Jacob Alphabet Soup

[fignewton]

icon by samantilles

My warm thanks to the 24 authors who collaborated to write the 28 ficlets included in our Jacob Alphabet Soup: Acarlgeek, Aelfgyfu, Amaranth Traces, Amberflyant, Beatrice Otter, Colej55, Eilidh, Fig Newton, Gategremlyn, Gravity, Izhilzha, Jmas, Lokei, Merry, Nightspear, Random, Samantilles, Sela, SG_Betty, Telepathicpixie, Thraesja, Traycer, Wonderland, and Yvi. An extra thank-you to Samantilles, Traycer, and Acarlgeek, who stepped up after the last minute to write an extra letter!

Stories here range in rating from G to PG-13, and in size from a few hundred words to over 3,000. Expect spoilers for the entire series through Threads in S8.

The stories are posted here in full, with links to the author's LJ/DWJ for feedback. Readers are strongly encouraged to respond to authors at their own LJs.

Please note that spelling of Selmak/Selmac has been left to the discretion of the individual authors. :)

A is for Airborne

by fignewton

Jacob missed stick time.

He missed the living vibrations that thrummed beneath his fingers as he manipulated the joystick of the F-100D and absorbed information from the CDP with practiced calm. He missed that heart stopping moment when he broke through low-lying scud to see the ground perilously close, disaster only averted by skill and reflexes. And, perhaps most of all, he missed that glorious instant when he tore loose from the clouds' gray embrace to see splendid, vast stretches of lonely sky.

He'd slogged through his share of ground work, to be sure, but he'd never been happier than the time spent in the cramped cockpit of the sturdy fighter, pushing 750 knots, feeling the power at his fingertips. There were times he grieved or raged, but he never doubted he'd made the right choice in serving his country and defending her.

He wanted that for his Sam. He wanted her to experience that surge of freedom at abandoning earth, even as g-forces press her solidly against the seat of her craft. He longed for her to share that awed wonder that left a pilot both exalted and humbled, and he'd never been prouder when she followed him into the Air Force, even if he never quite told her. So if he could pull a couple of strings to get her into the ultimate flight program... Well, what was the harm in that?

He felt more than anger and frustration when she turned down his offer to get her into NASA; her rejection was nothing less than absolute betrayal. He wasn't above trying a little manipulation, but even that didn't convinced her to leave her "deep space telemetry" and follow her father into the splendor of the skies.

Then George Hammond turned up in his hospital room with his little girl, and they presented him with a chance for a new lease on life - even if it did come with a rather unusual tenant written into the contract. Surprise at the sudden reversal of Sam offering him a chance at fresh wonders didn't stop him from seizing the opportunity with both hands.

He was Tok'ra now, with a symbiote parked comfortably against his spine, and that first tumultuous journey through the Stargate had been only the beginning. He watched tunnels form themselves of crystal, stepped from one planet to the other in the space of an eye blink, and used weapons and devices that should have left him gasping with disbelief. It felt like cheating, sometimes, to find himself manipulating crystals on a console and recognize that such unthinking skill had been suddenly hardwired into his brain through no effort of his own. But the voice he carried in the back of his head could bicker and tease and comfort and question in turns, and it surprised him, when he stopped to think about it, how natural Selmac felt to him.

Still, even with all his new experiences, despite the wonders of a thousand different planets and races, he missed stick time. Stargates might be faster, but the thrill just wasn't the same. He knew it was ridiculous to feel earthbound when he stood no alien soil, but he couldn't help it. A flyboy to the bone, he supposed. Even Selmac couldn't change that.

He was fingering a crystal and thinking about the past when Selmac absorbed his wistful emotions and offered images of some of the craft used in the worlds beyond Earth. The hatak and the udajeet intrigued Jacob as Selmac described the massive Goa'uld motherships and their deadly little fighters.

Do the Tok'ra possess such ships? Jacob asked.

