What Remains Behind

Content warning: Character death, violence, sexual situations, childbirth. Nothing too graphic, but you have been warned.

* * * *

Tell me, what is it you plan to do

with your one wild and precious life?

* * * *

May 2030

I run my fingers through my hair, wearily examining the latest infiltration plans against one of the few remaining system lords. Marat should go; he’s a natural at fitting in, learning the best-laid plans, and blowing them all to hell. The usual background noise of people going about their business has grown louder within the past few minutes, but I make no move to rise and find out what news awaits. I’m more concerned with who should accompany Marat -- someone who can serve as the voice of reason, someone who can dampen his enthusiasm for acting impulsively. His mate, Soren, was killed on her last mission, so most of all, he’ll need a comrade who can keep him from risking his life foolishly, because I don’t doubt he’s thought of a suicide mission more than once. I share his grief. Soren was one of my first friends here, but Marat is too valuable to us to waste his life for lost love. Yet another thing with which I can identify. The sounds are growing louder, but I’m sure someone will come tell me what’s going on presently.

As if on cue, Garshaw enters the room, smiling with an air of exultation. “Lantash, may I disturb your work for a moment?”

Inclining my head in greeting, I gesture towards a seat. “It is good to see you this day, my friend. Have you come to tell me news of our operatives?”

Her usually serious face is beaming with excitement. “The army of Apophis is destroyed, Lantash! Our people took control of two of his ships, and the ensuing battle annihilated his forces.” She crosses her legs, and gives me a penetrating look. “Aldwin captured Apophis, trying to escape, and executed the system lord.”

I take a deep breath, fighting for composure. “Dead.” Looking down at my hands, I see that they are shaking. My greatest enemy, the cause of my greatest pain, and he is no more. I allow myself a moment of sympathy for his pitiable host, who never deserved such a life as he was forced into. “We must inform the Tau’ri.”

Garshaw nods in agreement. “I rather thought that would be your course of action. It might be appropriate if we took his body to Earth to be cremated. You and Daniel Jackson -- he still lives, does he not? -- should light the funeral pyre.” She presses a gentle hand against my shoulder. “He killed your mates. You have the right.”

Actually, it was Teal’c who killed Sha’re, but I say nothing, lost in memories, and sense my host’s anguish. We grieve together, for lost loves, for choices made and hope torn away. For our child, raised in safety by an old friend among the Tau’ri. Garshaw senses my distress, and brings Yosuf to the forefront. Her expression softens, and she draws me into a comforting embrace as my own host takes precedence.

“Samantha, I am so sorry. I know you mourn him still.”

Pressing my head against her shoulder, I sob helplessly, the remembrance still painful after almost thirty years. “Martouf,” I whisper, tears scalding my cheeks. “Martouf.....”

* * * *

I look into the mirror, making sure every piece of my uniform is in place, every hair on my head neat and orderly, my makeup flawless. Now if I could just get the expression of combined fear and anticipation off my face, all would be perfect.

Today I will begin my tour of duty at the SGC. My father has already informed me that the first week or more will consist of sitting in my office being briefed on the history of the organization. As yet, I know only that it’s a highly classified operation, and that I’ll be joining the medical staff. I know, also, that I’m so close to finally learning what sort of job my father has done all these years, and that I will at last learn my mother’s fate.

My stomach is churning. I don’t think I’ve ever been so frightened in my life. Breakfast is on the table downstairs, and Dad is waiting for me.

“Martina! Are you coming down? We’re heading out in twenty minutes!” Waiting none too patiently, it appears. But I’m used to that.

I walk down the stairs feeling as if I’m heading towards my execution. Which isn’t too strange a feeling -- all the years of speculating, wondering who my parents were, why they died -- all these theories that I’ve bounced around my head through the years are going to be killed off, replaced by the truth. Part of me cannot wait. The other part wants to run and hide.

I could have stayed at Andrews Air Force Base after I finished my residency. I liked my job there and had lots of friends. But Dad didn’t push me towards this choice. He merely let me know that I was qualified, and had a chance to learn the answers to so many questions, questions that otherwise would remain forever unanswered. And given the opportunity, what other choice could I have made?

I’m scared, but I won’t let it show. I’m an Air Force officer. Fear may be acceptable, but only if courage attends it.

“Morning, Dad.” I smile at him and sit down, taking a cup of coffee and ignoring the plate of eggs and toast at my place at the table.

“What? No salute?” he teases me. He’s in uniform as well, something he doesn’t do too often these days. He’s semi-retired, only serving as a consultant to the SGC, not involved in its day-to-day operations.

I toss off a careless salute. “Captain Martina O’Neill, reporting for breakfast, sir.”

“Don’t feel like eating?” At the shake of my head, he reaches over and takes my plate, digging into the eggs. “Well, no need for it to go to waste.”

I smile at him fondly. His uniform of Major General fits him perfectly. If I ate as much as he did, I’d have trouble maintaining military physical requirements, but my father can eat anything he wants and still be as lean and fit as when he was younger. I think he burns off all the calories when he fidgets.

Sipping my coffee, I flip through the morning paper, surreptitiously examining my adoptive father. Since his sixty-eighth birthday, he’s lost more hair and gained more wrinkles, but he still looks as strong and fit as when I was a child. He was the giant that dominated my life, kept me safe, and loved me so much that I never even missed having a mother until I got older and understood that most of my friends had two parents, not just one. I wonder how he feels, knowing that I’m going to finally learn the truth? Does he worry that I won’t consider my real father, anymore? Not that he’d tell me his worries, of course. It’s always been very important to him to appear strong. When he’d tell me the things he could about my mother, I’d see pain in his eyes, but he never cried. I’m not sure he knows how.

The doorbell rings, announcing our driver. When I get my own apartment closer to base, I won’t have such luxuries, but I just got into town three days ago, and haven’t had time. Besides, I think my father likes having me here.

We stand, straightening our uniforms, putting breakfast dishes into the sink before heading to the door. I place a hand on his arm. “Dad?”

“Yeah, Marty?”

