Title: Roundelay V: Refrain

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: Final part of Roundelay (really this time). Breaking the mould of the previous 1st person stories.

Rating: PG-13

Spoilers: Mild for 'The Tok'ra', I suppose. Nothing you need to worry about. The treaty from D&C happened, but nothing else in that ep did.

Archive: Wherever I say.

Category: Angst, drama. SMR (kinda), AU

Notes: I know, I know. I said the fourth part was the last part. It was meant to be. However, my muse had other ideas. This /really/ is the last part, and contains the answers to foreshadowing I hadn't even realised I'd put in earlier. I suppose I was subconsciously putting them in, knowing, in the end, where this journey would take me. The resulting story is much more plot driven than its predecessors. Hope that doesn't lose me readers. :) I'm thinking that the pacing's maybe a little too rapid in this story. Things are really happening very quickly now, maybe a little too fast. Maybe this is a byproduct of my desire to get the damned story finally finished. I'm very eager to finally move onto new stories and stuff. I've got some interesting stuff lined up that I really can't give my full attention to because I've been working on this.

Additional notes: I do bizarre things with pronouns in this story when talking about people who are blended with symbiotes. I keep switching between singular and plural. Strictly speaking, it's all grammatically incorrect, but it's all deliberate for my purposes. Just before you all flame me for not being able to type.

Additional additional notes: This fic is rated a PG-13. I don't personally like ratings and don't hold with them - after all, do we rate books? Especially since my stories tend to be a bit fuzzy on how you'd rate them. This story is nowhere near dark/violent/sex-ridden enough to qualify for an R rating, it's not exactly something for the kiddies either. If you're under the age 14-15 range, then this story might be too much for you. It's got nothing /explicit/ but it does give you a bit more than you'd expect in your usual PG-13 fic. This is just before you all flame me for improperly rating my stories.

**

Part One: Of Sleepless Nights and Moonlit Seas

**

She was a Goddess, and Her name was Anqet.

She ruled her world and her people with the power of the Goa'uld, of technology so powerful is was indistinguishable from magic to these primative people that inhabited the sphere she had claimed for herself. She was not of the System Lords, but she knew all that could change soon. If she proceeded carefully.

Her new host, an interloper with flaxen hair, had seemed like a mere fancy at the time of her taking. A whimsy to be tried on for size. But then she discovered who this creature had been, and suddenly her host became a prestigious acquisition. A host that possessed the combined knowledge of the Tok'ra and the Tau'ri. And very suddenly, the System Lords were very interested in what Anqet had to offer.

It was rather fortunate for Anqet, in that case, that none of the Lords realised that the rather ephemeral nature of all these memories was making it rather hard for the Goa'uld to access them. The death of the host's previous symbiote had resulted in some subtle, but rather irritating, changes to her central nervous system, and it was difficult to repair.

Still, Anqet had no doubt that, given time, she would triumph over the pitiful collection of misfiring neourons that opposed her. And then she fully intended to use every advantage to gain her the rightful rank of System Lord. It would be a small price for their collective to offer her such a position when she knowledge she possessed could bring down two of their greatest enemies in one fell swoop.

It meant, however, that the Tok'ra spy she had found in her midst needed not be kept alive when the initial questionning of him proved unsuccessful. Why keep him alive and invite attack from the Tok'ra (or even their allies, the Tau'ri) when soon enough she would gain all the information she needed from her own host?

It had been a long time since Anqet had performed a good execution. There just weren't enough traitors in her court anymore to justify a long drawn-out death.

As Anqet sat in her chambers, preparing herself for her appearance ahead, she caressed the ribbon device that wrapped itself around her wrist with metallic coolness, mentally visualising the moment when the energy brought forth by her own mind would snatch the Tok'ra's life away, dispersing his energies to the ends of the universe, and, startlingly, felt the phantom memory of fingers not her own trailing across the hand device, settling it properly on her hand and causing a peculiar fluttering in her chest.

"You're still trying to force it." A smooth male voice whispered in her ear, and Anqet was chagrined to find herself whirling, looking for the owner of the voice. She was, of course, alone in this place, her inner sanctum. The voice was only a product of her mind, of the disorganised memories that fluttered through them thanks to the damage already done. Anqet closed her eyes and tried to banish the memories, succeeding in only worsening the manner as the blankness of her inner vision was replaced by the liquid blue of the Tok'ra crystalline tunnels.

Anqet felt a brief burst of excitement. Was this one of the memories of the Tok'ra? Was this something she could produce and give to the System Lords as proof that the memories were there, accessible, and she deserved her amelioration in rank and status?

The same hand slipped over hers again, holding it steady as the hand, clothed in a ribbon device like her own, aimed at a set of damaged crystals. Target practice of some sort?

"You seem to believe that when you use this weapon, you must bend it to your will." The voice carried a gentle undertone of amusement as it instructed, Anqet still unable to see his face, and her frustration growing at such a thing.

"Isn't that how you make it work?" Anqet's host's voice.

A soft chuckle. "When you use your weapon... what did you call it?"

"An MP5."

"When you use an MP5, must you force it to do your will? Must you make it function with sheer determination?"

A slight snicker. "Not really. I usually just press the trigger."

"Exactly. This is no different. You are so used to your MP5 and how it works that it is simply second nature. You activate it, and it does what you wish it. With this, you simply activate it, and it does what you wish. Granted, the interface is a little more instinctual than what you are accustomed to but you must simply adjust your mindset." The voice became softer, and Anqet had a feeling that the speaker moved closer to her ear, feeling ghostly breath on her own neck. "The knowledge is contained within you. You know this. Selmak once told you of it. All we are doing here is reawakening your skills." A pause, and the voice sounded like it was indicating something with a jerk of the head. "Now try again."

A wave of energy flowed out of the hand device, impacting on the crystals and shattering them into thousands of tiny shards.

Anqet's field of vision changed as, in the memory, her head turned to look at her instructor. And all Anqet could see were clear blue eyes.

"See." He said. "I told you you could do it."

"Your Glory!"

The voice of Anqet's First Prime jerked her out of her reverie in such a manner that she felt somewhat shaky, and her heart pounded, until she regained enough of herself to dampen down on her host's andrenaline and reduce her to normalcy. "I thought I instructed that none were to disturb me." She growled, the ribbon device in her hand flaring an angry red in an indication of its wearers state of mind.

The First Prime looked distinctly nervous, but, to his credit, pushed on with what he was saying. "Your Worship, forgive me. But the Tok'ra is prepared for death, and the appointed hour has arrived."

Startled, Anqet surreptitiously checked the timepiece built into the wall of her chambers, and found that much more time had passed than she had thought had while in that vision of the past. "Of course." Anqet spoke, rising gracefully from her kneeling position amongst the cushions strewn across the floor. It would not behoove a Goddess to be surprised by the lateness of the hour, after all. "Bring the Tok'ra to the courtyard. Gather the people."

"Yes, my Lady." Her First Prime said, quickly departing.

Anqet unconsciously ran her fingers, in the same manner as those phantom hands had done, over the ribbon device, and smiled in anticipation. By the time she reached the square, she had managed to banish the thoughts that had emerged from that experience to the part of her mind in which she had locked what little of the host survived. Keeping it there for future study, as she would preserve a curious specimen of animal.