No, they do not, Selmac replied. We have never managed to gain a hatak, and the udajeet isn't a true long-range craft that can be sustained without mothership support. We have also recently learned of a new paranoia of the System Lords that renders even the capture of a single craft too dangerous to consider.

Jacob mulled this over, stifling a surge of regret. The udajeet didn't exactly have a CDP to master, but Selmac's memories of flying one in a previous host sounded remarkably similar to his own experiences with various fighter craft back on Earth. Too bad he wouldn't have the chance to try out one of those babies himself.

On the other hand... Selmac let the words linger coyly in Jacob's brain.

Yes?

The Tok'ra do have a few tel'tak and al'kesh - scout ships and mid-range bombers, I think you would call them. They are not quite as small and maneuverable as the udajeet, but you would enjoy piloting them.

Jacob blinked at the images that blossomed in his mind, the knowledge and expertise to fly the ships suddenly there. It was true, as Selmac said, that the tel'tak didn't seem quite as tempting as the two-man udajeet. The larger al'kesh was even less similar, despite its fighting capabilities. But both required careful piloting, and were superbly maneuverable and hyperspace capable....

Hmmmm.

There has been talk of a possible stealth mission to prevent a minor Goa'uld from establishing a beachhead on a planet only a day's travel from Earth, Selmac mentioned. Perhaps we might claim the mission ourselves, after our scheduled investigation of Sokar's movements.

I think I'd like that, Jacob said. Then, Thank you.

And for just a moment, he gripped the crystal in his hands like a joystick, and remembered what it felt like to fly.

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B is for Betrayal

by traycer_

Jacob Carter knew all about betrayal. He had experienced it so often during his lifetime, he was sure he could take insurance out on it. Not to say that he liked the feeling though - the sting... no, the pain that came with it was worse than a gunshot wound in the gut. A bullet wound only hurt for a week or so. Betrayal, on the other hand, hung around for what seemed like forever. A broken heart sometimes never healed.

And still, he had to deal with it on a regular basis, or so it seemed to him. He stared at the coffin being lowered into the ground, his heart bleeding scarlet tears that echoed the soft sobs coming from his daughter, Samantha. She stood next to him in the bleakness of the bright sun, her beautiful young eyes swimming with tears. Jacob wanted to help her, to hold her until she felt whole again, but he was afraid she would push him away, adding more guilt onto his already heaping plate of remorse and denial - too afraid that the act would be more than he could take.

Jacob's son, Mark, stood next to his sister, one arm around her shoulders, hugging her tightly as she cried. There were no tears on Mark's face, but Jacob knew better than anyone that the kid was taking this loss hard. Their mother was dead, killed in a car accident, and Jacob frowned at the anger that surged up inside him. He wanted her back. He loved her so dearly, always anxious to get home to be with her and the kids, never once believing that she would leave him. She was his rock, and he would have sworn she would be there forever.

But now she was gone. He tried to stifle the anger that still raged inside. She had no right to leave him alone with two children who not only blamed him for her death, but now hated him, their own father, with everything they had. It wasn't entirely his fault, he tried to reason with himself. He wasn't even there. Just because she had taken a taxi instead of waiting for him to pick her up...

He coughed quietly, covering up his own sob. It did no good to go over the details now. He had learned a long time ago that the coulda, woulda and shouldas never helped in any situation. All he could do now was try to make peace with his children and move on.

But it would take so much to do that. They hated him. He knew that and to be honest, he understood why. Still, he was their father. That should mean for something. He blinked back the tears that threatened to fall, hating the pain that not only came from his wife's betrayal, but also from his kids.

His cousin came up to him and Jacob looked up, surprised that the service was over. He allowed her to hug him, but he was in no mood to do anything other than nod at the sympathies she offered. She moved on to Sammie and murmured softly, trying her best to help, while Jacob turned to deal with the rest of the mourners, anything to keep from dwelling on the loss of his entire family, of the betrayal of the heart.

*********************

The party was in full swing when Samantha walked in the door. Jacob stared at his daughter, smiling with pride as he watched her make her way through the sea of dress blues. She was walking with a man Jacob assumed to be her commanding officer, but it was his Sammie that captured his eyes. She was definitely beautiful in her uniform and Jacob almost missed hearing what his old friend George Hammond had to say.

