Title: Roundelay I: Selmak
Author: Jewels
Email: jhantor@yahoo.com
Rating: PG-13 (language)
Category: Drama, Angst
Spoilers: None.
Archive: Anywhere that already has my fics, my site http://www.geocities.com/jhantor/. Anyone else, please ask first.
Summary: From Selmak's PoV, something terrible happens.
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.
Notes: The is the first in a series of several short pieces which tell a big story. It's angsty in places, people. Just a little warning. :)

**

One thing I've noticed, in all my centuries upon centuries of life experience: you can never, ever, emerge from the worst of experiences without some sort of mental trauma. You can never feel the same again. You can try and prepare yourself, you can try and anticipate, but, in the end, those big bad things in your life just sneak up on you when you're not looking.

Of course, that /is/ looking at the pessimistic side of things. But then, events such as those that my host and I went through hardly called for high optimism.

Here's something I won't admit to anyone but Jacob: there are worse jobs I could have than serving with my host as the Tok'ra-Tau'ri liason (I just grumble about the arrangement for Garshaw's sake). Between us, we've got the best of both worlds. There's me, the oldest and wisest among the Tok'ra, and then there's Jacob... well... he's... he's a nice man, a good man. Oh and quite intelligent.

Alright, so maybe that wasn't quite the incredible vote of support for the Tau'ri that I've ever voiced, but I must admit, I like the Tau'ri. In spite of the fact that they can be rather puzzling at times.

On that particular occasion, though, I found myself wishing that someone else could have been the ones to go to the Tau'ri, to learn the news...

Let me start at the beginning.

We received a signal from the Tau'ri on that Tollan signalling device that the Council loved so much. After all, it /was/ the only piece of technology we had been able to drag out of the Tollan (arrogant little S.O.B.'s, as Jacob likes to call them) and, to be honest, we didn't quite understand how it worked ourselves; not that we'd ever admit it to the Tau'ri.

I digress...

We received the Tau'ri signal and as the designated liason (combined with the fact that we had nothing better to do with our time) Jacob and I were getting ready to leave for the Tau'ri within twenty minutes of having received the signal. Not that there was much for us to do.

Of course, first we had to deal with that mouthy woman in the armoury. Tok'ra don't leave the homeworld without weapons of some sort, although, because the Tau'ri would be offended and would think we don't trust them, we generally keep them hidden while on that particular planet. Loud-Mouth, as Jacob calls her, although her real name is Iridarian - can be rather irreverant sometimes - had to give us her usual 'where are you going, what are you doing' speech. We both ignored her. It's the only thing you can do.

"You are going to the Tau'ri?" came a voice and Jacob turned in time to see Martouf falling into step beside him.

'I wonder why he asked...' I murmured, earning a 'shush' from my host. I sniggered at him.

"Yeah, we just got that signal on the Tollan..." Jacob waved a hand vaguely. "Thing."

'Very technical.' I noted dryly as Martouf gave Jacob an amused look; obviously he was thinking the same thing but was too polite to say it.

"Feel like coming along?" Jacob offered mischievously. It was an offer that was only half in jest. Both of us knew who he'd spend his time looking for. My host, while being a bit... rough... on the outside, is actually something of a romantic. Of course, he'd probably die before admitting that to anyone except me. We'd spent much time speculating about various Tok'ra and their love lives (at that time, we had been wondering about Jothe/Gunell and this charming young woman in supplies). In between risking our neck of course.

"Regretably I cannot, I have work that needs doing." Jacob and I were trying to rate how disappointed he looked at not being able to go on a scale of one to ten. In retrospect, it was a rather mean thing to do to the poor man, but we found it amusing.

"Ok, whatever." said Jacob, shrugging slightly.

Martouf nodded. "Give my regards to Samantha."

I could have sworn I heard a mental snigger coming from my host. "Oh I will." he responded, nodding to Martouf, and heading down the tunnel towards the transport rings, where our guard was waiting for us. Something about not letting us out of sight after that incident with Sokar.

Oh, the council isn't paranoid, they just like to think everyone's out to get them.

Anyway, we went onto the surface, which actually had pleasant weather for once, and headed for the Chaapa'ai. There was one other Tok'ra, whose sole purpose was to take care of the GDO the Tau'ri had given us. Basically, he inputs the code, watches us go through, and returns the GDO to storage again. There are worse jobs.

