ficpost: "Emotional Decisions" Sam/Martouf [backdated]
Title: "Emotional Decisions"
Fandom: Stargate: SG-1
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Sam&Jolinar&Rosha/Martouf&Lantash
Spoilers/Timeline: Set immediately following Crossroads. AU.
Summary: Martouf contemplates the complexities of being Tok'ra; Sam remembers things that never happened.
Notes: For thenewhope in stargate_santa 2003.
Warnings: Character death
Disclaimer: The characters belong to the powers that be, no money was made, please don't sue.
Emotional Decisions
Major Carter suggested that they hitch a ride with the man in the oxcart when he offered it. Her team looked at her as if she were insane. Colonel O'Neill finally said, "Carter? Hitchhiking. Dangerous. Not exactly Air Force policy." She smiled an angelic smile at the man with the fruit and shrugged her shoulders as if to say, "Sorry, not today. But it's nothing personal, really." They continued walking, nothing except their alertness to danger and their sidearms to suggest that they were military. The camouflage had been abandoned beside the ‘gate in favor of uncomfortably warm robes. Colonel O'Neill thought they were nuts for even trying to look like natives, but Daniel insisted that it was wisest to at least try to blend in. So O'Neill had acquiesced.
Martouf was with O'Neill on this one. Lantash was with Daniel. And both of them were with Jolinar, that is, Samantha Carter, that is, the blonde woman who looked more like Jolinar when she was in native robes than when she wore dress blues or camo or civvies. Martouf didn't care what she was wearing. "It's what's on the inside that truly matters," he told Lantash. "And inside of Samantha's lovely body is the mind of Jolinar. You know that." Lantash didn't respond.
Until they'd met Samantha, they had often disagreed, but their thoughts had blended easily. They had been truly two minds in but one mind, two minds in one mind in one body, as they'd pledged the day of their joining and as they'd pledged yearly since then. The Tok'ra weren't above ceremony, though they had disdain for religion that was entirely understandable, given the circumstances.
But after Samantha. After Samantha, things had changed. It was hard, losing Jolinar. For Martouf, it was like having Lantash forcefully removed from his spine, the other half of his mind suddenly being quiet when for centuries, there had been sound, thoughts, voices. Jolinar and Rosha were as much a part of them as they were of each other. Thus was the closeness of the Tok'ra mating bond. The Tok'ra mated for life.
Lantash said that was absurd. Lantash said lots of unflattering things about the Tau'ri and how they had let Jolinar die, how Jolinar had died in the body of Samantha Carter which was not worthy to be her host. And Martouf did not try to hide his sadness at this, and his fear, because some days, even after all these years, the line that separated Tok'ra from Goa'uld was blurry.
They continued their long march towards the village where the implantation ceremony was to be held. Daniel's breath was getting heavy, but the rest, more used to forced marching (and for Teal'c and Martouf, aided by their symbiotes) didn't break a sweat. Daniel fell back and Major Carter fell back with him, and together they rehearsed their plans in earnest whispers.
"Bastet was just a minion when the System Lords left the Tau'ri. She has not gained any strength in the years. If anything, she has lost power as more planets have fallen to the Asgard. She was hit hard by the Protected Planets Treaty. We will be safe," Martouf said to no one in particular.
Teal'c answered him. "You sound unsure."
Lantash's eyes glittered. "This plan is folly! Garshaw should never have agreed to such a plan, nor would she, had the Tau'ri not insisted that we prove our loyalty, something we have done repeatedly since contact was first established. It is ridiculous that I have been brought along on this mission.."
"I see," said Teal'c, as if he did and wasn't about to say anything since Martouf and Lantash were allies, but there was something that needed to be said.
O'Neill said it. "Shut up." He glared at Martouf, and Martouf blinked back surprise. "Sorry. Lantash is a bit unreasonable," he said mildly. O'Neill gave him a long glare, then turned around. The road was long and dusty and slightly pockmarked with wheel ruts.
