha Devi. The native community tended to punish those who acted against another fairly harshly, and more than one violent criminal had been expelled to the eastern island chains for their actions. It was known by those who came to trade here also: that if the planet became known for its criminal element, then customers would stop coming. So it was in everyone's best interest to keep the citadel a safe place. Such thoughts did not stop the fear that spiked through the woman, and when she opened her mouth to scream, he planted a hand across it, muffling her voice.

She took a deep breath, trying to learn all she could about her attacker, and what she saw gave her pause. He was tall, dressed in the dark brown leather uniform of the Tok'ra. His head was bald, and he carried himself with an air of authority that Rosha thought she faintly recognised. He looked down at her, brow furrowed, and when he spoke, it was with the vocal burr of a symbiote.

"Rosha?" he said, puzzled, removing his hand from her mouth.

"Yes," She said, swallowing hard, praying that this was indeed one of the Tok'ra. "You appear to have the advantage of me, sir."

"You know me, although it has been many years since our last meeting, and my host was not the one you see now," The man loosened his grip on her arm as she winced. "It is I, Selmak."

"Selmak," Rosha breathed, feeling herself sag in weary relief. Selmak was abruptly forced to tighten his grip again lest she fall down to the ground. "I never dreamed I would find the Tok'ra again. I have been searching for so long. My coming here was my last hope at finding you."

"Where have you been?" he asked urgently, raising his head to nod at someone Rosha had not seen before. A Tok'ra, probably Selmak's guard, slipped out of the shadows, pocketing his weapon at the indication that this woman was no threat. "I admit to being surprised to seeing you here. Which is the reason behind my accosting you." he added.

"Many places," Rosha said, regaining her footing and removing her arm from Selmak's grip. "I was not able to find the Tok'ra on the homeworld they were at when I last saw them. Nor were they at the secondary site. I knew not of the locations of any of the other cells, and so have been wandering on several of the free trade worlds, hoping to meet Tok'ra on procurement expeditions."

Selmak was glancing around, perhaps wary of conducting a conversation out in the open. "Come," he said to her, beckoning. "There is a building where we have lodged. We can talk there."

He led the way, his guard gesturing for her to follow, with him behind her. Rosha did not recognise him, and guessed he was either a transfer from another base, or his host was new. The way he gave no sign of recognising her, she came to believe the former was the case.

Selmak led them through the narrow winding streets of the citadel, ignoring the cries of vendors who tried to attract his attention to sell him goods. And eventually they came to what seemed like little more than a sandy-coloured wall with a hole cut away for a door, a curtain covering the entryway. It seemed primative, but was all that was required for most who visited the Jewelled Planet.

Inside, they went up a narrow staircase, and through a door into a small room with two beds, padded with rushes and covered with blankets. They looked to be most uncomfortable. A window, not much larger in size than Rosha's head, looked out on the street, and she found that they had risen to a few meters above street level. Selmak gestured for the guard to wait outside, and with a last, suspicious glance at Rosha, he did so.

Selmak turned to her finally, and what Rosha could only describe as a soft parental smile graced his face. "You have been greatly missed," he said. "We thought you dead."

Rosha shook her head, her brow faintly furrowed. "But Jolinar left me alive, bidding me to hide in the wilds of Turina for a few months, until I could be sure that the Ashrak was not following me. When I left to find the Tok'ra base, it was not there. But surely she would have told you of my continued existence."

Selmak was looking at her, and she failed to recognise the look of someone coming to an awful realisation.

"Did not Martouf question my whereabouts?" she asked, her voice rising in her confusion. "Even if he loved Jolinar more than I, we were still friends, companions. Surely he would not be so quick to abandon me."

She fell silent. Selmak was looking at her, deep sorrow in his eyes. "Do you not know?" he asked, "Or in all your travels has no one had the heart to tell you?"

Rosha's breath caught in her throat. "Speak," she bade him.

"That I should be the bearer of such unhappy tiding saddens me," he said, then, "For I must tell you that both Lantash and his host Martouf are dead at the hands of Goa'uld subterfuge."

"And Jolinar?" she said, her voice a mere whisper, as if fearing the response.

"She fell to the Ashrak of Chronos," he told her, and watched sorrowfully as Rosha fell to her knees on the hard stone floor and began to weep.

"She did not betray us in our final moments, and she defied the Goa'uld to the last," Selmak said softly. "Small comfort to you though that may be."