“I love you.”

He clears his throat and grins at me. “Love you too, sweetheart.” He opens the door and we walk towards the car, towards the truth.

* * * *

After interminable security checks and several elevator rides, we arrive at sub-level 28, home of what my father has just informed me is the Stargate Command. I’m trying to keep my jaw from dragging the floor. It wouldn’t do to arrive at my new job looked totally incredulous and flustered, but I don’t know how well I’m doing at keeping my game face intact.

“Jack!” A congenial man in his fifties, wearing the uniform of a lieutenant general, approaches us, smiling.

“General Simmons, sir!” We both stand at attention, and salute. Dad is smirking as General Simmons returns the salute, then claps him on the back. “Never thought I’d be the one saluting you, Graham.”

Simmons laughs and then turns to shake my hand. “Captain O’Neill? It’s a pleasure to welcome you to this facility.”

“Thank you, sir.” Looking around, I still can’t see anything out of the ordinary. When I glance back at General Simmons, he has a wistful expression on his face.

“You look a great deal like your mother, Captain.”

“Yes sir, so I’m told.” From the pictures I’ve seen of her, I know he’s right. Except for wearing my hair longer, and having grey eyes instead of blue, I do bear a remarkable resemblance to her, although I’m not quite as tall. I allow myself a moment of exasperation, wondering if everyone old enough to have known her is going to expect me to be a carbon copy of Major Samantha Carter. Don’t get me wrong -- most days I’m happy with my appearance, and my joining the Air Force was my own decision. But I often feel as though everyone else sees my life as a continuation of hers, even though I had no interest in astrophysics. Medicine is much more fascinating.

He starts walking down the hallway, and my father and I fall in step behind him. We stop in front of a conference room, where two people await within. “Captain O’Neill, you’ll be assigned base quarters and introduced to your medical colleagues later, but for today, Dr. Fraiser and Teal’c will be doing your preliminary briefing.” We enter the room, and I recognize Cassandra. I haven’t seen her since I went to medical school. “Dr. Fraiser, Teal’c, this is Captain Martina Samantha O’Neill.”

Cassandra ignores my outstretched hand, and gives me a fierce hug. “Hello, Martina. I’m glad to see you here.”

“I thought you were on an archaeological dig in Pakistan! When did you begin working here?” Out of the corner of my eye, I see that Dad is hugging a massive black man, presumably Teal’c.

“Two years ago, but I’ve known about the Stargate program since I was a girl.” At my puzzled expression, she shrugs. “When we begin the briefing, you’ll understand.”

“Teal’c,” my father gestures towards me, “I’m sure you remember Martina.” He looks at me proudly.

I try not to stare as this giant of a man, Teal’c, who has a strange gold ornament embedded in his forehead, bows his head towards me. “It has been many years, Captain O’Neill. I am gratified to see that you have reached adulthood in safety and health.”

“Um... yes. I’m sorry, Mr. Teal’c? We’ve met?” I think if that were the case, I’d certainly remember!

He nods, smiling gently. “You were but a young child when we last met, Martina.”

General Simmons interrupts my racing thoughts. “I’m sure you’re feeling quite confused just now, Captain, but Dr. Fraiser and Teal’c will bring you up to speed on what you need to know. Now, I must return to my duties.” He heads towards the door. “Care to join me, Jack?”

Dad rolls his eyes playfully. “Trying to get me back to work, no doubt. Nobody around here respects the word retirement,” he grouses, patting me on the shoulder as he leaves. “I’ll meet you later, Marty.”

“Please, sit down, Martina,” Cassandra suggests, as she and Teal’c do the same. She pushes a very thick folder towards me. “This is information that you’ll need to read, but we thought we’d begin with a basic outline of the history of the SGC. Now, the Stargate was found at an archaeological dig in Giza in the early twentieth century...”

* * * *

Aldwin dials the address for Earth, then joins me in front of the Chaapa-ai. “Do you have the code ready, Lantash?”

Nodding, I check the GDO, making certain I’ve entered the correct commands. It’s been eight years since I used it. “Yes, Aldwin. Shall we?” My stomach churning in apprehension, I walk towards the rippling surface of the event horizon. Aldwin follows me, steering the antigravity device that supports the body of Apophis.

After what feels like a frozen eternity within the wormhole, we emerge onto the gate ramp at Stargate Command. Armed marines step back as General Simmons approaches us in greeting.

“Aldwin, Lantash. It is good to see you. I presume you have news?” I nod, and ask my host if she wishes to take precedence. Samantha is content for me to lead at the moment, however.

I gesture towards the shrouded body. “The Tok’ra bring great news to our allies, the Tauri. Four days ago, the army of Apophis was destroyed.”

I get no further before an enormous cheer arises from the throats of the men and women in the gate room. General Simmons’ face is lit with incredible joy, then he quiets his people. “That is marvelous news, Lantesh.” He nods at the body. “Is that who I think it is?”

“Yes. We thought it appropriate to light Apophis’ funeral pyre on this world, so his host’s ashes may be returned to their original homeland.” I look around the room, searching for a familiar face. “Is Dr. Jackson here?”

He shakes his head. “Not at the moment, Lantash, he’s in New York. But we can contact him, and I’m sure he can be here by tomorrow. In the meantime, there is another person here you might like to see.” He instructs an airman to take Apophis’ body to the morgue for the time being, keeping it under guard, and escorts us towards the hallway. We stop just inside the entrance, and my heart seems to skip a beat as I see who awaits us.

“Hello, Sam,” Jack O’Neill says softly. “Bet you didn’t expect to see me here, did ya?”

* * * *

I flip another page of the report, pushing my notepad to the side for the moment. “Okay, so of the alien races we’ve met, there’s the Goa’uld, the Unas, the Asgard, the Nox, and the Rhi’tou, as well as one race who tried to infiltrate whose name we don’t know?”

“That is correct, Captain O’Neill. As well, there are many other human worlds along the Stargate system, at many different stages of development. For example, the Tollan are human allies of ours, who have technology much more sophisticated than our own.”

