Vala Alphabet Soup
icon by samantilles
My thanks to the 25 authors who seasoned Vala Alphabet Soup with their talented writing skills: Acarlgeek, Amberflyant, Annerb, Beanpot, Campylobacter, Cleo the Muse, Crevanfox, Eilidh, Emily, Fig Newton, Gategremlyn, Gillian, Holdouttrout, Hummingfly, Jamie, Lexi, Lyssie, Merrykk, Pepper, Random, Risti, Samantilles, Traycer, Wonderland, and Ziparumpazoo. Special thanks to Acarlgeek and Merry for last-minute back-up contributions, and to Samantilles for our Vala icon. And a special welcome to our new Soup contributors -- we have now have a total of 79 authors participating in these anthologies!
Stories range in size from 200 words to 2,600 words, for a total of over 26,500 words of Vala goodness. Ratings range from G to PG-13. Expect spoilers for the entire series through Continuum.
Due to LJ posting constraints, it's impossible to have the complete anthology here, although it's posted in full at Dreamwidth. Shorter fics are included in their entirety, with links to the author's LJ for comments; longer fics are excerpted, with links to the author's LJ for the rest of the story. Readers are strongly encouraged to visit the author's individual journals and leave feedback.
A is for Aspect
by sg_fignewton
Vala knows that the Goa'uld are slimy snakes that burrow their way into human bodies and claim their victims' faces as their own. After all, she spent too many years with a symbiote riding her spine, ruthlessly using her body for its own purposes and pleasures. But for all her bitter, intimate knowledge that the Goa'uld isn't the face of the host, she can't help making the association. Even for herself -- for long years after the Tok'ra removed Qetesh, she couldn't look at her reflection without flinching away from the anticipated flash of her eyes.
So when she thinks of Qetesh and Ba'al and Apophis and Ra, she doesn't picture a snake-like creature; she sees the faces of the humans who were forced to host them, and she hates them. She hates the ageless child with the arrogant nose who ruled the System Lords for millennia. She can't stand the golden skin and smooth features and rich voice of Apophis. She despises the dark glint in Ba'al's eyes, the gestures he makes with his hands, and the way the corner of his mouth curls when he smiles. And yes, she knows that in many ways, she still hates herself as the puppet Qetesh used as the tool for her atrocities.
So it is a shock to Vala when she wanders restlessly around Daniel's office, fingering his papers and artifacts and absentmindedly cataloging their value, and she sees a framed picture of Amaunet hanging on the wall. The clothes are too simple and the expression too pleasant, but that face cannot be mistaken.
read on...
B is for Box
by gategremlyn
"Dinner last night was very nice," Carolyn told her father. "I'm glad you came. Mom was glad you came."
"I'm glad I came too," General Landry said. "I'm sorry it took me so long."
Carolyn bent her head and put her hands in the pockets of her lab coat. "I need to get back to the infirmary." She looked up hesitantly. "Will I see you for lunch?"
"I'd like that." He gave his daughter a big smile. She smiled back and for a minute Daniel thought she was going to kiss the her father right there in the cafeteria. Even though it was pretty empty at this time of day, he was sure if Carolyn kissed her father, the news would be around the base within the hour. Knowing Carolyn's reserve and the general's rank, he was relieved to see her regain her professional demeanor as she nodded to her father and left.
Landry had a harder time with his professional demeanor. He was grinning from ear to ear. Finally noticing Daniel and Vala looking at him from a couple of tables away, he nodded to them and made his way to the door, muttering something about a meeting he needed to get to right away.
Daniel smiled back, giving the general a little wave. "I'm glad the two of them have started to work out their differences," he said, his eyes still on the doorway. "It's about time, too. They've been on the base together for more than a year, and I was beginning to think they'd never--" He stopped when he saw Vala's downcast eyes. She was looking into her coffee cup, not giving any indication she heard anything Daniel was saying.
"Vala?"
She looked up briefly and then picked up the fork from her plate and started to play with the pie on it. She didn't eat any of it; she just stabbed at it until it was a messy pile in front of her.
Daniel couldn't understand the change that had come over her. Two minutes ago, they'd been talking about work and shopping trips with Sam. They'd been enjoying a well-earned break from a series of training scenarios Mitchell and Sam were torturing them with when they'd overhead General Landry and his daughter talking.
Ah, there was the problem--fathers and daughters. Daniel understood.
"You okay?" he asked.
He picked up his coffee cup and took a sip, trying to be as non-threatening as possible. It had taken the combined forces of the SGC to get Vala to even talk to her father during his... visit, only to have him turn tail and run without so much as a "see you later."
"I'm fine," Vala answered in a voice that was anything but. "I'm glad General Landry and his daughter are getting along so well. Good for them." With that she threw her fork to the table, pushed back her chair, and stomped out of the room, leaving Daniel looking after her with his mouth hanging open. He left his coffee on the table and followed after her.
read on...
C is for Contetremps
C is for Vala Mal Doran, contetremps extraordinaire!
by eilidh17
"Come on, Daniel, its only lunch. Nothing wrong with friends sharing fond moments over a meal, is there? It's not like we're going on a date."
Rolling his eyes in exasperation, Daniel groaned, "Not going on a date." His plans for a productive day had dwindled down to him being shadowed by Vala every time he left his office, and sometimes while he was still in it. Timing being what is was--in this case, very bad--SG-1 were between missions. So, while Daniel had a pyramid-sized pile of work to excavate, Vala was--
"I'm so bored. Don't make me beg." Swishing her hair in Daniel's face she jutted her chin out definitely. "It's so yesterday."
"No begging, and no lunch." Not even bothering to meet her gaze, Daniel shifted the pile of files in his arms--destined for the linguistics and anthropology department--and tried to look like they held more interest for him than the pony-tailed mosquito currently buzzing in his ear. Coming to a halt and rocking gently back on his heels, he heaved a resigned sigh. "Isn't there something, anything else you could be doing other than annoying me?"
Vala buffed her nails on her black shirt and held them up into the light, admiring her recent manicure. "Oh, darling," she cooed appreciatively. "Unless there's a sale on DeLafee I don't know about or the once a year panty bonanza at Victoria's Secret has been brought forward a month, then no... not really."
Blinking his confusion, Daniel decided he really didn't want to know what she was rambling about, but his traitorous mouth had other plans. "De la... 'Of the fairy?'"