It was a few minutes until Rosha dapped at her face with her hands, the sheer cloth of her robes being unsuited to the task of absorbing tears, her crying jag over. She sniffled and blinked up at Selmak from where she knelt on the floor. "It is a comfort to me," she said, her eyes feeling somewhat sore for having been rubbed with sandy fingers.

Selmak extended a hand to her, wordlessly helping her up onto one of the singularly uncomfortable beds. She perched on the edge, squeezing Selmak's hand as he sat down beside her.

"You are fortunate to have come here this day." Selmak told her. "If it were not for the Tau'ri, there would be no Tok'ra on this world for several more months. It is one we have frequented too often, and fear the System Lords may be watching our operatives if we continue to show ourselves in the same place, however discrete its natives."

Rosha's brow furrowed at Selmak's words. "Who are the Tau'ri?" she asked, "The old woman at the pahi stall mentioned them in connection with the Tok'ra, but I do not know of them."

He smiled faintly. "Well, you have been out of contact for a while." At Rosha's answering wry smile, he told her, "The Tau'ri are Humans, from the world of the same name."

Rosha gasped faintly, as the significance of that statement sunk in. "The First World? It has been found once more? They who defeated Ra?"

"Yes," He straightened, "And what is more, they are allies of the Tok'ra, however strange that may seem to you."

"I thought I would never see a day when the Tok'ra seek to ally themselves with another race." Rosha admitted softly.

"Under normal circumstances, no," he said. "But they were not normal circumstances. The Tau'ri sought us out."

Rosha opened her mouth to ask how, but Selmak had anticipated her question.

"They were guided by the memories Jolinar bequeathed to her last host, Samantha Carter." Selmak's mouth twitched, "The daughter of my host, also of the Tau'ri. It was she who brought him to us on the verge of death. He was a strong proponent of a treaty between our peoples, and I have to agree with his reasoning." Of course, it wasn't unknown for a symbiote to be influenced by its host.

"Bequeathed?" Rosha shook her head, "I did not think that possible. And if Jolinar died at an assassin's hands, how did her host survive? It has never happened before."

Selmak shrugged faintly. "As the Tau'ri say, there is a first time for everything. Jolinar sacrificed her life, and in return saved her host when the Ashrak came for her. Only fitting after she-" Selmak broke off so abruptly, that Rosha knew she had to know what he had been about to say.

"What?" She asked, not without trepidation. "What did she do?"

Selmak's eyes were soft and sympathetic as they turned on her. "Jolinar took her host without consent, suppressed her, and used her body to attempt to flee to the Tok'ra."

Rosha felt like she had swallowed a lead weight. Her throat was dry and she felt the blood drain from her face, leaving her feeling somewhat lightheaded. "No. Jolinar would not-"

"She did." Selmak said, sharply, his tone brooking no argument.

Rosha tried to reconcile the memories she held of the kind, loving, if somewhat brash and arrogant, symbiote she held, with the sort of traitorous snake who by her actions made herself no better than the Goa'uld. She found that she was shaking, and Selmak rested a gentle hand on her shoulder in an attempt to steady her.

"Will you return with us to the Tok'ra?" he asked, softly.

Rosha swallowed, and found she had to blink back tears. "You would ask me to submit myself to become a host once more?"

Selmak remained silent, though he did incline his head faintly.

"I know that hosts are greatly needed by the Tok'ra," Rosha said, "But, Selmak, I still bear the memory of Jolinar. To me she was my dearest friend and constant companion. I do not know if I could bear trying to replace her."

Selmak seemed to be mulling over his response. "It is true that we need hosts. Now more than we ever have in the past." In spite of Rosha's curiosity, he did not elaborate on that point. "I would not have you think of another symbiote as a replacement, merely a successor."

Rosha bit her lip. "The pain of loosing Jolinar is still near to my heart."

Selmak's hand dropped away. "With respect, Rosha," he said, and Rosha was surprised to hear bitterness in his voice, "We have all lost much. We have all watched loved ones die. Some of us have even been forced to kill those loved ones ourselves for the good of the many. Forgive me if I find the idea of your pain, when you appear to be whole, hale and hearty, to be less than convincing."

Rosha swallowed, turning her head towards the wall. She heard Selmak's uniform rustle as he stood and moved away, though she did not hear his footsteps, so adept was he at the Tok'ra skill of stealth. "Who was it?" she said, after a long moment of terse silence had passed between them.

