From the Merriam Webster On-Line Dictionary:
Definition One: The living together in more or less intimate association or close union of two dissimilar organisms (as in parasitism or commensalism);
Definition Two: A cooperative relationship (as between two persons or groups).
Definition One: Vala
Vala Mal Doran yelped in surprise as a Jaffa guard ripped the young man away from her tight embrace and sent him sprawling onto the floor with a heavy blow from his staff weapon. She winced as she watched the staff weapon dig deep down between the young man's shoulder blades, feeling the heavy object pushing down against her own shoulder blades in empathy for the man she was to marry in a few weeks time.
"No!" she cried out, struggling mightily to break free from the Jaffa guard who held her in place from behind. "Let me go!"
She nervously glanced between her beau's prone body and the calculating eyes of the older woman standing nearby who led the trigger-happy warriors with only the slightest of nods and turns of her head. The woman, and the emotionless warriors accompanying her, had slaughtered her friends and many of family, turning her comfortable life upside down in a matter of hours, and Vala could barely think straight, as angry as she was. She wanted to grasp the woman's throat and choke her to death for the acts Vala had watched her inflict on those she had loved and cared about.
The woman's eyes, steely as the silver streaks blazoning through her hair, suddenly flashed brightly at Vala. She approached Vala slowly, watching with amusement as Vala continued to struggle against the Jaffa guard holding her.
But try as she might, Vala could not break free from the guard's grasp. With a hard yank to her right arm to let the guard know she was still a force to be reckoned with, Vala stopped. Her fiancé, the dear sweet man who had been beaten in front of her a few minutes earlier for refusing to bow down to the Jaffa's mistress, arched his head around to send nervous glances back at her. She knew he was scared for his life.
So was she.
The woman who had declared herself a god and who had demanded that they all prostrate themselves to worship her or face her wrath had stopped to stand before Vala. She looked Vala over, a smile slowly filling her face.
"I have chosen," she announced, moving forward and roughly pulling Vala's shoulders toward hers, blocking Vala's fiancé from her view.
A blast rang out.
"GARETH!" Vala screamed as the air filled with the smell of seared flesh and smoldering fabric.
At that moment the older woman moved quickly, locking her mouth onto Vala's and gripping her head tightly. Vala gagged as a slimy warmness shot through her mouth and down into the back of her throat. She watched in horror as the older woman fell away from her, the older woman touching her own mouth, to dab at the blood flowing from it, and giving Vala a look filled with both horror and relief as she slid to the floor.
Vala had little time to contemplate what it all meant as she staggered back against the Jaffa who had been restraining her, his grip switching up under her arms to support her weight as her knees buckled. She winced and groaned as her head started to pound, feeling as if it was going to explode from the most massive and excruciating headache that she had ever had. If only she could heave and rid her stomach of the nauseous knot she felt growing there, she thought she would feel so much better.
And then she felt the presence of another, from within her, and she suddenly knew that her life had been irrevocably changed.
"I am Qetesh," she heard her voice ring out with an arrogance and authority not her own.
Why had she said that, she wondered. She was Vala Mal Doran, not Qe-whoever. Her hands scrabbling at her throat, she felt a tightening around her shoulders and chest, her heart racing faster than it ever had before. She struggled against the increasing pressure.
Who was inside her? What was inside her?
Quiet, Foolish One, she heard a voice clearly say inside her head.
Vala put her hands to her temples and squeezed. No! This could not be!
"NO!" she yelled out.
The pressured strengthened again, making her gasp, and then she felt a hand softly stroke her hair. "Shhhh… Vala – it's okay," she heard a familiar male voice murmur into her ear. "You fell asleep. It's okay. You're safe – we're all here with you."
She thought hard. Gareth? No. Daniel. It was her Daniel.
She opened her eyes and blinked away the last wisps of what had apparently been a flashback, finding herself surrounded by the familiar faces of SG-1. Teal'c sat to her left on the hard bench, his solid bulk buttressing her on that side as the military van they were riding in bumped and rumbled over the highway on its way back to base. He looked at her, his face carefully emotionless as she'd learned it always would be, but the soft look in his eyes revealed a more tender concern for her that she was surprised to see, but that she greatly appreciated.
She sat up, lifting her head off of Daniel's shoulder. Colonels Mitchell and Carter sat shoulder-to-shoulder across from her, and a young airman slouched at the end of their bench, dozing. Both colonels were watching her with worried frowns. Although Colonel Carter's look seemed to….
Vala felt compelled to look away. It seemed as if Samantha Carter was trying to penetrate into her thoughts and as if she had some special knowledge about her, a knowledge of her many secrets. Vala swallowed and turned to Teal'c.
"Did I cause you much trouble?" Vala asked Teal'c, giving him a nudge and a friendly pat on the thigh as she tried to lighten the somber atmosphere in the old van.
Teal'c's face softened. "No, you did not."
"Good," she said, a half-smile forming on her lips. She turned back to Daniel. "So what's next? A new mission? More adventures like this one? I'm ready and raring to go," she said, projecting an eagerness that she certainly didn't feel quite yet.