“And so after the death of Ra, and the attack on the base by Apophis, we began traveling this network, in order to learn what was out there?”

“Yes,” Cassandra says, scribbling a note on her report. “Now, in addition to the goa’uld system lords, there is a faction of goa’uld called the Tok’ra, who wish to live in peace with humans. They are a resistance movement against the system lords, and have a symbiotic relationship with their human hosts, where neither dominates, but rather share the host’s body. They have been an invaluable ally throughout the years.”

“Okay.” I rub my eyes. “I’m just finding this all a bit amazing, you know, finding out that we’ve been at war for thirty years now, and I never knew a thing about it.”

She shrugs. “Well, for me, it was sort of inevitable that I’d get involved with the Stargate project again. When the goa’uld destroyed P8X-987, I came here to live, and even though I knew what was going on, it was years before I came back here to work. I just couldn’t stand knowing the reality and not knowing the details.”

“Details,” I muse, tapping my fingernails against the table. “I want to learn more about those details myself. I need to know how my parents died, and why Dad could never tell me more than just a few facts about my mother.” I look up at them. “I know it’s skipping ahead somewhat, but can you tell me about her now?”

As Teal’c begins to speak, his gentle voice is drowned out by a loud noise over the intercom system.

“Ladies and gentlemen of the SGC, this is General Simmons. Representatives from our allies, the Tok’ra, are on base, and they have relayed the news to us that a few days ago, they destroyed the army of Apophis and executed the system lord. I’d like us all to take a moment of silence for his host, who has been released from a few thousand years of living hell.” The voice falls silent, and Teal’c and Cassandra are both wide-eyed and excited. She reaches out and grips his arm, shaking. The voice continues, “We’ll be having a celebration in the commissary this evening at 1800 hours. That is all.”

From beyond the doors of the conference room, we can hear excited shouts and cheers. I raise my eyebrows. “Okay. I have this nice briefing manual, and it’s already obsolete, huh? Well, that’s the military for you.”

Cassandra laughs hysterically. I didn’t think it was that funny. “Oh god, Martina, there’s no mistaking who raised you!” Impulsively, she hugs Teal’c, who, in contrast to his previous stoic appearance, now seems quite animated. “That murdering bastard is dead!”

A knock at the door distracts us. General Simmons pokes his head inside. “I’m sure you’ve not heard everything you need to know, Captain, but come with me. There’s someone you need to meet.” He gestures that my companions should attend him as well.

I look at Teal’c and Cassandra, who both appear as confused as me, before rising to my feet. “Yes, sir.” The three of us leave the conference room and follow him down several hallways, until we arrive at his office.

My father’s inside. He’s talking to a woman dressed in a loose green robe that sweeps the floor. His face is carefully blank, the mask he uses when he’s so emotionally screwed up that he’s afraid to crack an expression for fear he’ll lose control.

I stop at the doorway. “Dad?” Oh dear god, is that who I think it is?

He turns to face me, the woman’s hand firmly clasped in his own. “Marty. I --” he breaks off, shaking his head. “I want you to meet--”

She presses her other hand against his shoulder. “It’s all right, Jack. Hello, Martina,” she says softly, her deep blue eyes glistening, voice trembling. “I’m your mother.”

* * * *

“You can fail love, but love will never fail you.”

... an idea so luminous,

so... so... amazing

that most of us

have to make up conditions

* * * *

September 2000

I can’t contain my grin as I see my father step out of the Stargate, closely followed by Martouf. It’s been several months since I’ve seen either of them, and this time I know that they’re just here for a visit, not to take us to hell.

“Hey, Sam,” my father greets me warmly. “Got a hug for one of the Tok’ra’s oldest and wisest?”

“Sure thing,” I reply, “where is Garshaw anyway?” Martouf just rolls his eyes. He’s used to us by now, how we show our love through insults. Dad wraps me in a bear hug until I wheeze, and then Martouf takes my hand as we walk down the ramp.

“It is good to see you well, Samantha,” Martouf tells me quietly.

My father immediately falls into conversation with General Hammond and I cringe inwardly as Colonel O’Neill casts his oh, so benevolent gaze upon us.

“Hiya, Marty,” he drawls. “How ya doing?”

Martouf inclines his head in greeting, and then lets Lantash speak. “We are in good health, Colonel O’Neill. We are glad to see that the same is true for our friends the Tau’ri.”

O’Neill’s face gets all twitchy, and he pastes a smarmy grin on his face. “Yeah. You’re good, we’re good, everything’s good. See you around,” and he turns to go, almost imperceptibly shaking his head. I’d bet my paycheck that’s he’s muttering something about snakeheads under his breath.

“That wasn’t very nice, Lantash,” I scold him, trying to hide my laughter.

He shrugs nonchalantly, and Martouf takes over again, smiling slyly. “Colonel O’Neill often seems belligerent when I am about, Samantha. Speaking to Lantash disconcerts him, and we enjoy seeing him caught off guard.”

I choke down a high-pitched giggle. “Oh boy. Testosterone-driven chest-butting. This should be an interesting visit.”

He stares at me intently. “That is my hope, Samantha.”

We engage in a brief staring contest, then I collect my thoughts, not wanting to embarrass myself in front of a room full of coworkers. “Come, let me show you your quarters.”

* * * *

My father pokes his head into my lab. “Got a minute, Sam?”

“Sure, Dad. When are we leaving?” I’ve already packed everything I’ll need for a trip to my brother’s.

“That’s what I’ve come to talk to you about.” He doesn’t look me fully in the eyes. “I’ll be going to San Diego, Sam, but I want you to stay here.”

“Excuse me?” I mime a double-take. “I thought you just said that you wanted me to stay here.”

He has the grace to look a little shamefaced. “Well, Martouf obviously can’t go to San Diego with me, and he’s admitted that he’d like to spend some time here on Earth. George and I arranged the necessary passes and paperwork, and we thought that you--”

“Could be drafted as tour guide?” Oh, why do I feel like there’s a setup going on here?