"No, no, Daniel: DeLafee choc-o-late... Imported, Swiss, and the most wonderful, creamily seductive treat in the entire galaxy." She settled her hands on her hips for dramatic effect. "Did you know each little morsal is dipped in edible gold flake?"
"Really? You don't say."
"Uh-huh," she nodded earnestly. "Real gold. Seems your rather quaint little planet prefers to eat its treasure rather than hoard it for a day of meteor showers."
"What?" Daniel's brows settled in a confused heap on the bridge of his nose before shooting up in surprise. "It's called a rainy day."
"Well." Vala tossed one hand out in front of her and huffed, "We all know it doesn't rain in space. Meteors showers, on the other hand, are quite a--"
A tight smile on his face, eyes closed, Daniel held a hand up to stall her. "Stop!" he ordered, holding the hand in place until she fell silent. "I have no interest in gold flake-dipped chocolate."
"Well, you would if the flakes got caught in your teeth. Most undignified."
read on...
D is for Daniel
by hummingfly67
She doesn't like the quiet.
That is when her mind runs riot, thinking thoughts (dark and terrifying thoughts) she'd rather not think ever again. The times when those thoughts get too loud, so loud she wonders how she doesn't go insane (and honestly sometimes she thinks it just might be too late to worry about that particular demon) she seeks out the one person that keeps the quiet at bay.
Vala determinedly bounces into Daniel's office, a bright smile fixed firmly in place. "Daniel, darling, I am quite literally starving!" she announces. "You must take me to dinner." Her energy and motion carry her to his work counter, and she collapses against it dramatically, managing to toss her hair back artfully in the process.
All in vain, it seems, as Daniel doesn't even look up from the text he has his nose buried in she notes with a quick peek in his direction. Her spirits plummet slightly.
"Hmmm...what? Did you say something, Vala?" he mumbles, index finger tapping at a passage in the book as he turns his head to the right to peer at another book - one of several scattered around him.
Well, at least he knows it is her. She cheers herself with that thought as she straightens and props her chin on one palm, elbow on the counter. Reaching out with her free hand, she gives his book a little nudge. "Dinner, Daniel. You need to take me to dinner. I'm starving."
He bats at her hand irritably, sending her a brief frown before he resumes reading. "You know the way to the mess hall, Vala."
"Of course I know the way, silly," she responds lightly, sidling closer to him. "But I want to go to dinner with you." She pokes his khaki-covered bicep in synchrony with 'you'. "Actually I think you should take me out for dinner, out of the mountain."
Daniel sighs, and lifts his head to stare at her, brow furrowed and looking adorably befuddled. "And why would I do that?"
"Because we still haven't had our date yet!" she says earnestly, suppressing the urge to bat her eyelashes at him (it really irritates him, and never works anyway). "Our official first date," she amends, "since the original one was so rudely interrupted."
He sighs again. "Vala...it wasn't a date. How many times do I have to keep saying that?"
read on...
E is for Evil
by crazedturkey
At first she screamed.
The sound echoed only in the confines of her own head.
Qetesh seemed to find it amusing.
"You may continue to scream for the rest of your life, little slave. It will make no difference. And it will be forever."
Vala screamed as another controlled her arms, used her legs, issued commands using her voice.
With no vocal cords to tire, a scream can continue for a very long time. Still, a mind can only scream for so long. Eventually Vala just settled into weeping.
She wept as Qetesh maimed. As Qetesh tortured. As Qetesh killed, often simply for the fun of it.
Qetesh loved the noise, thrived on the misery and the horror of her host. She went out of her way to be creative in her destructive activities only to hear, to feel, the increase in Vala's own misery. To further Vala's own destruction.
A host shares all with its master. But the master may keep itself separate, if it chooses. Qetesh chose, delighted, in allowing Vala to know her plans, know the true depth of her depravity.
"It makes things more delicious."
With no privacy even in the reaches of her own mind, Vala continued to weep.
She wept for a long, long time.
On a day no different from any other, filled with destruction at her own hands, Vala made a decision. The weeping, the railing, the screaming, it made no difference.
And so she stopped.
That, and that alone, managed to finally affect the thing twisted around Vala's spinal cord.
It redoubled its efforts. It devised methods of torture for other human beings that Vala had not, could not, ever have fathomed. It created mayhem and murder. Even locked out of the parasite's brain, Vala could sense its frustration, sense its concern. Vala watched it whip itself into a frenzy trying to elicit a response from the small part of their shared brain that was still hers alone.
Vala was still horrified by the destruction Qetesh wrought using her face, her body, her hands. But she made herself hard, made herself numb, made herself separate.
Vala stayed distant. Immune.
She broke herself away from the evil in order to surmount it.
And she survived.
Until that final, glorious day when she Qetesh was dragged from her body.
When it was finally, finally, her turn to scream.
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F is for Flirt
by beanpot
Vala had a reputation and she knew it. She knew they all teased her when she wasn't in the room and some even did so when she was standing next to them. It never bothered her, really. After seeing life through the eyes of Qetesh, rumors and knowing nods were minuscule next to ordering genocide. Especially when it was true, but the truth is always twisted and complicated.
Sam got it - Sam understood. Vala would get an eye-roll or knowing grin or sad pat on the shoulder from Sam as Vala smiled, glanced through coyly downcast eyes, and walked triumphantly away with a plate of hot cookies. Or a toss of the hair and a shimmy in the walk while arguing for Daniel's release from the Ori-following tribe followed by a deep exhale and inhale that might have sounded like a sob. With hard eyes, Vala would curl up next to a tavern keeper on a planet while the boys would glare and scuff their boots, and Vala would walk away with information on the rumored Sodan survivors or another story on Merlin. Once home, Vala would stand under the streaming hot water for just a few minutes more and Sam would show up in her room with a bottle of wine and stories of her own.
"It's not only men you flirt with," Sam once said as they were reloading their P90s behind a wall - Vala thought it might have been a bakery based on the shelves. Sam shifted her body weight and unloaded the clip into the odd monster-thing that had been chasing them for hours, then turned and continued with a grin, "You love this stuff. Flirting with danger and such."
Vala looked at her quizzically, "Isn't that the title of one of those Romance novels I borrowed from Cassie?" She peered over in the direction the boys were suppose to be setting up the claymore -rigged trap. "They're taking their precious time, aren't they?"