After taking the plunge through the Chaapa'ai (unusually cold for once, maybe I should have taken that as foreshadowing) we found ourselves on Tau'ri. Maybe it was just my imagination, but the defense guards seemed more on edge than usual.

"Good to see you again, George..." Jacob nodded to General Hammond as he and our guard stepped down the ramp. Jacob swept the room with a glance and took in the people who had assembled in the Tau'ri's embarkation room.

Here's an interesting little bit of trivia concerning a host-symbiote blending: while the host will be focussed on one point inside their field of view, a symbiote can take a mental step back and look at the whole picture, looking at details that the host just doesn't notice in the background (vice versa, depending on who is in control). So while Jacob was staring at Hammond, I could notice Doctor Frasier standing in the control room, her eyes red, while Samantha's team-mates were also in the Gateroom, looking similarly miserable; Colonel O'Neill had his arm wrapped in a sling, and there was a cut on Daniel Jackson's forehead. It really didn't take a genius-class intellect to work out why exactly the Tau'ri had contacted us.

"What's going on?" asked Jacob, and I automatically dampened the sudden flow of adrenaline that started surging through the blood stream, reducing the hormones responsible for panic. Of course, I can't dampen mental emissions associated with panic, but I can stop the biology from excacerbating the condition.

Small comfort.

"Perhaps you should come with me." General Hammond said, looking significantly towards the large blast doors. Jacob was dead set to insist that they told him there, but I not-so-subtely suggested that this sort of conversation would be best conducted somewhere less public.

He allowed Samantha's team mates and General Hammond to lead us to the brightly lit briefing room, which had always seemed to have at least four guards standing around. Jacob didn't look away from Hammond as he sat down.

"Where's Sam?" he said, asking the obvious question before everyone had finished taking their seats. There was a long silence for a moment, then Hammond holded his hands and leant forward on the table to speak to him.

"Jacob, there's no easy way to say this," he said. "Sam died two days ago."

Jacob's voice caught in his throat as he tried to force his next words out. "What? How?"

"Jaffa on P5K-982." O'Neill supplied in the silence that followed.

"We have some video footage..." said Daniel quietly, his eyes full of sympathy.

"Show me." Jacob ordered roughly. It wasn't a course of action I would have personally suggested that he take, but his mind was set on seeing how his daughter died.

"This footage is taken from the MALP that was on P5K-982," General Hammond said, pointing to a small black rectangle Jacob labelled as a video (a visual recording device that looks so primitive it's unbelievable, at least in my opinion anyway).

Some nameless Airman in the Tau'ri's green fatigues stuck the device into the base of a display which then lit up with a grainy image of what was presumable the planet the Tau'ri refer to as P5K-982. It was heavily wooded, but the area the Chaapa'ai stood in was clear, and in the wide open.

I knew what would be coming before even the tape started playing, as did Jacob, but he couldn't look away from the monitor. It showed Samantha's team stepped out of the Chaapa'ai and starting towards the treeline. The sound wasn't on, but by their gestures, I guessed that they were sharing a joke, and Samantha was finding it hilarious, as she was laughing out loud.

They had made it half way to the treeline when the first shot from some unseen staff weapon lanced out, striking the ground near the feet of the Jaffa, Teal'c. They all automatically came to a stop, raised their weapons and started exchanging shots while running full tilt back towards the Chaapa'ai.

Sometime the Jaffa seem to have an abysmal sense of what consititues a good aim and miss their target by a mile. Which is what seemed to happen with Daniel and Teal'c. O'Neill was slightly less lucky. A shot to the ground to his immediate left sent him over, and when he regained his footing, his arm was hanging at an unnatural angle.

Samantha was the unluckiest of them all. She managed to avoid getting hit until they were almost at the dialing device. Then she fell face first, a smoking hole on her back, and she didn't breath.

"Turn it off." came O'Neill's voice quietly, and the airman complied, during the screen dark.

I felt Jacob's control slipping and I quickly took over control of our body from him, hearing an unearthly wail ricochet inside my mind that I doubted that Human vocal cords could have reproduced. It was far more eerie and melancholy for that.