Martouf found himself missing Jolinar again. He knew when he joined the Tok'ra that his lifespan would be enhanced. He knew that he could not expect normal human relationships anymore, that everything would be different. He had not expected Lantash. He had not expected Rosha and Jolinar.
He sometimes thought he would have preferred to blend with Jolinar, who was passionate but rational, who could calm hotheaded Lantash, invigorate Rosha, and who could console him, Martouf, when consolation seemed an impossibility. But then he thought of Lantash, and of Rosha, and he was satisfied with the way things were.
Samantha Carter had once been host to Jolinar. Martouf watched her talking to Doctor Jackson, and felt a bubble of jealousy. He knew he was being irrational. He felt out of touch with himself, as if he wasn't capable of making balanced decisions anymore. Perhaps it was because of Lantash and how differently he grieved. Martouf missed Lantash's harsh voice sounding agreement using his mouth when he was too tired to argue anymore.
They probably shouldn't have gone on this mission, straightforward as it was supposed to be. Go in, watch the ceremony, kill Bastet before she went through with the implantation, accept the accolades of the townspeople. The Tok'ra thought it was a terrible plan, but the Tau'ri were convinced that meaningless acts of benevolence were justified. "Stupidity. Pure stupidity," thought Lantash, and Martouf agreed with him. Jolinar would have agreed. Rosha would have argued, but Rosha had a soft heart, not suited to battle. Or it hadn't been, fifty years ago. Many things could change as allies were killed, as politics changed.
But Rosha and Jolinar had always loved them. That had never changed. Samantha proved that. Part of him hated knowing how uncomfortable it made her, but part of him-the half that was Lantash?-was gratified. Which was only part of why he loved her.
"All right, people. Heads up. Is everyone clear on the plan? Major, you're with me. Teal'c is backup, Daniel and Martouf will attempt to control the townspeople if anything goes wrong."
They pulled themselves to attention, suddenly on guard, as they approached the center of town. A pair of priests had already drawn the crowd into a circle, a smiling girl in the center of the circle was naked to the waist and reciting prayers under her breath in a language that only Martouf and Daniel Jackson knew. The five of them slipped unobtrusively into the circle and waited. Martouf watched Samantha and O'Neill ready their weapons. He watched rings fall to the ground, then evaporate, leaving a minor Goa'uld and her loyal minions. One of them was carrying a container with the symbiote that was to be implanted. Martouf remembered his own implantation. He had been very sick when the Tok'ra operatives had found him, and he had hardly understood the explanations of the process. But he could remember eager apprehension, could remember the joy of those who surrounded them during the ceremony.
He watched the looks on the faces of those around him. "Implantation is a great honor," someone whispered in disbelief. "She is so young to be so lucky." He closed his eyes, tried to find his calm center. Lantash prodded him to pay attention; Samantha and O'Neill would be acting at any moment. Three things happened simultaneously: Martouf opened his eyes, a priest released the symbiote from its container, and Jack O'Neill opened fire. The shatter of gunfire put Martouf and Lantash in battle mode; Daniel concerned himself immediately with hurrying the startled worshipers to safer ground.
One of Bastet's Jaffa shouted for the villagers to stay calm; the girl who had been preparing for implantation was killed almost instantly. Bastet herself grabbed Samantha as cover and raced for the ring device. Martouf set down the child he'd been carrying and found himself diving after her without realizing it. This was more than his senses on autopilot-this was Lantash taking control, something he'd done once before. It had been disconcerting then, but this was terrifying beyond that. Martouf had been younger then, and unused to battle, and Lantash had done what needed to be done-a flash of red reminded Martouf that what needed to be done was rarely easy-but now. Now they had been blended for more years than Martouf could count, and Lantash still felt he had the right to dive after Samantha Carter.
Which is exactly what Martouf would have done, but his reaction time was slower, and he wouldn't have been able to close his fingers around Bastet's neck with such strength if he hadn't had a symbiote wrapped around his brainstem. He thought for a second, though, that if Lantash hadn't closed him out entirely, he would have had the presence of mind to realize that Bastet's Jaffa were still very much alive and had very large staff weapons aimed at them.
