Title: Broken
Author: Meushell
Disclaimer: Stargate owns what they own, (::grumbles:: even if they are trigger happy with the Tok'ra) and I own what I own.
Summary: A "Tok'ra" symbiote wants to save its "host."
Rating: PG-13
Parings: Sam/Martouf/Lantash, Malek/Aldwin, Anise/Other, Anise/Daniel (friendship)
Sequel to: New Life and Exploration: Earth, Well, Some Parts of America Anyway (wow I gave that story a long title). I'll write it so it's understandable to those who haven't read those, but those who have read Exploration: Earth, Well, Some Parts of America Anyway will understand what's going on faster.

Part 1, ...Hope

There was a strange feeling that a symbiote immediately picked up on as unnatural. He was born, grew up in a lake, and blended with his first host. Oh, he remembered her well. Every detail, as symbiotes had very good memory. He got his name from an old name from her land that meant "warrior," as that was what he was. He didn't know what else he would be in the future, but he knew he'd be a fighter.

This first host was older than him, and so taught him a great deal. In return he held on to the precious memories after her death. He mourned her greatly, but he still prided in his second host. He remembered it all. Each host. He loved them all. He prided in taking care of each of them. It was the Tok'ra way, but more importantly, it was his way.

That's why the Goa'uld disgusted him so much. They did everything wrong. They hurt their hosts. They hurt the very people who gave them another way of life. They hurt the very people they should be grateful for, the people they should endlessly love. On occasion he was asked if he'd ever take an unwilling host if he had to, but the idea just sickened him.

He loved his current host now, but then one day that host just disappeared. The symbiote didn't know how or why, but his host was gone. It was lonely. Where was he? What was being done to the host? It terrified him. He called out for him, hoping, somehow hoping for a response. He would have to be calm. He would have to get him back.

Where was his host? Was he being tortured? Was he in pain? Was he being kept somewhere horrible? Was he starving? Was he shivering in a cold damp cell? Was he thirsty and trying to survive in a hot horrible cell? Many thoughts ran through the symbiote's head, but the biggest worry kept coming back.

Had he been taken by a Goa'uld? That idea scared him the most. The idea that another symbiote had forced its way into his host, that his host's memories were being violated, and that his host was being forced to do horrible things to people they both cared about.

How had this happened? The symbiote didn't even know. How? How could he not know?! His only hope was that his host would escape from wherever he was. Perhaps he or the Tok'ra could rescue him.

There was something else though. A memory. A memory of being in a tank. A faint background of a memory that was always there. It made no sense. He was hardly ever in a tank...though now wasn't the best example.

He didn't know how long he had been in the tank. It felt like he just woke up in it, but he also felt like he had been there all his life. It didn't make sense. He didn't know what was going on, but he had to. For one, he wasn't alone.

Two other symbiotes were there. They had just woken up and were squealing questions.

"Where am I?"

"Host?"

"Where is my host?"

"Who are you?"

They looked identical too. The symbiote thought they might be other Tok'ra. He tried to identify them by sight. First he tried to find some difference between them, but they truly were identical. The symbiote was about to ask them why they looked so much alike when the first one spoke. "You two same."

It didn't take long for them to realize they all looked the same, and they circled each other, trying to figure out why. They squealed of their past and memories of how they got here. They didn't just look the same. They had the same memories. Not just in how they got there, but everything. They had the same childhood, the same hosts, the same loves. Not only that, but they seemed to be a lot younger than they remembered. Old memories. Young bodies. They squealed for hours, trying to figure out what is going on.

They became silent when someone walked into the room. A person wearing clothes one would wear on Earth. That made sense. They remembered being on Earth. They were probably still there. The person wasn't a Goa'uld though. He was just a human. That made less sense.

The human was talking on the phone. "I don't think they have woken up yet." He seemed familiar, but after some soft squeaks, the symbiotes confirmed that none of them knew why. "Soon. Soon... Right..." He scratched his ear and pulled out paperwork. "No one is going to find out about this... They aren't going to get angry and take over you. They are Tok'ra." He glanced over at the symbiotes.

The symbiote and his two tank buddies remained motionless and just floated in the water, as if they were still asleep.

The human looked back to his papers and wrote something down. "We'll start tomorrow... No one is going to know... Don't worry. They're just clones." He put his pen down. "Tomorrow then... Bye." He set the phone on the desk and walked away.

"Copies?" One squeaked.

The symbiote realized the truth. These weren't just other Tok'ra symbiotes. They were all clones. "We are copies." ...from the same symbiote. He was scared again. In all likelihood, the Tok'ra didn't even know any of them existed. They had no hope of rescue, and without a host, no hope in escape either.

To be continued...

(Just a little note on the memories. More of a disclaimer. The idea of how the symbiote remembers its life and "life" is from the episode "Similitude" from Star Trek: Enterprise.)