"Yep," replied Sam, her clipped words the only hint at her exhaustion and then the signal came the trap was set.
"I suppose next time we should handle this ourselves, then?" Vala asked as she slid a knee underneath her, ready to run.
"As always," Sam replied. "But next time, Cam is the bait."
Two hours later, they were stepping back through the gate flush with victory. As the walked down the ramp, masking limps so they wouldn't be sent to Dr. Lam, Vala turned to Sam and said, "It's not really the danger and it's not really flirting. It's life and it's living it and after everything, I don't have a choice but to live it as richly as possible."
Sam nodded and Vala took a deep breath and exhaled, squared her shoulders and twisted her frozen mouth into a smile that would melt butter.
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G is for Genuine
by pepper_field
"Is it genuine?"
Vala Mal Doran -- or, for today, Lady Sharmusi sin Bargry-Monicanre -- straightens her posture slightly, just enough to suggest aristocratic outrage. She shoots a look down her imperious nose at do-Smosta, who ducks his head and holds out his hands placatingly.
"I mean no offence, my lady," he says, his knowing glance touching her fleetingly. He thinks he can read her. He thinks he can see past the aristocratic exterior, the paint and the ribbons, to the desperate poverty beneath. But he's wrong -- or partly so: the desperation is real enough, but not because of money, or her lack thereof. What she is really trying with all her control to hide is her need for speed. If she doesn't get off this godforsaken, backwater planet soon... "But even a humble trader such as myself must take care to... receive a fair price."
The irony is, the price is far from fair -- to her. On any civilized planet, she could have bought his whole ship, crew and all, ten times over for this little, jeweled trinket. It's not merely a rather gaudy and tasteless ornament: it is technology. It is power, and knowledge, and if she'd had some other valuable to trade, or time enough to steal something -- anything -- else, she would never have thrown it away like this. If do-Smosta -- the greedy, distrustful fool -- had even half a grasp of what this could do when fitted into the right kind of engine, she could have made him beg for it. But she does not have time, and he understands less than he knows. do-Smosta sees only the materials of its manufacture, the gold and pretty jewels. He may even have it melted down. She could almost cry at the waste.
"You insult me, do-Smosta," she says, warningly. She closes her hand over it. "I may see what the next ship has to offer." Not that she will. She needs passage off this rock, she needs it now, and his was the only ship ready for takeoff, the engines turning over even as she sauntered slowly past. Nonchalance has been a hard-learned lesson, but she can't give him any reason to suspect that her skin may be more valuable than this bauble.
"Wait, wait, my lady," he says, tone honeyed. "Don't be hasty. I'm sure we can come to some arrangement." He purses his lips. "Passage to Jarshonus, eh? It's possible, of course. Possible. It is a little out of our way, but not by a great deal." He shakes his head. "But fuel, though -- fuel is so expensive in these hard times."
"This will more than pay for the cost, as I am sure you're aware." She lets her eyes wander, looking bored, and in his attempts to catch his captain's attention, a crewmember stood at the top of the ship's ramp catches hers, instead. "Is your man signaling for you to hurry?"
do-Smosta glances up irritably, and waves the man back into the ship. The man gives a gesture that efficiently conveys, 'Well, don't blame me if the engines overheat and explode, then,' and disappears back into the cavernous dark of the ship. do-Smosta looks back at Vala, and she gives him a bland smile.
"Passage to Jarshonus," he says, finally. He reaches out, impertinently plucking the trinket from her fingers. "Very well. But I will have my people examine this on the way -- just as a precaution, you understand. If it is not genuine..." The threat is left unfinished, but she understands. If it is not genuine, he'll space her -- or worse.
"It's genuine," she says, firmly.
read on...
H is for Hug
by merrykk
No one touches a god in normal ways. No one touches a conman's daughter normally either. And if a thief expects to be given normal touches, they are certainly a bad thief and most likely one step shy of being a dead thief. Touch is a weapon, or has been as far back as Vala chooses to remember, and everyone knows this and sticks to the most useful and distracting functions.
It must be some vestige of childhood, then, when Vala clings to Daniel after being reborn from Ori fire (she thinks). And when he holds her back, she doesn't consider it then, but in the many dull hours he forces on them during the bracelets' continuing hold she watches him from under long lashes. Her gaze may look like a flirt; she doesn't care. But she wonders what he gained with that touch, and what battle he was fighting that needed a weapon like a soft brush of the cheek. It doesn't make sense.
Tomin overwhelms this carefully sculpted worldview, and she feels regret late one night. He's already a combatant in her mind, each touch of hers designed to keep their battle safe from defeat. She mourns the lost chance to live at peace with him, gone forever now. He hugs her tightly when he is miraculously healed, a peaceful joyful gesture (as she now realizes), and after the moment of her worry is gone she files it away.
Someday, somehow, she will learn how normal touch works.
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I is for Identity
by midvacent
Vala's immediate mind was a mess of memories as she clung tightly to Daniel's jacket. He was silent and watchful, his eyes never leaving her face. She averted her gaze and looked out the window. The trees were green and greener and went too fast for her to see. She felt dizzy and squinted against the light. It was dull and white and too, too bright, the sky a suffocating blanket of grey. It was pressing down on her, pushing her out as it pushed itself in, mocking and heavy and silent
"Hey." Vala jumped as Daniel's voice pulled her back to her body. "You're safe now."
"Yes," she said and tried to breathe. Her breath caught and she gasped. Their concern was like a weight. Pressing, cloying. She didn't want it, didn't need it. She tried to imagine herself part of the landscape going by. It was no good. She was anchored to the present. To the stuffy air and plush seats and the people crowding in. Vala said nothing more the whole way back to the mountain.
They traded grey sky for grey walls and ceilings and corridors of buzzing light. The humming of electricity, activity. She knew this. She knew the smell and sense of weight and urgency, emergency. The lights flashed. Incoming off-world activation. People rushed by or walked past. Guns and clipboards, green and black, white and blue. The movement made her dizzy. She was flanked every step of the way. Daniel by her side. Teal'c at her back. Sam just near enough to touch, and Cameron led the way. Down, down, down in the elevator, the numbers blurred together.
She panicked when Dr. Lam told her to lie down.
"I'm fine, really," she said, her hands shaking. "I just need a moment."