Beneath Bastet, Samantha was saying something, and Martouf strained to hear her, but Lantash had done his best to totally block him from their shared sensory input. When the staff blast hit, he felt nothing more than a tingle.
Lantash died a split second before Martouf did; Martouf had an instant of unfamiliar and frightening freedom, then he, too, was gone.
Sam had her finger on the trigger of her P-90 before she emerged from the heap of bodies. She tried not to think about the fact that one of them was Martouf's, tried to repress the urge to curl up and avoid thinking. "Jolinar," she thought desperately. "If you're in there, somewhere, making me feel like this... can't you remember you're a warrior? You're trained to deal with death. We're all trained to deal with death." Bullets from her machine gun ripped through the Jaffa who had killed Martouf, and she felt slightly better. She continued to fire, even when she could clearly see that what was left of the Jaffa contingent had fled. She looked back to Martouf and realized that someone had moved Bastet's body. Then she had to sit down; she couldn't stop shaking.
"Major Carter. It is over. We must find Daniel Jackson and the others and attempt to put things back in order."
"Bastet," she said.
"Her body was retrieved by her First Prime. It will be revived with a sarcophagus."
"So this whole thing was pointless?"
Teal'c didn't say anything, just offered her a hand. Sam clambered to her feet and took a final look around. Not all the casualties were Jaffa; many of them were just villagers, the same villagers they'd met three months ago who had so cheerfully told them about the coming of the Goddess and the implantation.
It had seemed like such a good idea at the time. Of course, the villagers hadn't understood what they'd been saying, and Thayla had been so excited about becoming a God, and they'd had so much trouble convincing the Tok'ra to lend them an operative in exchange for their assistance with the armband experiment.
And of course, it had been a terrible idea, and now Martouf was dead. Daniel emerged from the woods, observed the scene, and, wordlessly, beckoned to the townspeople he'd managed to get to safety before the firefight began. They came from the woods in twos and threes, observing the carnage. They had so many dead to prepare for burial. "And Bastet will be back," said Daniel lowly. "And she won't be happy."
"Please go." The leader of the villagers looked sad, not angry, but Sam wasn't willing to take any chances.
"Where's the Colonel?"
"I'm here," he said. "Teal'c. Daniel. Will you..." They understood, and Daniel wrapped Martouf in a cloth sheet offered him by one of the villagers who was searching through the mass of bodies for her own husband. Together, they carried the body a reasonable distance until the farmer with his oxcart, now empty of apples, pulled up beside them.
"Goin' far? Want a ride?" O'Neill gestured towards Daniel and Teal'c, and they lifted Martouf's body into the cart. Sam shook her head. Hours. Only a few hours. So much had changed. They followed the cart at a respectful distance, no one saying much.
"The Tok'ra are going to be mad, aren't they?" asked Daniel, and the Colonel gave him a sharp look. Sam didn't say anything, just kept remembering meeting Martouf for the first time, remembering him, feeling, with a part of herself she'd never noticed before, that she never wanted to spend time with anyone else.
There were other memories that Jolinar had left behind, sweeter memories, but Sam couldn't access them at will. She was just left with the burden of feelings, feelings that hadn't been hers, but, in a way, had. She tried to shake her head clear, looked at the situation from an outsider's perspective. He'd been an ally, not a lover. Possibly a friend, but not a close friend.
She had not spent one hundred years with him. That had been someone else, some other person who had once lived in her body and shared her brain, whose thoughts had once caused her neurons to fire, whose memories could still influence her pheromones from beyond the grave. Sam sometimes thought she hated Jolinar more the better she understood her, the more she learned about her life-hated her not for the invasion of her body but for her death and her legacy. She'd left behind too much.
They'd reached the ‘gate while Sam was thinking, and Daniel had already dialed when Sam realized that she'd stopped walking. She looked back over the miles they'd walked twice that day, and with a sad sigh, she turned to head home.
