Setting: Abyss, Alternate Universe, Character Death, Mirror Universe.
Pairings referenced: Sam/Jack, Sara/Jack Archive: Yes, whatever.
Notes: Hit me while walking to work on Tuesday. Three-fourths of this was actually written there until A came by and told me not to type (even when I have nothing else to do... be here, he IS still Jack O'Neill, and unless he tells me otherwise, I'm going to assume he can use a gun."
"Uh, I can." He sounds uncertain.
Good. He can damn well pay for making her lose it. "Get him fitted with a P-90. Now."
Two SFs disappear and then reappear with the appropriate equipment. O'Neill opens his mouth, then closes it. Within four minutes, he's ready to go.
"General."
"Major. Come back alive."
"Like a cat, sir, I have nine lives." And she's used up every single one of them.
"Good luck, people."
They step into the wormhole, and step out into raised staff weapons and guns. "Halt." Calls a harsh voice.
"Well, this is new," Sam says with dry sarcasm.
"Major Carter!" An older him to be here, he IS still Jack O'Neill, and unless he tells me otherwise, I'm going to assume he can use a gun."
"Uh, I can." He sounds uncertain.
Good. He can damn well pay for making her lose it. "Get him fitted with a P-90. Now."
Two SFs disappear and then reappear with the appropriate equipment. O'Neill opens his mouth, then closes it. Within four minutes, he's ready to go.
"General."
"Major. Come back alive."
"Like a cat, sir, I have nine lives." And she's used up every single one of them.
"Good luck, people."
They step into the wormhole, and step out into raised staff weapons and guns. "Halt." Calls a harsh voice.
"Well, this is new," Sam says with dry sarcasm.
"Major Carter!" An older man bustles through the crowd, he smiles as he reaches her, "Welcome."
"Master Bra'tac." She hesitantly clasps his arm, uncertain if this is what she's supposed to do. This was always the Colonel's job. "Why'd you call?"
"I have heard of your loss. And I am sorry for it." Now there is something approaching sadness and understanding in his eyes.
"Thank you. But we got a new one, and I'm told he's even shinier." The sarcastic anger in her voice is hard to disguise.
His eyes flick to the Colonel, then back to her. "You are in charge, however?"
"Indeed." She squeezes him arm, then releases it. "So. What's up?"
"There is an assassin among us." The deep voice of a Tok'ra comes from behind Bra'tac.
"Malek." Inclining her head, she glances around. "And I suppose you believe this assassin is not a member of SG-1."
"That is why we required your help."
"So, you guard the gate from him, or her, and hope you get 'em before they dial out and escape?"
"Something like that, yes." Bra'tac replies.
"Ah." Settling her P-90 more securely, Sam stalks over to the DHD. It takes less than a minute to open the panel at the base, reach in, and pull out three of the control crystals. They shine in the sunlight overhead, and she looks up. "Anyone who needs to leave will have to get these back from me."
"Major, is this wise?"
"Does a bear --" She stops, and shrugs, tucking the crystals in an inner pocket. "Ask me again tomorrow, Bra'tac. In the meantime, why don't you explain more of the situation?"
SG-1 sticks close as Bra'tac and Malek take turns explaining how the Tok'ra base was over-run and they had to evacuate to the Alpha Site. Tensions are high amongst the jaffa and the Tok'ra both. There has been a death on both sides, and Dr. Fraiser her determined the killer was the same person. Whether jaffa or Tok'ra or Tau'ri remains unknown. She can tell that he wants to say something, but then stops. Half a dozen times she sense it, and she almost turns to him the fourth time, because she wants to ask him something.
But the wrong man is standing to her right.
It also transpires that Janet Fraiser is the only reason the jaffa and Tok'ra aren't already killing each other. It seems they're all equally scared of her, and when she threatened them, they all backed down. "Like squabbling children." Sam murmurs.
Bra'tac blinks at the sarcasm, then continues.
It's not so different, being the one in charge. Half the time, the Colonel seemed to have only been the one saying yes. She had to come up with the ideas.
Now she does both jobs.
"We conducted za'tarc tests, but most were inconclusive."
"That's because those damned things aren't accurate or discerning."
"And you would know, I suppose." Now, he wasn't being silent. There was something sarcastic about his phrasing. Perhaps he's smarting at not being in charge.
"Why, yes, Jack, I suppose I would." Turning away from him, she eyes the crowd, and frowns. "Malek, out of curiosity, where are Jacob and Selmak?"
A sigh from the current leader of the Tok'ra, "We are afraid that they are overdue from a recent mission."
"Oh?"
"Yes. They were sent to retrieve some data from Ba'al," Malek shakes his head, "They should have returned a few days ago, and now, I fear they will not find the base intact."
Cold grips her, and she doesn't have to look to know Jonas has now moved to stand next to her, and she takes strength from that, grabs at it. For Jonas can read her like Teal'c can (like Daniel could, and in a way that took Jack way too long to learn -- which hurts), and the jaffa would be at her side, but he was across the square, and hasn't had time to get back to her. "Ba'al?" She's very proud that her voice doesn't squeak.
"Yes."