She tried not to remember before. Before in a chamber of gold on gold. Before on a bed, a goddess wed. Before when she spun away from everyone, the galaxy her own, her mind a wreck.
Daniel tried to hold her. She pushed him away and cried, silently. He let her go and she was free and falling and the floor was cool. She breathed in, she breathed out. She was herself. No one else. No one else. And she was sheltered. Because Daniel was terse and Cam was blunt and Teal'c was a tower and Sam sat down and held her hand and the nurse went away. And Dr. Lam, eventually, shook her head and let them be.
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J is for Jail
Breaking Out Is(n't) Hard To Do
by lifeistoobrevis
Vala paced the small cell she was in like a wild animal.
Step, step... She reached out and wrapped her fingers around the bars. I could so easily just slip out and... NO! She stepped back and resumed her pacing. She had promised Cameron that, should she happen to fall into trouble on this quaint little planet, she would wait for her team to negotiate her way out. It was a peaceful world, a society of Monks... And it's not as if she was in any danger, unless you count the insane boredom she was currently suffering from. So, she had promised, of course... not without great exclamations of "What could possibly go wrong?!"
This negotiation was important to the SGC, the planet was rich with naquadah. How the Goa'uld had missed it she'll never know. And, after her recent psychological exam, she felt that it was important for her to show that she could be a team player and follow the rules.
But, right now, she was wishing that she'd never made that promise... And also that she'd never removed her BDU jacket, which is what had landed her in this predicament in the first place.
How was she supposed to know that seemingly innocent action would have so greatly offended them. It had been unbearably hot and stuffy in that temple.. and it's not as if she were standing there nude, they should be so lucky, she still had her tank top on, after all... And, quite frankly, she figured she should be the one with her nose out of joint, or so Cam would say. She hadn't been the one to go screaming and covering her eyes just at the mere sight of their skin.
But, anyway, here she was, impatiently waiting, for patience had never been one of her virtues, for her rescue by SG-1.
So, it was with great relief when she finally heard the main door open, followed by a Monk ushering her team towards her.
"Well, it's about time!" She said with a smile... Which quickly faded as her cell door opened and her friends were pushed inside.
read on...
K is for Kleptomaniac
by acarlgeek
Vala indignantly slammed the large dictionary shut with a thud that resounded through Daniel's office, "I am NOT!"
Cam pursed his lips to contain an instinctive snappy comeback to Vala's childish denial. Sam, Daniel, and Teal'c all had their eyebrows raised and heads cocked in eerily similar stances. Sam and Daniel both had their lips tightly compressed, probably for the same reason Cam did. This was a stupid discussion that should never have come about, anyway. Vala had predictably failed a simple, albeit unplanned, test, and comparing her actions to technical definitions was a pointless detour that wasn't going to get anywhere.
With his usual measured dignity, it was Teal'c who finally verbalized a response, "Since you persistently succumb to an abnormal impulse to purloin items for which you have no need, your actions very definitely match the description of a kleptomaniac."
The fire in Vala's eyes intensified, "My impulses aren't abnormal; everyone takes things that are left lying around. Besides, I DO need the things I take, eventually."
Daniel's head dropped into his hand as his forbearance snapped, although his tone remained patient, "No Vala, most people do not steal everything they can lay their hands on. Most people realize that items left unattended in the open are not automatically abandoned. Your urge to bedizen yourself is not universal, not an excuse, and definitely not a 'need', especially with what you took this time." Daniel raised his head and locked disappointed eyes with the pouting Vala before continuing, "Hoarding things until you find a likely buyer is not fulfilling a 'need', either. Wants and needs are two different things, and you steal things because you want to take them, not because you need them." Cam was amazed at Daniel's perseverance, and that Vala had actually allowed the man to complete his statement.
Sam held out her hand, "Give back the 'Hello Kitty' earrings. They're a present for one of General Hammond's granddaughters. We need to get them wrapped before he finishes his meeting and leaves the base." Teal'c tilted his head to reinforce Sam's order. Cam kept his mouth shut.
With a sigh and toss of her head, Vala dropped her gaze and removed the contested items from her ears, "All right, but I'm NOT a kleptomaniac. I can obey your prim rules about possession any time I want."
Four pairs of doubtful eyes challenged her to prove that statement.
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L is for Lesson
by risti
It started with just one small rock. Vala looked at it closely and then held it out towards the midday sun, her eyes widening as the sun glistened off of it's surface.
"Is it a diamond?" Vala looked up at her father as she asked, wide-eyed and innocent.
Her father smiled, and reached down to ruffle her hair. "Not yet."
Vala's eyes narrowed again. "How can a rock turn into a diamond?"
A huge grin broke out on her father's face. "That, my dear, is what I plan to teach you today."
A short while later, her hand fisted around the rock as if it were already as valuable as a diamond, Vala stood alone in the middle of the crowded market, and tried not to panic. The object of the game is simple, her father's voice echoed in her mind even while she shrunk down to make herself even smaller in the sea of people. You start with this rock, and see if you can trade it in for something bigger or better.
A delicious scent drifted through the dull rank of too-hot, too-crowded bodies and for a moment, Vala forgot all about her task. Looking up, she saw a man in a stall across the street had just pulled pies out of a hearth. The pies were always her favourite part about these outings with her father, fresh and hot and overflowing with seasoned fruit. Licking her lips, Vala took determined steps until she reached the stall. It wasn't until she was standing there, her mouth open to make her request, that Vala remembered that the object in her hand was still just a rock. Maybe one day it would be a diamond, but right now, it wasn't even a bronze coin.
"Whatta you want, girlie?"
Vala's grip tightened once again on the rock in her hand.
"Well? You're holding up the line."
Vala took a deep breath, and found herself sticking her hands into her pocket, ready to slink away in embarrassment. It was at that point that she felt it, and remembered.
Here, take this, and pick up some oakroot serum for your sister while you're out her step- mother had insisted. The last thing Vala had wanted to do during her day with her father was buy stinky cream for her step-sister to slather onto her pimply face, but it wasn't like she was actually being given a choice.
"Ok, either order something or get out of here."
"I'll take a berry pie, please." Vala's voice rang out stronger than she had expected it to as she pulled out the coin in her pocket.
The piemaker snorted and slapped a pie down on the counter, and Vala passed over her coin.
