Chapter 63 - Readjustments
Jolinar crowded Sam's mind, the memories and feelings closer than Sam's own, if that was even possible. What they'd shared called back to what they had not, and Sam heard stories of war torture veterans as Jolinar confused them with what she'd experienced, or had she done that on prisoners so long ago?
These non-dreams rose to a point, just as they woke. For a moment they hadn't regained sense of their own body, only that a hand rested on their shoulder. Flashes of Quetesh's patience filled their mind, and Sam flinched from the touch with a sharp intake of breath. The tensing of her muscles hurt.
"Sam?"
It was not Quetesh's voice, not even a Goa'uld voice. Sam's eyes had automatically snapped open, but now she saw.
"Dad," she exhaled raggedly, closing her eyes again. His hand still lay on her shoulder, but she remembered where she was, and it didn't frighten her.
Jolinar shook herself free, settling back in their consciousness to see if she could yet heal.
"Nightmares?" Jacob asked.
Sam opened her eyes again, swallowing the metallic taste of panic in the back of her throat. "Yes," she said.
He rubbed her shoulder gently. "Oh kid, I'm sorry," he said, voice raw with understanding.
Sam couldn't remember him referencing his military past like that, and for a moment it was a welcome distraction. Maybe it was Selmak, though, and Jolinar wondered if it could be both. She was recovered enough to start healing—just a fraction of what she could do before, but for now it was something she could do. And the slow knitting of skin and muscle back together, a tiny tingle of sensation behind everything else, felt familiar and soothing to Sam.
"I'm out of the worst, aren't I?" Sam asked, her voice still shaky as it took more strength than it should.
"That you are," Jacob said, then cleared his throat of the apparent catch in it. "Not that there was any doubt," he added.
Sam smiled, and would have rolled her eyes at the plain facade of confidence. The new worry lines by his eyes, and the protective touch of his hand, spoke the truth.
Jolinar focused on the healing, keeping her mind from thinking about all that had happened. All that came quickly to Sam's mind. "The mission failed," she said, her heart sinking. All that trouble and worry and apprehension for nothing.
Looking up, she saw Jacob shake his head lightly. "No," he said. He nodded once towards her, "You did your part, and the mission goes on. Quetesh did not suspect it."
Sam felt her heart start to beat at that name, and her desire barely formed before Jolinar was doing what she did best, smoothing it down, calming her physical reactions. "Martouf and Lantash?" she asked, a bit of a croak as her throat was dry.
"Hold on," Jacob said. He reached over to the bedside table, taking a cup in one hand and slipping his hand from her shoulder to her back.
She needed all the support as he lifted her just enough to sip the drink. It wasn't water, but something cool and rich-flavored. Jolinar guessed that it was a simple form of food, all their weakened body could handle, not even taking into account the forced fast that had done nothing good for their digestive system. The drink went down smoothly, and cleared her throat. Sam looked back to Jacob for the answer to her question.
"They are not here at the moment," Selmak said, coming forward. "As soon as you woke, Larys managed to assure them that there would be no retreat from what progress you made. They went to Dorieth as their mission demanded, organizing what the planet had become since Coron's departure. Quetesh did not see fit to leave another Jaffa in command, but Lantash's role is only to prepare it for another lieutenant. He is highly prized in Quetesh's court."
That was a relief, especially to Jolinar, as Selmak let them lie back against the pillow again. Their mistake had not harmed the ultimate goal, nor another's cover. Sam nodded gently, understanding.
"I could have guessed that this mission would be difficult on them, with little recent experience," Selmak continued. "But the personal aspects were not fully taken into account. Still, Lantash is surprisingly stalwart when necessary. He has dealt well with this trial."
"I'm only momentarily surprised," Sam said in a low tone, expressing Jolinar's thought as well as her own.
"I should not be saying this," Selmak said, his voice quieter as he leaned in closer. "But Jacob and I do not think this a disaster. We feared for your safety as you pushed further; as despicable as these events have been, we could foresee the loss of your life. Anything short of that is relief to us."