"And, he's overdue." Her color must have disappeared, and she knows she is shaking. Days. Her father was in Ba'al's palace the day it went up. Probably. Her throat closes, and she struggles against it.
"Sam." Jonas is close enough to touch, but doesn't.
And for that, she's grateful, because if he did, she would lose it. Right here, and right now.
"Is there something about Ba'al?" Malek glances at the Colonel. "We understand that he killed the original O'Neill, but--"
"Ba'al is dead." The words come out with a little too much breath. "You must've missed the memo, but then, who reads their memos anymore?"
"How can you be certain?"
"Because I killed him myself." The words drag her into an abyss of memory, and she fights it, drags against it. And still keeps control control control, because if she loses it now, she will lose their respect and her own dignity. "And now, if you gentlemen will excuse me."
No waiting for an answer, and she's out of the square and moving towards the edge of the tree line. Only one thought: leave now, before memory and emotion collide.
"You can't be certain." Jonas has followed her, and she isn't surprised. "He could have been gone by then, or gotten out, or--"
"The palace is so much rubble."
"So, the palace is rubble." Jonas throws a hand out and flaps it. "Maybe he left."
"Right." She pushes away from the emotions, buries them. "Let's not talk about it. Let's talk about other things."
"Like this assassin?"
"I'm betting it's an ash'rak, considering how well it's hidden."
"Yeah." Jonas considers, then pulls out his notepad. "I think I have an idea."
He writes on it, and it takes her a minute to realize what he's writing. It's been a long time since she had to memorize Morse code in flight-training. The plan is simple, and fairly clear-cut. "Looks good." She sighs and leans against a tree. "Let's go back, shall we? And you can figure out how to explain it to everyone."
Major Sam Carter spends the next two hours monitoring disputes between both sides and resisting the urge to call them all children. It wouldn't be professional. Probably. Bra'tac is her shadow, as if the elder jaffa has sensed something about her turmoil. Once or twice, Colonel O'Neill tries to talk to her, but her short clipped responses send him off again.
It isn't that she wanted him on this mission, but she understood the expedience. He'd been requested, and she wasn't going to waste resources. She also wasn't going to put herself out and actually talk to him.
"Look, Carter," he tries, at one point.
Ice freezes in her veins, and she looks him in the eye, "Call me that again and I will shoot you where you stand."
"What the hell am I supposed to call you, then, Major? Hey, you?"
"That will do nicely," And she whirls and leaves him standing there, hears Bra'tac chuckle and tell him that she means it.
Bra'tac finally calls her on it. "You treat him as the sand beneath your feet."
"Yeah, well, I don't make it my business to get close to men who are dead in this universe, but alive in others."
Eyebrows raise, "Is it not a good thing O'Neill has returned?"
"I saw his body, Bra'tac. Jack O'Neill is dead to me." She wants to leave it there, and turns away, speaking with false cheer, "Tell me about the kids, Bra'tac. Are they doin' ok?"
He allows the diversion, and speaks quickly and concisely about the children and their development. Ry'ac continues to train with the warriors, earning their respect as he has already earned his father's. They talk for several minutes until a messenger arrives from Janet. Grateful for the distraction, Sam takes her leave of Master Bra'tac and skirts the square until they come to a deserted portion.
The hair on the back of her neck stands, and it's the only warning she has to drop. Something slams into the young man who brought the message, and he goes down, blood spurting. Without giving herself time to fully register the sight, she rolls, comes up in a crouch and levels the P-90, trying to find a target.
Nothing.
The wind blows through her hair.
It's broad daylight out, and there is nothing there.
Something killed the boy.
Unbidden, a line from Teal'c's favorite movie echoes in her mind. 'Use the force, Luke.'
Sam closes her eyes.
Her breathing stops. And for just a second, she hears something. On the edge of sound, metal sliding over cloth.
Which still gives her no warning as something slams into the side of her head, sending her sprawling again. The weight lands on her chest, and she would laugh at the invisibleness of her attacker, if his (or her) knife weren't driving into her. But she has faced this pain before. Ba'al particularly liked knives, and while it hurts enough to make her want to scream, she can work past it. Has to.
Her hand balls into a fist and she punches up, striking a blow that glances off and doesn't do anything except make it hurt more.
But she has her other hand free, the knife at her belt clasped within it.
As before, she has seconds before the ash'rak ends her life and takes off with the crystals for the DHD. Without hesitation, she swings, plunging the knife into its side, trying to strike deep enough to reach the heart.
It backhands her, sending her senses reeling, and her teeth jarring. And then it stabs her again, and she screams, the sound loud (too loud) in her own ears.
"Now." The word comes across her damaged radio.
Energy fills the small area, TER fields crossing and crisscrossing. The ash'rak suddenly appears, its cloaking field destabilizing slightly. It growls and tries to get away, but her knife is still in its side, her hand gripping it, pulling at it.
Another blow to the head, and two staff blasts later, and it's all over.
"Could someone get this thing off me? It weighs," There's blood at the back of her throat, and she swallows against it, "It weighs... a ton."
There's no sarcophagus, this time, she thinks whimsically. Ba'al has finally gotten her tenth death.
-tbc-