Her First Prime was already there, decked out in the more ostentatious version of the armour he normally wore. The ceremonial variety that Anqet insisted her Jaffa wear on 'special' occasions, and caused more than a few lascivious thoughts to surface in the Goddess's mind. Yes. There was a definitely a reason why he was kept in his position other than his obvious skills with a staff weapon. As he saw her, he stepped forward, silencing the people of her world with a bellow.

"Ten'vret! Kree!" The chattering that had been in rife throughout the square started to die down to a low murmured hush. "Behold! Your Queen!" And gesturing theatrically, he turned to Anqet.

Smiling in a condescending manner, a Goddess stepping down from her position in the sky to grace her people with her presence, Anqet stepped out from behind elaborate drapes, throwing her hands open to receive the cheering of her servants, calling, "Kree'nak taz'khac. Toren k'le." The formal blessing bestowed upon the crowd, the chanting grew louder.

With a gesture, she quieted them, and spoke clearly, in the common language of the people so that none misunderstood her meaning. "There has been in Our presence a spy." She said, making eye contact with as many of the crowd as possible. "A traitor." An angry whispering sprung up at that. "From the Tok'ra." She gestured imperiously.

Her First Prime appeared with his second in command, dragging between them a man decked in what had once been the finery of Anqet's court. However, since his capture and torture within her palace, it had been stained by dirt and bodily fluids of all sorts. He looked tired more than anything, straining to raise his head enough to stare dully at Anqet.

"I know you're in there, Samantha..." the host of the Tok'ra was daring to speak. Proof that the Tok'ra needed to be eradicated. Treating their hosts like people. Giving them a voice. No wonder they were so weak. They allowed themselves to be infected by the creatures they should have dominated. "I knew you. Fight her, Samantha." His voice was so quiet that Anqet doubted anyone save herself or the Jaffa holding him had heard him over the angry murmurs of the crowd.

Anqet saw her First Prime glance towards her querilously, and her face hardened. How dare he address her host in the presence of her servants? Or at all, for that matter. "This," she said, speaking loudly so the crowd could hear her. "Is what We do to traitors."

The Tok'ra barely had the strength to look at her as she held the ribbon device above his head, letting him savour the anticipation of death for several moments before activating it, and feeling all the nerves in her body tingle as she poured her energies into banishing the Tok'ra to the next plane of existence. He was so weak he barely lasted a few moments.

'No sport at all,' Anqet thought bitterly as the Tok'ra's head rolled back, eyes wide and unseeing, and the crowd let out a bloodythirsty roar as they witnessed his demise. She signalled for her Jaffa to dispose of the body, and started to turn, intent on heading back inside her palace.

But then she froze. For an instant, she thought she had seen shrounded in the robes of her Ten'vret people, two clear blue eyes that she recognised from something other than her own memory. Two clear blue eyes that she had seen in her vision of the Tok'ra.

**

Anqet sat in her throne room, upon the elegantly cushioned chair that was raised on a dais, and impatiently dismissed the slave girl who had been caring for her mistress's pleasure and sitting back in the throne in dissatisfaction. The incident from that morning was still causing her much distraction. She was almost certain that it was Tok'ra that had arrived on her world. Tok'ra that knew her host before it had been brought to serve her. Perhaps they were even there to attempt a rescue.

And for some reason she couldn't fathom, she knew she /had/ to see this Tok'ra.

"Jaffa! Kree!" She barked, and the senior of the Jaffa stationed in the throne room stepped forward, bowing his head as he awaited her instructions. "You will half the perimeter guard on this palace." she instructed.

"Half, my lady?" The Jaffa's curiosity momentarily overwhelmed his deference.

"Are you disobeying my orders?" she snapped, glowering at him, vision momentarily paling into a washed out yellow as her eyes flared.

"Of course not, my lady." The Jaffa hurriedly agreed,

"And all the throne room guards will be dismissed." She concluded.

"But-"

"They will be dismissed!" She yelled, causing all in the room to flinch. "Now! Leave me! And you will not disturb me further."

And in less than a minute, the room was cleared out.

Anqet was left alone. Left alone to contemplate, and anticipte.

It wasn't long, however, before the doors to the chamber swung open and Anqet almost growled with disgust. Her Jaffa coming back to gain her instruction on some matter no doubt.

'Snivelling children,' Anqet thought unkindly. 'Unable to suckle at their mothers breast without orders to do so.'

"Jaffa, kree!" she snapped, putting every menacing thought she possessed into the command. "I gave orders that I not be disturbed."

But it was not the Jaffa. It was someone else she recognised. The blue eyes.

Tok'ra.

"Kal'nek shree Jaffa!" The one with the blue eyes snapped, the voice that of a symbiote. "Kal'nak shree Tok'ra."

Anqet felt her eyes flare, raising her hand device. Why had she allowed them to come this far into her palace? What had possessed her? Or was it some remnant influence of her host?

How ignominious. To be controlled by an animal.

"Don't!" The older one warned, raising his weapon thrateningly. Anqet didn't doubt he would use it.

Anqet stood up slowly, jewelry clinking softly as she did so, and stared at the pair of them. Finally, after some aggressive searching through her host's mind, she managed to put names to faces. The older one was her host's father, and the other, younger one, was something... who meant something special to her host.

"We know you." Anqet said, a slow smile creeping onto her face "You are of the Tok'ra. Two very important members of the Tok'ra at that." She grinned. "This must be Our lucky day." she said, deliberately using a Tau'ri phrase she had plucked from the host mind, knowing the effect it would have on the two of them. She raised her hand a little higher.

And that was when she felt two arms clamp around her neck. She struggled briefly before recognising the hold for what it was, and everything disappeared into darkness.

**

When everything became light again, she was lying on the floor, the Tok'ra and a female standing over her. "We have to get her to the Chaapa'ai somehow." One was saying.

"I know, but she's rather conspicuous in that getup, don't you think?"

"She's awake!" The female. And Anqet cursed her, starting to move to make her escape.

Then the blue fire of a zat'nik'atel hit her, coursing through her body and sinking her into a world of darkness and pain.

**

Samantha Carter awoke, clutching at her chest and feeling the aftershocks of a zat'nik'atel blast rippling through her as if she had been shot only yesterday, rather than well over a year earlier. She shuddered, flopping back onto her bed and waiting until her nerves stopped twitching enough to allow her to get to her feet and stumble into her bathroom, splashing her face with cold water in an effort to revive her and bring her back to the here and now.

Narva, the capital city of Tollana glistened out of her window, the stars that hung above it reflecting off her bathroom mirror and into her eyes, soothing her with their unchanging sameness from night to night. A gentle reminder that whatever problems plagued her, that in the grand scheme of things, it perhaps didn't really matter.

Maybe not in the grand scheme of things. But it certainly mattered to /her/.

She hadn't had that dream in a long time. At first she'd managed to get some rather effective drugs from the Tollan doctors that stopped her from remembering her dreams upon awakening, and in time, she'd managed to bury the memories where they couldn't rear up during her sleep and cause her to wish she were dead upon awakening.