Daniel shook his head and looked away from her, focusing his gaze out the back windows of the van.
"The docs'll want to check you out," Colonel Mitchell responded. He arched a brow at Vala's inquisitive look. "Probably'll mean another visit to the shrink," he said matter-of-factly.
What did she have to shrink, Vala wondered, looking confused. She thought she was slim enough, thank you very much. Shrink was yet another Tau'ri colloquialism that she did not recognize.
"Psychiatrist," Colonel Carter said, casting a pointed look and a head shake at her seat mate. "Don't worry, it's standard procedure. We've all gone through it before."
Vala shivered, suddenly feeling very small and vulnerable. Although everything had come rushing back to her at the warehouse a few hours earlier, there still were some memories of her time at the SGC that were still just slightly out of focus. But she clearly remembered her last visit to their mind doctor. And she wanted no part of this shrink procedure, standard or not, especially if it was anything like what she had gone through with the young man who'd tested her before to determine if she was sane enough to be on SG-1.
She felt Daniel shift next to her in response to her shiver. He knew what she was thinking.
"No, not like that," he said quietly. "Different."
Vala looked down at the floor of the van. If the truth be told, then she didn't want different, not when she thought more about it. She knew how to handle the first psychiatrist now and she was fairly certain that she would be able to convince him once more that she was fine so that he and the other SGC medical personnel would leave her alone so she could deal with what had happened to her in her own way and in her own time.
She fixed her mouth in a firm line of resolve. She had proven it to him before and she would do it again.
--------------------
Vala looked around the small office. She hadn't been to this one before and its small, confined darkness wasn't what she wanted to be stuck in for what she knew from experience could become a few hours of interrogation. She looked at the man sitting at the desk.
"Where is my young man?" she asked.
The pointed chin of the middle-aged man behind the desk jutted out as he picked up a pen and began writing on the legal pad in front of him. He didn't look up. "What young man?" he asked.
Vala watched as the bald man, his skin as pallid as the grey walls surrounding him, continued to write, not once looking up at her. "The doctor that I met with last," she explained, approaching the desk slowly as she took in the other details of the man she would be trying to convince of her sanity.
"And that was when?" the man asked her.
Vala squinted at the man across the desk from her. A man of many questions. She would show him - he had no idea of who he was dealing with. "And you are?" she asked, carefully leaning over the desk and extending her hand towards him.
The doctor ignored her hand and nodded at the nameplate on the desk, still without glancing up. "What does it say there?" he asked.
Vala ignored the nameplate. "I'd like to hear how you pronounce it," she said.
The doctor's head shot up, and he looked at Vala as if seeing her for the first time. He looked confused for a brief moment, and then a thoughtful look passed over his features. "Peter M. Smith," he said.
"And the M is for?" Vala asked.
"Martin," Dr. Smith said, laying his pen down. He leaned back in his chair. "And you are?" he asked, eyeing the form-fitting dress Vala had chosen to wear to this all-important meeting. He noted the plunging neckline and cleavage that Vala had made sure to emphasize with her choice of necklaces, and he hurriedly picked his pen back up and started to write again.
"Vala, Vala Mal Doran," she answered, leaning forward to see what he was writing and to see how far she was going to be able to distract him.
"No middle name?" the psychiatrist asked, subtly moving the pad back closer to his body and studiously avoiding looking at her chest looming just above him.
"No," Vala lied. What he didn't need to know wouldn't hurt him. "Should I have one?" she asked suggestively.
"Mal Doran. Interesting," Dr. Smith said, underlining her last name. "Derived from a place?" he asked.
Vala smiled sweetly at him. "Why, yes, of course."
Dr. Smith looked back up at her, nearly getting a nose-full of skin. "And that would be?"
Vala looked at him with an air of innocent surprise. "Why, I'm not quite sure, perhaps you'd like to tell me?" She batted her eyelashes and shot a cheek-to-cheek grin at him.
Dr. Smith's face tightened and he harrumphed. "Ms. Mal Doran," he said gruffly, "I will be asking the questions here. Now if you'll take a seat, please…."
--------------------
Vala sorted the clothes in her dresser until she found the oldest and most comfortable pair of pajamas that she had. She smiled when she found them, pressed to the back of the drawer by her still-growing collection of negligees and teddies. The flowing pants and tunic were soft and loose and perfect for snuggling into bed in. And she certainly needed snuggling and comfort after the grilling that the new psychiatrist had given her after her third and final attempt to distract him with her body and flirtations had failed.
She frowned as she slid the tunic over her head. Apparently not all Tau'ri doctors were trained to provide reassurance and comfort to their patients. All that Dr. Smith had seemed to excel at doing was in asking questions that pulled up memory after painful memory, memories that she had carefully buried after the Tok'ra had freed her from her enslavement to Qetesh, but that had freely flowed recently after the memory device had short-circuited while still attached to her head.