Fandom: Stargate: SG-1
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Sam&Jolinar&Rosha/Martouf&Lantash
Spoilers/Timeline: Set immediately following Crossroads. AU.
Summary: Martouf contemplates the complexities of being Tok'ra; Sam remembers things that never happened.
Notes: For thenewhope in stargate_santa 2003.
Warnings: Character death
Disclaimer: The characters belong to the powers that be, no money was made, please don't sue.
Emotional Decisions
Major Carter suggested that they hitch a ride with the man in the oxcart when he offered it. Her team looked at her as if she were insane. Colonel O'Neill finally said, "Carter? Hitchhiking. Dangerous. Not exactly Air Force policy." She smiled an angelic smile at the man with the fruit and shrugged her shoulders as if to say, "Sorry, not today. But it's nothing personal, really." They continued walking, nothing except their alertness to danger and their sidearms to suggest that they were military. The camouflage had been abandoned beside the ‘gate in favor of uncomfortably warm robes. Colonel O'Neill thought they were nuts for even trying to look like natives, but Daniel insisted that it was wisest to at least try to blend in. So O'Neill had acquiesced.
Martouf was with O'Neill on this one. Lantash was with Daniel. And both of them were with Jolinar, that is, Samantha Carter, that is, the blonde woman who looked more like Jolinar when she was in native robes than when she wore dress blues or camo or civvies. Martouf didn't care what she was wearing. "It's what's on the inside that truly matters," he told Lantash. "And inside of Samantha's lovely body is the mind of Jolinar. You know that." Lantash didn't respond.
Until they'd met Samantha, they had often disagreed, but their thoughts had blended easily. They had been truly two minds in but one mind, two minds in one mind in one body, as they'd pledged the day of their joining and as they'd pledged yearly since then. The Tok'ra weren't above ceremony, though they had disdain for religion that was entirely understandable, given the circumstances.
But after Samantha. After Samantha, things had changed. It was hard, losing Jolinar. For Martouf, it was like having Lantash forcefully removed from his spine, the other half of his mind suddenly being quiet when for centuries, there had been sound, thoughts, voices. Jolinar and Rosha were as much a part of them as they were of each other. Thus was the closeness of the Tok'ra mating bond. The Tok'ra mated for life.
Lantash said that was absurd. Lantash said lots of unflattering things about the Tau'ri and how they had let Jolinar die, how Jolinar had died in the body of Samantha Carter which was not worthy to be her host. And Martouf did not try to hide his sadness at this, and his fear, because some days, even after all these years, the line that separated Tok'ra from Goa'uld was blurry.
They continued their long march towards the village where the implantation ceremony was to be held. Daniel's breath was getting heavy, but the rest, more used to forced marching (and for Teal'c and Martouf, aided by their symbiotes) didn't break a sweat. Daniel fell back and Major Carter fell back with him, and together they rehearsed their plans in earnest whispers.
"Bastet was just a minion when the System Lords left the Tau'ri. She has not gained any strength in the years. If anything, she has lost power as more planets have fallen to the Asgard. She was hit hard by the Protected Planets Treaty. We will be safe," Martouf said to no one in particular.
Teal'c answered him. "You sound unsure."
Lantash's eyes glittered. "This plan is folly! Garshaw should never have agreed to such a plan, nor would she, had the Tau'ri not insisted that we prove our loyalty, something we have done repeatedly since contact was first established. It is ridiculous that I have been brought along on this mission.."
"I see," said Teal'c, as if he did and wasn't about to say anything since Martouf and Lantash were allies, but there was something that needed to be said.
O'Neill said it. "Shut up." He glared at Martouf, and Martouf blinked back surprise. "Sorry. Lantash is a bit unreasonable," he said mildly. O'Neill gave him a long glare, then turned around. The road was long and dusty and slightly pockmarked with wheel ruts.
