by Pariskhevi Kalodimas
pariskhevik@yahoo.com
© 2001
At the first hint of dawn, light came through the small slit high in the cell wall. As the light in the cell came up bit-by-bit with the path of the sun on its trek from end of night to next night, she woke. The last trace of her bright dream - of joy, heat, love, food, spiced drink, and friends - dimmed as she woke. She sighed, stretched, and climbed up off of her bed of rags on the stone floor. The new day's cool, crisp air and the kiss of the cold floor to her bare feet made haste her trip to void and then cleanse.
She cooked the fresh day's fare in the way of her new life: in a small pan, on top of a hot flame in the mean cook stove. The fare - like her cell, the clothes she wore when she was let to do so, and the life she lived now - was plain and neat. Tart, ripe fruits; whole grains; warm, new bread; and strong tea. These things that she had sown the seeds and reaped.
The cup that held the tea was the one thing of note that she had won the right to own in her life of late. The clay cup had been a gift from Jack - made by his hands, a pledge to the hope of a bond in the life they had lived at the time. A long time past it seemed. A bond, now, not to be for all time in the here. And, no chance of it in the yet to come, it seemed to her. She gazed at the cup, and forced her mind to curb the mood she felt stir.
Guard, in its hot rage, had trashed all their goods. What Guard had dumped, by and by in her cell, had no use, else than to gall her. Save for the cup. Too late had Guard sensed its one - to this time - slip in its way with her. Guard had tried to take back the cup - but had looked at her face, the eyes, and left the cell in fear of its own life. Guard would make her give at *Guard's* own pace.
She had paid well for that act of *self*. It took months for the pain and the hurt to stop.
This day would be spent as all of the days had been spent since Jack had left. As the day was still cool, she would till the small plot of land next to her cell. In the shade of the round stone gate - the gate to the stars. To tend the crops, wet the dirt they lived in, keep them from pests (most of all, the nest of snakes that would turn up from time to time); take joy in the touch of that which lived.
Feel the heat of the sun on her skin, and the feel the wind stroke her face.
Smell clean things.
She would hear her *self's* voice, as a friend had taught her with care. Her mind would be a sieve for old pains, and then bare she would her soul to the clean, bright light that she had spawned. The lone seed that she had set in her mind, had borne fruit - a child, so to speak - that she would have for all time that was her's by her own might.
A sound at the cell door as the bolt was pushed back broke the train of her thoughts. She knelt with haste, put her hands to the floor and leaned down to rest her head on her hands. Took a deep breath, two more, and then bid her mind calm. Calm would be *her* guard to the rage that she fought each day. She had had more than her share of pain, and knew she could not bear to go through more and stay sane. Or, at least as sane as she now was.
She blanked her thoughts to what was to come - The Rite of the New Day.
Guard caused the door to not be closed, walked through from *Guard's* side to *her* side, turned, and closed the door. Guard stepped in front of her, one bare foot placed at each side of her head. Guard leaned down to sniff at her scent, to make sure she was clean for Guard, as she had been taught. Sniffed some more, with some force at the place that she was so keen to save from harm by Guard. Or to let Guard take his sweet thrill at the cost of her pain and wound to her *self*.
Guard grinned at this thought and licked its lips.
Guard nudged her head with his right foot to let her know that Guard was pleased at what Guard had found and that she could start with what she had to do.
She raised her head - not too far, so that she could not see of Guard more than its feet. Just *so* far so that she could kiss Guard's feet - the kiss that Guard had trained her to give. Guard trained with great skill, so that what she was to get was quick, to check soon Guard's wrath and pain.
She licked first a wet path from the right small toe to the right big toe, at the edge of a snake's head drawn on the foot, then licked a path to the top of the foot, and kissed the side of that foot at the end of the heel.
*Calm*
Took her time, no rush here, when the day was long, and Guard was the god of her pain.
*Blank*
Guard sighed. She did her job to the Guard's taste.
*Still*
She moved her mouth to Guard's left foot.
*At rest*
She came to an end to her task, and knelt once more, with her head to rest on the back of her hands.
*Clear of self*
She held still as Guard used her to void. Felt the wet of Guard in her hair that ran down to drip in her eyes and mouth. Smelled, and felt the weight, of the gift that Guard left smeared on her back. Heard the loud sounds of bliss from Guard, and she stilled her *self* to the touch of Guard.
*Cool*
"State your sins," barked Guard, its loud voice a pain to her ears. Loud too was the hard slap of the gloved hand to the side of her head. That was not part of the rite! Guard was quick this day to show its wrath. Quick was not a good sign for the rest of the long day.
She fought down the rise of fear. The taste of it in her mouth was sharp, well known. "Great," she thought, "meet my new friend, fear." It had not been a day-to-day friend in the past. "What is, is," she thought. She felt fear pass through her. And put back on the cloak of calm.
"Guard, my sins are thus. I have..."
"Stop! Do you know what day this is?"
She was stunned. This was new,and she was ill set for new. All had been the same, for so long a march of days, weeks, months - could it be a year?
Could she be sure it had not been years?
"Guard, I - no. No, I do not know what day it is, Guard."
"It is your last day here. You will now keep to the last act of the law. Come." And with that, Guard gave a quick kick to her ass, to urge her to her feet with speed.
She had learned not to give voice to Guard's wrongs to her *self*. She stood, her *self* cold now that she knew this was the last day. "So soon, " she thought, "I am ill set for this too, and yet, it seems to be not as soon as once was hoped."
"You are let to clean and wear clothes. Be quick!"
