Chapter 37 - Past
With their Jaffa uniform carefully hidden on an empty world, Jolinar and Sam dressed for their current mission. As contact for the entire Tok'ra base to the Tollan, Jolinar pulled out her most stately outfit, and Sam was glad to see that it neatly skirted the line between formal and over the top. The cut was close, hugging Sam's body in a long-skirted high-necked dress in a dark greyish purple color. The sleeves were also long, with the hint of fluting at their ends. It had Sam feeling completely in control of the situation, and she hoped that emotion would help Jolinar, to whom this was just another dress.
By the time they were packed and ready to depart, having discussed the mission a couple hours before with Garshaw, it was afternoon on the Tok'ra homeworld. But when they walked through the glimmering event horizon, the sun meeting them on the other side was bright at high noon. And just as Sam had hoped, the greeting party consisted of one man standing at attention just beyond the gate.
*You know him?*
~I wonder if he will remember that he knows me in this situation.~
Narim walked up the slight incline with hands lightly clasped in front of him, looking serious and polite in his grey with dark grey trim. As always. His face was cool without being aloof, and Sam remembered how it had been to feel what went on behind his contained exterior. She smiled, and suddenly he seemed to see her face as he approached. His eyes widened, but he held himself.
"Greetings, ambassador of the Tok'ra," he said evenly. "I am Narim of the Tollan, but I do not think we have met before."
"Narim," Sam answered warmly, a little amused at his reaction. "We certainly haven't met like this."
"I beg your pardon?" Narim answered, blinking. Sam could see his mind working, wondering if she was who she reminded him of, or if he was about to make a terrible diplomatic mistake by jumping to insane conclusions.
"Greetings, Narim of the Tollan," Sam said, deciding to go the easy way for him, the protocol. "I am Samantha of the Tok'ra, host to Jolinar of Malkshur."
"You are Samantha?" Narim confirmed, astonished and taking another step forward.
"Of course," she answered.
His eyes lit up, and he put out his hand to clasp her proffered one, holding it close for a second. "It has been a while," he said, dropping his voice. "I apologize; I could not believe my eyes. You are Tok'ra?"
Sam nodded, squeezing his hand back. "Yes, through no plan of my own." It was too easy to smile here, even with the pressure.
"It is a strange turn of events," he admitted, looking into her eyes. Sam saw the slight hesitation. "Your symbiote?"
"Jolinar," Sam answered.
"Of course, so you said earlier," Narim answered, shaking his head. "I apologize."
"No, I get it," Sam answered. "It's a bit distracting?"
"I did not think to see you again," he admitted. "And then to see you, and yet not the same you, and here on business that is not for your strange world. Samantha, you have shaken me just as when we last met."
*Was he the first to be permitted to call you Samantha?* asked Jolinar.
~I don't know; I didn't really notice.~
"So, are we going to hold the briefing here?" Sam asked, glancing around. Tollana was neatly organized, with buildings of straight lines that were offset just enough to loosen the order, but not enough to make one forget about it.
"No, of course," Narim said, gesturing with his hand. "Please, come this way."
There were few other Tollan near the gate, but Sam looked around with some interest as they made their way into the city, noting the order. For all that they were technologically advanced, there wasn't much in the way of alien-looking architecture or clothing. In fact, it was like a subtler form of some Earth cities.
Narim took them a short distance away, into a wide, brightly lit lobby with comfortable seating. He glanced around, appearing slightly nervous, and Sam took a seat with what she hoped was reassuring calmness. "Do you need any refreshments?" he asked.
"No, we're fine," said Sam.
"Then I suppose we should move on to business," he continued, slightly reluctant.
"Actually, Narim—please sit, there's something you need to know." Sam wondered what Jolinar was thinking about this as she waited for Narim to take a seat, his head cocked in curiosity. "It wasn't an accident that, of all people, I came here."
"It would not have displeased me had that been the case, but I must admit I am glad to hear otherwise," said Narim with a covert smile coming through his professional posture.
Sam smiled, a little uncomfortably. "Unfortunately, it wasn't for personal reasons; not those kind, anyway. I have a request, and I'm not sure you'll like it."