And those memories had included the very worst of them, the ones she had refused for close to twenty years to acknowledge had happened. She had been fighting Qetesh's presence for just over a year at that point. Qetesh had been playing with her the entire time, allowing her control of her body for short bursts and then taking it back away from her in excruciatingly slow increments as time passed, infuriating Vala all the more. By the end of that year the constant struggle, physical and mental, to keep the last shreds of her soul intact had sapped her of her will to fight anymore, especially as Qetesh exposed her to more and more of her perverted tastes and whims while committing atrocities against the people of her own planet.
Vala shuddered, remembering the slaughtering of women and children during one of the last times that Qetesh had teased her with temporary control of her body and then had almost immediately yanked the control away; forcing her to watch as Qetesh's Jaffa guard slowly blasted their way through the throngs begging for Qetesh's mercy. At long last, after her campaign to gain control of Vala's home planet and the few space-worthy ships they possessed had met with success, Qetesh had informed Vala that she was going to take a long-overdue rest and for Vala to not try to escape while she slept – her First Prime would see to it that she was shackled until Qetesh had finished her rest, should Vala try anything foolish or stupid.
With the sleeping Qetesh relegated to the dull buzz of background noise in her head, Vala had been amazed by how much she had forgotten about the sensations one experienced when one had total control over their body. She had literally rolled in the grass of the palace courtyard at the delight of being able to do as she pleased without the heavy, negative presence of the omnipresent Goa'uld always correcting her and controlling her. She had been ready to race through the palace halls barefoot, for the simple pleasure of feeling her long hair, nearly down to her hips, flowing behind the billowing robes that would have streamed out behind her. But one look at First Prime who had been tailing her during those early hours of freedom had brought her to a sudden halt.
He had given her a disapproving glance as he stood at the other end of the hall, his arms crossed.
Vala had frowned back at him. Spoilsport.
She'd quickly disappeared into Qetesh's personal chambers, the only chambers that the First Prime did not escort his goddess into. She looked around. Draped on the reclining day bed that Qetesh often held her many trysts on was the latest ceremonial gown that Qetesh had been forcing her latest personal seamstress to complete for her. Vala smiled as she remembered gleefully ordering the woman away in the morning, wanting to share the joy of freedom with as many as she could while she could.
Vala walked over and fingered the delicate gold threads and beadwork that had been recently added to the skimpy bodice. The seamstress was very skilled; there was no doubt about that. Vala spied the pair of scissors the seamstress had abandoned laying nearby and she picked them up. She examined them with interest, in awe of the craftsmanship that had created the filigree covering the handles, deceiving in its delicateness, and the blades - they were amazing for their sharpness – just the sight of their razor thin edge proclaimed, "If you touch me, you die."
Vala tentatively touched the pointed tip to her index finger and drew blood. She sucked on her fingertip, cursing her stupidity.
Then her mind, completely free for the first time in months and now heavily influenced by the cunning of Qetesh, started to churn with ideas for the types of things that she could use these special scissors for, the scissors being the first weapon she'd had under her control since first becoming Qetesh's unwilling host. She wouldn't be able to take out the skilled First Prime with them – of that she was certain. She looked at the blood still welling out of her finger and she frowned.
Although, if she couldn't rid herself of Qetesh's favorite lackey, perhaps then she could try to rid her own self of the terrible Goa'uld while she had the chance.
Vala twirled the scissors around her the index finger of her uninjured hand, stopping them as they pointed inward toward her gut. Did she really have the guts to do that? The scissors inched ever closer to her and she watched with wonder as the scissors, barely touching the fabric, sliced through the bodice of the long dress she was wearing.
She stared at her bare breastbone as the fabric pulled itself apart and she floated the tip just above her skin, knowing with the exquisite sharpness of them, that they would plunge through clothes and bone if she needed them to do so. But she didn't take the plunge. Not yet.
She pulled the pair of rapier-like scissors away for a moment and held them out away from her, gripping the filigree handles tightly with both hands. She stood there, her hands shaking slightly as she gathered her composure. She could end this now.
She would end it now; just a quick thrust up under the breastbone with a hard twist to her left. She refused to live any longer in a body she could only control in the rarest of moments like this. Life like this, as a prisoner in her own body, was not worth it. Especially one that Qetesh had repeatedly promised her that hers would be like.
Releasing and letting go of all that was familiar, of all that was good, of all that was dear, Vala shut her eyes and thrust at her chest.
And then her world went black.
Vala released her held breath and sat down on the edge of her bed, relieved that her world was black no longer. She lifted her brush up to her hair and very slowly began to stroke it. She was to meet with General Landry privately in the morning and she planned to inform him that she did not like Dr. Smith and she would not go back to him, even if they threatened her with removal from base if she did not. She refused to be subject to the memories the doctor had stirred.
--------------------
As much as General Landry had been very gentle with her, try as she might to focus on what he was saying to her, her mind started to stray away as he droned on and on about the doctor's findings. Ah yes, that doctor. Those findings. Those memories.
Vala remembered again the chest-crushing pain she'd experienced during the times she'd fought hard against Qetesh's agonizingly slow process of taking over control of her body. Qetesh had supremely enjoyed every bit of fight that Vala had put up as she extended her control over yet another part of Vala's body. Only when Vala's heart threatened to give out on her did Qetesh stop the pain.