“Yes,” he replies bluntly. “According to George, Dr. Jackson is going to help SG-6 with an archaeological dig, Teal’c is off to visit his son, and Colonel O’Neill is going to be temporarily in charge of the SGC for a few days while George takes his grand kids to Disney World. So there won’t be anything for you to do here that can’t be done later.”

I pick my jaw up off the floor. “General Hammond is leaving Colonel O’Neill in charge of the base?” He nods, and I pinch myself, hard. I don’t wake up. “You’re serious. You’re really serious.”

He grins. “Hey, Jack could use the experience. He might get promoted one of these days, you know, if he can keep from being such a loose canon.” He throws an arm around my shoulder. “Anyway, Martouf wants to see more of Earth than the inside of Cheyenne Mountain, and I also know he likes your company. So you’re the obvious choice.”

“Obvious. Of course.” Upon consideration, I like this idea quite a bit. On the other hand, what the hell is General Hammond up to? Leaving Colonel O’Neill in charge of the SGC? Of course, if he’s tied to the desk, he won’t be following Martouf and me around like a fidgety chaperone for the next few days. But General Hammond wouldn’t be so devious, surely. Would he? I sigh, and lean into my father’s embrace. “So, what’s my schedule?”

“Well, it’s up to the two of you, naturally, but the leaves are starting to turn, it isn’t too cold yet, so you could take him hiking. It might be best to stay away from heavily populated areas, just in case Lantash wants to talk.” He brushes my hair out of my eyes. “Martouf has the necessary identifications, he’s hard at work memorizing the details of his cover story, and we’ve got him into the proper clothes. And I know that you’ve got a tent and backpacking stuff at your place, right?”

Okay. I know when to give in -- he’s obviously given this lots of thought. And I’ll probably even enjoy myself. But I’ll still find a way for payback, just on principle.

“So, Selmak, I’m guessing you had a hand in arranging this, right? Dad never used to be this manipulative.”

His eyes blaze gold as his symbiote takes over. “It is possible that I made a few suggestions, Major Carter,” Selmak rumbles. “If only to spare us the sight of a grown man pouting like a young child.” His smile has more than a hint of wicked humor. “Martouf has not yet been assigned a new mission, and his complaints of boredom have become somewhat tiresome.”

I shake my head in amusement and resignation. “Like I said, manipulative.”

My dad takes over again. “Aw, Sam, I can be just as manipulative as Selmak! Honest!”

“Yeah, right, Dad. Well, at least you’re going to go see Mark. Don’t head out before I’ve had a chance to dig through my bags -- I’ve got some presents for the kids.” He nods in agreement, and heads for the doorway.

“Well, I’m off to talk to George. If I hurry, I might get to see Jack’s face when he’s told what his new assignment is for the next few days.”

I laugh. Oh, for a video camera at that moment. “Have fun, Dad.”

* * * *

We’re on our way to a place where I like to go hiking in my rare moments of freedom. The September day is warm, but we’ve made sure to pack jackets and sweaters for tonight. Everything’s in order, and I even have fresh food packed for our dinner later this evening -- a welcome change from the usual MREs.

Martouf is listening to Rachmaninov on the car stereo, occasionally smiling at me, content to stay silent for the moment.

Every few miles, I glance at him. He looks great. Not that his Tok’ra uniform is bad, mind you. He has nice legs, and I have wondered in the past how the men at the SGC would look in tights, especially Teal’c.

I stifle another giggle. Must stay calm, Sam. You really don’t want Martouf to ask you why you’re laughing to yourself for no reason. On the other hand, who knows what he looks like when he and Lantash are having conversations? I wonder what they do when they have a really big fight, or is that just something you avoid when you have two people in one body?

I wouldn’t really know. Jolinar did her best to keep me out of her thoughts at first, only flooding my mind with her memories as she died. She’d given me a few hints when I spoke with Colonel O’Neill, but only enough to know that she spoke the truth, not enough to know anything serious about her life. So when the Ashrak came for us, and attacked us, in the midst of the pain, my mind filled with random images, sadness, longing. And a name that I didn’t remember for a few months.

Tonight, I’m pretty sure that we’ll get around to having the talk that we haven’t had time for in the past. Basically, it’s time to discuss what feelings other than friendship, if any, we have for each other, and to what extent they’re influenced by Jolinar. At the moment, I have no idea what I’ll say. Do I have feelings for Martouf? Yes, I believe so. But I’m still not sure at what point my infatuation with him comes from me, and what comes from her memories of their partnership. I know so much about him, understand his character and his actions, but is this knowledge accurate? How much is subjective, coming from someone who loved him so passionately?

And does he see me as anything other than Jolinar’s replacement? I might have only a shaky grasp on my own feelings, but I have no idea what his are. He is attracted to me; I can read that in his eyes, his body language. Dad told me that Martouf wanted to spend time with me. Selmak said he’d been impatient to see me again. All these things point to his having a strong interest in being with me, but is it truly me he sees?

“This music is beautiful, Samantha.” His voice intrudes upon my thoughts, and I smile at him before returning my attention to the highway.

“It’s always been one of my favorites.”

“Then I am pleased that you chose to share it with me.” He leans his head back against the seat and sighs. “I am grateful to your father for allowing me to come to Earth with him. It has been a long time since we were able to be together without interruptions.”

No, I will not blush. “Yes, it is nice,” I say neutrally.

The interruptions have usually come in the form of missions, or my team members. Colonel Jack O’Neill has never flat-out told me that he’s jealous of my connection with Martouf, but I’m not blind. His actions speak well enough. The mere sight of Martouf sends him into an Alpha Male frenzy. He rushes to protect me from things that I might want to explore. And if he weren’t figuratively chained to a desk at the moment, I have no doubt that he’d have found some way to insinuate himself into this camping trip.

I do try not to think of him as anything other than my commanding officer. It’s gotten easier since he returned from Edora. I missed him so much while he was gone. I threw myself into building the particle accelerator to get him home. I was so happy to finally see him that I almost broke down and cried, but he just acted like I was inconveniencing him. Whenever he flirts outrageously with me, I just conjure up the mental picture of him embracing Laira after he walked away from me in mid-sentence.