Narim frowned. "The Tok'ra and the Tollan have a good relationship. I am sure whatever you have to ask will not cause trouble."
"I'm not asking on behalf of the Tok'ra," Sam said, looking at him closely. She sat forward, resting her hands on her knees. Narim's face was clearly confused, but he waited. "I need to know if you can keep a secret."
"From whom?" Narim asked cautiously.
Sam chewed on the inside of her lip for a second, then came out and said it. "Partially from your government, but mostly from the Tok'ra High Council. It's not anything serious, for them, but it is for me and Jolinar."
Narim looked down at his hands, exhaling slowly. "I have missed you, Samantha," he said, looking up again with a small smile. "But truthfully, I have not missed the tendency of your people for secrecy and dishonesty."
"Then perhaps you would prefer to hear this from me," said Jolinar, coming forward from her silent watching.
"Jolinar," acknowledged Narim, sitting up straighter and composing his face again.
"Yes," Jolinar continued without pause. "And I will tell you, that whatever you think of the people of the Tauri, this plan is not a work of theirs. It is honorable, merely something that the Tok'ra would not be doing at this time for unimportant reasons; believe me, if you consent to keep this secret, you will not doubt its efficacy."
No longer having to think of the right words, Sam watched Narim closely. He was uncomfortable around Jolinar, that was plain, but she had a solid feeling that he would have been perfectly at ease with any other Tok'ra. Instead, his fondness for Sam—could it still be called love, she wondered—clashed with his ignorance of and natural respect for Jolinar, leaving him confused of his own feelings. Even more, they were pushing something on him that would crack his personal ethics.
"Do you trust that I would not lie to you?" Jolinar asked, pushing him to a quick response.
"I do," he answered firmly. "And I do not doubt Samantha's intentions."
Jolinar nodded, and returned control to Sam. "I promise, Narim," she said when she could, "it is nothing too heinous."
As Jolinar had informed Sam as they prepared, the Tok'ra/Tollan alliance was a matter of some classification for the Tollan. While they did not fear the Goa'uld, the Tok'ra had not thought it wise to have a whole culture know of their existence and the type of alliance they had, lest there be some dangerous breach. And the Tollan had no objections; something that did not surprise Sam when she considered their relative personalities. Therefore, while they kept regular contact and a certain amount of trade, the meetings of ambassadors did not have high profile. Neither the Tok'ra Council nor Travell of the Tollan would meet in person, and any requests were made through a middleman before reaching the respective Councils.
Sam had taken only a few minutes to brainstorm a plan once she found out that Narim was known to the Tok'ra as a frequent ambassador. It required a high amount of trust—but she didn't see any large risks. Jolinar had been given an agenda to discuss with Narim, which he would relay point by point to the Tollan Curia to discuss, and would then relay back to Jolinar for negotiation. Jolinar was not generally at ease with this, but it was an urgent mission.
And as it turned out, she would not have to do anything, particularly. Sam would give the entire agenda to Narim, spend a day or two discussing each point in detail, and then leave covertly with his help. With a prepared shorthand to the Tok'ra's positions and arguments, Narim could act as if he discussed each change with Jolinar, while in reality just looking at the cheatsheet. Sam didn't use that last term, but from the look on Narim's face, she might as well have.
"And I may not know what mission you are on?" Narim asked after a pause where Sam suspected he inwardly sighed.
"Just know that it's philanthropic, and should not even be too dangerous," Sam assured. She looked him in the eye and held the look until he looked down to pull something from his pocket.
"Here, take this," he said, handing her a small form of a subspace communicator. "As often as you can, you may contact me so that I may be sure how long to hold your—ruse. And if your people try to contact you?"
*They will not,* said Jolinar.
"It would go through my communicator," Sam said. She smiled wanly. "I'm sorry about this, Narim; I didn't want to meet again like this."
He shut his eyes to smile, opening them again after a moment. "I was not sure you would ever wish to meet me again. Even like this, I am glad."