And then there had been her act of desperation, the one she'd relived last night. Her world had gone black because Qetesh had awakened just in time to keep Vala from ending both of their lives. In response and retaliation, Qetesh had totally blocked Vala out of her own conscious mind. Vala had never determined how long Qetesh had blocked her out. It had been long enough that Vala had regained access to her consciousness only to find her body in transit to a new planet. And it had been long enough for Vala, relegated to her subconscious for that entire time, to have determined that it would get her nowhere to fight Qetesh, but that acceptance of the Goa'uld and flattery of her intellect and skill was certainly worth a try to regain some conscious thought. Especially after the point that Vala's rage and frustration had finally drained completely out of her, leaving her alone and plunged in a dark, stimulus-free void, deep in the recesses of her own mind.
And as much as it hurt and scarred Vala's psyche to see and participate in Qetesh's horrid acts, Vala had then managed to pull off what she'd felt was her best deception up to that date – convincing Qetesh that she really was a willing and eager accomplice in Qetesh's plots and escapades. And actually it hadn't been that hard to do on the good days, the days when Qetesh lazily stood in her antechamber admiring Vala's lithe, naked body in the mirror, the golden lion sculptures guarding her reflection as they supported the massive mirror. On the days when she was surrounded by fresh lotus blossoms, a hard-won crop in the rough planet the Tau'ri had labeled P8X-412, the blooms hanging heavily in a multitude of vases, large and small. And on the days when Qetesh indulged in the most handsome and winsome of the young miners, when Qetesh's fingers delicately traced the golden twin snakes that twisted up around her bicep as the young men sought to please her.
Those were the better days when Vala could stomach more easily the deception she was pulling. But then there were bad days, when Qetesh lashed out in an unfathomable fury that the naquadah hadn't been mined fast enough, that the miners had not been slavish enough toward her, that the young men in her bed had not fulfilled her how she wished. Even after her success in driving Ba'al away from P8X-412, the act that had put her and her small planet on the Tok'ra's radar, Qetesh had not been happy. Had not been satisfied. Had lied to Athena, both for the pleasure of misleading her and the protection of having another Goa'uld ally so close at hand in case Ba'al did seek revenge. Vala shut her eyes trying to block the images of anguished men and women, of entire families executed, and all the while, Qetesh making sure that her captive host was awake and fully able to experience the proceedings.
Vala frowned. Her acceptance had worked too well – if the Tok'ra hadn't found her when they had, she would have convinced herself that servitude to the Goa'uld was what she'd always wanted. She shuddered at the thought of surrendering her soul to Qetesh. But then the Goa'uld symbiote had been removed and the Tok'ra had made their request of her to become a host to one of their own symbiotes, and Vala had told them she needed to think about it.
Instead she had given the Tok'ra the slip, going on the run for the next three years, hopping from one bad situation to the next, trying to better her life, but only getting herself more deeply enmeshed in a tangled web of her own making, with an ever-growing list of enemies and acquaintances determined to find her and exact their own revenge. Stealing Daniel's ship had only been the latest in a long line of bungled and mangled deceptions at the point their paths had intersected.
Vala looked back at General Landry who was frowning at the report. His bushy eyebrows and gruffness reminded her of her own father. She frowned. That was the past. This was now.
She inhaled deeply and smiled. "So General, are you in agreement that I won't have to go back to see Dr. Smith?"
General Landry looked up at Vala. "He seems to think the sessions were beneficial."
Vala had to work to keep the look of derision from covering her face. "Beneficial for him perhaps; his hand certainly got quite the workout during our session." She sighed deeply for effect and tried to put on her worst hurt-daughter face. "Please, please, General Landry, please try to see that I am doing fine without him."
The stout general snorted and leaned back in his chair. "Vala, you didn't listen to half of what I just said-"
"But-"
"But nothing, Vala. If you had been listening to me, then you would know what I've already recommended." General Landry shook his head as if he were gently scolding his own daughter.
Vala hung her head dejectedly. "I'm sorry."
"You'll keep checking in with Dr. Lam. No more missions until she releases you," he explained.
Vala looked up, a glimmer of hope in her eyes.
"And no Dr. Smith as long as Dr. Lam believes that you are progressing as you should."
Vala jumped up and quickly circled around the desk, grabbing General Landry and locking him in a big bear hug. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" she said, planting a big kiss on his cheek. She ran to the doorway, and then halted, swiveling back around to return back to him. She hugged him once more before she disappeared out of his doorway for good.
--------------------
"Vala, are you sure you don't want to talk about it?" Daniel asked as Vala finished off the last of her juice. The food on his own tray remained untouched.
Reaching out to swipe a triangle of toast from his plate, Vala nodded. For all her attraction to Daniel, for some reason she just could not stomach the thought of sharing her memories with him at the moment.
"I'm fine," she assured him, wiping the corners of her mouth and standing up.
Daniel looked up at her with deep concern. He opened his mouth to disagree with her.
