A Tok'ra's Guide to the Tau'ri
by Anouk Sun Amun (anouk_sun_amun@hotmail.com)
Rating/Pairings/Season/Category/Disclaimer/Summary: See first chapter
-----------------------------------------------------
A/N: Just another nice, long, sappy conversation...
-----------------------------------------------------
Suddenly colours flared up behind her eyelids. "Jolinar..." she said and grabbed his arm to steady herself. Sounds from deep in her mind found their way into her conscious thoughts.
"Martouf," she said, foreign emotions flooding her own as the vision started to focus. "Do not leave."
They were the first words to rear their ugly heads from the pool of past conversations Jolinar had left behind. She was too removed from reality to even register she had said them.
-----------------------------------------------------
Chapter Three: Hey Kids, the General Just Told Me to Tell You...
-----------------------------------------------------
Inside her head Jolinar's voice echoed. 'Martouf!' she called. 'Do not leave! Why are you going now? The Council have not called a start to the evacuation as yet!'
In the blackness behind her eyelids she could see the faint image of a man walking away, through glowing tunnels. She felt soft fabric under her hands. She know that she -- Jolinar -- was running to catch up to him.
'We have to open the Chaapa'ai,' he stated calmly, turning to face her.
Sam felt the dread of realisation wash over her. He was going to open the 'gate; she knew exactly what it meant. She knew she there were Jaffa scouting the surface and gliders patrolling the air. The wave of emotion continued and she screwed her eyes as tight as she could. These memories had the habit of coming to the fore and making her lose it at the most inappropriate times.
'No! You can't!' Jolinar shouted as she fell into step beside him.
'I have to,' Martouf replied, tilting his head to look at her.
'Why not another?' Jolinar questioned, trying to block his path. He simply stepped around her.
'Why not me?'
'Please, do not do it! It is too dangerous!'
'And your infiltration missions are not?'
'There is no way to get back!'
'Someone has to open the way to the new homeworld, for sake of the Tok'ra. It is this way it happens every time we are forced to move. This time it is my turn.'
'Please, do not go!' Sam knew she actually uttered the words.
'What will I tell the Council? That I could not do it because my mate ordered me not to?'
'Martouf, Lantesh, please!' She could feel the distress Jolinar had at knowing her words would not change anything.
'No, Jolinar,' she saw his eyes flare and his voice dropped by an octave. 'Do not try to dissuade me! I must go.'
He turned again and walked away from her. She had felt hurt. Hurt that he could just leave her like that. Sam clenched her fists. Bastard. Wait, that was Jolinar's opinion, not hers.
She felt the dead symbiont lose herself emotionally. The colours of the flashback blurred as she saw Jolinar turn and run in the opposite direction. She could hear the resonating sound of her shoes hitting the ground.
So that was what brought this on. She had heard the sound of shoes. Such a simple thing. But Martouf had been there: that was not simple.
'Jolinar! Rosha!'
She continued running.
'Jolinar? Jolinar! Samantha!'
-----------------------------------------------------
The last name brought her back into reality, where it had come from. Slowly Sam opened her eyes, the memories of the late Tok'ra faded into the deeper corners of her mind. She blinked several times, clearing her vision.
"Samantha?" the man in front of her asked.
"Martouf," she replied, hoping she sounded calm. Her thoughts were confused, as they often were after one of these spells. Closing her eyes again, she leaned her head against the wall and inhaled deeply. "I'm fine."
Exhaling again, she steadied herself with the wall and attempted to push herself into a standing position. She could feel her pulse pumping madly in her throat. 'Why now?' she thought. It had changed from 'Why me?' quite some time ago.
The familiar feeling of emptiness gripped at her chest. It always did that when those annoying little remnants of Jolinar left again.
"How often does this happen?" Martouf enquired, taking her arm as she lost her balance. "The memories of Jolinar?"
Sam shook his hand away and pushed herself off the wall. "Not often," she assured. Once more she took a deep breath. "Come on, we'd better go."
She got no more than a step before she felt the pressure of his hand on her arm.
"Samantha," the low, worried tone of his voice pulled her up short. Slowly, ever so slowly, she turned around. The same catch she heard in his voice was mirrored in his face.
"I'm fine, Martouf, really," she tried to convince him. She attempted to pry his fingers from his arm with her free hand.
Gently he took hold of her wrist. "You are not," he said flatly. It was a statement, no a question.