Jolinar's attention was caught for a moment by that, and she couldn't not agree. For all that it seemed like she and Sam felt like they could cheat death, somewhere deep down Jolinar always assumed that she'd die. And it came as a surprise to Sam.
*I shouldn't,* Jolinar said. *I do not try to.*
Sam said nothing, just tipped her head to the side, resting it on Selmak's hand as it still lay on her shoulder. ~And now?~
*I want to live.*
Sam closed her eyes as Jolinar returned to healing, putting forth all the limited strength she had.
ooooooo
Jolinar supposed that the reason everyone went to such care for her and Sam was precisely because she did not openly object. Were she well, she knew she would fester beneath it. But she had neither the strength, nor in this case the desire. Her people had never been demonstrative or smothering, as had frustrated Sam—in this case, however, the Tok'ra were out of their element and it was a worrisome development. Even so, only Larys was noticeably careful, apart from family.
Jolinar's healing abilities were now more clearly returning. Nothing troubled her in regards to internal injuries now, and most of the small wounds were down to scars. Perhaps one day she would get to those as well, if her strength ever did return that far. She did not hide from Sam that some things could be permanent. And she didn't mean memories.
Larys had them sitting up in bed the second day. Martouf and Lantash had returned for a short check-up, and in the midst of the clouds still in her and Sam's mind, she wanted to soothe their mind. And so she'd cooperated, eating solid food and answering Larys' questions and even taking a couple steps to show that she could. Some of the worry faded from Martouf's face, and she knew they would go back to their mission better for it.
As the lights dimmed in the approximation of night on the Tok'ra base, though, Jolinar curled up in the hospital bed, alone with Sam in the dusk, and had to control her breathing to keep it steady and even. Quetesh's cell had not had lights, and the glow had glinted off many edges just the same. It took many hours to convince their unconscious mind to accept that.
By the third day, most of the pain itself was gone. Jolinar had half her strength back, and Larys stopped his concern. Dorin seemed interested still, but even Sam had no words for her. They didn't talk about the phantom pain, the assumption that every move would hurt, the ginger way they touched their own skin. And the times they would wake up from a dream, and the reality of the dream still held and they felt the torture as if it was fresh.
Sam learned to swallow her cries to avoid answering the questions at night. If her father or Selmak guessed that there were more nightmares, neither said anything. Jolinar was too familiar to want any talk on it. *They will fade when we are ready,* she told Sam.
It sounded easy, wise, resigned. Instead, Jolinar knew for once why Sam used words to frame the reality she wanted, which was not always what reality they existed in.
Sam felt the helplessness of the fourth night, and she didn't want to stop her heart from beating. Jolinar had started on her broken hand and the healing wound on her face. At first curled on her side in fetal position, eyes shut as she looked for sleep, she felt Jolinar's healing routine. Felt how weak it still was. Felt how it gave her mind something to concentrate on, something wearyingly dull that eventually would lull her to sleep.
Sam needed that. She struggled to her feet and started to pace the small room, eyes on the floor in front of each step. Her broken hand she still cradled to her chest, and it was difficult to stand straight when she remembered feeling stabbed in the gut. The neural damage, minor but obtrusive, gave the occasional jerk to her movements. Nothing went smoothly yet, even if the pain was gone.
Step by step, Sam walked, her bare feet touching the cool stone of the floor. No one saw and no one heard, just Jolinar. She moved, and Jolinar healed, and they could focus on this and appreciate what power they had. The longer she walked, the less steady her steps became. Her breathing itself started to jerk up a little.
She sat back down on the bed, feeling a bit of a chill. They weren't recovered yet. No one needed to tell her that. She slid back under the blankets, and focused on Jolinar's healing. She couldn't experience it the same way, but in that moment she was too tired to do anything but accept it as a shared experience.