"I am," she announced and picked up her food tray, leaving him to watch her leave the room.
--------------------
Daniel had tried to reach out to her again, before the team debriefing started, repeating his offer to let her talk it out, but Vala had rebuffed him again, feeling somewhat patronized by him, for after all, he still was just a man. How could he understand what she had gone through as a female host? How could she trust him with the kinds of confidences she would share? Too many men in her recent life had used her for her not to be somewhat wary.
She remembered the slight pained look that had crossed Daniel's face that he'd blinked quickly away when he mentioned his deceased wife's name; Vala remembered that Colonel Carter had told her how deeply he'd grieved Sha're when Apophis had chosen her to host his consort. But it wasn't the same, Vala thought, shaking off the thought, not by - how did the wily Colonel Mitchell put it - not by a long shot.
Then during a short break in the debriefing, she had mumbled something under her breath about going stir-crazy looking at the minimalist walls of the SGC and Teal'c had leaned over toward her, making a quiet offer to drive her into Colorado Springs if she so desired, but as much as she appreciated the Jaffa's offer she didn't want to. The Jaffa heritage he still carried imprinted on his forehead and the stiff, unemotional warrior demeanor he often exhibited reminded her too much of the memories that the memory device had dredged up, even though she knew he had proven to the SGC and SG-1 that he was otherwise.
But, truly, what did either of those men know of her experience? One had gestated a Goa'uld symbiote and as far as her Daniel, lovely empathetic human that he was – neither man had any idea what it was like to be taken unwillingly as a host and to be forced to instigate and to watch depraved acts being committed against all living creatures. They would never know what it was like to be forced into that situation; a daily rape not only of mind and body, but of her very soul. They wouldn't understand the constant struggle to retain your identity when the symbiote punished the host for resistance. They wouldn't understand what it had taken to develop defenses, shields to protect her vulnerabilities. Vulnerabilities hidden so deeply that she had almost forgotten that she had them until Athena's damn memory dredging had revealed them to Vala again.
And that's what scared her most - that she felt like she was vulnerable again, her soul laid bare for all to see at the SGC. And that it would happen again and again and again and never stop.
--------------------
Teal'c laid a solemn hand on hers and nodded as she finished her story of her rescue and the abridged version of what she had done with Colonel Mitchell at the motel room, at least the parts that she could remember; some of it was still fuzzy. Vala gave Teal'c's hand a squeeze back, knowing that the stoic Jaffa cared about her well-being and would have laid his life down for her own, just because of who she was, not what she was or had been, but because he liked who she was now, not because there was a Goa'uld in control of him, directing him to serve her.
Colonel Mitchell escorted her to the elevator shaft. As they waited for the elevator, he touched her elbow and nodded at her. "You're forgiven," he said cryptically.
"For what?" she asked, confused.
"Using me as your love slave," he said, deadpan.
Vala blinked and then a look of recognition spread over her face as she realized what he was referring to. As the elevator door slid open, she lifted her finger to delicately trace the contour of the colonel's chin. "Oh no, Colonel Mitchell," she whispered seductively, "you most certainly have no idea of the kinds of things I engage my love slaves in. Handcuffs and pastries – they are merely child's play." She winked at him as the door shut on his wide-open eyes and mouth.
After the doors completely shut, Vala's shoulders slumped and she sagged against the wall, feeling tired and distinctly overwhelmed. To his credit, General Landry had been just as gentle with her in the team debriefing as he had been with her in his office. Much more gentle than Dr. Smith. She wondered again how was it that this planet had doctors of the psyche that were the least emotional living creatures alive.
Vala had been surprised by the knowing looks that Colonel Carter had given her at odd moments during the briefing. A small bubble of annoyance rose within Vala. What did the Tau'ri scientist know about how she felt? Quite honestly the woman could not begin to know what it felt like to be forced against one's will to take a host. To be forced to relive those memories by the minions of Athena, a Goa'uld rival with ambitions greater than Qetesh's own, and especially when Vala had thought she was far, far away from that former life.
The elevator doors opened on Level 25 where her quarters were and, after looking at the deserted corridor, she immediately pressed the door's close button. She didn't want to go back to her quiet room again. And besides, she required sustenance - perhaps one of those large, delightful concoctions that Teal'c had identified for her as a banana boat sundae.
But instead of going up to Level 22 where the mess hall was located, the elevator was dropping back down to the gateroom. Vala rolled her eyes. She didn't want to go back down to the gate room. She wanted to eat.
The door opened and she found Colonel Carter looking at the floor, lost in deep thought. The colonel moved forward into the elevator, only picking up her head when she saw Vala's boots.
"Oh. Sorry," she said. Colonel Carter looked at the lit button on the control panel. "Heading to the mess hall?"
Vala eyed her. "Perhaps."
Colonel Carter nodded, punching the button marked nineteen, and she stepped back to lean against the opposite wall, giving Vala a quick smile and lift of her eyebrows.