"No," she replied, matching his emotionless tone. "It's just...I don't know!" She let out an exasperated sigh. Her eyes stung, warning her of approaching tears. Tears that would NOT fall. "I've got the recollections of a dead alien in my brain. I don't know what is 'fine'!" Her voice wavered on the last word.
'Great, Sam,' she thought. 'Of all the people you could go into gushing confessions with, it had to be him.'
As if life was throwing one last insult in her face, she felt a solitary tear roll down her cheek. That was it. It had to stop. Just as she braced herself, ready to pull her arm away, Martouf took her by surprise. Gently he raised his hand to her face and wiped the offending bead away with his thumb.
She couldn't help but sigh as his fingers trailed down her cheek and across her jaw line. She let her eyelids slide shut and didn't open them until his hand disappeared. When she looked at him he was staring intently at her.
"It bothers you," he said quietly, still holding her arm.
Sam laughed softly. "You said exactly that when we met."
"It is just as true now as it was then. I can see it in your face," he told her.
She dropped her gaze to the floor. For a few moments she thought about how she was going to phrase her next sentence, choosing her words carefully. Cautiously she lifted her eyes again.
"You know everything that Lantesh thinks and feels, right?" she asked.
"Yes," Martouf answered, looking puzzled. "Unless he chooses it to be otherwise."
"And you can access all of his memories?"
"Once again, yes, unless he does not want me to, which is very rarely."
"Okay," Sam said. She pinched the bridge of her nose between a forefinger and thumb. Martouf shifted his grip to accommodate her movement. "He's there in your mind constantly, and you have control over what you see from his past." She paused and continued at his nod. "When I recall things of Jolinar's, I have no control over it." Her hand fell to her side again. "I remember things that happened centuries before I was born to someone who's now dead."
Martouf visibly winced when she mentioned the word 'dead'. "It must be hard for you," he said, his voice sad, "to have the thoughts of one you did not have the chance to know." He loosened his fingers and trailed them along her forearm.
Sam shivered involuntarily. She was acting like a hormonal teenager. It was just stupid.
The empty hole in her chest grew. On impulse she grabbed Martouf's hand and laced his fingers into her own as they brushed lightly over the bare skin at her wrist. For a few seconds she thought he was going to pull away. His expression went from pure shock to surprise before shifting back to its normal neutrality.
Awkwardly he placed his other hand against the small of her back and pulled her closer to him. Sam quickly darted her eyes in both directions down the corridor to check for any SFs that might be in the area. Finding no-one, she focused her attention back to Martouf.
They were so close; so close. She could feel his hot breath brushing her lips in short, sharp gasps. Her heart was doing double-time. Without thinking she rested one hand one his shoulder, the other still entwined with his.
'Oh, yeah, Sam: definitely a hormonal teenager,' she told herself as the buzz inside her ribcage increased.
She leaned forward and had to fight the urge to gasp when their foreheads touched.
"Samantha," Martouf breathed. The syllables punctuated the stream of air caressing her lips, making her shudder again.
Her senses were in overdrive. She could feel every little shift in his movement, hear every intake of breath, see the flurry of emotions that passed through his blue-grey eyes. Those eyes...
Apparently she was also suffering from selective deafness.
"Hey, kids," Jack said, his voice dripping with poorly-hidden ire. "The General just told me to tell you briefing starts in five."
Suddenly the two broke apart. Sam knew she wore a completely horrified expression, but was powerless to stop it. The colour rose in her cheeks, burning as it went.
"Sir..." Sam started, her voice catching.
"Carter," he replied, his tone harsh and cold. He had already changed into civilian clothes, and his posture screamed out that he wasn't happy. His hands were shoved deep into his pockets. There was a dangerous glint in his eyes that Sam had thought was only reserved for the Goa'uld.
Daniel's words rang through her mind: 'Jacks' jealous'
-----------------------------------------------------
A/N: Guess what, people! We finally have season 6! Whoo hoo!
Okay, this may not seem like much, but I live in Tasmania, Australia, and Southern Cross (the station that airs SG-1) is even less reliable here than on the mainland. They were going to end season 5 here with 'Wormhole X-treme'! Thankfully there was enough outcry from fans to make them show the other 10 (9: they didn't air 'Proving Ground') episodes.