At least that was one of the less terrifying dreams. Unlike recalling when Anqet had tortured one of her own people for no other reason than boredom. Unlike when she remembered how the self-proclaimed goddess had sent an army down to a planet, and then surveyed the mass of dead and mangled bodies on the battlefield, before retiring with the lament that all the gore ruined her shoes. Or when she'd ordered the children of a village slaughtered after hearing a rumour that a Tok'ra symbiote was residing in one of them. The ones that left her screaming for hours, or sobbing her heart out. Her neighbours didn't appreciate the noise, and she learned to activate her soundproofing before retiring for the night.

Why had the nightmares started coming back after all this time? Well, that wasn't hard to work out.

When SG1 had appeared through the Tollana Stargate and had been confronted with her presence, unaware that she was still alive, the combined strain had just been too much for her to take. With the painful presence of Martouf and Jacob, and the upwelling of emotions that had accompanied their arrival, being confronted with spectres of her past life was enough to bring all the memories and emotions she had worked so hard to bury to the surface, forcing themselves on her consciousness and demanding she experience them all over again.

Wasn't this what she had fled from?

Sam didn't know where the Tok'ra or SG1 were at that moment. Upon seeing her, after a stunned silence, Jack and Daniel had started bombarding her with questions. What happened? Where had she been for the last two years? What was wrong and why was she wearing a Tollan outfit?

It had been too much for Sam, and she resorted to what had worked for a long time. She fled. But this time the memories refused to be left behind.

It was the early morning on Tollana, the darkest hour of the night before the sky started to brighten with the rising sun. Sam knew she couldn't get back to sleep now, and she didn't want to, knowing that her past would only haunt her as she lay attempting to sleep.

So she pulled on her clothing, not bothering to make any effort at picking out an outfit, just throwing on an old utility jumpsuit that was lying about in her wardrobe, and a sturdy pair of boots. Finally donning a cloak against the cold of the night, she left her apartment and simply started walking, attempting to clear her mind with the simple act of walking.

For a while, it helped. If she just focused on putting one foot in front of the other, getting to the end of the street, around the next corner, across the foot bridge, she could distract herself from the thoughts that were scratching at the door of her mind, baying to be let inside.

And then, all of a sudden, she had reached the river, and the ornate bridge that served as a crossing over it. It passed over an estuary, so on one side was a series of trees lining the river, and on the other side, it gradually widened to enter the sea, which spread out to the horizon, the nearby harbour just visible off to the left before it disappeared behind the edge of a cliff. And there was a person already there.

Osarena stared at her with hollow eyes as Sam approached. "What are you doing here?" she asked, even her voice sounding dead. Her eyes were swollen, as if with crying.

"Walking." Sam answered, slowly coming to a stop aside the technician, leaning on the barrier as she was, gazing out to sea. "Try to forget. You?"

Osarena stared at her, as if the mere fact that Sam was being civil to her was something to marvel at. Finally she seemed to mentally dismiss it, and said, "The same as you."

"Ah." Sam said, giving her a sidelong glance. "Something to do with Narim."

Osarena flinched, as if slapped, and turned her head slowly away from the vista before them and stared at the blonde woman beside her. "Why do you say that?" she asked softly.

"Just a wild guess." Sam said in response. "You weren't around this morning. Coupled with the reaction he gave me in response to your name." She paused. "I've seen the way you look at him."

Osarena blinked, and Sam could have sworn she saw tears glisten before the woman turned away. "Nothing like the way he looks at you."

Sam reared back slightly, brow furrowing. Is this why Osarena hadn't been there when bidding farewell to the Tok'ra? "Did you two have a fight of some sort?" she asked.

Osarena whirled this time, mouth slightly agape in shock. "How can you not know? Didn't Narim /tell/ you?" she gasped.

"Tell me what?" Sam demanded, eyes narrowing and her voice becoming steely. Osarena didn't respond, just quickly turned away, hands gripping the barrier so hard her knuckles turned white. Comprehension came over the other woman. "You told my dad and Martouf where to find me."

It was just her luck wasn't it? Another woman she had counted as a friend had betrayed her.

Sam just sighed tiredly, unable to summon the energy to bestow the fury she wished upon Osarena. Besides, the woman was clearly distraught, and Sam couldn't bring herself to add to it, in spite of however much she would have like to. Maybe she felt guilty enough. Maybe that was the reason for the tears.

"You bitch." was all she said, in a very tired voice.

"I deserved that." Osarena said softly.

"And a lot more." Sam agreed. She raised her head from her hands in which she'd buried it momentarily, examining Osarena thoughtfully. "So why'd you do it?"

Osarena laughed mirthlessly. A short, sharp bark of noise that had nothing to do with amusement. "Because I'm a petty, jealous idiot." She said, shaking her head and examining her hands. "Who didn't realise what doing it would cost her until she was too late."

Sam straightened, waving a hand. "I never wanted Narim," She lied. "Not that way. You could have had him."

"No, I couldn't." Osarena said slowly, turning to look at her. "Because you had him. Heart and mind. I wasn't quick enough."

The pair of them fell into silence, staring out on the sea. Sam thought she could make out one of the fishing trawlers controlled from the Narva main computer heading back into the protected harbour on schedule, delivering its load of fish for consumption and saving a few specimens for scientific study. In spite of the fact that the planet had been thoroughly surveyed, the Tollan people still had many things to learn about their new home.

"I heard about what happened at the Stargate." Osarena finally said, not removing her own gaze from the peacefully rippling water.

"The whole city probably knows." Sam groused. "Damned gossiping artisans."

"Well, it's not like they have any real work to do." Osarena pointed out, her tone derisive. She was silent for a moment, then asked, "So what are you going to do?"

"If I knew that," Sam answered after a long pause. "Then I wouldn't be out here at three am, walking through the pitch dark with a woman who betrayed me as my only company."

Sam knew her words stung the technician, but was too emotionally exhausted to care.

"You can't run from your problems forever." Osarena finally said, turning her gaze infinitesimally to look at Sam. "Especially not the ones you've got. I wouldn't want to be in your position for anything. I have my problems, but they're not as emotionally damaging as yours."

"Nice to know you care." Sam bite out sharply.

Osarena sniffed slightly before answering. "I did care about you, Samantha." she said, sounding a little arch, and a little sad at the time time. "Even when I was wracked with jealousy because Narim looked at you the way I prayed to all the gods the Tollan ever believed in that he would look at me. I did care about you." She straightened, moving to make her departure. "I'm just sorry our friendship has ended this way." And with that, she strode off, up the steep hill and towards the row of buildings that contained her own housing.

And Samantha was left with nothing save her own gnawing thoughts and the sea for company.

**

Part Two: Decisions and Discussions

**

Sam spent a good deal of the rest of the night wandering around the city, up and down the hills and the regimented streets that had been carefully plotted out during the relocation of its people from their doomed homeworld. She eventually returned to her apartment as the day started to lighten, somewhat wetter than when she had left earlier that night. In her musings, she had strayed a little too close to the sea front at high tide, and had been soaked by the arcing waves as they slapped violently against the walls. It had certainly proved an effective distraction.

