Tittle: The Fifth Member
by Tiffany May Harrsch
Summary: This series is my attempt to get into the head of the oft used but seldom seen fifth member of SG1.
Spoilers: Various episodes up to and including Firing Line.
Set: Season 1 (so far)
Rating: PG1 3
Spoilers: Goa'uld back history. Bloodlines, Bane
Status: Each story is complete. I haven't seen all the episodes, in fact I haven't seen much beyond S3 or 4, so there is a good possibility the series may be a wip.
Credits: Thank you to Ivanova for betaing for me.
Thus far I four part/stories. You'll find them as a separate chapters here on Fanfiction.net.
The Unwilling Symbiote (Date: 27 June 2000), Loneliness (Date: 27 June 2000), Naming (Date: 31 July 2000), Bane (Date: 31 July 2000)
Disclaimer: © 2000 The characters mentioned in this story are the property of Showtime and Gekko Film Corp. The Stargate, SG-I, the Goa'uld and all other characters who have appeared in the series STARGATE SG-1 together with the names, titles and backstory are the sole copyright property of MGM-UA Worldwide Television, Gekko Film Corp, Glassner/Wright Double Secret Productions and Stargate SG-I Prod. Ltd. Partnership. This fanfic is not intended as an infringement upon those rights and solely meant for entertainment. All other characters, the story idea and the story itself are the sole property of the author.
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The Fifth Member:
Bane:
The invasion is fast, decisive, and imminently lethal. One moment we were fine, the next my host is in pain and being over run by alien parasites. I take the trespassing of my territory very seriously. My host is mine; I will not allow other things to share it with me. I immediately set out to conquer them. They out number me by the thousands. Despite my best efforts, they are conquering my host.
In the short, interminable time I have been here, I have driven off all manner of bacteria and virus. At first I had thought my host must be particularly susceptible to these ailments. They are always trying to infiltrate his body, particularly through the wounds. I was surprised by the multitude more the knowing sometimes speaks about. Unfortunately, the knowing is useless against this new threat.
With the knowing's help I have determined the new enemy to be a virus. Viruses are not uncommon, nor are their means of replicating using the cells of my host. This virus, however, is changing my host in a way I have never experienced in the past or is known in the knowing. My host is slowly ceasing to be my host. He is changing into something else, something alien, and I do not know how to fight it.
I try to retaliate in every way I know how. Every defense and offense instinct, the knowing, and my imagination can come up with are easily being deflected by the growing invaders.
My host is weakening rapidly. He has not put himself into the meditative state that allows me easier access to the body. For some reason he is not even trying to help me fight. I fear the virus is changing more than just his body.
If his companions are trying to help, they are having as little luck as I. I wish I knew what, if anything, they are attempting. It might help if we pooled our efforts. Unfortunately, I do not have the strength or time to concentrate on the outside sounds and try to interpret a language I can hardly understand.
I have come to the conclusion the illness is causing my host to loose his mind. There is no other reason for him to do this. He reaches into the pouch in which I reside, feeling around with fumbling fingers. I try to keep out of reach, but there is nowhere to go in the suddenly tight confines. Fingers brush me, then grasp me. He pulls me from the safety of my abode despite my protests. I scream and twist as I fall onto something which is not soft enough. I see my host for the first time as he turns his back on me and leaves.
Teal'c has just condemned us both to death. Why? Why commit suicide in such a painful way? He could have just killed me out right if he had wanted me dead. He could have done something less painful to himself than wasting away without my help. I do not understand this. Teal'c is a fighter. His companions are fighters. They, and he, would not allow death so easily.
Alone, I scream once in inarticulate frustration. It takes this for me to realize I want to live! The depression that stuck with me for so long since I was abducted has changed course to anger, to motivations of revenge, to boredom, to curiosity, to this, the desire to be. The tall ones keep taking away my choices about life.
I do not like being out in the open air. It is too dry and it hurts to breathe the crisp coldness. Everything feels strange. Sights and sounds are just off enough to be disconcerting. Everything looks and sounds... flat, somehow. The colors and my depth perception are not as accurate as they should be. Every little noise seems greatly amplified outside my host's body.
I have not been out here but for a few minutes and already my skin itches. The cloth I lay on, though smooth, feels abrasive to my body. I try to keep as still as possible. Movement hurts and I do not wish to create a breeze in the already chill air. Besides, I see nowhere to go to keep myself safe.
Yes, I could try to make my way to one of the tall ones laying near by. The one clad in blue is closest. I would have to gather energy enough to penetrate it, then to heal the wound the penetration would created, then do something about the injuries the tall one has. Assuming the motionless tall one is alive. I am exhausted and know I do not have the strength to manage even the first stage. Besides that, I am too young to take over a host. I have not yet even begun to thicken, much less change color. How could I possibly hope to be able to control the host once I was inside?
I feel so helpless. There is no push of instinct to cause me to act where my mind will not. The familiar tingle of the knowing has abandoned me.
I hear flat noises approaching. It takes my stunned mind a moment to identify them as voices. The air around me and the cloth I lay on jangle unpleasantly as a couple of tall ones join me in this place. One passes me without noticing me. The other comes uncomfortably close to stepping on me before it becomes aware of my presence.
"Jack." This is another name for O'Neill, one only DanielJackson uses.
"It's alive." DanielJackson's voice lacks it's usual muffled resonance. The owner of the voice comes into view and I freeze. Though I have only seen this face once before, it is forever engraved in my mind. It belongs to one of my abductors, one of the two tall one strangers who took me from my siblings. The moment flashes back into my mind. A strangely dressed tall one with circles on it's eyes handing a short, oblong object to the other…
One nasty appendage, like that which had so rudely took me from my siblings, reaches out toward me. Still in the throes of memory, terrified, I scream and flinch away. The hand stops without touching me and draws away.