Vala took her pie, and sat down to enjoy it while contemplating exactly how to win this game her father had challenged her to. She was about to dig into her third slice when it occurred to her. After taking a moment to savour one last mouthful, it was time for the show to begin.
read on...
M is for Mother
by 6beforelunch
The day dawned fair and clear, with bright sunlight streaming through the curtains and spilling across the bed. Vala slipped from the bed and pulled back the red and blue curtains, letting in as much of the early morning light as possible.
"Mother? Do you want to finish our castle today?"
There was no response from Vala's mother, who laid unmoving on her side of the bed. Vala shrugged her bony shoulders and got dressed. Mother had happy days and sad days. On happy days, they did all sorts of fun things, like build castles out of paper and make wheeled carts to race down the old hill, but on sad days, Mother mostly stayed in bed. Mother had gone to bed early last night saying her heart hurt, but Mother was always saying things like that and Vala rarely paid her any mind.
She went into the kitchen and turned the faucet on. The water came out black and sooty, but that was normal. While she waited for the pipes to clear, she slid the wooden chair over to the stove and stood on it to light a fire. When the water ran clear, she filled a pot, tossed in two handfuls of grain, and sat on the chair in the middle of the kitchen, swinging her legs as she waited for her breakfast.
When it was done, she spooned it into two bowls and carried one to Mother, who had not moved.
"Breakfast, Mother."
Mother didn't respond.
Vala shrugged again and put her breakfast onto the stand by her bed. She ate her own breakfast, made herself a strong cup of keshi and went outside. The city was busy and awake. It was warm today, and the sweat slid down Vala's neck. Anton Gunnes shoved her into a wall for no reason. She shoved him back and he hit her. Vala was about to hit back when she saw Anton's father coming out of the street and started to cry instead. Anton's father hit him and drug him back inside by the ear and Vala laughed as soon as they were gone. She didn't like Anton. He was always pushing her and pulling her hair and throwing things at her.
Mother said maybe he liked her.
Mother was kind of dumb, most of the time.
She went back inside.
Mother still hadn't moved.
Vala yanked the blankets off of her and opened the window. She turned and looked at her mother, and realized she didn't look quite right. Vala poked her, pulled her hair.
Nothing.
read on...
N is for Nights
by randomfreshink
She knows he knows that she knows where he keeps his credit cards--lower left drawer, a folder labeled 'miscellanea'. And she has no idea what that says about Daniel. Or herself, for that matter, since she thought to look in that folder first. The thing is--he hasn't moved them.
She also knows he's seen the bills--several months worth now--with the occasional rare reference book thrown in for cover. The theory is that it's possible Daniel might not get around to noticing what he hasn't bought if there are a few things in the mix that he might have bought. The flaw, however, is that she's never seen any evidence the man ever forgets anything, unless it's forcibly removed from his brain. So the books are mostly a distraction.
But she's the one distracted because he hasn't said a word. Not an eyebrow lifted over the cashmere bunny slipper-socks--she had them on in his office last night, and even wiggling her toes at him, which made the bunny ears flop, produced only a blank stare. Or the scraps of lace which she cannot bring herself to ruin by wearing--there are planets where this is worth a large fortune instead of the small one Daniel paid. Or the dilithium crystals she found at a bargain price, but which proved a sore disappointment and quite put her off that bay place.
Daniel has to have noticed her buying power crystals. But...nothing. Which means he's intentionally not saying anything. And that has her worried. It means he knows she needs this to help her through the nights.
It's not the actual shopping. Yes, acquiring is satisfying, particularly when your life has been about being able to pack and run in five minutes. And she still can. Honestly, she can. Well...perhaps in ten now. Fifteen tops. But how can she resist browsing that is extraordinary? And so what if she can't finger the fabrics, or sniff the perfumes, or accidentally pocket some poor trinket in desperate need of a loving home. The virtual world is her playground after the midnight hour. She's never seen any place with such variety--usually someone comes along and kicks the hell out of such initiative and talents as these Tau'ri have on display.
But this is more about...possibilities.
And it's an excellent way to pass the time that hangs on her when others sleep and the base winds down to a speed that leaves her skin itching and ready to walk off without her.
She's certain Daniel knows this.
She's seen him pass his own long nights, usually with his dusty books and his computer to keep him otherwise occupied. But some nights he cannot stay and she is left underneath a mountain. She's seen him reluctant to leave, and she's kicked him out a few times, telling him to go.
But is he leaving his cards where she found them so she won't dig into his books and find something to lure herself away from this place that she will not think of as home? (Homes always end up being some place you have to quit, so she's learned better, but Daniel sometimes makes her want to learn new things, too.) Does he believe she needs something to think about other than oh, say a hundred million people or so who may be enslaved or killed by the Ori thanks to her? Or is he giving her another obsession to balance the one of working out hopeless plans to save Adria from what she's becoming?
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O is for Obedience
by holdouttrout
Vala rehearsed the names she was going to call her step-mother when she got back. She had learned some new ones since being sold into slavery; it would be a shame not to get to use them. She figured it was only a matter of time until she could charm Fierenze into trusting her--she was her father's daughter, after all--and it wasn't like she didn't know the address. After that, she figured she would tell her father what Adria had done--it was almost guaranteed he would throw the witch out after this.
Vala's father might not be around much, but he did love her.
She was pretty sure, anyway.
Well, no matter. All she had to do was bide her time until Fierenze trusted her, and then...
She was a little vague on the details of her plan, but they all involved the image of Fierenze dead in the dirt. That seemed a safe place to start. It wasn't like she could escape and hope for Adria to pay back the good money she'd gotten for selling Vala in the first place. It was probably already spent.
Besides, Fierenze deserved it. She definitely wasn't the first slave to pass through his hands, and if she left him alive, she wouldn't be the last.
Maybe, after, she wouldn't go back at all. She was almost more likely to run into her father out here than at home. More importantly, she could avoid Adria altogether.
From now on, the only person who was going to control Vala would be herself.
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P is for Pigtails
by merrykk
After two years of SGC meetings, Vala had figured out that being late did not, in fact, lessen the time you spent there, as there was not only repetition of everything you'd missed but also wearisome admonitions. And for non-Earth persons like herself, this last part held especially true, as if she was any less aware of how time worked. So she slipped into the limousine on schedule when the President called the team to an urgent meeting, and twiddled her thumbs as the rest of the team failed to arrive.