I can understand him wanting to move on, to accept the changes that had happened to him. I just don’t understand how he could think that we’d leave him behind. He came back, and then has tried to worm his way back into my heart. Although I want to let him, I still don’t trust him an inch. Flirting, joking, and silly nicknames -- Major Snookums comes to mind, from that interminable nine day wait on P3X-234 -- all these can’t make up for his not saying anything about his hopes for us. He expects me to be content with an unspoken promise, with a future that will probably never happen. I just don’t know if that’s enough for me, not anymore, even if I am in love with him, which I suspect I may be. And that just opens up another can of worms due to regulations. I swore I’d never fall prey to this cliché, being the token girl who falls for her CO.

Not when I also have feelings for Martouf, and there are no regulations saying that he and I can’t love each other. I don’t know if I love him yet, but I have the chance to find out. How can I turn away from this opportunity, and be satisfied with the possibility of someday? I don’t think I can. Right at this moment, I feel like if I tell Martouf I only think of him as a friend, and return to Colonel O’Neill’s unspoken approbation, I’ll be betraying myself. I’ve done that often enough in the past, and it’s time to stop.

* * * *

Love is an endless mystery

for it has nothing else to explain it.

* * * *

We’ve finished dinner and cleaned up all the cooking equipment, and the food for tomorrow morning is hanging in a sack on a nearby tree branch, so that any marauding animals will leave the tent alone. The campfire will most likely keep them away, but I don’t want to take the chance that a bear will interrupt our sleep.

Martouf adds another branch to the flames, watching as the sparks spiral upwards to the starry night. “This is such a lovely planet,” he comments.

“Not all of it is this beautiful,” I reply, “but yes, I am quite attached to it.”

He sits down beside me, resting his arms on his knees. “In the Tok’ra, we try not to become too fond of where we are, since we never know when we shall have to leave. It is good to know that the planet of our origin, the home of the Tau’ri, is still safe. We must keep it so.”

I nod, not saying anything, just studying the flicker of the fire, the point at which the flames glow red, then blue with the intensity of heat. When he places an arm about my shoulders, I’m not surprised. Here goes nothing. I lean against him, and place my hand over his own.

He looks at me directly, the firelight casting shadows on his face. “Samantha? I believe we both know what we need to discuss, do we not?”

“Yes.” My voice is calm, a direct contrast to my pounding heart. Breathe, I remind myself. It helps to breathe.

He looks down at our entwined hands. “Now that I am with you, it is difficult to know where to begin.” He shrugs self-depracatingly. “I want you to know how much I care for you, Samantha.” We both take deep breaths, a sigh of relief that we’ve actually begun this conversation, then laugh self-consciously. “I told you once before, when I asked you to take Selmak as a symbiote, that it stemmed from my desire to keep Jolinar in my life in some form, although she is dead.”

“I know,” I tell him quietly, trying to quell the sinking feeling in my stomach. Am I going to have to pretend that “we’re just friends” after all, to save face and keep from looking like a fool?

He smiles tenderly, banishing my fears, and brushes my hand against his lips. “I was very foolish, Samantha. You keep some of her memories within you, but you are not she. It has been wrong of me not to let you know this before.” I open my mouth to speak, and he presses his hand against my lips. “Let me finish? My desire is for your companionship, because of the regard I have come to have for you, not because I am trying to hold onto her. I know that you are not Jolinar. My relationship with her may have influenced my initial attraction to you, but it is far from the sole reason.”

I struggle to find words, certain that my pounding heart must be audible halfway down the mountain. I squeeze his hand tightly. “Martouf, it’s been difficult for me to know exactly what my feelings are in this matter. Jolinar left such a strong imprint upon me that I don’t think it’s possible that I wouldn’t be drawn to you.”

His eyes glitter in response to my words, and he pulls me closer to him. I want to let him, but I’m not done, so I raise my hand, and he pauses. “As I’ve come to know you, I have gotten better at separating my emotions from hers. I don’t know if all the confusion will ever go away, but I’m at a point where I think I can deal with it.”

“And?” His voice is rough and sensual, his body warm where it presses against mine.

“She left me with a lot of good memories, Martouf. But I want us to make some of our own.” I look down, suddenly bashful. When have I ever been this direct? To conceal my nervousness, I ask him, “What does Lantash think of this?”

He shakes with laughter. “He’s been quite impatient with me, Samantha.”

“Really?” I smile at the mental picture of Lantash ranting inside Martouf’s head.

“Would you like to speak with him now?”

“Yes, I suppose so.”

He lowers his head, and when he looks back up at me, his eyes shine golden, and his voice has deepened. “Our time together will always be brief, Samantha. It is the way of the Tok’ra, that we rarely have more than a short time between our assigned tasks. I, too, care for you. But you and Martouf have been silent for so long, and then only talked, rather than getting to the point,” he says, voice dark with frustration.

“And what point do you wish to make, Lantash?” His eyes are pools of brilliant light, and I’m drowning.

“Allow me to demonstrate, it should clarify matters,” he growls, before his mouth descends upon mine.

Shuddering, I lean into his embrace as our arms wrap tightly around each other. His chest is firm and solid against mine, his hands running through my hair and down my back, his tongue demanding entrance between my lips. I gasp for air, and that moment gives him his opportunity.

Wow. So this is what kissing Lantash feels like. I’m not complaining in the least -- I can’t remember a more passionate kiss in my experience, ever. Not even when I was touched from the virus of the Land of Light. Banishing that thought and all its connotations immediately, I give myself up to the feeling of Martouf’s lips trailing kisses down my throat, even as his hands caress my breasts.

Longing hits me like a kick in the stomach. My legs tingle, my pulse quickens, and as we lie back on the ground, a small part of my brain reminds me not to let us roll into the campfire. God, I’m shaking. He kisses me again, not quite so urgently, but sweetly, letting us both explore each other’s mouths, and learn what we like. Pulling the hem of his shirt away from his pants, I slowly investigate the warm, smooth skin of his back, scratching lightly with my fingernails as he hums his approval.