I hold my breath and wonder what they, particularly DanielJackson, will do next. I am relieved their touch is not involved. O'Neill says something and pushes DanielJackson away. Using the smooth, scratchy cloth as a sort of sling, O'Neill bundles me up and carries me somewhere.
I live for a long while in yellowed darkness and rumbling. It takes all my will to resist the urge to thrash about. Panic will not help the claustrophobia any. This is not nearly so dark or confining as the first time the tall ones took me. This time I have a clue as to my fate. They are friends to my host, they want my host to live, therefore they will no harm me. I keep repeating this mantra. It does little to allay the fear, and nothing for existing half in the present and half in those terrible moments from the past.
The rumbling stops. My breathing, strained, sounds too loud in the comparative silence. There is more jostling, gentler than when I was transported in that hard container. DanielJackson makes a worried inquiry, O'Neill responds with firm optimism. I doubt they are speaking of me.
More anxious voices. I recognize CaptainCarter, her voice higher pitched without the muffling of a body. Someone I do not know speaks. Then DoctorFrasier, her tones both demanding and compassionate. I am too agitated to try to decipher what little I know of their language.
Eventually, I am deposited into a large tank similar to the place I used to share with my siblings. It is refreshingly spacious, but triggers a yearning for the company of my own kind. The tank is transparent, allowing me to see the outside world again. It helps to dispel the feeling of being trapped. And it gives me something to do while I wait for the tall ones to decide my fate again.
They flitter in and out of the larger room mine is contained in. Sometimes they fiddle with things near me, sometimes with things laying around. I can not identify any of it, and the *knowing* remains persistently, annoyingly silent.
The water I reside in draws my attention from the tall ones. At first it felt like the same stuff I have lived in with my host. It is warm and revitalizing and capacious. I do not know just what it wrong with it. It is not stale, yet it is not quite… alive.
One tall one, who is shorter than the others, visits most often. The knowing flares up just enough to identify it as female before becoming quiescent again. The tall one is continually adjusting things near my room. When she finally speaks in my presence, I realize I have 'met' her before. She has the voice of DoctorFrasier. Maybe she knows what is wrong with my water.
I am startled by the presence of another female tall one. She is the one who abducted me with a bruising grip and forced me into the tiny transport. Now she stands too close gazing down at me. I cling to the farthest corner, wishing for an opaque room. I would rather be stuck back in cramped darkness than be under her eyes again.
With the first word she utters, I know instantly who she is. CaptainCarter. They were both friends of my host. I knew this, of course. Intellectually. My host's companions are not his slaves. But I had never associated any of the familiar voices or names with the faces that haunt my dreams. I knew there were tall ones out there, somewhere who had killed my siblings. Now, knowing the particular names belonged to the faces I have seen only once before today just makes what I knew real.
I will her to go away and amazingly she leaves. Only to return later with those terrifying eyes. I wish she would take DanielJackson's example and avoid me. I do not know why she persists in joining DoctorFrasier in the human sport of staring.
The wrongness with the water counteracts the reviving effect of the warmth and sustenance. I no longer have the energy to float, so I settle to the bottom of the tank. I peer out the partition at the tall ones standing around. Why weren't they doing anything? Surely they know something is wrong with me. Why do they just watch?
CaptainCarter says something to her shorter companion. Her words spark a bit of recent memory. A time when names like 'Tok'Ra' and 'Ashrak' and 'Jolinar' were spoken with worry, hate and anxiety in connection with CaptainCarter. They were words the knowing knew. Though Jolinar was a stranger, it was a proper Goa'uld name. CaptainCarter is solely a tall one, now. But now she has the knowing too.
Being older when it was given to her, certainly her knowing knew how to make this water more alive. Why doesn't she say? Her insistence of not doing anything conflicts with the worry in her voice when she speaks.
O'Neill comes in and speaks to the women. The one who named me stays conspicuously distant from me. At his order, CaptainCarter and accesses her knowing. She and DoctorFrasier adjust things near my housing, and suddenly the water becomes fresh and alive again. This is the second time O'Neill has saved me from the abductors. If only he had been there when they first encountered my siblings and I. He, at least, wanted me to live. He must be a true friend of Teal'c.
I do not know what caused the delay, but they finally deliver me to my host. I am appalled by what I find. Most of his body isn't his. The virus is still present but declining. There are injuries to his skin and the entrance to my pouch. And another alien substance had been introduced into his system. I start on the newest threat before I realize it is not a threat at all. The new stuff is killing the virus. I am elated at the implications. The tall ones have succeeded where I could not and helped my host. All I have to do is finish the job and we would both be fine.
The healing takes a long time and leaves us both exhausted. When I finally get a chance to rest, my host decides to do otherwise. I hear him talking to DanielJackson, asking questions and sounding content to just be in the other's company. It is company which I will forever feel uncomfortable.
My depression comes back to haunt me. The source is this morbid thought - Even named, I am no more a person to them than I am for the adults of my own kind. I am merely a useful, hated, tool. If my host did not depend on me, they would let me die. They might even expiate matters. These people who care so much for an ex-enemy would not have cared enough to find me a new host had Teal'c died. They would not have taken me back to the care of my own kind. They would have done nothing to save me.
Fed up with myself, I forcefully push the thought and feelings aside. My host is well, and because of this I am alive. This is all that matters. So I tell myself.
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