Rolling her eyes absently towards the ceiling, she wondered if Earth humans thought about more efficient communications. Such as what Cam called Goa'uld television balls, and less formal prevarication and more "this happened, do this, with this".
Finally Sam slipped in the car opposite her, nearly matching Vala in her official uniform. She called for the driver to hurry, and took a deep breath as the car started moving. "I can't believe I didn't hear the first phone call," she said, fastening her seatbelt as they started driving out. "That reactor was loud, but--oh Vala." She paused and her tone fell as she looked up.
Vala blinked and knew that voice all too well. "Did I button the wrong number of buttons?" She glanced down at her front and wondered how many superfluous customs one tiny piece of a planet could have.
"No," Sam said with a quick grimace. "Hair."
Vala brushed the curled ends of her pigtails with slight confusion. "It's clean."
"It's the pigtails," Sam said flatly, gesturing. "And the crystal marble barrettes. Vala, it's the U.S. Government, we're supposed to go looking nice."
Vala frowned. "I've been studying your culture's beauty standards, and I know that 'looking nice' in the case of females means suggesting extreme youth."
"What?" Sam shook her head slightly.
"Big eyes, wide forehead, small chins, small noses," Vala ticked off on her fingers. "Not to mention the clear soft skin. I just accessorized likewise."
Sam stared at her. "That's why you've always worn hair sparkles? You thought--" she broke off, flustered.
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Q is for Quixotic
by cleothemuse
"We should have horses!"
Cameron spun around, looking as though he hadn't a clue what I meant. "Horses?"
"White ones, specifically," I clarified, letting him know by my expression how serious I was about the lack of equine transport. "How can we honestly consider ourselves to be on a rescue mission if we don't have white chargers?"
The "alleged" leader of SG-1 continued to give me a look of utter confusion. "How the hell did you come up with that?"
"Don't be silly, Cameron, there are numerous documented examples of damsels in distress being rescued by knights riding up on white chargers. Of course, Samantha's the only damsel currently in distress, but we shouldn't let a mere technicality stand in the way of us and our daring rescue of her and Daniel."
"Vala... we're not going anywhere until Teal'c gets back with reinforcements."
"By which point any manner of terrible things could have happened." The Tau'ri were terribly innocent to the dangers of the galaxy. One would think that a people capable of producing such an incredible variety of books, television shows, and movies would be capable of imagining all the potential horrors which might befall the unwary or unprepared, but they continued to astound me with their naivety.
"Like what?" Cameron asked. Almost immediately, he held up his hand in an attempt to forestall my reply, exclaiming, "Wait, wait! I don't want to know!"
Nonsense, I thought to myself, figuring that if he'd uttered his question in the first place, then he most certainly did want to know. "They could have been captured for hosts, could be being tortured for information, could have been taken as slaves--surely you've noticed that Daniel and Samantha were scarcely beaten with an 'ugly stick', I believe you call it--though I must say they're both considerably older than is typical--"
"Vala!"
"--for the average sex slave, but I'm tastes do vary from place to place... though I heard once--"
"Vala!"
"--about a certain world which actually had the ability to reduce the physical appearance of their captives to a level closer to 'teenage', thus enabling them to sell older slaves as though they were much younger--"
"Yo! Mal Doran!"
"--than they actually were," I finished, grinning at him winningly. "The side-effects were unpleasant, I'm told. So... are we ready to ride off into the sunset?"
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R is for Royal Treatment
by samantilles
Daniel watched as Vala stepped through the Stargate, her hand swiping at her eye. The wormhole quickly disengaged and the blaring sirens came to an abrupt stop before she made it to the bottom of the ramp.
"So, how is he?" Daniel's voice echoed slightly in the embarkation room.
Vala shook her head. "He didn't survive. It was silly to hope..."
Daniel extended his arm around her shoulder and directed her to the door. "It is never silly to hope. Hope is how we survive day to day."
Vala welcome the friendly embrace, nodding to Daniel's wisdom. The walk to the locker room was silent.
*
Daniel stared at his watch. Though late in the evening, he had fully expected Vala to come find him by now. The silence in his office suddenly became unsettling, and before he knew it, he was walking towards her quarters.
He rapped softly on her door and waited a moment for some acknowledgement she was inside. He turned to leave when the door opened. Vala stood there, her face flushed and her eyes puffy. She smiled when she realized who it was.
"I figured you might want to talk."
"I could think of some other things to do, Daniel." She smirked and winked at him.
He rolled his eyes and shifted his weight. "Vala!"
"Can you blame a girl for trying?" She batted her lashes and smiled widely.
"Yes, I can. If you want to talk, you know where to find me." Annoyed, Daniel turned to leave, but Vala stopped him with a hand on his arm.
"Actually, since you're here?" Her demeanor turned serious, the raw emotion Daniel witnessed when she entered the door took her over again. He nodded and followed her inside.
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S is for Sparkly
by annerbhp
Like most things, the barrettes are about distraction, about disarming, because how much threat can a woman stuck in her childhood really be? She sees the way people look at her, one quick sweep up her body, ending at pigtails and glitter, the way the humans on Earth can't take that seriously.
She wonders if this inability to see children as capable or sneaky or remotely threatening is some heightened genetic impulse bred in their isolation--the tic that keeps them from eating their demanding young like many, many other species would. Do.
The Tau'ri cherish their children, protect them and lavish attention on them, put them on a pedestal she suspects will do them no good when they finally get shoved out of the nest. But it's not their inevitable fall from grace that matters to her. They're on their own, just like she's always been, and it's the best way to be really. They will see that someday. What really matters as she wanders into offices and pokes through lockers and peruses wallets is that the photos of their young seem a constant among the Tau'ri.
She studies them carefully, building a collection of common characteristics in her mind, because she suspects this may be their greatest weak spot and knows she can use that, the disquiet raised by the juxtaposition of leather-bound cleavage and little girl rosy cheeks--drawing them closer and repulsing them in the same beat. They don't look closer because they are scared what that might mean about them and their proclivities if they do. The Tau'ri can be so predictable in their morality.
She can use that.
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T is for Teal'c
What Vala and Teal'c do for fun when the rest of SG-1 is not around
by ziparumpazoo
They plan vacations, though they never actually get to take them; there's plenty of adventure to be had going through the Stargate on a daily basis, after all.