Pulling away from me, Martouf smiles again, and I can’t help but close my eyes against the joy in his face. “Lantash can be rather eloquent at times, don’t you think?” His mouth brushes against my cheek, feather-light.

I reach for him again. “Works for me.” Pressing my lips against his neck, I whisper, “Let’s go into the tent, it’s getting cold out here.”

He’s on his feet like a shot, unzipping the tent door, spreading our sleeping bags into one pallet, kicking off his shoes, and finally pulling his shirt over his head to reveal his chest. I walk towards him, desire warming my skin, knowing that the love and anticipation on his face is echoed in mine.

* * * *

May 2030

My mother’s voice is soft and wistful as she tells me of my father, and how they came to love each other. We sit in the same conference room where I was before -- Samantha Carter, my dad, and me.

His face is still expressionless. Looking at him, you’d think he was about to take a nap, unless you got a good look at his eyes. He stares at my mother like she’s life for a drowning man, and when she talks about Martouf, I can tell that it’s hurting him.

She must realize this is true as well, for she’s kept her tale thus far to bare details, although I can imagine that for my father and her, it’s like reliving the past.

At this point, I’m not sure what to think. What possible reason could explain why I was told she was dead? Yes, I know the SGC was classified, but couldn’t something have been done? I joined this program to learn about her life and eventual death, only to learn that she’s still alive, but she’s now a blended Tok’ra with the symbiote who used to be blended with her late husband. She’s sixty-two years old, and doesn’t look a day over thirty.

Dad squeezes my hand, but says nothing, offering silent support and love, as always.

When I speak, it seems too loud in the small room. “Can I ask you something?”

She nods gracefully. “Whatever you wish.”

“Why do some people call you Sam and others call you Lantash? How do they know which one of you they’re talking to?” It confused me to no end, the first few minutes, hearing her answer to two different names. I hate not understanding details.

“Ah. Yes, I can see how that would be puzzling.” She leans forward, placing her elbows on the table, and resting her chin on her hands. “Well, when Lantash speaks directly, you will hear my voice deepen and my eyes will glow. It’s impossible to misunderstand, then. But deciding which name shall predominate is most often agreed upon by the blended pair. We chose to use Lantash’s name when dealing with the SGC, to emphasize that I was no longer merely Major Carter, but a member of the Tok’ra.” She stares at her hands, tapping her fingernails on the table. “Also, I was more comfortable having Lantash predominate when we dealt with the Tauri. The manner of my leaving Earth was not easy, and I suppose at times, it was a way of avoiding how conflicted I felt. When someone wants to speak to one of us in particular, he or she will address us by our individual name.” She smiles at Dad fondly. “Jack almost always calls me Sam. Lastly, when Lantash was blended with your father, they used Martouf’s name most of the time. I thought it was fair that he had a turn.”

“Lantash is male?”

“Not exactly. The symbiote adapts to the gender of the host. When I met Lantash, he was Martouf’s symbiote. I didn’t just marry one man, but both of them.”

“And now you carry your husband within you?” This is far beyond weird. I’ve almost given up trying to understand all the subtleties.

“In a way, yes. It wasn’t until we’d been blended for a few years that we began to think of her as female.” She frowns. “Lantash and I blended to save my life, Martina, and yours.” Pausing, she stares off into space, seemingly uncertain where to continue.

Dad clears his throat. “Want me to take over for a bit with the history lesson, Sam?”

“Please,” she whispers, wiping her eyes. “I don’t want to have to say this next part.”

* * * *

Thus, love comes free,

but not for you or me.

we have to deserve it,

we have to be worthy of it

* * * *

December 2000

They’re getting married tomorrow. Martouf and Carter. Major Samantha Carter is going to marry a snakehead! My Sam. And have I mentioned that she’s pregnant?

I still can’t believe it. I’ve pinched myself several times lately, trying to convince myself that it’s just a dream, but all I end up with are bruises on my arms. Sweet.

It all began a few months ago, when General Hammond gave me the wonderful opportunity for more command experience, as he put it. He left me in charge of the SGC for four days so that Martouf could seduce Sam! There wasn’t anything to do, only three units were off-world, and I spent the time catching up on paperwork and twiddling my thumbs, trying to convince myself that Hammond and Jacob wouldn’t be that devious. I was in charge in case of an emergency, right? I’d almost convinced myself of that fact. Almost.

But any theory I had about Sam not falling into old Marty’s arms was shot to hell when they returned. They were both perfectly professional -- I suppose she’d briefed him on how the Air Force isn’t too big on public displays of affection. But the way they looked at each other? I didn’t need to hear any details of their wonderful camping trip. I’d be surprised if they did anything other than have sex.

So, I was feeling a bit frazzled, realizing all of a sudden that whatever thing Sam and I had going on was now a thing of the past, when General Hammond and Jacob Carter traipsed back into the SGC, looking insufferably smug when they realized what was going on. Hammond looked tremendously relieved.

So sure, one of the best officers in the SGC was sleeping with one of the Tok’ra, but at least he didn’t have to worry about her getting involved with her commanding officer anymore, right? I put on my best poker face, waved Martouf and Jacob off when they went back through the Stargate, and got us back at work on our next mission. All would be business as usual, if I could just get the mental image of Sam making love to Martouf out of my mind.

She didn’t flirt with me very much anymore, although she still smiled at my jokes. So I started toning things down, trying not to think of her as anything more than my second in command. I even tortured myself with the reminder that this had to be karmic payback for Laira.

It’s just a fling, I told myself, a way for both of them to get Jolinar out of their systems. The fact that she spent every spare minute of stand down with him didn’t mean anything.