--------------------
Feeling supremely satisfied and full of the sugary culinary wonders of the SGC, Vala re-entered the elevator. Where to go? She still wasn't ready to go to her quarters. She wasn't interested in seeing Daniel or Teal'c or Colonel Mitchell; their maleness was still too much for her to deal with at the moment. The memory device had only served to dredge up the memories of the many men who had tried to use her during her life.
Vala punched the button for Level 19. To Colonel Carter's lab it would be then. Now there was a woman who had survived the rigors and tortures of a militaristic machine and had thrived, apparently intact. Maybe she could understand some of what Vala was feeling.
--------------------
"Busy?" Vala asked, pulling a stool up next to Colonel Carter's.
Vala caught sight of what the colonel had been hunching over and examining though an extremely large magnifying glass. It was the memory device that had been used on Vala, apparently recovered from the warehouse explosion. She shuddered, pushing the stool back away.
Colonel Carter pushed the magnifying glass away from her, laying her tools carefully down on the desk. "Still having bad memories?" she asked.
Vala nodded, continuing to eye the device that was held up in the air by a mini-vise. "Aren't there other scientists employed by the SGC to do that sort of thing?" she asked, looking around the desktop littered with meters, oscillators, and other equipment that Vala had no idea of how they worked or of what their name was.
The astrophysicist surveyed the mess on her desk and gave a contented sigh. "There are," she said, "but I enjoy doing this – you know, figuring out how things work."
"If it were up to me, I would obliterate that thing," Vala muttered.
"Yeah, well," Colonel Carter said, shrugging. "Is there something I can help you with?" she asked, turning back to her desk.
Vala nodded. "I need to get out of here."
"Excuse me?"
"I need to get out of here," Vala said. "I shall simply go crazy if I have to endure another moment inside these insufferable walls."
The colonel looked at Vala, her expression full of bemusement.
"I shall," Vala insisted. She stopped as Colonel Carter broke into a full smile. "You don't believe me," Vala said.
Colonel Carter shrugged slightly and turned her chair around to fully face Vala, giving her complete and undivided attention to her visitor. "So, what's up?"
"I truly need to get out of here," Vala repeated.
"Couldn't one of the guys run you into Colorado Springs?" the colonel asked, tilting her head.
Vala looked unsure. "I don't need to go shopping," she said.
"So what do you want then?" the colonel asked.
"To get out," Vala said.
Colonel Carter looked at the clock in her office and at the disassembled device. She looked back at Vala. "The Area 51 courier is coming in a few hours to take this device and I want to be finished my comparative study with the similar devices we've found before. You'll have to give me at least an hour."
Vala hopped off her stool and smiled. "Wonderful!" she said. "I'll be back in an hour then!"
Definition Two: Sam
Sam watched Vala become more agitated as the young security guard, fumbling his duties during his first day at the security checkpoint, slowly processed Vala's recently reissued identification cards. Vala was fidgeting, but not in the happy, impatient way she normally did in missions and in briefings, but with an angry, unusual impatience that Sam hadn't seen before.
"This is just taking much too long. Can't you hurry things up?" Vala snapped at the guard as she glared at him, her arms crossed tightly across her chest.
The guard dropped Vala's cards and a deep crimson colored his face as he picked up the scattered plastic rectangles from the floor. "I'm sorry, ma'am. I have to do this to everyone."
Sam shook her head at the young man as he looked at Sam, worried that Sam was going to criticize him too. "It's okay," Sam said told him softly. "Take your time." She looked back at Vala. "We're in no rush, right?" she asked, giving her a look.
Vala hung her head. "I'm sorry."
Sam nodded at her and focused back on the nervous guard.
--------------------
As Sam sped up the ramp onto Interstate 25, she glanced over at Vala who was snuggling deeper into her coat.
"Shopping?" Sam asked. "Up near the Academy there's the Citadel and Briargate, or if you're looking for something smaller-"
"So where do you live?" Vala suddenly asked, turning toward her with a smile.
"Oh, here in Colorado Springs," Sam said. "Nothing special, just a little house."
"Show me," Vala insisted.
"You don't want to shop?" Sam asked, surprised by Vala's eagerness to see her house, given Vala's reputation for being a shopaholic. When Vala didn't answer her, Sam decided a quick drive-by couldn't hurt, and then she could loop them up to the Citadel for shopping and dinner.
--------------------
Sam slowed down as she approached her small cottage. The street was quiet as it was still early enough in the afternoon for the schools to still be in session. She smiled with pride as she saw the porch and the profusion of flowers overflowing the window boxes. Home, sweet home. Her refuge.
"There," she said, nodding towards her house and coming to a stop in front of it. "That's it."
Vala looked at the small cottage and back at Sam. She looked puzzled.
"What?" Sam asked.
Vala quickly shrugged her shoulders. "You don't seem like the romantic cottage type."
Sam looked at her, her mouth open. "What type do I seem like?" she asked, a small snort escaping through her nose.
Vala looked at the flower pots on Sam's steps and the small bird feeder beneath porch. "I'm not sure," Vala said, squinting in concentration at Sam's yard and the front façade. "Just not this."
Sam rolled her eyes and started to pull the car away from the house. "Okay, Citadel time."