"You should be very proud," George said quietly, his eyes also on Sam. Jacob nodded, only too anxious to tell her how much she meant to him. He bounced a little on the balls of his feet, anticipating her happiness when he told her his news. He had worked hard to get Sam this commission, a job he knew that she would kill for.

But then came the crushing feeling of defeat when after all the small talk with Jack O'Neill and George, Sam had turned down the very opportunity he was offering her. He knew that she wanted it. She had always wanted to be on the Space Program, ever since she was a child. Who did she think she was kidding? He stared out the window of the empty office he had found and fumed at the injustice of it all.

She was still mad at him about her mother's death, he decided. Why else would she turn down the opportunity of a life time? Certainly not so she could continue with her job to study "Deep Space Telemetry". He grimaced at that thought, wondering if she would ever tell him what she was really working on.

He heard the door open behind him and he turned toward her, determined not to let her denial hurt him. But he could tell that she knew about his illness, a fact that deflated the wind from his sails in keeping it a secret from her.

It hurt even more to realize that even the fact that he was dying wouldn't sway her to take his help. He could tell she was hurting at the thought of losing her father, but he also knew that her stubborn pride was going to keep her from taking him up on the offer. She was still angry, and Jacob turned away from her, unable to keep his own anger at bay. All that work he put into to get into that program was for nothing.

"I'm sorry Dad," she said sadly.

Yeah, Jacob thought with that old familiar pain in his heart. Right.

*********************

Mark's house was really nice, Jacob thought as the car he was in pulled up to the driveway. Sam stopped the car and turned it off, waiting quietly while Jacob visibly pulled his thoughts together. This was it, he thought as he stared at the house for a moment, ignoring the soft questions coming from the Tok'ra inside his head. Jacob wanted to see his son again, had wanted it for a long time now, but he still had his misgivings. Despite Sammie's words to the contrary, he worried that Mark still hated him. He wasn't sure he could deal with that.

"No need to worry," Selmak said, his soft whispers heard only by Jacob. He had long since gotten used to the voice in his head, but still went to great pains to make sure to hide that fact. He could just imagine what his old buddies would say if they thought he was "talking to himself."

He nodded slightly, his eyes still on the house. Mark had forgiven him, Sammie had said. She even went so far as to say that Mark had forgiven him a long time ago, just too stubborn to be the one to give in. "Like father, like son," she told Jacob with a wry grin on her face. He had tried to look innocent, but Sammie just laughed and hugged him, telling him once again without words that she loved him just as much as he loved her. Her anger and accusations had disappeared somewhere along the road during the past several years, and he was glad to have her back again.

"You ready?" Sam asked with understanding shining in her eyes.

"Yeah," he said gruffly, still a little worried. Sam grinned and got out of the car, leaving Jacob no choice but to follow. They walked up the sidewalk, side by side, Jacob resisting the urge to hang back.

Sammie said all was forgiving, he told himself firmly, then smiled broadly when the door opened and his grandchildren came running out to meet him. The small smile on Mark's face told Jacob that he definitely had a chance, and he vowed not to screw it up this time.

"I believe I mentioned that you had nothing to worry about," Selmak's voice said, just before Sammie whispered, "I told you so."

"Whatever," he said sarcastically, hoping his tone would shut them both up and for once, they took the hint.

"Hey Dad," Mark said, as Jacob and Sam walked into the house with the kids in tow. His son's expression showed his own doubts, but Jacob took matters into his own hands and pulled him into a big hug, holding tightly as Mark hugged him back.

He needed this, Jacob realized, when he finally let go. It was the start of a new beginning for his family. Pain and betrayal behind them, they were now ready to move on and he smiled softly at his kids, who in turn grinned back with goofy smiles. It was like old times, a far cry from the hurt he experienced every time he thought of their hatred, and he relished in the happiness he now felt.