My throat felt dry and was trying not to choke as I shared Jacob's grief, but I couldn't let the others see how distressed Jacob was, and how it was affecting me. They had their own grief, they didn't need more.

"Was there any attempt made at retrieving Major Carter's body?" Alright, so I refer to Samantha by her rank when speaking to her own people, even to her. It seems to help them see me as a separate being from Jacob. After all, /I/ don't know her well, even if I do, through Jacob.

"No." responded Hammond after a moment. "We tried sending a probe to P5K-982 but it was destroyed upon exiting the Stargate."

"So the Jaffa remained there." I murmured, I tried consciously to block out the pitying expressions of the others in the room. It was too much. We had to leave.

"We should return to the Tok'ra." I said diplomatically, knowing that Jacob wouldn't be able to take the sympathy of all these people at all if I was having trouble doing the same.

Hammond seemed to understand. "Of course." he said gently, standing, and then leading the way down to the control room where I curtly gave the airman the co-ordinates for a safe world where we would then jump to the Tok'ra homeworld.

Our guard gave me a sympathetic look as I approached the base of the ramp. I ignored him, staring at the spinning inner circle of the Chaapa'ai.

**

I sometimes wake Jacob up in the middle of the night screaming. In my mind, during the quiet hours when I have nothing to occupy my attention, I relive what we went through on Naetu, and the terror is just overwhelming. I remember the pain, the fear, the mental and physical anguish that we suffered through. Things that we could never relate to the Council, or anyone who hadn't gone through what we did.

Sokar. Bastard. It's going to take me decades to work through that.

I had a feeling it would take Jacob just as long to work through this.

**

'Jacob?' There was no response to my mental call, so I tried again. 'Jacob?'

'Fuck off, Selmak.'

I gave him a blip of a few negative emotions to show my disapproval to such language, and replied, 'Jacob, firstly, in my natural form I am serpent-like. I cannot "fuck" anything - not in your social context anyway. Secondly, I'm not going anywhere, it's not as if you can prise me out of your skull-'

'Try me.'

'And thirdly,' I said firmly, ignoring that little interjection. 'There's someone else you have to tell about Samantha's death.'

There was a long pause, which seemed to stretch almost into minutes, and then the grief hit me with the force of a tidal wave, and I couldn't help but feel the grief mirror in my own mind. I sent reassuring wordless thoughts and feelings - the equivalent of mother murmuring nonsense to a child when it is in pain - trying to help him through this fresh wave of grief.

When it had ended, I metaphorically sat back and regarded his conscious mind. Satisfied that he wouldn't try and do something stupid - like throwing us in front of an opening Chaapa'ai - I released my control on his body and allowed him to continue walking through the corridors on his own, offering silent support. I've lost a lot of loved ones in my time, I know what he's going through. It never gets any easier.

We came across Zebara/Kriz while we were searching through the tunnels and asked the woman where Martouf was; she pointed Jacob in the general direction of the Council chambers. That didn't surprise me. Martouf spends much of his time around Garshaw and one or two others of high ranks in the council, has for some time now.

Now that I think about it, Martouf's much more of a diplomat than Lantesh ever will be, although I do think that Lantesh is lightening up a bit. There's a point to that comment. He's been working closely with the council for a while, and, while neither I nor Jacob would ever mention it to anyone, we think that it's possible Garshaw thinks he has potential to have a seat on the council. Maybe in a few hundred years. When he's matured a little (I mean, blowing up at the Tau'ri like that, just because they wouldn't listen to him - much virtual headshaking here).

We found him conversing with Garshaw and another member of the council called Sornyi, nodding seriously at something the latter had just said. Since Garshaw was the only one standing in a position which allowed her to see Jacob as he entered, she was the one to draw attention to our presence.

"Jacob," she said in greeting, correctly assuming that it was my host that was in control of our shared body. "You have returned." Always stating the obvious, that's Garshaw. "May I ask why the Tau'ri wished to contact us?"

I could feel the tightening in the muscles of Jacob's face and shoulders, and I gave the mental equivalent of an arm around the shoulders. Garshaw must have seen the distress, combined with the fact that Jacob didn't speak for several seconds. Martouf, who had had his back facing us when we entered, slowly turned to look at Jacob, the dread apparent on his face.