Vala turned her head quickly and looked at Sam. "No! Stop. Let's go inside."
Sam looked doubtful. "I thought you liked to shop."
Vala shrugged. "I have enough clothes, and General Landry has refused to allot me any more storage space at the SGC," she said. She looked uncomfortable for a moment. "And…."
"And?" Sam asked, bringing the car to a full stop again.
Vala stared at the hood of Sam's car. "And I'd prefer to stay away from crowds and people and just… everything." She turned to Sam. "If you don't mind, that is."
Sam nodded her head and made a tight U-turn. Now that she could understand.
--------------------
Vala licked the cream filling from the small éclair from her fingertips. "Mmmmm…" she said.
"You won't have any room for dinner," Sam warned her. She'd lost count of how many of the small pastries Vala had eaten. She'd feel sick if she'd been the one to have eaten all those on an empty stomach.
Vala smiled contentedly, her eyes shut as she rolled her tongue around her lips to capture the last bits of the cream. "Does it matter? Your planet has such a wonderful knack for creating such amazing pastries… I think I've died and gone to heaven."
"P8X-412 didn't have pastries like this?" Sam asked, offering Vala a napkin. "All those other places you visited later? Come on…."
Vala swallowed hard at the mention of P8X-412. She shook her head and looked away.
Sam watched as Vala's body visibly started to sag down into the couch. She wondered how much the memory device had dredged up. She knew with her own blending with Jolinar and her own experiences with that infernal little memory device that the memories that one thought would never see the light of day again, suddenly popped up whenever they felt like it, and, in full living color, blasting one back into feelings and emotions that they wished they'd never been a part of.
She slid the napkin out of Vala's clenched fist. "I'm sorry," Sam said.
Vala blinked and looked at Sam. "Sorry for what?"
"For bringing that up."
"What?"
Sam looked deep into Vala's eyes. She knew Vala knew what she was referring to. "Qetesh. Being a host. All of it."
Vala shot a look of indignation at Sam. "So what do you have to be sorry about? What could you possibly know about how I feel?" Vala snorted in derision. "Dissection of mechanical memory devices tell you nothing about my experiences."
Sam realized that Vala hadn't been told about her blending with Jolinar; Vala didn't have the complete background history on each member of SG-1 that Cameron had been given before he joined the SGC. She nodded at Vala.
"True," Sam agreed. "That wouldn't. But having been there and done that would."
Vala cocked her head to the side. "Which means…?"
"Which means… about ten years ago a Tok'ra symbiote called Jolinar took me as a host."
Vala looked a bit more interested, but she was still skeptical. "Tok'ras don't take unwilling hosts. Been there and done that," she replied, throwing Sam's phrasing back at her.
"I didn't say I was willing or that it was by choice."
"Oh."
Sam leaned back against the couch, arms crossed as she lost herself in the pattern on the stone wall that her fireplace was tucked into. "We were on a search and rescue mission to Nassya and we were checking out the settlement camp for survivors when we came under attack ourselves. I stopped to resuscitate one man who just happened to be carrying a Tok'ra operative named Jolinar of Malksur. I never knew it happened. She took me as I was giving the man mouth-to-mouth."
Vala sucked in a deep breath, and Sam turned to find Vala's face full of realization and understanding. "You too?" Sam asked.
Vala slowly nodded. "But didn't the Tok'ra remove her like they did Qetesh?"
Sam shook her head. "The SGC had me in solitary – with an alien entity in me, I was a security risk. And we had never met or even heard of a Tok'ra up to that point." Sam stopped as she recalled how it had felt, realizing that she was sharing her body with someone else and being scared to death over the loss of control of the situation. "Jolinar was being hunted by an Ashrak. He was able to infiltrate the SGC and he killed her."
"But you survived."
"Jolinar gave her life for mine."
They both were quiet for a while. Sam pushed herself off the couch to find the take-out menus. "So I do know, Vala. And I really am sorry. No one should ever have to go through that, especially if they're forced to do it."
Vala turned to her side on the couch, her chin tucked into her elbow. "So do you still have memories of that time?"
Sam nodded as she located the menus in a side drawer. "My memories and Jolinar's. Hers will never go away. Over time I've learned how to deal with them and, with help from friends and my father, I learned a few techniques to suppress them."
"Your father?"
Sam nodded. "He was a Tok'ra host."
"Really?" Vala asked, lifting her head and perking up.
Sam shook her head and smiled at her eager guest. "That's another story for another time."
Vala gave her a hurt look.
"Now what would you like to eat?" she asked holding up the menus like a hand of poker.
Vala's eyes widened. "Maybe we can order something from each of them?"
Sam laughed. "I don't think so."
--------------------
Vala helped Sam to clean up after their meal. She had agreed to Chinese, but only if Sam let her sample several entrees from the menu. She handed a fortune cookie to Sam. "Here," Vala said. "Read it."
Sam broke the cookie in two and pulled the small slip of white paper out. "Beware of strange women in your kitchen," she lied.