A message light was flashing discretely on her personal console when Sam arrived back at her apartment, a light she didn't recall seeing as she left. But then, she hadn't exactly been in the right state of mind to notice anything at the time.

"Play message." was all she said as she walked towards her bathroom, pulling off her soggy cape and wringing it out gently before draping it across the heating element.

"Samantha," The voice that drifted across the space between rooms was quite familiar to her as Narim's. But at that moment, all Sam would have welcomed was a nice, normal word from her boss or her coworkers about when was she going to be back at the lab or what was she doing in a few weekends time? Anything other than talking about what was going on at the moment.

"Oh... piss off." was Sam's less than articulate response to the image. There was no answer, naturally. The date stamp she had glimpsed at before she had activated the message told her it had been received last night, and she hadn't noticed.

"I hate to have to ask you this," Narim's voice hesitated, but Sam didn't pause in towelling her hair dry. "But we need you to come to the Curia building tomorrow. It's a matter of some urgency and I'm afraid..." This time, when he paused, Sam straightened and peered around the door to stare at the visual portion of the message. Narim looked distinctly uncomfortable, glancing to the side as if consulting someone else. "I'm afraid that your friends need your help."

Sam closed her eyes and tossed her towel aside in a fit of irritation. What help? They didn't know she was here. What help would they need from a dead woman?

Well then. If they hadn't expected to need her, then they still wouldn't need her know they had been corrected as to the state of her existance. She would go to the Curia in the morning, find out what was so important, and then politely tell them to deal with it themselves. Sam stood slightly straighter, feeling a little relieved at having made so definite a decision after days of uncertainty.

She glanced at the time. By her count, she had at least two hours to make it look as if she hadn't been awake all night, wandering around and getting soaked to the skin by errant waves.

**

The Curia building itself was somewhat akin to a rabbit warren in its complexity. Sam would be embarrassed to admit it, but she never entered the facility without a map-holding datapad concealed about her person with which she could use to navigate her way to her destination. She didn't spend all her time there, so her lack of knowledge was understandable, but it still made her rather embarrassed to see grey garbed workers moving around the buildings as if its layout was second nature.

As such, she always gave herself a five or ten minute headstart whenever she was summoned to the Curia. Today was no different, especially when she realised she had never been to the chamber in question. It was a governmental briefing room, rather smaller than most Tollan rooms, but adequately provisioned for any sort of small meeting. When she arrived, she found that it consisted of a roughly circular room with a small reflecting pool in the centre, a mosaic of a Tollan plant (transplanted to the Tollan agricultural facilities) resembling a lily inset into its base. Two tables in rough semi-circles were arranged around the pool, and around the edge, a few plants were placed here and there for colour against the white drapery.

Also present in the room were SG1, who took up a table on their own, her father and Martouf, and Narim.

She shouldn't have faltered as she did. She knew they were going to be there. But maybe it was the look they all gave her as she entered the room, stepping quietly and quickly over towards the only seat left available on the far end of one of the tables, next to Narim. She folded her hands in her lap and quietly stared at her fingernails until she realised that the focus of this discussion was, in fact, to be her.

"Thank you for coming, Samantha," Narim said, apparently chairing the meeting.

"Hey, Sam." Jack said softly.

Sam just bobbed her head, trying to avoid meeting the eyes on anyone in the room.

"To tell you the truth we... ah..." Daniel was the one to speak, leaning forward earnestly. "We didn't plan on including you in this for... obvious reasons, but once we found out you were alive..."

"We came here to speak to them." Jack said, waving a negligent hand towards Jacob and Martouf. "The Tok'ra said they were here."

Sam frowned a little, and glanced towards her father and Martouf.

"Earth and the Tok'ra have a treaty now, Sam." Jacob said, giving her a gentle smile.

"Ah." Sam said, speaking for the first time. "Missed that."

"Yeah, well, we kinda need the Tok'ra's help." Jack said, looking vaguely uncomfortable with the whole idea. "We went looking for it on Vorash, but they all clammed up and told us to come here." He stopped, staring intently at Sam. The 'And now I see why' going unspoken.

Sam shifted uncomfortably in her seat and tried to mentally wish herself a little smaller.

"Truth is," Jack drawled, continuing in his explanation. "We wouldn't have a problem if the Tok'ra had given us the proper information in the first place."

Lantash's eyes snapped with irritation. "We gave you the knowledge we possessed at the time, O'Neill. The fault is not ours if the situation changed."

Jack just waved his hands in a 'whatever' gesture. Narim leant forward, smoothly interspersing himself into the potential argument. "Perhaps we should explain to Samantha why we asked her here."

Jack glanced to the woman sitting to his left, who seemed to be only paying half a mind to the conversation around her. "Harrison. You were more closely involved in the Project than the rest of us. Why don't you start off?"

Major B. Harrison, as her uniform labelled her, started at the address, returning her attention from her inspection of the walls and back to the conversation at hand. "Yes sir." She said quickly, and paused a moment to gather her thoughts. She looked over and looked Sam in the eye. The woman found it somewhat unnerving. The Major who was so obviously her replacement in SG1 was the only one who seemed to dare look at her so directly. Perhaps because they'd never known each other. "There's a planet we've designated P4T-269. It's a rather unremarkable moon in orbit of a jovian. Oxygen-nitrogen atmosphere. Lots of trees."

Sam frowned. That sounded distinctly familiar; the name plucked at her mind with an insistence of a half-buried memory. In her thoughtfulness, however, she didn't see the nervous looks Lantesh and her father kept casting her.

"We've been using it as a base of operations for a scientific research project." Harrison said, fingers flicking over the white surface of the table. She did not, Sam noticed, elaborate on what that project was. "Basically for the purposes of secrecy. There are things you can hide on an alien world you can't hide in the middle of Nevada. A few days ago, one of the SG teams that had been guarding the scientists made it through the Gate with severe casualties. Jaffa came through the gate, and took most of the science team and the other SG team captive. The rest were killed. Turns out the planet wasn't as abandoned as the Tok'ra had told us."

"The Tau'ri," Lantash interrupted, obviously feeling compelled to speak in defense of his movement. "Asked us if the planet was inhabited by the Goa'uld. Since the only Goa'uld to stake a claim to the world was dead, we believed there to be no threat in occupying an otherwise empty world." He was suddenly staring at her with such intensity that Sam wondered what she was missing.

Then it hit her, causing her to physically sag back in her chair. "Brek'tak." she uttered, the name coming easily to her mind now that her memory had connected the SGC designation and the world name in her mind. Lantash closed his eyes, inclining his head in brief acknowledgement. "Now I see why you wanted to talk to me."

"Anqet claimed the planet." Jacob confirmed in a gentle tone. "It seems that since she just vanished one day, her underlings weren't sure whether or not she was dead."

"Turns out," Daniel said, taking over the narrative. "One of those underlings has finally decided that she's been absent so long that she must be dead, and has started to stake his claim over her territory."

"What do you want from me?" Sam asked weakly, unable to bring herself to open her eyes and look at her teammates. Her former teammates.

"Information." Teal'c spoke, succintly as always. "Jacob Carter informed us of your possession by a Goa'uld. We wished to know if you could provide us with information the System Lords possessed as to the size and nature of Anqet's army."

