Title: Sìor-Mhaireannach

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: AU fic, in the far future at Samantha Carter's funeral, Martouf/Lantash talks.

Rating: G

Status: Complete

Spoilers: None

Category: Angst. Future/AU. S/M

Notes: Never try and write angsty fic while listening to Reel Big Fish's "Sell Out". It. Doesn't. Work.

**

"Ideal mankind would abolish death..."

- D.H. Lawrence (1885-1930), St Mawr

**

Martouf had never gotten used to the climate.

Earth, in contrast to planets he had spent most of his adult life habitating, was, in areas, rather damp and humid. The mountains around the former SGC were an example of that: cold, damp, perpetually drizzling with rain. For someone who had made his home in climate controlled tunnels underneath the surface of desert worlds, it was more than a little uncomfortable.

The service for the departed on Earth was much more than had been given to Tok'ra in the past. Of course, during their fight they had had very little time in which to mourn the loss of a friend or comrade. It hurt, of course, but the Tok'ra were accustomed to death, whether it be the death of their host or of a colleague at the hands of the Goa'uld, so they pushed it to the back of their minds and got on with the work. It took place outside, in the cold autumnal weather, and Martouf saw more than one of the Tok'ra hold back a shiver. But they were there, expressions stoic, as they gathered as Tau'ri customs demanded, to show their respect for Samantha Carter.

Placed at the front of the gathering by virtue of their importance stood the Tok'ra Ambassador to Earth, next to his opposite number, the Earth representative to the Tok'ra Nation. They hadn't known the deceased, and the blank expressions of their faces showed how much of a duty they thought this to be. Internally, they were probably plotting out new trade agreements and such. Standing beside the Earth Ambassador was a young Human woman (Martouf recognised her as one of the diplomatic aides residing at the Earth Embassy on the Tok'ra world), pale skinned and looking as if she were drowning in her thick black coat, hood and gloves. Lantash put forward the doubt that the girl had even been born when the first treaty between their worlds was signed.

The only ones who had perhaps /really/ known Samantha Carter were depressingly few in number, and mostly they were Tok'ra. Teal'c was there, dressed in somber robes of mourning from Chulak, as was Jacob Carter, looking devastated that he had outlived his daughter. Martouf and Lantash had tried to talk to him earlier, but he had been silent, Selmak advising them to leave him alone for the time being. Most of the Humans that Samantha had known and formed attachments to had grown old and died, one by one. Jonas Quinn was still alive, but he had been unable to get to Earth for the ceremony, and so he was not there.

And beside Martouf stood Mary.

Mary Middleton was one of a new breed. After relations between the Tok'ra and Earth had moved from strained to comfortable, there had been a dramatic increase in volunteers to host symbiotes. For the first time since their movement had been founded, the Tok'ra suddenly had the opportunity to pick and choose who would host a symbiote. Indeed, there were hardly enough to go around. The Tok'ra were hoping to advance one of their kind to the Queen stage, and begin their own expansion. Some of the volunteers were obvious choices: brilliant minds encased in dying bodies. Others were perfectly healthy individuals like Mary who liked the idea. And so they had created a new programme. Healthy individuals who wished to become hosts were given the opportunity to work with the Tok'ra for minimum of a year, and if, at the end of that, they still wished to become hosts, they could remain, waiting for their services to be needed. Otherwise they could go home. Mary had gone through that programme already, and rumour had it that when Yosef, whose body was starting to show the strain of living so many years, passed on, she would receive Garshaw.

She was here because she had known Sam, however slightly, and felt obligated to join in paying her respects with the rest of the Tok'ra.

Martouf didn't listen to the ceremony. He chose not to hear the words spoken in an alien tongue, chose not to understand them. He ignored the words of those who hadn't know her as they paid tribute to a woman who had helped save their world repeatedly, and spearheaded their alliances with other species. He could have handed control of his body over to his symbiote and asked Lantash to fuzz things for him, but he didn't. He simply stood there. He was so intent on blocking everything out that he didn't notice when the gathering started to break up, the mourners heading to their vehicles.