Please review; it's appreciated. In my opinion, it's getting a bit long-winded. I'd hoped to be a lot further along with this by now.
by Anouk Sun Amun (anouk_sun_amun@hotmail.com)
Rating/Pairings/Season/Category/Disclaimer/Summary: See first chapter
-----------------------------------------------------
A/N: Just another nice, long, sappy conversation...
-----------------------------------------------------
Suddenly colours flared up behind her eyelids. "Jolinar..." she said and grabbed his arm to steady herself. Sounds from deep in her mind found their way into her conscious thoughts.
"Martouf," she said, foreign emotions flooding her own as the vision started to focus. "Do not leave."
They were the first words to rear their ugly heads from the pool of past conversations Jolinar had left behind. She was too removed from reality to even register she had said them.
-----------------------------------------------------
Chapter Three: Hey Kids, the General Just Told Me to Tell You...
-----------------------------------------------------
Inside her head Jolinar's voice echoed. 'Martouf!' she called. 'Do not leave! Why are you going now? The Council have not called a start to the evacuation as yet!'
In the blackness behind her eyelids she could see the faint image of a man walking away, through glowing tunnels. She felt soft fabric under her hands. She know that she -- Jolinar -- was running to catch up to him.
'We have to open the Chaapa'ai,' he stated calmly, turning to face her.
Sam felt the dread of realisation wash over her. He was going to open the 'gate; she knew exactly what it meant. She knew she there were Jaffa scouting the surface and gliders patrolling the air. The wave of emotion continued and she screwed her eyes as tight as she could. These memories had the habit of coming to the fore and making her lose it at the most inappropriate times.
'No! You can't!' Jolinar shouted as she fell into step beside him.
'I have to,' Martouf replied, tilting his head to look at her.
'Why not another?' Jolinar questioned, trying to block his path. He simply stepped around her.
'Why not me?'
'Please, do not do it! It is too dangerous!'
'And your infiltration missions are not?'
'There is no way to get back!'
'Someone has to open the way to the new homeworld, for sake of the Tok'ra. It is this way it happens every time we are forced to move. This time it is my turn.'
'Please, do not go!' Sam knew she actually uttered the words.
'What will I tell the Council? That I could not do it because my mate ordered me not to?'
'Martouf, Lantesh, please!' She could feel the distress Jolinar had at knowing her words would not change anything.
'No, Jolinar,' she saw his eyes flare and his voice dropped by an octave. 'Do not try to dissuade me! I must go.'
He turned again and walked away from her. She had felt hurt. Hurt that he could just leave her like that. Sam clenched her fists. Bastard. Wait, that was Jolinar's opinion, not hers.
She felt the dead symbiont lose herself emotionally. The colours of the flashback blurred as she saw Jolinar turn and run in the opposite direction. She could hear the resonating sound of her shoes hitting the ground.
So that was what brought this on. She had heard the sound of shoes. Such a simple thing. But Martouf had been there: that was not simple.
'Jolinar! Rosha!'
She continued running.
'Jolinar? Jolinar! Samantha!'
-----------------------------------------------------
The last name brought her back into reality, where it had come from. Slowly Sam opened her eyes, the memories of the late Tok'ra faded into the deeper corners of her mind. She blinked several times, clearing her vision.
"Samantha?" the man in front of her asked.
"Martouf," she replied, hoping she sounded calm. Her thoughts were confused, as they often were after one of these spells. Closing her eyes again, she leaned her head against the wall and inhaled deeply. "I'm fine."
Exhaling again, she steadied herself with the wall and attempted to push herself into a standing position. She could feel her pulse pumping madly in her throat. 'Why now?' she thought. It had changed from 'Why me?' quite some time ago.
The familiar feeling of emptiness gripped at her chest. It always did that when those annoying little remnants of Jolinar left again.
"How often does this happen?" Martouf enquired, taking her arm as she lost her balance. "The memories of Jolinar?"
Sam shook his hand away and pushed herself off the wall. "Not often," she assured. Once more she took a deep breath. "Come on, we'd better go."
She got no more than a step before she felt the pressure of his hand on her arm.
"Samantha," the low, worried tone of his voice pulled her up short. Slowly, ever so slowly, she turned around. The same catch she heard in his voice was mirrored in his face.
"I'm fine, Martouf, really," she tried to convince him. She attempted to pry his fingers from his arm with her free hand.
Gently he took hold of her wrist. "You are not," he said flatly. It was a statement, no a question.