Vala's always loved a good caper, so maybe one day, when they are no longer under the threat of imminent extinction, she might take the time to see a bit more of her newly adopted world for herself. She's pretty sure she can convince Teal'c to accompany her. He possesses both a driver's license and a healthy fascination with kitschy tourist stops, so she's pretty sure she'd have no problem convincing him to explore the path less traveled.
One day, over lunch, Vala corners Daniel and asks, "If you were to just up and catch a plane to anywhere on Earth, where would it be?"
Daniel hems and haws, of course. There are very few countries he hasn't visited at some point in his life, and he can find something fascinating that he'd like to revisit in almost all of them.
Teal'c asks him to narrow it down to one location that epitomizes the rise of Tau'ri civilization. Vala asks him about fashion and trade goods. Daniel suggests Rome. He's about to launch into a discourse about the comparative history between the Roman Empire and the decline of the Ancients throughout the galaxy, but Vala pats him on the shoulder and thanks him for his time. Teal'c watches her leave, grabs the last of the grapes from his tray and, with a nod to Daniel, follows Vala out the door. Daniel looks across the table at Cam, who just shrugs and asks him if he's following Nascar this season.
Teal'c had introduced Vala to Google early on, and now they pore over satellite images, street plans, and hotel recommendations. The architecture is impressive; similar in style to the capitol city on Merak Four, where Vala spent half a cycle working as a bar-maid shortly after she was freed from Qetesh.
They pull up photos of some of the major tourist attractions, and while the fountains and piazzas are lovely, Vala starts to feel a bit uneasy. It's only when Teal'c, with a quiet grunt, closes the browser window that had been displaying a history of the Coliseum that Vala realizes that Earth's ancient history hits a little too close to home for her liking. It wasn't too long ago that she herself was presiding over such displays of carnage and grandeur during her time as a Goa'uld.
Teal'c doesn't let her dwell. "Major Carter once mentioned that one day she would like cross America on her motorcycle." He types in a new search string and brings up a list of sites festooned with images Vala recognizes from that movie they'd watched with all the talking automobiles.
Teal'c clicks a link and points to an image of a row of cars half-buried in the dirt with their tail fins pointing at the sky. "I believe we could start our journey here, in the birthplace of one of the greatest men to ever lead the SGC."
Vala looks up at him. It's rare for Teal'c to speak of anyone other than Bra'tac or the members of SG-1 with such fondness.
Teal'c draws himself up a little straighter. "General Hammond of Texas," he says, and she catches the barest hint of a smile.
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U is for Uninvolved
by lyssie
She doesn't do it, of course. Become involved. Vala skates on the thin ice of non- involvement, pretending that she is, and putting on a good show for everyone. She knows that getting involved means getting hurt, means letting people and places and things in. Allowing any of that is something that will lead to hurt, heartbreak, or her father disappearing on her again (what was it the last time, a con in the Aeon Sector that he swore up and down he'd had to run from, leaving her to pick up the pieces?).
That's why she flirts and laughs and teases on Earth, never quite getting involved until it's too late--until she realizes she wants to be involved and the not-being-involved feels wrong.
Standing shoulder to upper arm with Teal'c, stealing the basketball from Cameron, shopping with Samantha, annoying Daniel to distraction--that's what she's there for, but she wants more. She wants to feel pride in what she does and not just a rather mercenary pleasure at pulling the wool over yet another person's eyes.
It's a different sort of pride, she tells herself, as she fingers the patch that Cameron gave her. These aren't her people (not like the ones who worshiped Quetesh and still considered Vala their God while she was helpless to stop the Ori from killing them off), but they are her friends.
Perhaps that's of better value, in the long run.
None of which stops her facade. What's the use of having one, after all, if it isn't big as life and bright as day, always constant until it slips. Why, she could sneak out and leave in the morning and none of them would be the wiser.
Though she thinks, she hopes, they would care. That they would miss her as they went about their lives. She knows they would forget her in time--she's forgotten so much in such a short time, things which only swirl to the surface in nightmares (and that one time she was a waitress).
Of course, it's harder not to be involved when her own flesh and blood is intent on destroying the universe (re-writing it in her own image, which reminds Vala too much of the over-whelming need to control that the goa'uld had). Convincing Adria that being involved isn't a bad thing never seems to quite work, though.
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V is for Volunteer
by crevanfox
Qetesh sat upon the dais, proud and terrible. She does not look as the girls are led into the room and forced to line up before her. Instead she inspects the fruit offered on a golden tray by a beautiful slave. Her face twists in distaste at the food. She gestures and the slave bows, retreats in silence.
As fearful as Vala is, her mouth waters at the sight of all that food. She hasn't eaten all day. Still, the Goddess is distracted, the guards are few. Vala edges to the back of the group. She drifts, slowly, a fly on the wall, a slave unworthy of notice; she has had a life time of practice at being unseen, she moves toward the door.
She almost makes it.
A guard sees her. She runs, but he's bigger, faster. His staff weapon traps her to his body.
She fights, and it draws Qetesh's attention. She stalks down, slithers gracefully, thunders like a God coming down from heaven. Her hands, capped in the golden fingers of the hand device are cold on Vala's cheek as she twists her head around, looks deep into her eyes. It's paralyzing, her grip painful. But they are only eyes.
Vala had expected the swirl of galaxies, the knowledge of ages, the eyes of God.
All she sees are the tired eyes of an aging woman. Cruel, and evil, but just a person, not a God.
Later, after the implantation, after the screams of those not chosen fall to silence, Vala is left alone with her new jailor. Qetesh chuckles. Foolish girl, had you not tried to escape, I would not have chosen you. You are nothing, only you willfulness deprived you of the mercy of death.
Vala tries to fight back. But she can't move, and trying makes it feel as though Qetesh has placed her in a vise and is squeezing her very soul.
"Remove those from my sight" Qetesh says as she waves Vala's hand over the still smoking bodies of the other girls. They look like cloth dolls, left abandoned on some child's room floor. Vala knew more than a few of them.
Thank you for volunteering, my host
It's the last thing Vala hears for awhile. She tries not to think about it.
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W is for Warning
by sg_wonderland
Qetesh sighed heavily. If she'd known just how stubborn this one was, she might have chosen differently. But she had been drawn to the host's strong features, lithe body and quick wit. She applied herself again; after all, hadn't she conquered stronger than this one? A brief feeling from a previous host flitted across her mind and she suppressed it immediately. Those were the types of feeling she could ill afford.