Sam did open her eyes then, looking towards Narim and the Tok'ra. "You didn't tell them." She said, a faint wondering in her voice.

Narim shook his head softly, and Sam sighed.

"Tell them what?" Jack prompted.

Sam turned to look at him. "Anqet was the Goa'uld who used me as a host." She said, the words coming out far easier than she expected. She felt somehow disconnected from them as they were uttered, and noticed Harrison's eyebrows arching almost as much as Teal'c's.

"Then you can provide us with a lot more information." she said.

"Actually," Jacob broke in, looking as if he would rather be back on Naetu rather than proposing this idea. "We think she can do a lot more than just provide information."

Sam felt Narim's comforting arm resting on her forearm, although it didn't register in her mind as the world went hazy, and she shook her head, attempting to deny what her own father was suggesting.

A return to the Hell from whence she came.

"No... you can't make me." she whispered fiercely.

"No, we can't." Jacob said, looking at her with deep sympathy. "We're asking."

"Wait a minute," Jack leant forward. "What are we asking?"

Jacob returned his attention to SG1 as Narim tried to calm Sam with murmured reassurances in her ear. "Sam can pose as Anqet. She knows the Goa'uld, she knows the underlings. And they know her. As far as they know, she's not dead. Her First Prime's been keeping the illusion that she's still alive. Why, we don't know. Until now, it's been enough to keep them in line. If she turns up and orders them to release the prisoners, then they probable will."

Harrison looked at Sam, who had turned almost as pale as the room decorations. Then she looked at Jack. "If she can't, we'll have to do this any way we can. We can't allow the information they have to-" And Jack shushed her with an impatient motion as Narim glanced in their direction sharply.

"We need to get our people out." He said simply, looking directly at Sam, who stared back at him, feeling as if she were drowning under his scrutinising gaze. "We could use your help. But we're not going to make you do anything."

Sam swallowed, her throat deprived of moisture. "Can I think about it?" she asked weakly, glancing from one to the other.

In her heart, though, she already knew what her answer was going to be.

**

It didn't, however, mean that she was unsurprised when she entered the Stargate courtyard, bag slung over her back and heading towards the small group that had gathered in preparation to leave Tollana. And she would be going with them. In a few short hours, she had made the decision to go with them. To return to the life she had fled. To voluntarily expose herself to that nightmare again.

What on Earth did she think she had left unfinished that necessitated her returning to that?

"Don't go." It was Narim, standing at her shoulder, having intercepted her as she stepped into the courtyard. He had caught her before she had joined the rest of the group, successfully keeping their words out of earshot.

"I have to." She responded distantly, unsure of whether she was actually saying her words aloud, so separated from them did she feel. "I don't know why, but I have to."

"Why not stay here?" He pleaded, reaching out and grasping her hand, and holding onto her as if fearing she would step out of his life forever if he let go.

And perhaps she would.

"I thought you were happy here."

"I was."

"And now?"

"Now?" Sam's eyes slid to the side, watching the omnipresent artisans as they daubed in another section of the mural. "I don't know. Nothing makes sense any more."

"Then stay here." He said, eyes sliding briefly towards SG1 to make sure none were approaching to interrupt before returning to look at her. "You shouldn't go if you're less than completely sure."

"I feel like..." Sam trailed off, trying to pin down the ephemeral sensation that was rippling through her. An echo of her symbiotes? Or something else? "Like this is my last chance." she finally settled on, looking him in the eye, mentally pleading with him to understand her. Even if she didn't understand herself.

Narim lowered his eyes, unable to look at her for a moment. "I don't want to lose you." he finally said.

Impulsively, she threw her arms around his neck, putting more into the display of sudden affection than anything else she had in a year. "There's someone else for you here. Even if I'm not around." And she pulled back, before turning her head to the person that she'd noticed on her way in.

A fair distance away, but not so far away that she couldn't see clearly everything that was going on, Osarena stood partways up a hill, staring at what was going on. At Samantha and Narim.

He turned back and looked at Sam, curiosity in his eyes, obviously wondering what she knew.

"She loves you." Was all she said. It was all she had to say.

Narim stared at her a moment, then leaned forward a little and kissed her chastely on the cheek. "Good luck." He said, warmly, before giving her hand a final squeeze and dropping it. She smiled distantly at him, and turned slightly to walk towards SG1, her father and Martouf.

When she turned back just before reaching the group, she saw Narim approaching Osarena and the woman turning to her. A few moments later, he reached out and brushed his fingers against her cheek.

Sam turned away.

The group were watching her carefully as she approached.

"Got everything you need?" Jack asked cautiously, and Sam merely nodded in response, raising her bag slightly to indicate it. It wasn't hard to pick what she wanted to bring with her. She had never had that many posessions to begin with. Jack paused, looking at her intently, then reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked, his manner giving every indication that he'd call the whole thing off there and then if she said no.

But she couldn't very well do that now, could she? "I'm sure." she said, offering him a slight smile and a confidence of voice that she did not feel.

"Okay then." He said, glancing towards Daniel. "Dial us up."

Daniel jumped, almost surprised at the mundane order in the midst of the unusual scene, and then stared at the Tollan DHD for a moment, before figuring out its operation and tapping in the code for Earth. Jacob put an arm around his daughters shoulders.

"You'll be alright, Sam." He said, squeezing her gently. "I promise."

"Cross your heart and hope to die?" Sam said, her vague smile not reaching her eyes.

Jacob just gave her another, somewhat sadder, squeeze as the wormhole opened, and he and Sam followed SG1 back to Earth, with Martouf following just behind.

**

Part Three: UPS Never Worked This Quick...

**

It was either a very poorly designed projectile, or an extremely squishy box. In fact it was neither. The fairly hefty hide-wrapped package came sailing through the event horizon and hit the ramp's surface with a dull thud. The impact jarred the contents slightly, creating a dully metallic 'chink'. A few moments later, the wormhole disengaged and the SGC's Gateroom was left filled with a puzzled silence, as the guards contemplated the package as if wondering whether to shoot it, or marvel at the fact that it was possible to get a parcel delivered from the other side of the galaxy in less time than it took to get an ambulance.

Then Jacob Carter entered the Gateroom, after having seen the parcel's arrival through the control room. "Ah, excellant," was all he said as he jogged up the ramp and picked up the package, extracting a plastic flimsy that had been stuck into the bindings that held the parcel together. It was covered in Goa'uld characters that seemed to meet with Jacob's approval as he read them, nodding his head and returning to the control room.

"This is the material I told Erinye to send us when we ordered her back to the Homeworld." he said, in explanation, to General Hammond, who stood watching him warily. Hammond had seem somewhat disconcerted around his old friend since SG1, with three extra people, returned from Tollana, one of whom he had thought dead a long time ago.

"What is it?" he asked as Jacob pulled at a corner to glance inside the parcel and make sure it matched up with whatever was on the flimsy. Probably a list of contents or something.

"Equipment." was all Jacob said, somewhat evasively, in return. "Is there somewhere I can put this?"