Sam paused, not sure how to take his words or what to do with them, wondering if now was the time to address any feelings they had for each other. It would, perhaps, if she had good news—but after getting him to agree to breaking many laws, she decided that to inform him that she wasn't in a place to deal with personal relationships would be cruel.
*Not to mention tactically unwise,* Jolinar added.
"I am not expected to report to the Curia until tomorrow," Narim said after a pause.
"I hope to leave tomorrow afternoon," answered Sam, hands twisting slightly in her lap as the conversation lagged.
"I will be here all afternoon," Narim said, smile only a little tight. "Whenever you are ready to start the briefing?"
"Now is good," said Sam with relief, pulling her datapad from the small hidden pocket it resided in. She wasn't sure if she liked that she was glad to leave behind any and all personal matters.
ooooooo
They were intruders, Daniel felt as they went through Sam's house room by room. This was not only her home, but they had no business here. It was if she had just stepped out for a little vacation, and they were already snooping around like nosey relatives. Maybe that's what she had once thought of them, too, once upon a time. But instead, they were something much less pleasant.
It was some relief when they opened the door and saw neatly shelved items, not too much, just the right amount for someone whose weeks were so busy and random that they were never sure when the weekend was. A house it was, but it wasn't a full home—it was plain that it was mean to be, though.
Teal'c and Jack had started in the kitchen and bathroom, quietly loading anything that wasn't perishable into packing boxes. Hammond had offered to send some more help with them, but Jack had spoken accurately for this part of the team and said that it was something they had to do on their own. Daniel stood in the lobby for a few minutes, waiting for the heavy feeling to leave. He missed Sam. But it wasn't leaving, and so he took the first door and started in her library.
As admirable a goal though it was, he couldn't just load the books into boxes. He browsed through the titles, absorbing the names he knew and the names he didn't. Some science, some science fiction, some beat-up textbooks, all of these he could barely recognize by brief glance alone. But sometimes, his fingers would run across the spine of a book, feeling the rough warmth of it—Sam didn't seem to keep dustjackets for any book she read frequently—and its familiarity. There were a few British classics—P.G. Wodehouse, Dorothy Sayers—which didn't surprise him as much as he expected. A dog-eared and worn-cornered copy of The Princess Bride; a complete set of Jane Austen that might as well have still been in shrink wrap, a King James Bible that looked like a family heirloom. Title after title, condition and position on the shelf telling just as much to Daniel as anything, he knew just how close a look he was getting into Sam's mind.
She didn't read much, he had to conclude. Not as if she would want to, with a life just as fiction-worthy as any, but what she did read, she loved. And not always for the content; some books were inscribed as gifts, others, like the textbooks, were symbolic of something else. He wondered if she had ever gotten rid of a book as he moved to a shelf that consisted mainly of books for a much younger audience than the Sam he had known. And yet on this shelf, the books did not capture his attention.
Sam didn't have many pictures on display, and Daniel couldn't remember if he had ever seen her with a camera or near one, but even the few snapshots here said so much. Far too much, perhaps. He saw no evidence of her life before her mother; the one shot of her with Jacob portrayed a happiness that hinted at masks. Her hair was longer then, a dark blonde that said nothing about her except that she kept it even into her Air Force years. She hardly looked different in the last picture, face the same even when her hair was pulled into a firm knot at the back of her head, framed only by the collar of her dress blues.
It was her expression that was different. Her grin stretched across her face and her arms rested casually around the two other blue-clad young men in the picture, something that Daniel hadn't really seen. She didn't have comrades any more, not in this way, not in the bond of soldiers. Commanding officers, yes, and co-workers that she saw occasionally in the mess, but with her team and her scientists there was a different ease. Mental, not physical, was the only way Daniel could qualify it.
Shaking his head, he put the pictures carefully into the box. When he walked out to get a drink to get rid of the dust in his throat, Jack and Teal'c had already started in the living room, Teal'c with the decorations and Jack with the videos and DVDs. Teal'c looked sober, treating every object with respect, but Jack was curiously involved, something that made Daniel feel less guilty about his own distractions. There was both resignation and intrigue on his face, mixed with the dark sadness they all had and didn't try to hide.