"They... uh... They wanted to speak to me. Sam..." Jacob's voice faltered and sent a silent plea to me to take over. I did so, and finished the sentence. "The Tau'ri were caught in an ambush by Jaffa two days ago. Samantha... did not survive." I finished, feeling that the words were woefully inadequate.

"What?" Martouf choked out. Garshaw gently reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder, gripping in a silent gesture of support. I had no doubt that Lantesh was doing the same internally.

I couldn't help but feel my heart (or the equivalent in my own circulatory system) wrench. The poor man had lost Jolinar, and then Samantha, someone who I know he was starting to feel for. Two tremendous losses in such a short time.

'Poor man...' I murmured to my host, but Jacob was in no state to reply.

"May I be excused..." muttered Martouf, and, at Garshaw's understanding nod, practically fled the room.

When he had gone, Garshaw approached me and stepped close, staring me in the eye. I think one of the reasons that Garshaw is such a respected leader among the Tok'ra is she understands people. She is not only commanding, she cares. So, it shouldn't have come as a surprise when she pulled Jacob and I into a comforting hug. Jacob took back control and after a few seconds, pulled back.

"Thank you." he told her in a small voice.

"Please," Garshaw said, folding her hands against her midsection. "Take some time. I understand how hard this is."

"Thank you." Jacob said, and turned on his heel to leave.

He went onto the surface after leaving the council chambers, and spent all night staring at the stars.

**

It was several weeks before we were called upon to perform any duties of extreme urgency, Garshaw and the others in the council acting, for once, like something other than drones with artificial implants for souls, and giving Jacob and I time to grieve. By the time that we were called back to our work, Jacob was mainly recovered. The pain having faded to a dull ache in his heart.

The council filled us in. They had received some information from one of our operatives working within the ranks of the Goa'uld Queen Anqet that she had acquired a new host, and that she was also planning to do something. Unfortunately, the information from our operative had ceased before he could inform us what was being planned, and since the Council rather desperately wanted to know what was going on, they were sending a team of three to contact the operative.

Guess who got to be one of the three.

The other two were a guard called Khella, whose symbiote's name was Makar, and Martouf/Lantesh. I was somewhat surprised at his choice, but apparently the Council had decided that he was one of the best people for the job. Maybe they thought that throwing him back into our work was the best way to bring him out of the depression he had slipped into that even Lantesh didn't seem to be able to lift. Once or twice, while our hosts were asleep, the two of us had discussed the situation, and come to the conclusion that we would simply have to wait for them to recover.

Jacob had managed to regain some of his particular brand of humour, but Martouf...

I remember one specific incident a night about a week after we had learned of Samantha's death. I was wandering the tunnels for lack of anything better to do while Jacob slept. I had dampened the auditory input so that any loud noises wouldn't awake him, so he continued slumbering even when I heard a clattering coming from the kitchen, followed by some fairly fluent cursing in at least three languages: Goa'uld, Tau'ri and Lak'tren. There's only one person I know who can swear in those particular languages. But he doesn't usually do so when people can hear him.

"I did not think anyone would be walking the tunnels," Lantesh muttered when I walked in to see what was the matter. A plate full of food was sitting on the side and Lantesh had apparently cut his hand on a knife. He was glaring at it occasionally, and I could already see the wound sealing. I wasn't particularly concerned with the physical injury.

"Obviously." I commented in response to his previous question.

Lantesh wiped the blood from his now healed hand off on a cloth, nodding to the plate. "Would you like something to eat?"

I fought the nausea the thought of more food caused. "Thank you, but no." I said quickly. "Jacob, unfortunately, is the type of personality who eats when depressed." I hesitated. "He's been very depressed."

"As has Martouf," Lantesh said quietly. "He is the opposite. He refuses to eat during the day, so I must... suppliment his diet when he is not awake to object." Lantesh managed a wry smile on that last. "I feel somewhat guilty," he admitted after a long pause. "For not grieving as much as Martouf seems to be. I share his feelings, but I'm afraid he carries the larger burden." He picked up a water root and took a sullen bite out of it.