She fell asleep with the feeling of things fitting back together.
ooooooo
Daniel walked into his lab and saw Sha're sitting on the low stool she'd appropriated from before. Her legs crossed, a large book resting between them, her finger marking her place as she read across the pages.
"Nefer," Daniel said, using an Abydonian word because "love" or god-forbid "honey" just made him feel silly. He needed to mean what he said.
"Mm, yes?" Sha're didn't look up from her book.
"Our child?" Daniel asked, sitting at his desk and pulling the computer from its sleep.
"With Teal'c," Sha're answered, still reading.
Daniel blinked. "Oh?"
"He said there has been little for him to do, with so few missions," Sha're said, this time looking up to him. "As it is true for me also, we have come to an arrangement."
"Ah," said Daniel. He had noticed how much Sha're had been teaching herself lately, and the way she occasionally seemed to encourage Teal'c likewise. But it had not occurred to him to think of making the leap to assuming a cooperative relationship. "So where are they?" he asked curiously, before pulling up his research.
"In Colorado Springs with Major Dixon," Sha're said, looking back to her book.
"What?" Daniel asked, this time thoroughly surprised.
"Teal'c wished to learn how to 'shop'," Sha're said with a shrug. "And Major Dixon needed to run an errand for his wife, so Teal'c said he would purchase more of those cotton diapers for Shifu."
Daniel smiled as he glanced down. Poor Dave—that would probably be quite an experience. A good one, though, he hoped.
Sha're looked up at Daniel's clock, something she had only learned how to do with some awkwardness. "Such flight of time!" she exclaimed, standing up.
"You have somewhere to be?" Daniel asked as she put the book on stool.
"Jean has been working with me," Sha're said, smiling as she walked to the door. "Your government has approved that she work more with genetics, and also to find a way to let others operate Goa'uld technology without becoming hosts."
"Wow, that's ambitious," said Daniel. Not surprising, though, given the advantage that such research would have for the military alone. "Have...fun, I suppose?"
"I will, Dan'yel," said Sha're, and she left with a smile.
ooooooo
Sam and Jolinar returned to their own chamber finally. Jolinar's healing powers were as close to normal as it seemed likely they would go. With a bit of delay and a slight lessening in strength still remaining, everyone among the Tok'ra recognized the potency of Quetesh's inhibitor.
Jolinar hardly cared at this point and wanted to get away. Healed as they were, she needed them to be back to their old physical condition, and the first step was disassociation from the infirmary. This room was a comforting place, sparse and calm.
Martouf and Lantash came back for another short visit. The two pairs sat together on the bed in Sam and Jolinar's chamber, facing each other but not quite looking up. Martouf held Jolinar's hand, silent for a few moments.
"I have heard that you are succeeding," she said quietly.
Martouf nodded. "I have heard likewise."
"We will always succeed," said Jolinar, referring to herself and Sam.
Martouf smiled, almost pained. "Then I do not know why we worry," he said.
Jolinar barely smiled in answer. She squeezed Martouf's hand and leaned in, resting her head on his shoulder. He sighed, not quite holding her, but letting one hand rest securely on her back. Lantash did not speak during this encounter, and Sam did not either. There was no need, when words were not even being honest. None of them liked the worry.
Some time later, Martouf kissed Jolinar's hair, and then rose. Duty called him again. Jolinar sat for a while after he left, thinking of nothing. Sam thought of family and recovery, and how one sometimes helped and sometimes hindered the other. In essence, she thought of nothing too.
Being reminded of what still moved instead of stagnating, though, sparked that purpose in Jolinar that she had been searching for. Sam felt it a moment later, as Jolinar breathed in deeply, filling her lungs with good air. Healing had come, now there was only restoration.
Standing, and feeling the life in their veins, Jolinar left her chamber. She did not go to the infirmary, nor to Jacob and Selmak. Down past many tunnels, far from the normal traffic of the Tok'ra community, Jolinar sought the physical training facility. It was not often used, given the assignments and natural powers of a symbiote. But Sam and Jolinar's nerves had forgotten for a while how to function, and their muscles had been equally confused. Now it was time to bring them back into order.