In the end it was Mary who, with a shuffling managed to extricate her arm from the heavy Tok'ra robe that she had donned, laid a gentle hand on his arm and moved to face him.

"Are you alright?" She asked.

Martouf briefly considered telling her where to go, in graphic detail. But Lantash reminded him that one day she would host one of the most important Tok'ra of the last five hundred years. So he should be nice. He sighed.

"Have you ever wondered why Tok'ra so rarely form lasting relationships - and I refer not to friendships here, my friend - with non-Blended Humans?" He eyed his companion speculatively.

Mary looked rather stunned at the unexpected question.

When she indicated that she had not, he gestured expansively to the slowly dispersing crowd. "This is why. Because a Tok'ra can live for up to four hundred years, barring grievous injury. And the average Human is lucky to live to a three figure age."

Mary looked over to the simple stone marker that was the last testimony of a remarkable woman. "She lived longer than her hundred years. Much longer."

Martouf smiled slightly. "Lantash always thought that her mind was so determined to hold onto life that she would not let her body die. He has these oddly romantic notions at times." He did not chuckle as Lantash gave him a half-hearted mental slug.

"So..." Mary hesitated, and then plunged ahead with the question on her mind. She had worked with the Tok'ra for a long time now, but they still had the capacity to come out with parts of themselves she had never seen before. "You regret staying with her as she aged? That it was hard for her to see herself grow old as you remained relatively unchanged?"

Martouf gave her a sharp look, but forced himself to stay calm. She was just curious, he reminded himself as he turned away slightly, starting to move away from the graveside. "No." He said, shaking his head. She knew that without a symbiote, she would age more acutely than I. We both knew that. And she would never accept a Blending, especially for something as superficial as her own appearance."

He heard a delicate snort from the woman next to him. Martouf said nothing. Mary, and many of those of her generation could not imagine finding Tok'ra blending so horrific that they would avoid it at all costs. Today it was a prize to be fought over by some of the best and brightest that Earth had to offer. Lantash absently wondered how long, if the desire for symbiosis continued, and if the Tok'ra's wish to breed more of themselves was successful, before the two races became one.

It was abstract thinking. Such a thing would not happen for many hundreds, if not thousands, of years.

"Then what /was/ the problem?" Mary asked.

"It was the knowledge that I would outlive her." Martouf said softly. "The knowledge that she had survived the Goa'uld, two full force invasion attempts by belligerant species, countless trials thrown at her while she was a member of SG1, only to succumb to age, and to know that there was nothing I could do."

He walked, and Mary padded along silently beside him for a few moments. Doubtlessly thinking of her own mortality, or the fact that soon mortality would be the least of her problems. Perhaps she had a loved one on Earth, unblended, that she was considering. Perhaps she was considering what it would be like to outlive her friends, her family. Everyone except the Tok'ra who she was voluntarily becoming a part of.

Martouf cared not. Her own internal crises were the last of his worries at that moment. Lantash, for his part, agreed with his host.

"If you had the chance," Mary said finally, her voice thoughtful and startling Martouf, who had become accustomed to the silence between them. "Would you go back? Change things so they wouldn't hurt so much?"

Martouf wasn't looking at her. Instead, his attention had been caught by the young Human diplomatic aide he had seen earlier. She was making her way slowly across the grass, with the arm of a young Tok'ra male, a scientist Martouf knew worked closely with those from Earth, slung over her shoulders, pulling her close and murmuring in a low tone to her, his mouth practically next to her ear. After a few moments walking, he reached up with a hand, tenderly brushing her cheek with his fingertips. She smiled faintly at him.

Martouf looked away, unable to bear the sight.

"Change the past to spare myself the pain?" Martouf felt his throat tighten and Lantash, a little sadly, finished the phrase for the both of them. "No. But to spare her the pain? I would do that in a heartbeat."

-End