"Death is a part of our existence." I said, folding my arms in a manner reminiscent of my host, and leaning against the wall. "Comparitively speaking, our hosts live for only brief periods of time. If we were to continue grieving for a long time over our hosts, we would not remain sane long. Death, at least for Humans..." I paused, wondering how to phrase it. "Is less of a fact of life than for us."

"Indeed." said Lantesh, and said no more on the subject.

The Council were sending us to Anqet's current throneworld of Yarra. So we packed our metaphorical bags and got ready to leave.

**

I hated Yarra the moment we left the Chaapa'ai. Not only was the air too hot (reminding me of places I'd rather not be reminded off) the atmosphere was unbelievably humid, causing clothes to immediately feel like they were sticking to Jacob's skin, and the place reeked of rotting organic matter. Which was probably what the smell was, considering the heat.

'I think the Council hates us.' I suggested to Jacob as he surveyed the area. Martouf and Khella stepped out of the Chaapa'ai beside us, similarly clad in the concealing robes we had taken as a disguise for this particular assignment. We all carried weapons, but hoped we wouldn't have to use them. This was a simple get-in-get-the-information-get-out mission.

Simple. Ha!

'That's my ever optimistic Tok'ra Lady.' said Jacob, responding to my wordless assesment of the difficulty of our mission.

I chuckled at that. Jacob, in spite of the time that I've been residing in a male host for quite a while now, and he knows I have no gender to speak of, persists in mentally labelling me as a female. Perhaps it's because the first time we met, I was in a female host, and he continues to associate me with Saroosh. Not that I object, I've always been in female hosts, and it's carrying something over I think, although it does resist the whole idea of two becoming one. For convenience's sake, Jacob, when talking to others, refers to me as 'he'; saves awkward explanations in my not-so-humble opinion.

It took an hour or two of walking over relatively flat terrain, feeling as if the robes were getting hotter all the time. Which they probably were. When we finally caught sight of civilisation, it was at the typical primative level that the Goa'uld kept their enslaved Human populations at. I absently thought of Jacob's memories of the cities that the Tau'ri lived in, and compared it to what was before us, thinking of what these people could accomplish if they could just be given the chance. I knew it wouldn't come to pass. As soon as people like that advance to the point to become a threat, they are killed.

Sigh.

It wasn't something worth dwelling on at the point in time; after all, we had a mission to finish. Unfortunately, that's when we hit the major hitch in the entire mission.

We found ourselves in a large courtyard, filled to capacity with the inhabitants of the large town that wasn't quite a city. It was in the centre of the town and had a large raised dais on which stood several Jaffa, fully dressed in their armour - helmets, staff weapons, and everything.

That in itself was not a good sign. It usually meant either something big like an execution was going to happen, or a big announcement was going to happen. I just hoped that it had nothing to do with our operative that we had lost contact with. I didn't know the man very well, but we had exchanged a few words, and he was a loyal member of the Tok'ra.

"Let's keep moving." murmured Jacob in Goa'uld, which seemed to be what the rest of the crowd were speaking, so as not to draw attention to our little group. Khella and Martouf nodded, the gesture almost obscured by the voluminous robes they wore, and followed close to my host as he started gently pushing people out of the way so we could make our way through to the other side of the courtyard.

"Ten'vret! Kree!" bellowed the one who seemed to be Anqet's First Prime. Ten'vret, the Goa'uld word for slaves. All conversation ceased around us and the crowd turned as one to regard the dais. That did make us slightly more conspicuous, since we were the only ones in motion.

"Behold!" the First Prime shouted, in a booming voice that carried across the courtyard. Jacob ignored the shouting and continued making his way across the square, Martouf and Khella following close. "Your Queen!"

The crowd automatically took a step backward as the elaborate drapes were dramatically flung aside and a jewel-bedecked figure, dressed in rich blue and golden robes stepped forward, opening her arms to the adoration of the crowd. Her eyes were cold and imperious, and nothing like the laughing blue orbs that Jacob and I remembered, and glowed with a bright yellow light.

The woman who had been Samantha Carter smiled at the crowd before her. "Kree'nak taz'khac. Toren k'le." she announced in a loud booming voice, distorted by the effect of a Goa'uld symbiote.

It's at times like that, that I have this annoying tendency to use some of Jacob's colourful Tau'ri phrases. One, in particular, seemed apt.

'Oh shit.'

-End