They were a family again and he intended to keep it that way, no matter what.

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C is for Coffee

by fignewton

Jacob swirled the cup with a forlorn air, breathing in the rich, heavy aroma that curled tantalizingly upwards.

But I like coffee, he thought plaintively, suspecting that the words would have a distinct whine if he said them aloud.

You like the effects of caffeine, corrected the dry voice in his head.

No, Jacob said, setting the cup on the crystalline table in his quarters. I like the taste. I like the smell. I like coffee.

The aroma is most pleasing, Selmac conceded. The taste, however, is not.

They're my taste buds, Jacob complained.

Which I now share with you, Jacob.

Five months of being a Tok'ra with no access to coffee. After all, he hadn't come through the Stargate with any personal supplies outside the BDUs they gave him in place of his hospital scrubs. As an unabashed coffee addict, he'd been vaguely surprised when he didn't suffer any withdrawal symptoms in his first days offword. Still, he supposed that a symbiote capable of curing cancer and fixing arthritic knees would have little trouble tweaking his seratonin levels and adjusting his neurotransmitters to avoid caffeine-induced crankiness.

Then that business with the Reetou brought him to Earth again, and George pressed the small, precious package of freshly-ground beans into his hands right before he returned to the Tok'ra base. There weren't any coffemakers on Vorash, of course, but Jacob had little trouble rigging a steam-driven espresso machine with the crystal from a broken ribbon device, a zat, and some creative manipulation of Tok'ra crystal technology.

Coffee.

Selmac was amused at the way Jacob turned that first brewed cup into a ritual, carrying it to the table with an almost reverential air. He spent several moments with his eyes closed in concentration, fingers curled around the cup's warmth, inhaling the strong, heavy scent with deep anticipation. Then he picked up the cup, raised it to George and Sam and the rest of her team in silent salute, and took that first appreciative sip.

But as the bitter brew caressed his taste buds, Selmac's reaction was swift, violent, and absolute: the symbiote hated it.

Jacob nearly choked as he swallowed. He couldn't believe it. He'd eaten all sorts of alien food and drink since he'd become Selmac's host with barely a quiver, and now he was getting a bad reaction to coffee?

I am sorry, Selmac murmured in his mind. I do not wish to deprive you of what is clearly a great pleasure for you, Jacob. But there is something about coffee that I truly dislike.

It's not the caffeine, is it?

Of course not. I can stimulate the same endorphins in your body without the need for you to ingest caffeine. It is the taste, Jacob.

Jacob stared at the barely-touched coffee cup. Maybe you just need to get used to it, he thought hopefully.

Perhaps. The noncommittal answer held little enthusiasm.

Jacob took a second, more tentative sip, trying to project his enjoyment of the taste and all the pleasant memories it evoked. But he could still sense the uneasy prickle in the back of his mind as Selmac actually cringed at the sensation.

Is it really so awful for you? Jacob wondered.

I am afraid so.

How could he enjoy coffee when every sip would make Selmac miserable?

He glanced wistfully at the open bag of ground beans lying next to his makeshift espresso machine. It had been so considerate of George to think of coffee....

And now, Jacob knew, he would never be able to drink it again.

He sighed, giving the coffee cup a last, longing look. I'm going to be impossibly grumpy, he warned Selmac.

Laughter echoed in his brain. That's all right, Jacob, Selmac snorted. You already are.

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D is for Decision

by eilidh17

Fear rushed through Jacob's body, his heart beating erratically with cold panic as it was assailed with conflicting emotions of doubt and fear, disorder and chaos. Faces pressed in all around him. Some he recognized, others were complete strangers, the myriad of expressions ranging from happy and joyous to fearful and hate-filled.

Shuddering, Jacob wrapped his arms around his chest as the cold shock of the flashbacks leached at his body heat to leave him shivering when normally Selmac would have regulated his body temperature. Fatigue had also plagued him lately, and although being blended had taken away the requirement for sleep, Jacob found himself succumbing to the need to rest on occasion.

'I am sorry.'