Martouf found himself missing Jolinar again. He knew when he joined the Tok'ra that his lifespan would be enhanced. He knew that he could not expect normal human relationships anymore, that everything would be different. He had not expected Lantash. He had not expected Rosha and Jolinar.
He sometimes thought he would have preferred to blend with Jolinar, who was passionate but rational, who could calm hotheaded Lantash, invigorate Rosha, and who could console him, Martouf, when consolation seemed an impossibility. But then he thought of Lantash, and of Rosha, and he was satisfied with the way things were.
Samantha Carter had once been host to Jolinar. Martouf watched her talking to Doctor Jackson, and felt a bubble of jealousy. He knew he was being irrational. He felt out of touch with himself, as if he wasn't capable of making balanced decisions anymore. Perhaps it was because of Lantash and how differently he grieved. Martouf missed Lantash's harsh voice sounding agreement using his mouth when he was too tired to argue anymore.
They probably shouldn't have gone on this mission, straightforward as it was supposed to be. Go in, watch the ceremony, kill Bastet before she went through with the implantation, accept the accolades of the townspeople. The Tok'ra thought it was a terrible plan, but the Tau'ri were convinced that meaningless acts of benevolence were justified. "Stupidity. Pure stupidity," thought Lantash, and Martouf agreed with him. Jolinar would have agreed. Rosha would have argued, but Rosha had a soft heart, not suited to battle. Or it hadn't been, fifty years ago. Many things could change as allies were killed, as politics changed.
But Rosha and Jolinar had always loved them. That had never changed. Samantha proved that. Part of him hated knowing how uncomfortable it made her, but part of him-the half that was Lantash?-was gratified. Which was only part of why he loved her.
"All right, people. Heads up. Is everyone clear on the plan? Major, you're with me. Teal'c is backup, Daniel and Martouf will attempt to control the townspeople if anything goes wrong."
They pulled themselves to attention, suddenly on guard, as they approached the center of town. A pair of priests had already drawn the crowd into a circle, a smiling girl in the center of the circle was naked to the waist and reciting prayers under her breath in a language that only Martouf and Daniel Jackson knew. The five of them slipped unobtrusively into the circle and waited. Martouf watched Samantha and O'Neill ready their weapons. He watched rings fall to the ground, then evaporate, leaving a minor Goa'uld and her loyal minions. One of them was carrying a container with the symbiote that was to be implanted. Martouf remembered his own implantation. He had been very sick when the Tok'ra operatives had found him, and he had hardly understood the explanations of the process. But he could remember eager apprehension, could remember the joy of those who surrounded them during the ceremony.
He watched the looks on the faces of those around him. "Implantation is a great honor," someone whispered in disbelief. "She is so young to be so lucky." He closed his eyes, tried to find his calm center. Lantash prodded him to pay attention; Samantha and O'Neill would be acting at any moment. Three things happened simultaneously: Martouf opened his eyes, a priest released the symbiote from its container, and Jack O'Neill opened fire. The shatter of gunfire put Martouf and Lantash in battle mode; Daniel concerned himself immediately with hurrying the startled worshipers to safer ground.
One of Bastet's Jaffa shouted for the villagers to stay calm; the girl who had been preparing for implantation was killed almost instantly. Bastet herself grabbed Samantha as cover and raced for the ring device. Martouf set down the child he'd been carrying and found himself diving after her without realizing it. This was more than his senses on autopilot-this was Lantash taking control, something he'd done once before. It had been disconcerting then, but this was terrifying beyond that. Martouf had been younger then, and unused to battle, and Lantash had done what needed to be done-a flash of red reminded Martouf that what needed to be done was rarely easy-but now. Now they had been blended for more years than Martouf could count, and Lantash still felt he had the right to dive after Samantha Carter.
Which is exactly what Martouf would have done, but his reaction time was slower, and he wouldn't have been able to close his fingers around Bastet's neck with such strength if he hadn't had a symbiote wrapped around his brainstem. He thought for a second, though, that if Lantash hadn't closed him out entirely, he would have had the presence of mind to realize that Bastet's Jaffa were still very much alive and had very large staff weapons aimed at them.
