SPOILERS : From S5.21 Meridian onward
DISCLAIMER : Stargate is the property of MGM, World Gekko Corp and Double Secret productions. No infringement on copyrights and trademarks is intended. All original material is copyrighted to the author.
NOTES : None of this will make sense unless you've read the first two parts in this trilogy. And if you already have... be afraid.
Special thanks go to Aru for being a brave beta under the most trying conditions; and to Ria Lucas for continued words of hope and serious encouragement.
compassion (n) :
1: a deep awareness of and sympathy for another's suffering.
2: the humane quality of understanding the suffering of others and
wanting to do something about it.
Conversations with Sam...
"Have you never considered? About the Asgard and the Goa'uld? And the others? The Nox and the Tollan? The Furling? Why the Asgard perpetuate a mythology of their own? How the Nox do not involve themselves? Where the Furling have gone? Why only the Asgard interfere? Do you wonder why a race so old remains corporeal, why they see themselves as protectors? Do you ever wonder to see the Valkyrie?
"Do you not see that you emerged too soon. You're still young, but you take it upon yourselves to interfere. The Asgard are old and dying. The Tollan are almost dead and the Nox are too remote, too removed from the chaos all about them. You act without thought, without knowledge, without wisdom.
"It is never easy to walk among the stars and yet remain apart.
"How can any person know that the choices they make will affect one or a thousand others? That they all might live, or ten thousand more might die? And having made one choice should you stop? Or would you continue? Would you continue until you reckon yourself absolved of your guilt? Do you sit, isolated, or do you accept the consequences of your actions?
"Do you understand compassion?
"If you see a child, a girl, lying hurt, would you help her? Or would you ask yourself who is this child? Where does she come from? Where does she go? If I save her life, will another die?
"Remember: there is no good, there is no evil — there is only truth.
"Do you know the truth?"
...
The grass is always green in the eternal garden, the lotus blossom always bright and fresh. It is a place to sit and reflect. Master Chen tends the garden. He always has; he always will, for as long as he lives. It is his garden. He created it from his heart, from his soul, nourishing it with all that his life contains.
When their time comes, all those who are chosen will sit with him, for a while at least, so that they might receive his instruction. Seldom will any words be exchanged — that is not the way of the garden. Neither is his benevolence sought, nor are words of praise or encouragement asked for or indeed given. The master tends his garden. It is his way — those who sit with him have their own journey. Enlightenment is not his to give, yet those whose lives he touches are the wiser for his instruction.
The tiger stalks the garden, treading carefully over the delicate grass, listening intently to the master's shallow breathing, sensing the slow rise and fall of his chest. He has grown so old that little life remains, yet the garden still thrives. She stands slowly, drawing her light tunic about her. She knows that she will be the last, that every moment, every heartbeat is so precious.
She sits quietly opposite him, folding her legs beneath her, resting her hands upon her knees, palms open to the warmth of the sun. She sits easily in quiet supplication, her gaze steady, examining the lines on his face, each crease, each wrinkle, each fold. No longer does she fear or pity him as she regards the empty sockets where his eyes once shone.
Slowly, she calms herself, closes her eyes, lets her breathing match his. In her soul she pictures herself within the garden — simply at first, then adding detail upon detail. Each leaf, each blade of grass she recalls; every shadow that falls she sees, every nuance, every shade of color, of light, of dark. The sun never sets over the eternal garden; the shadows mark the passage of time with a precision so much more accurate than any mechanical contrivance.
She will sit, learning, watching the garden grow about her, absorbing its essence, expanding her awareness. She will watch the master tend the garden, giving of his spirit selflessly.
...
"Hey, Sam."
"Daniel?" She turns toward the voice, "Is it really you?"
Her old friend smiles disarmingly. "As if it could be anyone else," he says, shrugging his shoulders. "Did you think I'd forget you?"
"Well, no, but I never thought to see you here. Come closer, let me look at you." She sees the thought behind his smile as he approaches. "Someone has to pay the price," she shrugs.
He sits beside her, taking her hand in his. "Yes," is all he can say.
"I started it, Daniel. You did all that you could to end it, but Oma..."
"She had no other choice. You had no other choice."
"I was weak." he says, regarding her closely.
"We are who – and what – we are," Sam laughs.
"Although the ascetic look is..." Daniel begins. Sam wears no make-up and keeps her hair gone. Her ears are closed, her eyes empty, her lips thin and pale. The simple robe she wears is quite white in stark contrast to the garden itself. "... quite disturbing, actually." But she hasn't aged a day.