Sam expected a punching bag, but was almost surprised to see it.
*Do you wish the first go?* Jolinar asked, her heart starting to pump faster as she began to stretch.
Sam felt a moment of passivity, but the spark of passion burned brighter in her. ~Yes,~ she said.
After a slight burn in the stretch, and one random spasm, Sam felt ready to beat it all out. Her technique flowed steadily, even as her first strikes were weak, for aim and judging distance only. She settled into an easy stance, neither solid nor light. Leading with her right, she put a few light strikes on the punching bag.
Simple, emotionless, routine. And yet, the warmth of the movement moved her thoughts to something more active. She thought about each movement, feeling the amount of power needed, judging the speed of the bag that now swung a little after each hit.
Then she tossed her first strike with her left hand, and a rush of exhilaration ran through her when there was no pain or pressure. Her bones were solid again, and Sam threw another two quick strikes. A tight smile crossed her face.
She moved closer, hugging to the vicinity of the bag, moving as it swung. The longer she moved, the smoother it got. And she felt Jolinar's strength enhancing hers, sending the punching bag on longer and longer arcs.
It was a good enough start, and she let Jolinar take it further. Jolinar was sharper in her attack, less focused on form and more on efficiency. She added power to each strike, and tried sweeping and dodging the punching bag instead of stepping aside. Unlike Sam, though, she did not think about the acts themselves.
*A sweep to the neck is a hit an ashrak will never take,* she said, the information more running through her head than words she wanted to say to Sam. But Sam understood, saying things made a difference. *They do not want themself as symbiote harmed, and they do not have other options like the Goa'uld. But Jaffa helmets shield everything of the neck but hook attacks.*
Jolinar squatted down, striking with her elbow instead of her fist to the middle of the punching bag. *Jaffa cannot bend well in their armor, though, and their helmets are top-heavy; shots to their center will knock them off balance.* She spun quickly, a back strike with her elbow slamming into the upper portion of the punching bag. *Followed with a strike to the chest, and they will fall over. They will try to move quickly to match the spin, but their armor will not allow it, and their stance will be even more off.*
Jolinar relived vague memories of specific fights with each piece of knowledge, and Sam saw a brutal history of self defense. Jolinar grimaced, but the deep-running satisfaction affected Sam even more. They were capable.
Another fight coming to Jolinar's mind spawned another piece of information, another form of attack. She stepped back, rotating, and started striking out with kicks. Snap, roundhouse, hook. Even after stretching, her body wasn't as flexible as it could be. Jolinar pushed it to its limits, the burn a good burn as she aimed for the 'head' of the punching bag.
~And this is?~
*If a Jaffa knows how to use his staff for more than aiming straight. You may kick the weapon aside, or kick past it.*
It was not so simple to visualize, and Jolinar recalled one such instance, painting the picture in her mind so that the punching bag almost looked like a Jaffa with a staff. Sam saw the figure too, and even though Jolinar could know every upcoming move, this was about form and not sparring.
Jolinar hissed out as a particularly strong kick sent the punching bag flying, leaving a red mark on her own bare foot. The bag came back, and Jolinar used her elbow to strike it to the side. In her mind, the Jaffa went flying to the ground. Jolinar stepped closer, punching close and sharp.
Sam felt a surge of anger, and she realized that the Jaffa was not faceless. As he stood there stunned, enough so that Jolinar could have escaped, she pressed in closer. Breathing deeply, she sent another shot from close quarters, and then the Jaffa blurred and became Quetesh. Her breath catching harshly, Jolinar closed her eyes and sent a volley of quick strikes, even stepping in for the kidney shot. Hard and fast, she stopped after a few seconds, finally out of breath. Her knuckles were red and sore, but as Jolinar opened her eyes, the punching bag was neutral again.