"What?" Selmak seemed surprised, jolted from his bitterness momentarily.

Rosha turned back to him. "The loved one you were forced to kill. Who was it?"

Selmak's mouth twisted into a rueful, yet mirthless, smile. "Not a loved one of mine," he said obscurely, and did not elaborate further. And Rosha did not ask.

"I cannot go with you," Rosha said softly. "I cannot be a host again. Whatever your opinion of my pain, it still burns within me. I sought the Tok'ra to find my friend and my lover. And I find both of them have perished without my saying farewell to them. I cannot go back."

Selmak sighed and nodded his acceptance of her decision.

"Would that I could meet this Samantha Carter," Rosha said softly, standing. She moved to the small window, and looked out on the streets and the crowds milling there. "I would see the last host of Jolinar at least once, and perhaps make my peace with her."

There was silence from her companion, and when he finally spoke, he did so slowly. "You may get the chance," he said, "A group from the Tau'ri come here to meet with us today. They will be clad in mottled beige, and on one sleeve will be the tau'ri-sma, the origin symbol of their world, overlaid on a planet surrounded by stars. On the other is a chevron of the Chaapa'ai, overlaid with characters of their language. Samantha Carter is the only female in the group of four, posessing blonde hair and blue eyes."

Rosha closed her eyes, pressing her forehead against the rough sandstone wall that was somehow cool in spite of the heat outside. "Thank you," she whispered.

When she turned back, Selmak had already left.

**

"Have you seen these? They're like fried potato, but purple." Jonas Quinn stood with the rest of SG1, who he and Teal'c had rejoined only a few moments earlier after they had split up into pairs to do a little scouting of the market. "Taste really good too. Want some?" He extended the small basket of sliced purple vegetables to the others, even as he took a bite of a slice, a loud crunching sound coming from his food as he did so.

"Are you sure you should be eating that?" Colonel Jack O'Neill said skeptically. "It could be dung for all you know."

"But really tasty dung. Go on, try it," Jonas urged, seemingly baffled when no one was willing to accept the snack.

Jack just pulled a face and ignored the offer.

Teal'c was bending over the piece of paper that Sam held in her hands. It had the consistency of papyrus, but seemed to be made of some sort of inorganic polymer. "Where did JacobCarter say to meet us?"

"Next to the pahis stand," Sam muttered, as she turned the map this way and that. "And while I can see where that is... I'm not quite sure where we are."

"You mean we're lost." Jack said, shaking his head.

"We're not lost," Sam protested, before clearing her throat. "We just don't quite know where we are. The whole citadel is based on repeating patterns. One area literally looks like another."

"Oh, come on, Carter. You're a woman, you should have a sixth sense when it comes to shops," Jack said.

Sam rolled her eyes, and looked at the hand-drawn map given to them by the Tok'ra. "With respect sir, you're lucky you're my superior officer."

Jonas smirked.

"Excuse me."

Sam felt a tap on her shoulder as she heard the words, spoken in lightly accented ren'et, the Tok'ra dialect of the same language used by the Goa'uld. Sam was vaguely able to follow it, a legacy of Jolinar that had proved useful when eavesdropping on unsuspecting Tok'ra Councillors. She turned to see a blonde woman, who looked to be her own age, and who also seemed somewhat familiar.

"Yes?" she answered. Behind her, the rest of SG1 had turned to see what was holding her up, and were moving to flank her cautiously, wary of this strange individual.

"You are Samantha Carter? Former host to Jolinar of Malkshur, and daughter to the host of Selmak?"

"Yes," Sam said, starting to nod her head and about to ask how this woman knew who she was, but the woman placed her hands either side of Sam's face, holding her head in a gentle grip.

"Then you have my gratitude, my loyalty, and my love. For you were there for her when I could not be," the woman said, before leaning forward and kissing Samantha soundly.

"Goodbye," she whispered as she drew back, and, in a rustle of skirts, she was gone.

Sam stood stock still for a moment in shock, and when she finally regained her wits, she was surprised to note that even Jack looked too stunned for a wisecrack. She raised a hand to her lips, blinking in confusion for a moment. Then it hit her. She gasped, whirling, and charged forward before the densely packed crowd brought her up short, straining to see some sign of the strange woman.

Wonder in her voice, she whispered, "Rosha?"

-The End