The sincerity in Selmac's tone haunted Jacob, his friend apologizing more and more frequently as the symptoms of his old age impacted on both of their lives.

'Don't be,' Jacob returned as he pushed the last fading remnants of the flash back away, 'I told you I can handle this.'

'You should not have to when you know there is a choice.'

'Which I rejected,' Jacob chided mentally while his lips played a mirthful smirk. 'You're stuck with me for the long haul here.'

'Samantha and Mark-'

'Will survive without me as they would have done if you weren't around to save my sorry ass all those years ago. Are we going to rehash this whole conversation again? I made my decision and I'm not changing it.'

'You are truly a stubborn person.'

'Taught by the best. Look, I don't have a death wish, if that's what you're thinking. Give me some credit here, Selmac. My decision is purely selfish. The replicator threat is far greater than anything the Goa'uld have thrown at the galaxy in the last few thousand years, and I really believe that we need your experience to help defeat them.'

'You are assuming there is a way to defeat them. The weapon General O'Neill created was pulled from the information contained in the repository of the Ancients and the replicators managed to compromise it quite successfully. I am unsure as to what role you feel I have to play in their defeat?'

'What role?' Jacob baulked. 'You're kidding me, right? It doesn't take rocket science to know that the High Council no longer trusts us. Your loyalty has been in question for several years now, Delek made that quite clear last year. The treaty between Earth and the Tok'ra is nothing more than a piece of paper that tries to keep both sides honest but ultimately fails... and we both know where that failure lies for the most part. Your loyalty to the Tok'ra may be in question but Earth trusts you, and in my book that rates pretty high. The Tok'ra are willing to sit back and watch this war between the replicators and the System Lords rip the galaxy apart. The replicators will win through overwhelming numbers alone and we will be left with an enemy more malevolent than the one they disposed of. All the while the Tok'ra will sit and watch the proceedings.'

'We do not have the numbers to do anything but watch.'

'I know that, but I also know my people... and so do you. If anyone has the capability to stop the replicators then it will be Earth. The subspace transponder technology is crucial if they are to have any way of tracking the replicators in this galaxy. Earth needs you, heck, the whole darn galaxy needs you. If this means me sticking it out with you till the end, then sure, no problems at all. I can be a selfish son of a bitch.'

'You have made your decision it would seem.'

'Now you've got it.'

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E is for The End

by izhilzha

There's a shift, and suddenly he can't feel much of anything. There's something solid and cool under his arms, his chest (possibly why he's not flat on his back on the floor), and an echoing distortion that's messing with his senses, screwing with his information uptake.

He can't breathe, for a long moment.

Sam--Samantha--is next to him, then, asking what happened.

"I don't know," he tells her, and that's the moment he does know.

He gets his feet more or less under himself and stands there while she goes off to check things out. Makes himself take deliberate breaths. Leans on the stone of the weapons console, trying to regain his balance. Trying, trying to get used to the sense of negative space that's short-circuiting everything. It's familiar, but it's been almost six years since he lived like this, and God, it's disturbing.

I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, he catches himself thinking. I should never have asked this of you. Never. It's a lie. He couldn't have done anything else. Selmak would be the first to tell him that. It was only tradition and generosity (and love) that had prompted any other suggestion.

And then weeks of repeated argument, since he could be as stubborn about using their shared gifts to the last moment as Old Wise One could be about sparing the life of his host.

The needs of the many, though; they both understood that. The arguments had ended in shared purpose.

And they were right. They had won.

That soaring thought finds no echo, dropping into the void without even a subconscious response.

Selmak. Please. He hasn't used his name for years, not between the two of them, not in their own head. It does no good now; he's begging an almost-corpse, and he knows better.

It's just so lonely in here.

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F is for Frantic

by colej55

As a father, I wanted my kids to do well in life. I always knew Mark wouldn't follow in his old man's footsteps, but I've got to tell you, I was really surprised when Samantha joined the Air Force. She used to talk about being an astronaut as a kid, but that was just because of all the hype surrounding the moon landings. Besides, after her mother died and she blamed me, I was sure she'd go in a completely different direction than her not so dear old dad. She never ceases to amaze me! Who'd have thought that my kid would earn a doctorate in theoretical astrophysics and then start climbing the ranks in the military?