"No," she replied, matching his emotionless tone. "It's just...I don't know!" She let out an exasperated sigh. Her eyes stung, warning her of approaching tears. Tears that would NOT fall. "I've got the recollections of a dead alien in my brain. I don't know what is 'fine'!" Her voice wavered on the last word.
'Great, Sam,' she thought. 'Of all the people you could go into gushing confessions with, it had to be him.'
As if life was throwing one last insult in her face, she felt a solitary tear roll down her cheek. That was it. It had to stop. Just as she braced herself, ready to pull her arm away, Martouf took her by surprise. Gently he raised his hand to her face and wiped the offending bead away with his thumb.
She couldn't help but sigh as his fingers trailed down her cheek and across her jaw line. She let her eyelids slide shut and didn't open them until his hand disappeared. When she looked at him he was staring intently at her.
"It bothers you," he said quietly, still holding her arm.
Sam laughed softly. "You said exactly that when we met."
"It is just as true now as it was then. I can see it in your face," he told her.
She dropped her gaze to the floor. For a few moments she thought about how she was going to phrase her next sentence, choosing her words carefully. Cautiously she lifted her eyes again.
"You know everything that Lantesh thinks and feels, right?" she asked.
"Yes," Martouf answered, looking puzzled. "Unless he chooses it to be otherwise."
"And you can access all of his memories?"
"Once again, yes, unless he does not want me to, which is very rarely."
"Okay," Sam said. She pinched the bridge of her nose between a forefinger and thumb. Martouf shifted his grip to accommodate her movement. "He's there in your mind constantly, and you have control over what you see from his past." She paused and continued at his nod. "When I recall things of Jolinar's, I have no control over it." Her hand fell to her side again. "I remember things that happened centuries before I was born to someone who's now dead."
Martouf visibly winced when she mentioned the word 'dead'. "It must be hard for you," he said, his voice sad, "to have the thoughts of one you did not have the chance to know." He loosened his fingers and trailed them along her forearm.
Sam shivered involuntarily. She was acting like a hormonal teenager. It was just stupid.
The empty hole in her chest grew. On impulse she grabbed Martouf's hand and laced his fingers into her own as they brushed lightly over the bare skin at her wrist. For a few seconds she thought he was going to pull away. His expression went from pure shock to surprise before shifting back to its normal neutrality.
Awkwardly he placed his other hand against the small of her back and pulled her closer to him. Sam quickly darted her eyes in both directions down the corridor to check for any SFs that might be in the area. Finding no-one, she focused her attention back to Martouf.
They were so close; so close. She could feel his hot breath brushing her lips in short, sharp gasps. Her heart was doing double-time. Without thinking she rested one hand one his shoulder, the other still entwined with his.
'Oh, yeah, Sam: definitely a hormonal teenager,' she told herself as the buzz inside her ribcage increased.
She leaned forward and had to fight the urge to gasp when their foreheads touched.
"Samantha," Martouf breathed. The syllables punctuated the stream of air caressing her lips, making her shudder again.
Her senses were in overdrive. She could feel every little shift in his movement, hear every intake of breath, see the flurry of emotions that passed through his blue-grey eyes. Those eyes...
Apparently she was also suffering from selective deafness.
"Hey, kids," Jack said, his voice dripping with poorly-hidden ire. "The General just told me to tell you briefing starts in five."
Suddenly the two broke apart. Sam knew she wore a completely horrified expression, but was powerless to stop it. The colour rose in her cheeks, burning as it went.
"Sir..." Sam started, her voice catching.
"Carter," he replied, his tone harsh and cold. He had already changed into civilian clothes, and his posture screamed out that he wasn't happy. His hands were shoved deep into his pockets. There was a dangerous glint in his eyes that Sam had thought was only reserved for the Goa'uld.
Daniel's words rang through her mind: 'Jacks' jealous'
-----------------------------------------------------
A/N: Guess what, people! We finally have season 6! Whoo hoo!
Okay, this may not seem like much, but I live in Tasmania, Australia, and Southern Cross (the station that airs SG-1) is even less reliable here than on the mainland. They were going to end season 5 here with 'Wormhole X-treme'! Thankfully there was enough outcry from fans to make them show the other 10 (9: they didn't air 'Proving Ground') episodes.
Please review; it's appreciated. In my opinion, it's getting a bit long-winded. I'd hoped to be a lot further along with this by now.