But by the time Daniel was done with the office and library, there was only one room left. Daniel couldn't help but feel just slightly amused that Teal'c went first to Sam's dresser, folding each article of clothing neatly and carefully. There wasn't much else in the room, so Daniel joined him by dealing with the closet. Jack went to the bedside table, opening the drawers and pulling out the items found—random, as was expected, and Daniel saw Jack pause over each one and ponder it.
As the room started to empty, Daniel had a moment of slight panic. She wasn't dead. This wasn't being sent to her next of kin. They were just storing it away, admitting to themselves and to everyone else that she was lost to them. He understood that—understood the implicit "for now" that had its own implication of "indefinitely" and maybe something darker underneath. But he remembered Nem, and the apartment that they had sold in his absence, and his mind shouted to him "too soon, too soon".
And yet, it didn't last. It couldn't. They weren't mistaken on this; there was no hallucination, no possible way a memory could be implanted. The one thing that was sure about all this was that Sam was not coming back now. And as much as it angered and saddened him to be forced to do this, to pack her away like an old memory, it was absolutely necessary.
"Hey, look at this," Jack called across the room, tone nondescript.
Daniel and Teal'c looked up. "What is it?" asked Daniel, looking at the thing in Jack's hand about the size of a credit card.
"It's like a remote, I think," Jack said, frowning. He pressed a button, and Daniel jumped as a wild beeping sounded just to his right.
Teal'c, just opposite it, raised a weary eyebrow and picked up the beeping keychain. "Is it perhaps like your homing beacons?"
Jack shrugged. "I guess." He pressed the other three buttons on the remote, but nothing sounded.
Daniel went back to his own job, with only the tallest shelf in the closet left. A pair of stilletto heels and a giant floppy hat gave him a sad smile, although Teal'c didn't seem to understand when he showed them.
"Ow!" They both turned to see Jack shaking his hand and trying not to touch his face with it. He gritted his teeth.
"What?" asked Daniel, a little concerned.
"Get me a towel," Jack said with a twitching eye.
Daniel pulled his handkerchief out, tossing it to Jack as he crossed the room.
"Her perfume bottle had pepperspray in it," Jack said, his near-growl the most emotion he'd shown all day.
Daniel choked back a pathetic laugh. For Sam to have it, and Jack to have to touch it...he needed to laugh, cry, or both. He tried to avoid all three.
It didn't take long to finish everything, and load up the truck with all their boxes. Teal'c was especially helpful with the last part, and carried out two boxes at a time until the ones with books slowed him down. It was Jack who stacked the last box in the back of the truck, though, with Sam's more fragile things (including the perfume bottle). He wiped a slightly sweaty forehead with his hand, not with the pepperspray stained handkerchief, thank you very much. "I think that deserves pizza."
Teal'c's eyebrow rose, and Jack had it delivered while they sat in the back of the truck. The door to the house was locked; a cleaning crew would finish the job later, but they were not going to eat in Sam's vacant house. It was unsettling, and this was supposed to provide closure. It didn't work, not entirely, but Jack had known that from the beginning, or so Daniel assumed. They ate pizza and stealthily watched Teal'c as he tried the wonders of Hawaiian, and managed not to think of the symbolism of it all.
Returning to the base, there was a quick touching of bases with Dixon and Mckay, and then it was late and time to go to their own homes. Daniel sat cross-legged on his double wide bed for a couple hours, a small Abydonian clay pot in his hands, fingers brushing every curve and nick as he stared vacantly into the candle-illuminated dark. Entirely or not, he had almost closed the wound left behind by Sam—was Sha're close to follow? Could he one day pack up all his memories and store them away? Never mind could, would he ever want to? It was his last worry until the candle burned low and he let his last tired breath extinguish it before falling asleep almost before hitting the pillow.