Hammond nodded, gesturing a guard forward and instructing him to take the parcel and put it with the rest of SG1's equipment, and then he and Jacob started back to Hammond's office, where they had been before the summons from the incoming wormhole.

As they reached his office, Hammond turned slightly towards Jacob as he held the door open for the Tok'ra and said, "You never answered my question."

Jacob sighed heavily, running his fingers over his head as he took a seat opposite of George's desk, before folding his hands in his lap. "Would you believe me if I said it just slipped our minds?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.

Hammond shut the door firmly and crossed to his chair, feeling sour at such a response to his query. "Not in the slightest." He said, taking his seat and giving Jacob a glower.

Jacob, for his part, sighed and dropped his gaze to his lap before looking up again. "At first, we didn't tell you because when we grabbed her, she was still host to Anqet, and we weren't sure she would survive." He took a deep breath, obvious pain on his features as he recounted what had happened to his daughter. "Then, after she was separated..." He seemed to search for words for several moments. "She was a mess, George." He look hard at his old friend, conveying to the General all the desperation he had felt at that time. "She wouldn't communicate with anyone. Wouldn't even react. The Healers couldn't help her. We didn't know what to do. Then one day, she just disappeared. And it was a year before we found out where she was. And a few days later, SG1 showed up."

There was a silence as Hammond took that in, and then he sighed. "Not an easy situation, huh, Jacob?"

Jacob smiled mirthlessly at that. "You could say that."

"To be honest," Hammond continued, "I always wondered what was up. Every time you came here, you always looked twice your age. Even with Selmak taking care of you. I put it down to Major Carter's death. Obviously more was going on."

"Yeah," Jacob said softly. "It's one thing to know someone you love is dead. To be able to mourn them and move on. But when they've just disappeared... and you don't know if they're dead or not..." He trailed off, and when he spoke again, his voice bore the telltale distortion of his symbiote.

"It was a painful time for Jacob, and to be honest, it still is." Selmak said, looking sad. "It was hard for him even to think about it then. Do not blame him for not speaking of it to you. You would have demanded far too much that he could not give."

Hammond nodded slowly. "I understand that, Selmak."

"I know you do," Selmak said, raising his head to look at Hammond. "Through my shared memories with Jacob. He and I are one, and as such I consider you a friend, General, even though the time of our acquaintance has been brief. I hope you would not blame myself, or the Tok'ra, for keeping this from you."

Hammond blinked, not expecting such a sentiment to come from his friend's symbiote. And, surprisingly, the idea didn't bother him as much as he would have thought. He sighed, leaning back, "Blame you, no. I don't blame you. Disappointed in you, yes. I honestly thought the Tok'ra took us more seriously as allies than that."

"The Council's thoughts on the matter are divided." Selmak said, obviously displeased with such a stance by the Tok'ra leadership. "Some are in favour of our alliance, and others believe we should return to our isolated state. That forging relations with other races leave us open to attack. Such opinions run split throughout the Tok'ra. As such, information is often left unconveyed."

And then Jacob returned. "It's not that the Tok'ra don't trust you, it's just that experience has taught us to be wary." He said, a humourless smile graced his lips.

Hammond left the 'us and them' part of Jacob's words uncommented on.

"Where is Sam now?" Jacob finally asked.

Hammond blinked at the sudden change in conversation track, but answered without mentioning it. "She should still be in the Infirmary getting checked out. Doctor Frasier will probably want to run her through the full series of tests." And make sure, he didn't add, that she is who she says she is.

"It'll be good to know she's healthy." Jacob said, distantly.

Hammond suddenly felt moved to reassure his friend. "Jacob. I'm sure she'll be alright. Sam's always been a strong woman."

"Strong, yes." Jacob shook his head. "Something happened though. While she was Anqet's host. Apart from the actual possession. She was just so traumatised. The Tok'ra have had contact with former hosts of the Goa'uld that aren't as torn up inside as she is. I don't even think Erinye knew, and she was the only one that Sam confided in."

"But unless she tells us," It was Selmak again, switching between himself and Jacob with nary a blink of the eyes, confirming Hammond's long-held suspicion that the head-dip was all for show. "Then we may never know."

**

"Well, Doc?"

Janet Frasier looked up from the myriad results and reports on her desk to look tiredly at Teal'c and Jack O'Neill, who had just been released from the standard post-mission scans and checks, and had, by the looks of things, come to see her immediately. She didn't even need to ask what they were referring to, but she did anyway, feeling the need to gather her thoughts before she was bombarded by questions from Samantha Carter's former teammates.

"Well what?"

"Is that Sam?" Jack asked.

Janet sighed. "Physically, as far as I can tell yes. She has the same scars from where we had to remove all that shrapnel from two and a half years ago. The signs of the same broken bones. Her blood work hasn't come back yet, but I'm guessing that'll show us more. Mentally though..." Janet closed her eyes briefly. "You only have to look at her, and she's different."

Janet would never forget the moment when she had entered the infirmary to see the living breathing incarnation of her supposedly dead friend, only to be brought up short when she had looked into those eyes that seemed so dead, and yet filled with so much pain that if it weren't for the medical results in front of her, she would hardly have believed belong to the same Samantha Carter that was like a second mother to Cassandra.

"She is not the same woman." Teal'c said, putting into succinct words what Janet had been struggling with since seeing Sam. "Her soul has suffered many battles, and has not come out unscathed. I have seen it in warriors who have fought long, and do not wish to battle any more."

"So what's the deal with this Carter chick? I mean, everyone's talking about her, but I don't get half of what they're saying." That came from Brenda Harrison, who entered Janet's office just behind Daniel. Janet saw the faces of SG1 sour slightly. Brenda hadn't been with SG1 for very long, and had never seemed to fit in with any of them. Personally, Janet put it down to the fact that they saw it as an attempt at replacing Sam. They accepted Harrison because it was orders. But it didn't mean they had to like it. And Harrison seemed fine with that. An engineer transferred from Area 51, she spent most of her time around the technical crew of the SGC anyway.

"The deal is that she was taken over by a Goa'uld." Jack said, slightly annoyed at Harrison's flippancy.

Harrison wrinkled her nose. "No offence, but we've seen ex-hosts before. None of them seem quite so... well... forgive me, but screwed I think is the best word."

Daniel sighed sadly, looking towards Harrison. "We don't know either. We barely know what happened to her. What could have been so awful as to turn her like this..." He trailed off, and Harrison didn't seem to be in possession of a come back. She just bit her lip thoughtfully and glanced towards the corridor, down which Sam lay in the infirmary, waiting for the medical verdict on her.

"Who's that guy that's with her?" She asked.

Janet frowned, wracking her brain for who had been with Sam when she had examined the woman. "Ah. Martouf."

"And he's..."

"Martouf is Tok'ra." Teal'c said, as if that was all she needed to know.

Harrison took the hint, and fell silent.

"So she's going to be able to come on this mission?" Jack said, turning back to Janet.

The doctor nodded, picking up and fingering the edge of Sam's medical file, which had been buried in records and had taken a while to relocate. It had been sealed after her death, and never expected to reopen. "According to my preliminary findings, there's no physical reason for her not to travel off-world." She gave a short bark of lifeless laughter. "But I get the impression that these are only a formality. She's not 'officially' part of the SGC anymore. Martouf said something about Tollan citizenry. We couldn't keep her here if we wanted."