Beneath Bastet, Samantha was saying something, and Martouf strained to hear her, but Lantash had done his best to totally block him from their shared sensory input. When the staff blast hit, he felt nothing more than a tingle.
Lantash died a split second before Martouf did; Martouf had an instant of unfamiliar and frightening freedom, then he, too, was gone.
Sam had her finger on the trigger of her P-90 before she emerged from the heap of bodies. She tried not to think about the fact that one of them was Martouf's, tried to repress the urge to curl up and avoid thinking. "Jolinar," she thought desperately. "If you're in there, somewhere, making me feel like this... can't you remember you're a warrior? You're trained to deal with death. We're all trained to deal with death." Bullets from her machine gun ripped through the Jaffa who had killed Martouf, and she felt slightly better. She continued to fire, even when she could clearly see that what was left of the Jaffa contingent had fled. She looked back to Martouf and realized that someone had moved Bastet's body. Then she had to sit down; she couldn't stop shaking.
"Major Carter. It is over. We must find Daniel Jackson and the others and attempt to put things back in order."
"Bastet," she said.
"Her body was retrieved by her First Prime. It will be revived with a sarcophagus."
"So this whole thing was pointless?"
Teal'c didn't say anything, just offered her a hand. Sam clambered to her feet and took a final look around. Not all the casualties were Jaffa; many of them were just villagers, the same villagers they'd met three months ago who had so cheerfully told them about the coming of the Goddess and the implantation.
It had seemed like such a good idea at the time. Of course, the villagers hadn't understood what they'd been saying, and Thayla had been so excited about becoming a God, and they'd had so much trouble convincing the Tok'ra to lend them an operative in exchange for their assistance with the armband experiment.
And of course, it had been a terrible idea, and now Martouf was dead. Daniel emerged from the woods, observed the scene, and, wordlessly, beckoned to the townspeople he'd managed to get to safety before the firefight began. They came from the woods in twos and threes, observing the carnage. They had so many dead to prepare for burial. "And Bastet will be back," said Daniel lowly. "And she won't be happy."
"Please go." The leader of the villagers looked sad, not angry, but Sam wasn't willing to take any chances.
"Where's the Colonel?"
"I'm here," he said. "Teal'c. Daniel. Will you..." They understood, and Daniel wrapped Martouf in a cloth sheet offered him by one of the villagers who was searching through the mass of bodies for her own husband. Together, they carried the body a reasonable distance until the farmer with his oxcart, now empty of apples, pulled up beside them.
"Goin' far? Want a ride?" O'Neill gestured towards Daniel and Teal'c, and they lifted Martouf's body into the cart. Sam shook her head. Hours. Only a few hours. So much had changed. They followed the cart at a respectful distance, no one saying much.
"The Tok'ra are going to be mad, aren't they?" asked Daniel, and the Colonel gave him a sharp look. Sam didn't say anything, just kept remembering meeting Martouf for the first time, remembering him, feeling, with a part of herself she'd never noticed before, that she never wanted to spend time with anyone else.
There were other memories that Jolinar had left behind, sweeter memories, but Sam couldn't access them at will. She was just left with the burden of feelings, feelings that hadn't been hers, but, in a way, had. She tried to shake her head clear, looked at the situation from an outsider's perspective. He'd been an ally, not a lover. Possibly a friend, but not a close friend.
She had not spent one hundred years with him. That had been someone else, some other person who had once lived in her body and shared her brain, whose thoughts had once caused her neurons to fire, whose memories could still influence her pheromones from beyond the grave. Sam sometimes thought she hated Jolinar more the better she understood her, the more she learned about her life-hated her not for the invasion of her body but for her death and her legacy. She'd left behind too much.
They'd reached the ‘gate while Sam was thinking, and Daniel had already dialed when Sam realized that she'd stopped walking. She looked back over the miles they'd walked twice that day, and with a sad sigh, she turned to head home.