Tomorrow was a day that held the promise of clarity, of making through the day with a mind on the present alone. For an archaeologist, this closure of the book of the past did not offend him so much as it might have.
ooooooo
For the first time in a long time, Sam talked as fast as she could and was met with neither a wish for it to cease nor a mind that could not understand. Narim listened intently to every word, pausing only for a few words of clarification and then returning to slight nods and brow creases. Then they stopped to eat, and Jolinar spoke to Sam.
*Who is this, exactly? My trust in your judgment was not ill-placed, obviously, but where did your trust come from?*
Sam hemmed, hawed, hesitated, and Jolinar frowned and said if it was what she thought it was, she didn't need to know. She didn't say she didn't want to know, which Sam noted, but they both were in agreement that it would be an irrelevant conversation now.
Narim was perfectly work-a-holic, and with Sam refreshed, she sped again through the vast amounts of information that he needed to know. The Tok'ra had a formal relationship with the Tollan, but the amount given and received from both sides seemed to vary with political changes. Garshaw made her policies clear when she had taken over from Selmak as High Councillor a couple decades ago, and stuck to them with firm resolve. The Tollan had gone through many leaders since then, some lenient, some chary, and the resulting technology and information stream had not been steady. The Tok'ra decided that now was the time to push for more technological aid, while Narim said that Chancellor Travell was in no mood to help without a benefit to the Tollan. Sam felt guilty for feeling pleased when he said that the negotiation would easily last days on that point alone, especially when his face expressed how daunting a task he might find it.
"Do the Tollan ever send hosts?" Sam asked him as she paused to take a sip of cool water.
"We have no one in need," he answered, frowning. "Our medical knowledge keeps us from that necessity."
It was a satisfactory answer by itself, and also gave Sam a possible explanation as to just why the Tok'ra were not keen on alliances. And as the information continued to flow, Sam noticed just how little the Tok'ra seemed to want to offer. Jolinar might be more blunt about her ways, but the High Council was scarcely less of a hard sell. It made sense from a tactical point, Sam knew, and suspected that the Tollan were well aware also—but it wasn't the usual way a benevolent society showed itself, and even Narim seemed to have an underlying hint of frustration even as he concentrated on remembering the arguments he would have to report to his own people.
Jolinar seemed to doze for the first few hours, only alerting herself after the light began to fade. But the changing light of the setting sun filtering through the shades on this house reminded Sam of just how long they had been at it. Another hour of fast talk, and she was ready to eat again. It did not revive her for long, as even she found herself growing tired of all the mind-numbing political directions. She did not pity Narim over the many-day sessions of debate, even though he would not have to take direct part. She didn't pity herself, either, as the datapad's screen started to blur before her eyes as the sky and house grew darker.
It was night soon after. But before she could give in and say that she was too tired to continue, she found herself waking. She and Narim had been seated side by side on a comfortable couch, she holding the datapad so he could double check the information, but mostly just following along as she conveyed it verbally. So they were still, but she was resting against the back of the sofa, head heavily leaning on his shoulder. Had she really fallen asleep? True to himself, he did not seem to have moved from his upright and seated position.
"Did I drop off?" she asked, sitting up and brushing back a strand of hair loosened by the sleeping position.
"You were worn out, that is all," said Narim, slightly adjusting his position once she moved. He must have sat stock still while she rested, for her not to wake up. "Jolinar informed me what happened."
"Oh," said Sam, surprised by the notion that Jolinar had been just as able to speak while she slept as the other way around. She held back a small yawn. "This doesn't normally happen, really. I don't know what came over me."
*Politics will do that to anyone,* Jolinar spoke up. Sam shook her head and smiled barely. Maybe Lantash had been right; maybe their unfinished business at home followed them abroad, draining emotional strength silently. Or maybe it had just been a long day without much rest.
"Whatever it was, it is clear that we should do no more tonight," Narim said, with a small smile of his own. He rose from the couch, bowing slightly. "I will come again tomorrow, Samantha, and we may finish."
"Thank you," said Sam. For a moment unsure whether to stand or stay sitting, the decision was made for her as Narim quietly turned to leave. Sam bit her lip, watching his stance and not able to see what he might be thinking. Part of her needed to know.