It didn't feel as good as Jolinar had hoped. She hadn't planned to act out her anger and frustration, but the catharsis was supposed to help. Sam thought it had, in the moment. Now, they could both feel how unfinished it still was. And would be, if this was all they had. If this was their only recourse, pathetic as it truly was.
*There is no substitute for reality in any training,* Jolinar said. She let the punching bag swing slower and slower, and she turned to walk away. The jerkiness of her movements had faded, but now she was starting to feel tired and hungry.
Sam had nothing to say as they left. The power of being active had been close to what they needed.
ooooooo
After everything, the choice seemed natural. Inaction would frustrate them, and there was only one mission that was sure to provide something to help it.
"We request to participate in the mission to defeat Quetesh," Jolinar said. She approached Garshaw in a quiet corridor, the first among the rest of the Tok'ra that either she or Sam had had any interaction with since their original mission briefings.
"The Tok'ra rarely turn down offers of aid," Garshaw said, "but Jolinar, this is not what is desired."
Sam was surprised to see how well Jolinar could articulate what they both felt. "We are both healed, and we know exactly what needs to be done. We need it, not only the Tok'ra."
"For revenge," Garshaw clarified, frowning.
Jolinar paused, taking a breath instead of biting her tongue. "That is not even possible. We could not approach Quetesh, now that she knows our face. But that is not the only position. Before, we had no operative among the people, ready to begin to stir rebellion. Let Samantha and I be that."
"For what purpose?" Garshaw asked. Her arms rested lightly crossed over her chest. "For the good of the Tok'ra and the people in this galaxy, or for the humiliation of Quetesh?"
Jolinar eyed her closely. "Are you suggesting that what happened will influence us unduly?" Her heart skipped a beat, because it was true, even though neither she nor Sam cared.
"It is not the habit of the Tok'ra to allow compromised operatives to endanger themselves, even when there is not a mission at stake," said Garshaw, pointed but not harsh. "You suffered as much as most, and you cannot be fully recovered yet by any standard."
"It is a simple position," said Jolinar, pleading her case without letting her tone sound like begging. "We go in disguise, we mingle. There are no choices that we might be tempted to make, and no chance that Quetesh might come."
Garshaw waited a moment before answering. "Not now," she said. "I will speak to the Council, and especially Selmak, in a few days. You are not allowed to be rash, Jolinar, especially when it might damage you more."
Sam knew what she meant; so did Jolinar. They could see the logic, even if they did not want to accept it. Maybe it would be problematic to be back in the field, but maybe they needed to work things out of their system instead of resting them away.
Jolinar nodded, and turned to leave.
~Why especially Selmak?~ Sam asked. She knew the Tok'ra did not condone entangling emotional attachments, which was only as expected for their general profession.
*Selmak has more experience than us in...recovery,* Jolinar said. She knew little more, other than the vague references she'd added up over the decades of small conversations.
Sam wanted to be intrigued, but she felt on edge more than that. She just needed to do something. Jolinar always did, but right now Sam wanted more than her to escape. Get this over with, as fast as possible. She never liked recovery from anything.
~I feel like we can make progress,~ Sam said.
*Of course,* said Jolinar. Her emotions seemed to focus then, and calm a little. *Did I ever suggest otherwise? I have recovered so often, Samantha...I do not see more trials as inevitable, even if they may be, and I am ready for their end in this period of time. Their swift end.*
~Good,~ said Sam, relieved. ~I didn't want this to be a specter forever.~
*I promise you, it will not be.*
It was the first piece of true hope that they'd shared since Quetesh. Their capacity was lessened, but still enough to send the emotion through their mind and body, giving them strength. Jolinar wouldn't even think of failure. In a few days, certainly, the Council would let them go.
*I do not believe they have another option in hand,* said Jolinar.
~And we will be ready for them to make the choice,~ said Sam.
They weren't themselves again. Not yet. Their body still felt slightly different, something they would have to get used to. It was close, though, and sleep was coming with fewer nightmares to remember.