"So, Vala, let us begin again..."
*
Vala bided her time and waited and learned, absorbed. If there was one thing Qetesh should have learned by now, it was that Vala had an unlimited amount of patience. One day, she vowed to herself, one day she would free herself. And she would smile as she witnessed the death of the monster that had traded Vala's life, and so many others, for her own.
One day....
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X is for X-Files
by campylobacter
Scene 1: An Uncanny Resemblance
"The debonair bald gentleman," she said, tapping her finger on the monitor, "is General Hammond, whom I clearly recall pointing a zat at on the bridge of the Prometheus before I ringed him to the al'kesh I'd appropriated. Although he bears an uncanny resemblance to Agent Scully's father from The X-Files."
"And are there any recent negative associations tied to this memory, as with your observation that Colonel Carter looks like another X-Files character who was murdered?" Carolyn kept her face neutral while inwardly resolving to re-watch the relevant homemade VHS tapes of episodes she'd recorded during her fellowship at the CDC.
"Oh no, Scully's father wasn't murdered; he was a dedicated, attentive parent." Vala's brow furrowed at a deeper, more personal memory she seemed to withhold from telling the doctor. "However, can you imagine the scandal if Colonel Caldwell--who's the very likeness of Scully's boss--of the Daedalus were to actually wake up in a hotel room with a tall, gorgeous, but dead blonde whose head was wrenched one hundred eighty degrees 'round on her neck--"
"How did you obtain information about Colonel Caldwell and the Daedalus?"
Vala's look of surprise gave way to a wince of contrition. "May I invoke doctor-patient confidentiality on this?"
"Vala, I'm filling out a psych evaluation to determine your fitness to return to active duty. You waived that confidentiality from my superiors in the form's disclaimer."
"Hmm. So I did. Well, my restored memory includes how to access mission files."
Carolyn let her direct gaze answer Vala's answer.
"Right, then. Cameron's passwords are easy to guess, unlike Daniel's foreign-language ciphers; they're NFL mascots."
"I trust you'll be advising Colonel Mitchell to abandon his password creation system."
"Of course, but to his credit he spells them backwards. I can also advise Security to adjust certain camera angles to cover the more egregious blind spots in their surveillance sweeps."
Either lock this woman in the brig forever or let her work as a consultant, thought Carolyn. She knows how to know too much.
"And as long as I'm confessing to seeing files they haven't yet authorized me to access, I must say that the Prior whom Cameron shot..." (Carolyn began writing on the form before Vala finished her statement.) "...looked like the Cigarette Smoking Man."
"From The X-Files. I'm sensing a pattern here."
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Y is for Yesterday
Traces of Yesterday
by traycer_
Taking time to reflect on one's past wasn't always a good idea. Vala Mal Doran knew this more than anyone, but sitting in a freezing cold cavern with absolutely nothing else to do wasn't high on her list of priorities either.
She sat, huddled and shivering, on the cold floor, glaring at Daniel Jackson for his obstinate desire to stay as far away from her as he possibly could. Even Samantha Carter, who had the misfortune of being trapped in the same cavern, was keeping her distance. The fact that she was looking for a way out was no condolence to Vala, who was bored and just a little put out that she was stuck here with two people and still alone. This situation only led to reminiscing, which almost always led to dark, unpleasant memories.
Vala shook away the gloom that was creeping up on her and decided to liven things up a little.
"We have been all over this cavern, looking for every possible escape and all we've gotten for our trouble is a severe case of frostbite."
Daniel gave her one of his 'not now, Vala' looks, and said, "Frostbite?"
"Yes, frostbite." She was determined to get a conversation going no matter what. "My hands are so cold, they're turning blue and tingly." Daniel rolled his eyes, then turned back to the hole in the ceiling that he had been inspecting. "Of course," Vala added after some thought, "Tingly really isn't all that bad."
"Right," he muttered, clearly not paying any attention to her, even though she had put extra emphasis on the word, tingly. This was so typical of him, she thought. They were stuck in this cave, with their only means of escape being the very hole they had fallen through. She knew that rescue would be imminent - well, as soon as their teammates came back from their little side trip. In the meantime, she and her companions would have to wait. In the freezing cold cavern. With people who were more interested in the cave than conversing with her. This was not acceptable. She needed to talk, if only to ward away the memories that still lingered in her mind.
"Teal'c and Cameron will be back any time now, you know."
Sam looked back at her and nodded, then came back and sat down next to her, putting her hands under her arms to warm them.
"Moving around will warm you up," Sam said, although she made no move to do so herself. Vala shrugged, while Sam added, "I just wish we could have seen that covering up there before we stepped onto it."
"Too late for that now," Daniel said as he came over to sit down with them.
"I know," Sam said. Vala heard the resignation in her friend's voice, and found herself remembering another time...
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Z is for Zany
by amberflyant
Vala had been called many, many things in her life. Monster, thief, con artist, fallen angel, goddess, but being dismissed as zany hurt the most.
It had started all so innocently. Sashaying into Daniel's office smile a mile wide, Vala wanted company to pass the time of day, and he was always good for a laugh. What she got however, was a painful reminder of where she was, who she was, and why she was there.
Some lessons were always painful to learn.
"Daniel? This alphabet soup I bought, what's its purpose?" Vala spooned some of the soup onto the desk top and poked at it suspiciously.
"Mm? You bought that crap? Oh, well, parents buy it as a treat for their kids I suppose. All the letters of the alphabet are swimming around in a salt ridden, chemically enhanced bowl of gruel. See, there's a Z, or is it an N sideways?"
"Z? As in?"
"Z as is zany! Like you, zany! Now, please, wipe that disgusting mess from my desk and drink it somewhere else!"
Daniel had called her zany in a teasing voice and couldn't have known the distress it caused her. Zany? Nope, that wasn't her at all, not by a long shot.
"Oh, right, sorry about that. Yes, you read that important book about the dead. Who needs to worry about the feelings of the living?"
"What? What did you say?"
"Nothing, it's just me being zany!"
Walking out without a backward glance, Vala dumped the mug of chicken soup into Daniel's trash can, ignoring his squawk of protest. She'd suddenly lost her appetite.
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