"A broken mirror —"
"Never again reflects. Yes, I know. Very... Zen of you." Daniel frowns. "But to confine yourself here?"
"I do not see myself as outside. Why enter?"
"More Zen," Daniel can't keep the concern out of his voice. "Is that all you have?"
"No, Daniel. I have so much more. Don't let my appearance deceive you — I can change it on a whim, but for now it suits my needs," her voice trails off. "I still..." she chokes, "He was a good teacher."
Daniel bows his head in respect. "His passing has not gone unnoticed."
"And it's too late for you to stop me, Daniel." Sam says abruptly. "What I did can no longer be undone. Even she understands that now."
"Oh?" Daniel regards her curiously. "If you mean Oma, she's stopped me before. Why would she let you..." he pauses at Sam's enigmatic smile, "interfere," he finishes uncertainly. "Still, he should have joined us," he persists. "It was expected of him. He was the eldest, the wisest."
"And still all you can talk of is liberation," Sam shakes her head sadly, disappointed. "Here," she stands, helping Daniel to his feet. "Lend me some of your strength." She squeezes his hand reassuringly, sighing as the primal energy flows through the physical link. "I have all I need for myself, but..." she spreads her arms wide. "Don't you see?" The garden that has been black for so long fills with life once more.
Daniel's eyes shine with joy at the beauty, the perfection all around him. "But you can't stay here forever," he tries to empathize with her but his voice breaks with despair.
"This is the eternal garden," Sam reassures him. "I hold it here," she folds her hands over her heart. "What else could anyone ever want?"
...
"Everyone you have ever loved, everyone you have ever touched will be lost to you. Can you live with that? Can you turn your back on them? Can you live with not knowing? They might live long, happy lives, or they may all die tomorrow.
"They will be lost to you, and you will not be able to say farewell.
"You cannot play with their hearts and minds. Only Oma interferes. She shows those who are far too young that life does not always end with death. You cannot let them believe that they might know you again.
"I know that you love him.
"I know that you would give your life for him, as he would for you. Lay aside the ghosts that would haunt you; put behind you your selfless devotion. It is not between us that you must choose, but the paths that your journey will take.
"Your Colonel waits for you now. There can be no turning back.
...
"Daniel?"
"Yes, Sam?"
"I'm afraid."
"I know. So was I before I returned; but the division was necessary. I've learned not to interfere; I don't even watch anymore," Daniel confesses. "My price is to be ignorant of all earthly suffering for as long as I remain. To think about it – or even to try to infer it from the actions of others – is too much. But you —"
"No, Daniel; you don't understand. Before Anubis ascended, I... I thought I knew what the consequences would be; I thought I knew how history would unfold. Yet all I saw was my daughter..."
"No matter how much you think you've changed," Daniel says quietly, "On the inside, you're still only human..."
"But my daughter isn't," Sam laughs awkwardly. "She never was — only I never saw it then." She sees Daniel's blank look. "You really don't know, do you?"
...
The moment is almost upon her. She waits, watching.
Anubis emerges first from the stargate, his Jaffa spreading out behind him, charging past, firing their weapons indiscriminately.
Sam watches the people she will come to call her own scatter in all directions. There is no warning she can give, no cry to avert the impending destruction and the desolation that will follow. She has to wait for the bloody events to unfold before her.
She has to wait for Anubis to claim the world that would be hers before she can act, before she can dare to adjust ever so slightly the way between.
She has to wait...
She watches in horror as panic and pandemonium spread, as innocent people fall before they can escape to the way beyond.
She has to wait...
She sees the young girl running; she sees her stumble and fall. She sees the briefest moment of fear in her eyes as Anubis strides up to her, as he stands over her, as he bends down to scoop her up in one massive claw. The demon bellows out his rage, the girl's face inches from his gaping jaws.
She has to wait...
She trembles as the girl's neck fills his gaping maw, as huge teeth slice through the girl's throat, crunching through bone, sucking her blood loudly and jubilantly into his mouth.
She has to wait...
She knows that Anubis watches her, that he only has eyes for her. He bellows his anger, his great body trembling as his rage grows, as he shakes the child until her head falls.
She has to wait...
She hadn't known how special her daughter was — that she could follow her through the way beyond. She watches her daughter's severed head bounce. She watches it roll until it lays still, staring up at her, pleading to her even in death.
She has to wait...
... but she cannot.