"Why's she here anyway?" Jack asked softly, almost to himself. "She didn't seem very happy to come back."

"Who knows what she's been through?" Daniel said, pragmatically. "Who knows what thoughts are going through her head?"

"She does." Teal'c said, simply.

**

Sam absently rubbed at the crook of her elbow, smoothing out the small beige circular plaster that the nurse had just pressed onto her arm after taking enough blood to stock a small blood bank. Martouf stood nearby, Lantash in control, leaning against another bed.

"A remarkably barbaric method of extracting fluids," Lantash spoke, moving slowly towards Sam, and giving the medical tools in the tray next to Sam's bed before giving it an expression of distaste and looking down at Sam's arm as he reached her side. "It can only be performed a certain number of times before the vein collapses. And I would imagine it is not without pain." He had reached out to gently trace the edge of the self-adhesive dressing, but Sam pulled her arm away, shivering.

"Don't." She said quickly, before seeing the slight look of hurt on his face, rapidly covered. "You're... prickly." she said, somewhat in explanation.

Martouf spoke now, giving Sam a sad sympathetic smile. "I am sorry our presence makes you uncomfortable. Not being exposed to symbiotes for a while would doubtless heighten your sensitivity." He paused, probably consulting with Lantash. "We can leave, if you like."

Sam hesitated, fighting her instinctive urge to push him away. The alternative was remaining here, in this sterile room of concrete and softly beeping machines that, after a year of Tollan technology, seemed unbearably primative to her mind. Alone and in silence. "No." She said finally, shaking her head and forcing herself to look him in the eye. "It's alright. Stay."

Martouf nodded gently, moving to the seat that was placed beside the bed and sitting on it gingerly, as if worried sitting on it the wrong way would cause him to fall off. Sam recalled, with amusement, the first time Martouf had ever tried to sit on the workstation seat that were in her lab. They had a tendency to bounce when sat upon, and unless one knew that and was prepared, it tended to cause the would-be occupant of the chair to wind up falling to the floor. The image of a Tok'ra sprawled on the floor of her lab, looking rather bemused at her laughter, had stayed with her for weeks.

Sam felt a smile tugging at her lips, and quickly erased it. But not quickly enough.

"What's so funny?" Martouf asked her, tilting his head, hands folded in his lap. He seemed to be consciously restraining himself from reaching out and touching her. He had always been quite a tactile person, tending to touch people when speaking to them, although his diplomatic training had managed to train the instinct out of him. Obviously he was employing that now.

"Just... memories." Sam said, then glanced at him. "Good ones. Don't have many of them."

"Those memories should be cherished." Martouf told her. "Savoured for when circumstances are not so favourable." He looked down at her. "What else do you remember?"

"I remember..." Sam closed her eyes briefly, thinking back. "I can remember a world with three moons, and the sea was an odd purple shade. You were there."

Martouf smiled distantly. "Reelas. The Tok'ra used it as a staging world briefly. Jolinar and I were on the initial scouting party."

Sam looked disappointed. Perhaps, he thought, she had hoped that the memory was one of her own, and not that of her erstwhile symbiote.

"What else?" he prompted, hoping to gain a pleasant memory that came entirely from her. Hoping to gain that faint smile he had seen from her moments earlier. Briefly, it had brought light to her eyes and made her look vaguely like the woman he once knew.

Sam looked like she wasn't going to say anything for a moment, then seemed to change her mind, her expression shifting as if something had caught her vision, just in the corner of her eye. "I can remember a forrested world with small purple birds that looked vaguely like eggplants. It was raining and... we were under shelter. You put your arms around me to keep me warm because I'd gotten so cold and wet." She looked up at him. "Another experience with Jolinar?"

Martouf smiled, bringing his hand towards her, but arresting the motion before they came into contact, resting his arm against the edge of the bed. "No. That was you and I. When we went on a joint Tau'ri-Tok'ra mission to gather some intelligence. We were separated from your team and forced to wait out a storm before proceeding back to the Chaapa'ai."

Sam didn't seem to know whether to be happy that she had found a memory of her own, or dismayed at the fact that she hadn't realised it was her own. "How could I not remember that?" she asked, somewhat wonderingly.

"Your mind was undoubtedly damaged when we removed Anqet." Martouf said gently. The Healers had been afraid of that. They hadn't known whether there was any memory disruption, since Sam had hardly been cooperative. And she had left without submitting to a more thorough scan. "It may heal." He said, although privately, Lantash voiced the opinion that without the aid of a symbiote, she would likely never be able to segregate the memories of herself and Jolinar, which were already mixed.

Sam sighed, lowering her gaze to the fingers she had laced over her chest when she had lain down on the bed. "You know, with anyone else, that very accomplished combination of a bedside manner and diplomatic training would fool them." She raised a finger without unlacing her hands. "I know you better."

"Yes," He mused. "You do. Probably better than anyone."

Sam looked up at him thoughtfully, and opened her mouth to respond-

"Sam! I just got your results."

Sam broke off whatever she had been about to say and sat up from her lying position. Martouf restrained the urge to support her as she seemed slightly dizzy from such a quick motion, but she quickly recovered and focussed on Janet Frasier, who had just entered the infirmary. SG1 were in tow, hanging back until the Doctor had finished with her.

Janet Frasier approached, brandishing Sam's medical file and gesturing with it expanisively. "I've finished with all your bloodwork, physical exams, etc, and as near as I can tell, you're in perfect health."

"Physical health." Sam quantified, eliciting a frown from Janet.

"Yes." She said, fiddling with the file. There was an awkward silence. "Um... I have other patients to check on." She says, excusing herself quickly and departing.

SG1 approached, Jack in the lead, who smiled gently at Sam. "Good to have you back, Major."

Daniel came closer, as if to support Jack's words. "Yeah, welcome home, Sam."

As Martouf looked at Samantha, he realised that it was hardly possible that she could look less like she had come home.

Did she even have a home any more?

'Like Jacob said, we're her family, we understand like none of these will,' Lantash said, murmuring into Martouf's ear from inside his own mind.

'Do we?' Martouf asked his symbiote silently, as Sam smiled and mouthed platitudes to her former teammates. 'Really?'

To that, Lantash had no answer.

**

Part Four: Reflection

**

Samantha Carter walked through the corridors of her former workplace like a ghost. People who didn't recognise her, or hadn't been around when she had served with the SGC, looked at each other in puzzlement, wondering why this woman in Tollan clothing was walking around the place unescorted and looking like she was half dead. The ones who remembered her just watched her in silence, before turning and muttering to themselves.

And Sam ignored them all.

How long had she been walking? She didn't know. Truth to tell, she'd lost track. Underneath the mountain, there was nothing to indicate the changing of the time of day; the light levels didn't shift in the slightest, and Sam no longer had a watch.

"Are you lost?"

Sam whirled at the unexpected voice. She'd wandered into SG1's equipment room somehow, her feet obviously working on autopilot while her brain was shut down. Jack O'Neill was standing behind her, an armful of clothing in his hands that he was dropping onto a bench. Obviously some harried airman had shoved the pile into his hands. That, or Jack had taken up being SG1's official launderer.