That excuse doesn’t work anymore. Not when I saw the look of incredulous joy on her face as she dashed out of the infirmary after a post-mission physical, on her way to contact the Tok’ra, to let Martouf know that she was pregnant. Not when Martouf came through the Stargate like death gliders were on his heels, racing down the gate ramp to see her. And when I walked past the conference room where they were talking -- I wasn’t eavesdropping, I swear -- he was embracing her tightly, tears streaming down his cheeks, telling her how much it meant to him, them having a baby together. That he’d long ago given up hope of ever having a child of his own, since the women of the Tok’ra cannot, because it would mean their symbiotes would have to hibernate all the while their host was pregnant. He was absolutely overjoyed, and Carter was walking on air, since Janet had told her that since Jolinar died within her, it was unlikely she’d ever conceive.

They love each other. They’re going to be a family. They’re incredibly happy. And I can’t hate them for it, even though I’ve tried. God, I’ve tried.

* * * *

“My God, Jack, are you all right? You look terrible.” Daniel’s words cut through the fog in my heavy head.

I groan in pain. “Please, don’t talk so loud,” I beg him, cautiously raising my head from my desk and grimacing at the dry, sour taste in my mouth. “Let me just rest here a few more minutes. And get me a glass of water, huh?”

Rolling his eyes, he ducks out of my office and returns with a plastic cup full of cool, sweet water. I drink half of it straight down, closing my eyes in relief as my tongue once again becomes flexible, rather than the dead, fuzzy lump it was a moment ago. Opening my desk drawer, I grab a bottle of aspirin, pop the lid, and take two pills, washing them down with the rest of the water.

Five minutes later, I’m feeling well enough to go get another glass of water myself, after waving Daniel off with the promise that I’ll be in the Gateroom in time for the ceremony. At this point, it is quite clear that the six-pack of beer last night was a bad idea. Oh well, at least it was fun while it lasted. When a friend is getting married, and you wish that she was with you instead, you’re supposed to stay up the night before feeling mad at the world and get stinking drunk. I’m sure it’s a rule somewhere. And you know me, a stickler for regulations.

Goddamn regs. I should have said something to her. One of us could have transferred to another team. But I’m an idiot and a coward, so I kept my mouth firmly shut, and now she’s marrying Marty. Serves me right. Saying something now would only hurt her. She loves him, and I won’t do that to her. Shit.

Glancing at the clock, I see that I have only six more minutes to make myself presentable. I duck into the men’s room to empty my bladder, wash my hands, and check myself in the mirror. My dress uniform is neat and crisp, my hair satisfactory, and my eyes nowhere near as bloodshot as they should be. All squared away. Time to go face reality.

Daniel and General Hammond try to look nonchalant as I join them in the Gateroom. They don’t succeed, of course, but they’re making an effort. They probably thought I wouldn’t come. At least they saved a spot for me -- there are so many SGC teams and Tok’ra in here that we’re all jammed in like sardines. Garshaw stands at the head of the room with Martouf, who looks remarkably calm. And why wouldn’t he? He’s already knocked Sam up, it’s not like she’ll get cold feet at the last minute.

There’s no minister. The marriage vows they’re going to make will be binding for the Tok’ra, but the United States government is hardly going to legalize a marriage to a man from another planet, because the existence of life on other planets is still classified.

There’s movement at the back of the room, and everyone turns towards the doors. Aldwin raises some sort of flute to his lips, and begins to play a soft, low melody. Holding her father’s arm, Sam walks towards Martouf, smiling at the witnesses. She’s beautiful. Last week, when Janet suggested a long white gown and veil, Sam just rolled her eyes and snickered. Instead she’s wearing a long red robe of some sort, quite similar to Martouf’s, except that his is green. As she reaches the front of the room, she embraces her father, then turns to clasp Martouf’s hands in hers. I’ve never seen her look so happy. She’s a bit pale, but she has been quite nauseous lately. She still looks perfect.

Garshaw steps forward, her eyes shining, her low voice rumbling through the room. “We gather here as witnesses. Martouf and Lantash desire to join their lives with Samantha. Be silent, and listen with respect and joy as they make their vows.”

Both bride and groom bow towards Garshaw as she steps back to stand beside Jacob, then smile at each other. Sam clears her throat, then looks up at Martouf and speaks in her clear, sweet voice. “I, Samantha, pledge my love to you, Martouf, and give my heart into your keeping. All that I have I give to you. I will cherish and honor you all the days of my life. I am yours, now and always.”

Martouf’s voice is a bit shaky, but still audible. “I, Martouf, pledge my love to you, Samantha, and give my heart into your keeping...” He recites the vow in turn, and they kiss. My headache is back full force. But instead of finishing the ceremony, they’re only halfway done. Martouf lowers his head, and when he looks back up, Lantash is in control.

“I, Samantha, pledge my love to you, Lantash...”

I’m really here, watching her marry two men who just happen to reside in one body. This can’t be real, can it? As much as I wish for this to be a dream, they’re embracing and kissing each other again. Turning to their audience, both bow and say, “So do we vow. Let all respect our bond. Thank you for honoring our joining as witnesses.” The Tok’ra bow as one towards them, and after a brief pause, the rest of us copy their actions. Aldwin starts the music again, and that seems to be the cue for everyone to mob the married couple.

Janet hugs Sam tightly, then steps back. “Okay, I have to get a picture of you two!” Happy to oblige her, they stand side by side, arms around each others waists. Janet gets her photo, and Martouf kisses his wife again, rubbing their clasped hands across her still flat stomach, where new life is growing.

I really do not want to be here, but my feet are moving me towards them. “Congratulations, Martouf.” I clasp his hand, pasting a smile onto my face. I pat Sam’s shoulder. “You too, Carter.”

She smiles, radiantly happy. “Thank you, sir.”

Martouf bows his head towards me. “I know that all the members of SG-1 are close friends, Colonel O’Neill. I am glad that Samantha works with such companions as will do their best to keep her safe.”

“No sweat,” I say, grinning like an idiot.