She moved with speed to Guard's charge. Cleaned what Guard had caused to be not clean, and put on her clothes. Pants that were too long in the leg, and shirt too long in the arm - clothes that once Jack had worn. Clothes that Jack did not need now.
Clean and clothed, she turned to walk to the door - and looked at her cup. Stopped. Jaw set, she picked up her cup, clutched it to her breast. Then she did walk to the door, and knelt. Guard walked up to her. No voice came from Guard. Time passed. She forced her *self* to wait for what Guard would do next. Would Guard take the cup from her - with no harm to her? Or, take the cup and make her pay for her pride? And, if she was to die soon, what did she care at this point?
*Peace*
"Come with me!" barked Guard. Guard's voice was harsh and loud; it hurt her ears. Guard's voice was not Jack's voice. Jack's voice had been strong, but yet soft and kind, and she missed not just the voice, but he that spoke with that voice.
Guard caused the door to not be closed, walked out of the cell, and she stood up, walked too out of the cell, and knelt at the door. Guard closed the door and ran home the bolt. Then Guard turned off the hall light. She stood, and walked to the rear of Guard as Guard marched down the hall. She made sure she stayed at least seven steps back from Guard - no more or no less. Guard would know.
*Hush*
They marched down the cold, dark hall for some time. She could feel her mind shut down with each step. Sound eased. Sight grew dark. Smell waned. Touch ebbed. She fought to keep that which was Jack stay in her mind, but that was all.
*Still*
They had to pass through six more doors on this last trek. At each door, she knelt while Guard slid the bolt and caused the door to not be closed, turned off the light. Stood up, stepped through the door, knelt as Guard closed the door, and closed the bolt. Stood to her feet, marched to the rear of Guard at the strict seven steps. She was set to the law.
*Calm*
She knelt at the next door. Guard slid the bolt back and caused the door to not be closed. She stood up, walked through the door, knelt at the door. Guard did not step through.
*Peace*
Guard closed the door - from Guard's side - and she heard Guard run home the bolt. The only room she had been left in, in time past, had been her cell. This too was new. She had not been let to stand, so she stayed on her knees. Kept her head down, eyes closed. Had to be at ease with what she knew. Or not know, as death seemed to be close.
*Cool*
That was Jack's word. Cool.
Jack could be cool.
"Leave her! Now!"
A voice!
Not from the room.
From her *self*!
Who?
Where?
How?
"Jack? Jack - is that you?"
"You read my file."
File?
What file?
What? (That was Jack's word too.)
She dared to risk to cause her eyes not to be closed. And raised her head to look at the room she was in now. It was so dark it was hard to see, but she knew she was just the one in the room. But that was Jack's voice! Where was he?
"Jack! I can hear you, but I can not see you. Where are you?"
"Fine, stick to your guns then!"
"What? Jack - I...what? I am here!"
She stood now, her right hand clutched to the cup, her left hand in front of her. Reached out, felt the air, took a step, then felt the wall. "Jack, I can hear you! But I can not find you. Where are you?"
"Leave her!"
"Leave? Leave this place? Jack - you *want* me to die?"
No more voice from Jack. What to do? Jack had said leave - she turned from the wall she had found, and walked as fast as she could.
"Stand down. Let her go!"
And then - a bright light and great pain! So much pain. From head to toe. Too much pain. She felt what was left of her mind fade quick - and then once more, the bright light and pain. And then...
The End of One
*SGC Base - MALP Room*
The MALP room looked like it had been taken over by the Rube Goldberg Machine Contest teams. The simplicity of the MALP room - basically a storage place for the MALPs - had been converted into a complex, wacky, and bizarre creation - diabolically logical machines that had been used as a "memory mainframe" for the alien entity.
A nest. Of wires, batteries, cable, computer keyboard, circuit boards and computer monitors.
Sam had been moved from ICU to the MALP room, in a desperate last chance to reunite her body with - well, her mind, her consciousness. The alien entity, in order to preserve its home world, had downloaded Sam's mind into the memory mainframe. It had to. Jack had said he would send dozens of probes to destroy its world, and the entity had indeed read his file. Knew he spoke the truth.
Dr. Fraiser made the connections from the memory mainframe and the EEG machine to the sensors placed around Sam's head.
"This EEG matches Sam's. I don't know how - but it's her," advised Dr. Fraiser.
"So what do we do?" asked General Hammond, frowning.
"There's nothing I can do, sir, but provide a conduit for her to return to her own body."
Teal'c raised his zat gun and armed it. "The entity has deceived us on several occasions," he explained upon the surprised reaction of Dr. Fraiser.
General Hammond frown was building into a scowl. He scowled towards Jack, who twisted his neck, working on the building stress. He rolled his head, shrugged his shoulders. His body language said, "Trust Teal'c, sir."
Hammond turned back to Fraiser. "Go ahead Doctor."
"Yes sir."
The nurse that was air-bagging Sam moved aside as Dr. Fraiser approached the memory mainframe and engaged the circuits. Visible pulses of electrical energy moved through the connections into the sensors around Sam's head as her body arched on the gurney. Suddenly, the "nest" went dark.
Dr. Fraiser quickly disconnected the leads at the EEG machine. Fraiser glanced at the readout, and turned, laughing, "She's back!" as Sam inhaled deeply.
Teal'c deactivated his zat gun as Jack approached the gurney. "Hey, Carter. Where 'ya been?" he asked quietly.
"It's gone?" Sam whispered.
"Yes, it is," answered General Hammond.
"I was shouting for you to hear," whispered Sam, her voice reflecting the all that she had been through.
"We heard," replied Jack.