*This is a most comfortable couch,* Jolinar hummed, sounding almost as tired as Sam felt.
~No need for a real bed then,~ Sam answered. She yawned one last time before stretching out along the plush cushions and closing her eyes. It was a quick drop back into sleep.
She dreamt that night, the first time that she could remember in a while. It was disjointed, confusing, but grippingly erotic. Flickering light, murmured words in a dark voice, unbearable heat and power flooding her and making her gasp for air even as she reached for more. The morning light woke her, and the memories faded quickly, but she remembered enough to have her frowning. The face was the first to go—she didn't even know who she had dreamt about, who had left her aching with arousal in the cool morning—but it was no different from dreams she had had before. Except that she didn't have these dreams, not for many years. Why now, of all times? And it was uncomfortable and intimately so; she was glad to find that the Tollan still recognized the value of showers. Jolinar was awake by then, but Sam didn't know how much she was aware of and so didn't even draw near the subject.
They dealt quickly with breakfast, wonderfully calming and soothing after yesterday and yesternight, and found that there was not long to wait for Narim. He didn't look as rested, but was quick to return to their scheduled discussion. The last pieces of information only took a couple hours to relay.
Narim sighed as they finished and Sam handed him the datapad.
"Are we good, then?" Sam asked, hands resting in her lap.
He glanced down, scanning over the list. "I believe I understand everything," he said, turning to look her in the eyes.
Sam nodded slowly. "Thank you."
He put up a hand. "Do not. You know that my help was never in question." He took a short breath before continuing, "Now, you must be ready to depart before the traffic worsens."
She smiled briefly. "Of course."
They sat for a moment, almost facing each other, hands resting on their knees—and Sam couldn't read his face. It was calm, attentive, and yet there was something in the back of his eyes that she felt like she needed to place. But he was well experienced in keeping thoughts hidden if he wished to, and she didn't try. A moment more of hesitation, and then they both rose.
As when they had arrived yesterday, Sam noticed very few people around the court by the gate. Narim, walking close to her but without quite touching, pulled out a small device as they reached the foot of the gate platform. "I obtained this last night," he explained, showing her a small screen that displayed the gate symbols. "Good luck, Samantha."
"Thank you, and good luck to you too," Sam answered. She entered the address of the planet where their costume was waiting, and looked back to him as the gate activated. "I'll contact you soon."
"I will appreciate it," he answered with a hint of a smile.
Sam only looked back once as she walked through the wormhole, but Narim stood and made no sign until all she saw was the blue of subspace.
—
Author's Notes: It was established in the episode "Serpent's Song" that the Tollan knew the Tok'ra, probably before Earth met either. I have merely expanded on what that relationship might mean, since we never hear of it again in canon.
Also, just to clarify the issue of blending as I have explained it in this story, in case it is unclear, since the last time it was explained in detail was in one of the first chapters. Tok'ra blending as I understand and portray it is a mixture of physical and mental, as well as conscious and unconscious. There is a neural chemical in symbiotes that transfers memories and thoughts between the two brains of host and symbiote, but how that chemical works depends on the type of blending. The chemical comes from physical tendrils that grow from the symbiote into the host's spinal cord over time; initial blending involves only a little of the chemical, but the longer these tendrils have to grow, the more blended the two become. These tendrils are what makes extracting symbiotes difficult.
This is what happens in a normal blending, but that is not what happened to Sam and Jolinar. Jolinar consciously held back from a true blending when she took Sam in the first chapter, not growing the tendrils necessary for mingling of minds and emotions. With only a limited amount of the chemical being transferred, therefore, Sam and Jolinar's consciousnesses were mostly separate. Over time, Jolinar has had to work hard to keep from doing the natural thing and spread her tendrils into a fuller blending. However, at this point in the story, she missed the fact that a few tendrils had grown and blended with the emotional part of Sam's mind. This means that all Sam's emotions are being transferred through Jolinar's mind, but Jolinar cannot see Sam's thoughts because she is still holding back from blending with that part of Sam's mind. And Sam did not notice this emotional blending because Jolinar was trying to bury her own emotions.