Sam raises her eyebrows. “Well, at least until I’m reassigned to the lab, but that shouldn’t be for another four months or so.” She laughs softly, and absently pats her belly. “Now, I heard Daniel say something about food. Do you know where it is? I’m starving all of a sudden.” I point towards to left side of the room, where juice, fruit, and cookies have been arranged on a table, and she makes a beeline there, dragging Martouf behind her. “I’m dying for something sour, like maybe an apple? Or lemonade?” Her voice fades away into the general cacophony of a room full of people talking. Guests try and delay them, wanting to offer their congratulations, but Martouf is apparently explaining the urgency of the matter, because an airman next to the refreshments lobs an apple through the air, and it’s quickly passed to Sam, who bites into it eagerly.

I remember how Sara was, when she was expecting Charlie. She’d feel sick and queasy, not wanting any food, until suddenly she had to eat something that instant, and heaven help the person who stood between her and what she wanted. I don’t know what I’m more jealous of, Martouf having Carter, or their having a baby. Sometimes when I’m alone at night in my empty house, I dream that I can still hear Charlie racing around, playing, getting into trouble. No child could ever replace him, but the hunger is still there, to have someone else to love.

* * * *

February 2001

Trees, trees, trees. While it’s nice to know that there’s plenty of planets in the universe that have a similar ecosystem to Earth, for once I’d love to see those funky kind of alien plants that I used to think were so cool on Star Trek. Kirk, James T. Kirk, you can call me. Heh. Not likely.

Daniel bends down, offering Sam a hand, should she need help getting up. “Sam, are you sure you’re all right?”

She spits one last time, then wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. “I’m fine, Daniel, it’s just morning sickness. Going through the gate makes it worse.” She grabs the proffered bottle of water, and rinses her mouth, then stands up. “Sorry about the delay, sir. I’m ready.”

“Okay. Mineral survey time, people. Carter, you find a good spot to get your samples. Teal’c, take point.” I look around at the forest before us. “Daniel, can you find any signs of human habitation?”

He shakes his head. “Well, it’s possible that at one time this planet was populated, but aside from the Stargate, I don’t see any other signs. Any buildings or settlements might have eroded over time, or the gate builders might have connected it to the network, and never got around to colonizing. The coordinates were on the Abydos cartouche, however, so the goa’uld know this planet exists.”

“All right. So while we appear safe for the moment, we should keep our eyes out just in case.”

After about half an hour’s walk, Carter finds a site she deems suitable for her purposes, and begins directing Daniel to unload FRED, all the while enthusiastically munching on an apple. She’s always nibbling on something these days, but she’s still meeting the physical requirements for our missions, so it’s not a big deal. Looking at her, you’d only know she was four months pregnant if you knew her well and took a very close look at her waistline. Janet says she’s in good health, and General Hammond has expressed no reservations about her continuing work, at least until April. We have, however, been doing lots of mineral and archaeological surveys lately. Hammond hasn’t come right out and said it, but he’s not about to send us into any dangerous situations until Carter gets assigned to the labs and Captain Bill Foraker joins us from SG-8 as her temporary substitute. I’m not even letting myself think that after the baby is born, Sam might not want to join SG-1 again.

“Teal’c?”

“Yes, O’Neill?” The Jaffa nods once in response, but still keeps his eyes scanning the landscape.

“I’ll help Carter and Daniel for now, then take over guard duty in about an hour, okay?” Mineral surveys. What joy. But nothing gets by Teal’c.

Soon I’m cursing the pebbles under my knees as I take soil samples and put them into their proper containers. Yes, I know this is important work. Carter and Daniel certainly are finding it interesting, but I’m hot, sweaty, my knees hurt, and I’m bored.

“O’Neill, I believe someone is approaching our position.” Teal’c stares intently into the forest.

I crouch down, grabbing my binoculars to scan the tree line. “Take cover, everyone.” Carter and Daniel do so, unquestioning. “I don’t see anyone.” Then, I see a subtle hint of movement in the underbrush. “Yep, someone’s coming.” We all move into defensive positions, and wait for our newcomer to show himself.

Fifteen minutes later, Arris Boch strolls up, looking just as disreputable as when we saw him last. Keeping my gun trained at his head, I groan. “What the hell do you want?”

“Well, such a warm welcome.” He grins at us maliciously. “I came to find you because I have some news that you might want. Oh, by the way, Major Carter, congratulations on your marriage.”

She looks at him warily. “Thank you. How did you find out about it?”

He shrugs, trying to look innocent. “I hear things. You guys don’t have quite as good security as you’d like to think. What I heard is that one of the Tok’ra got you pregnant, so you got married.”

She frowns, then shakes her head. “We know this already, Boch. Somehow I don’t imagine news of my impending motherhood is a big deal.”

“Oh shit,” Daniel gasps, “Sam’s possession by Jolinar?”

“What?” I demand. “I’m a little out of the loop here, guys!”

“Apophis has learned that you’re expecting a child. The father is a goa’uld...”

“Tok’ra,” Sam snaps. “Martouf and Lantash are Tok’ra!”

“Whatever. And you, Major Carter, were once a host. There’s a chance your child could be harsesis. Apophis has offered a very high reward to anyone who brings you to him.” He grimaces. “I figured you’d appreciate the warning before a horde of Jaffa are waiting the next time you step through the Stargate.”

“Oh my God.” She swallows, turning pale, and clasps her hands in front of herself, protectively. “Sir?”

“Campers, let’s pack up what we have right now. Back to the Stargate. Boch, what’s in this for you?”

He holsters his weapon and helps load supplies onto FRED. “Hey, I can be altruistic sometimes. I figure this is worth some supplies, right? I’ve been trading for the rashna that I need, but some food, a bit of naquadah would be nice.”

I fasten the last piece of equipment. “Okay, let’s go! I think we can arrange something, Boch. But, just so you know -- if you’re leading us into a trap-- before I kill you, you’ll be begging me to.”

He sneers at me. “Oh yeah, like I’m afraid of you.” He looks over at Carter, who is scanning every square millimeter of our path, gun at the ready. “Her, on the other hand? Apophis is stupid. He wants a harsesis for a host, but he forgot one thing. The most dangerous creature in the world is a woman whose child is threatened.”