"What? No..." She said quickly, shaking her head. "Just..." She struggled for an excuse for her presence that wouldn't sound too trite. "Looking around the place. Looks... the same as ever."

"Well, I don't know about that." Jack said, shoving the equipment into a storage locker. "New coat of paint maybe. You should have seen the place last time we got these hostile aliens - are there any other kind? - through the Gate. Carbon scoring /everywhere/. So we went from gunmetal grey," He paused dramatically. "To battleship grey."

Sam felt her lips twitching reflexively, and stared at the uniforms as the locker door closed on them. Three extra sets. Ah. So one of those would be hers then. Probably the smaller one. Her fingers absently brushed over the soft synthetic fibres of the Tollan garment she was clad in. She'd have to get rid of this. It was far too impractical.

Jack eyed her, as if taking note of her fidgeting with her robes, but made no comment on it, instead folding his arms and leaning back against the locker to look at her. "Enjoying being back?" He asked, cautiously.

Sam bit her lip and sat down on the bench delicately, as if wary against breaking it by sitting down too rapidly. "I don't know what I expected." She said, finally. "But this wasn't it. The looks people give me in the corridors." She shuddered, then looked up at her former commanding officer. "The ones that don't know me look at me like I'm an alien in their midst. The ones that do..." She shook her head and turned away. "They just look at me with pity."

There was a slight rustling as Jack sat down beside her. "The rat bastards." he said, eliciting a mild smirk from Sam.

There was a pause, and then:

"What happened to you, Sam?" he asked, resting a hand on her shoulder gently. Unlike her father, or Martouf's touch, it elicited none of the skin-crawling sensation of a naqada reaction. The sign of a symbiote.

"Shit happened." She answered, her voice harsh, before standing up and pacing as much as the small space of the room would allow.

"Apart from the usual shit." Jack said, leaning back slightly on the bench. "You've changed, Sam."

"A Goa'uld'll do that to you." Sam said, hand reaching up to scratch the back of her neck, where there had used to be a scar from where Anqet had entered her body before the Tok'ra had removed it upon her rescue.

"No. There's something else."

Sam stared at him for a very long moment. "No." She said finally, her body very still. "There isn't."

Jack took the hint. There were things in his past /he/ definitely wouldn't want anyone dragging him through again, and he sure as hell wasn't going to put her through it. "So." He said, clapping his hands together. "Looking forward to this mission?"

Sam's lips curved into a mirthless smile. "As much as I'd look forward to a root canal. Which, incidentally, I've never had. Tollan dentistry is quite advanced."

Jack waved a dismissive hand. "Way smarter than us. Got it. Bet they don't even have lawyers."

Sam cleared her throat. "Well, actually..."

"Forget I asked." Jack said quickly, but Sam saw the amusement in his face before he turned slightly away from her.

There was a silence that after a few seconds, started to stretch into awkwardness. Sam contemplated making her excuses and leaving, but stoically refused to do that, undoubtedly it would make things even more uncomfortable. Although how that could be was beyond her. To these people, she'd just come back from the dead. "Who's this Harrison woman?" she finally asked, after casting about for several moments to find a suitable topic of conversation. This question that had been niggling at her for a while finally surfaced.

Jack turned back to her, looking faintly surprised at the change in conversation. "Brenda Harrison?" He clarified, and before Sam could offer a nod of agreement, he shrugged and continued, "She's an engineer. Transferred in from Area 51 to serve as someone who could look at all the Gould technology we kept picking up. Not anywhere /near/ your league by the way."

Sam felt a faint smile crease her mouth.

"Later got assigned by Hammond to SG1 when your replacement, Captain Saunders, lost a leg after a Goa'uld ambush. He was a good guy, but after that... well, he obviously couldn't continue."

Sam pressed her lips together. "What's she like?"

Jack hmmed softly. "She's... competant. Bit full of herself. That's what happens when you're posted at Area 51 I suppose. They all think they're so much /smarter/ than us." A slight pause, and then, "Hangs around the tech guys. I think she's sleeping with Siler."

Sam blinked, and then uttered a brief bark of laughter. "That's unusually gossipy of you, Colonel."

Jack shrugged, looking a little embarrassed. "Yeah, well, Palmer cornered me in the mess hall one day."

Francine Palmer. Base gossip. Sam remembered her well. She was a woman to whom you told nothing if you wanted a secret kept.

"That explains it." she said dryly.

She took a deep breath, and sat down on the bench, cradling her face in her lap; her will to continue on the facade of cheeriness having evaporated. "What am I doing here, Jack?" she asked softly, not looking up.

Again that touch with the absence of skin-crawling. "You're gonna help us get our people back." He said simply, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze.

She tried to smile, but simply couldn't summon up the energy.

**

Major Harrison, it seemed, was the one providing technical information for the briefing, standing in front of the same display that Sam had so many time, which was currently displaying a map of the area around the Stargate to a radius of several days travel that had been gathered through numerous UAV excursions while the Earth Science teams had been stationed on the world. She, Martouf and Jacob were ranged on one side of the table, while the remaining members of SG1 sat on the other side.

Us and them, mused Sam. The divide between herself and her former comrades was clearly apparent.

"This," Harrison gestured to a point three days foot travel away from the Stargate. It was near the base of a small mountain, and appeared to be situated in the middle of a sandy expanse, the treeline halting a few hundred meters away from the slope. A computer graphic represented the Goa'uld facility. "Is where SG2 informs us that the Goa'uld stronghold is located. In an easily defensible area. They didn't have any concrete numbers of Jaffa for us, but they saw several mid-sized barracks which could mean we're dealing with numbers up to or above three hundred and fifty."

"Gotta love those overwhelming odds." Jack said, looking up at Harrison from the printout version of the information she was delivering.

"Our objectives," Harrison continued, ignoring Jack's interruption except for a raised eyebrow, "Are to try and extract the scientists and SG team, but also, to retrieve this." She changed the view to a standard SGC packing container. A stock photograph taken from the Science Team's archive. A number was stencilled on the outside. The lid was open to reveal a number of components inside, packed in cut foam. "This was the science team's main project. There aren't any pictures of it assembled, since they'd only managed to complete it just before the Goa'uld arrived."

"What is it?" Martouf spoke up. He and Jacob were also at the mission. For obvious reasons, since they had been instructed by the council that they come along and provide requested Tok'ra support.

Harrison looked startled by the question as she turned to address Martouf. "A prototype shield generator." She answered.

Sam shifted in her seat, glancing over at the Tok'ra. It was Jacob who next spoke. "But I thought Earth was a long way from developing that sort of technology."

Harrison nodded her head. "We were. But with a discovery of an unstable naqada variant, we were able to produce a greater output of power than tests with even weapons grade naqada had produced."

Sam blinked. Harrison had managed to capture the Goa'uld inflection for the mineral perfectly. "That's quite a technological leap." She said, glancing around the table at the others.

"We had some of our best scientists working there." Hammond said, turning slightly to address her.

Sam nodded, feeling oddly distant from the Earth personnel there. She was no longer 'in the loop', so to speak.