"What?" Vala snorted. "No, it doesn't!" She grabbed at the slip that Sam lifted out of arm's reach.
Sam laughed. "Okay, okay! I lied." She brought her arm back down and held the slip up to catch the light. "Beware of men who would do you harm." She frowned and quickly crumpled the paper, throwing it onto the kitchen countertop. "What about yours?" Sam prompted.
Vala looked as if she was going to comment on Sam's expression, but she stopped and glanced down at her fortune. "Sunshine and good fortune are yours today," she quietly read.
Vala was quiet for a while. "Who were you thinking of?" Vala asked as she helped Sam finish off the container of cold mini-éclairs.
"When?"
"When you read that fortune."
Sam debated telling her about Adrian Conrad. "A man," she said vaguely, biting into another mini-éclair.
"Not just any man," Vala said knowingly. "What happened?"
Where to start about him, Sam wondered. "A sick man." She saw Vala's look. "Literally. Physically and mentally. A wealthy man who just happened to be in possession of a Goa'uld symbiote. He kidnapped me and planned to use me as a guinea pig."
"Guinea pig?"
Sam winced. "Sorry. A test subject. To figure out how to remove his symbiote once his body healed."
Vala nodded her understanding. "Does he have a name?"
"Adrian Conrad."
Vala shrugged her shoulders. "Never heard of him."
"You wouldn't," Sam said. "I was rescued before his scientists managed to dissect me. However Adrian was able to escape."
Vala's eyes widened and she worriedly looked around the interior of Sam's small house.
Sam chuckled quietly. "Don't worry – he's long dead. Long story short - Adrian was taken by another governmental organization and the symbiote eventually jumped hosts and was killed on one of our ships, oh, about four years ago."
Vala was visibly relieved. She squinted at Sam. "Were you scared?" Vala asked softly. "To know there were men who thought no more of you than, say, a rabid creature?" Her voice started to trail off as she said, "To study, to use, to abuse…."
Sam laid the last éclair down, having lost her appetite suddenly. She understood the concerns she knew Vala must have. She had often wondered what would have happened to her if she hadn't been such an integral part of the SGC's mission. Given her blending with Jolinar, had she been anyone else, Sam was certain that she'd have disappeared long ago, spirited away to become an unwilling test subject: to be poked at, prodded at, and played with. And not by men like Adrian Conrad with his drive to live motivating him, but by her own people, the NID, and other private entities in the know….
She'd never felt that safe when she stopped to think about it, and she still didn't. Thank goodness with time passing she'd stopped consciously thinking about it until questions like Vala's brought it back to the forefront of her mind. Although she had wondered several times what would happen to her when her Air Force career was over with and she no longer had the military's protective force available to her. Times like that she realized that she was married to the Air Force for life, because no human who had carried a known symbiote ever survived on Earth outside a powerful, wealthy organization for long. And death by unnatural causes was not what she desired.
"Sam?" Vala whispered.
Sam blinked.
"It's okay," Vala said softly.
Sam shook her head. "No, I was just thinking. Remembering." She realized with a start that Vala was going to have the same security issues as long as she remained on Earth too.
"The aftereffects of hosting suck," Sam wryly commented.
Vala snorted, and laying her head back, let loose a full-blown belly laugh.
"What?" Sam asked, a smile forming on her lips.
"You can say that again," Vala said, as her laughter slowly subsided.
"It sucks," Sam said, doing her best imitation of an unhappy two-year old child.
Sam joined Vala as she broke into another fit of laughter.
--------------------
As they approached the base, Sam smiled as Vala entertained her with another story about one of Qetesh's more clumsy paramours and Vala's subtle efforts to ensure the paramour's efforts failed.
"Now you," Vala said, eagerly. "Tok'ra or not, there has to be some hot, juicy sex stories lurking in those memories of yours – after all symbiotes have big appetites no matter what their politics."
Sam kept her eyes focused on the dark road ahead of her as memories of Jolinar's experiences flashed through her mind. The painful, degrading ones with Binar and the life-changing ones that she'd had with Martouf intermingled in her mind. She shook her head. "I'll have to pass," she said.
"Darn," Vala said, reaching over to turn the heater up higher. "May I ask why?"
"Too complicated," Sam said, turning her signal on. "Maybe someday."
Vala laughed. "I'll hold you to that promise, Samantha Carter."
Sam smiled. She knew Vala would.
As they pulled past the first checkpoint, Vala cleared her throat. "Thank you."
Sam gave Vala a quick glance as her car started to ascend the steep road up to base. "For what?"
Vala's face was lit in profile by the reflection of the lights shining on the road. "For listening," Vala said. "For not being judgmental." She turned to Sam. "For understanding."
Sam took her hand off the gear shift and gave Vala's hand a quick squeeze. An evening of war stories traded with laughter and tears had taught her that while her experiences may have been different than Vala's, they shared enough similarities that Sam felt a connection with her new friend that she hadn't before. And even if they never became the best of friends, they would forever be the next best thing to it – sisters by circumstance.
"You're welcome," Sam said. "What are friends for?"
"Exactly my thoughts," Vala agreed.