As a parent, I try not to dwell on all the unpleasant things that can happen to my family. We've already been through enough heartache when the kids lost their mother. Besides, fear will make a man old faster than anything else that I can think of. Selmak's telling me not to worry... that Sam's been trained for just this kind of situation. Who the hell trains for being blown up by one of Anubis' super soldiers? I liked it much better when my kid worked in "deep space radar telemetry".

You know, I never really bought into that ruse -- especially after she and O'Neill were awarded the Air Medal. But I never figured that what she was doing would be more dangerous than riding a rocket into space. I knew it had to be something pretty special for her to give up that particular dream, but traveling from planet to planet through a wormhole being chased by people who've been taken over by hostile, alien, brain-boring snakes? Yeah, right. And I'm gonna spawn wings and fly off into the wild blue yonder without a jet! Selmak is laughing at me -- just in case you're wondering. Even if Sam had told me the truth about her job, I would have thought that "deep space radar telemetry" made a much better cover story than that load of bull.

Now, I'm laid up while Selmak works on my wounds and I don't mind telling you that I'm frantic over Sam. I want to be out there looking for my little girl. Col. O'Neill, Daniel, and Teal'c have promised that they'll find her. What I'm really afraid of is that they'll find parts of her -- strewn about like some broken, discarded toy.

Frantic is a good word. I don't show it because everyone looks up to me not only because of Selmak, but because of my stars. As a military leader, I've learned to suck it up and take it. But as a father, I'm distraught. Sure, Sam is a seasoned soldier with years of combat experience under her belt, but she'll always be my little girl and a father has a right to be terrified when his child is missing and in danger.

Right now, the best I can do is hope that her teammates will find her and bring her back in one piece so I can tell her how much she means to me. I've never been the best father, but all I can think of is having just one more chance to hold her securely in my arms and say, "I love you, Sam. You've done good, kid, and I'm so proud of you."

Yeah, frantic....

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G is for Grape Soda

by sg_betty

Surreal is a point of view.

When Jacob first blended with Selmak, he had frequent surreal moments.

When he suddenly became aware that he was in an alien craft, looking down at an alien world, sharing his body with an alien life form.

When he looked at his food, unfamiliar textures, strange smells, and it didn't seem like food at all.

When a feeling came over him that he wasn't at home, that underground tunnels grown miraculously on command were not where he lived, and yet the minute before, the crowded streets of Washington had seemed like a distant memory.

There was nothing in these shards of time that was different from the second before, only sudden astonishment, an instant when it all seemed beyond belief, incomprehensible. He found himself thinking of things he hadn't thought about in years, of what 'normal' had meant when he was a child, of the fact that in the span of one life, a man could witness both the birth of television and Earthly travel through the galaxy. He wondered how the world could have changed so much, so quickly.

He'd think about what life was like when he was a boy, when his parents thought of airplanes as remarkable, when space travel seemed impossible fiction.

He'd think about clean, tidy houses on orderly streets, the smell of grass and the sound of the lawnmower, the neighbor's pride in his brand new Buick.

He'd think about summer holidays and running outside at dawn to play until dark, carefree.

Baseball in vacant lots, stickball in empty streets. Kick-the-can and swimming in the river.

Barbeques and picnics, fresh corn on the cob, burgers and steak, potato salad and his favorite grape soda.

For Selmak, these were the surreal moments. No previous host had memories like these, memories of utter freedom and plenty. Memories of unquestioned safety. Memories of a childhood without work or fear.

This was not to say the memories Selmak experienced through Jacob were free of conflict. Among his earliest were of 'rationing' and his father's absence, of fathers of friends who never returned. But this rationing was more of an inconvenience than genuine hardship, and the war that kept his father from home was a distant and incomprehensible thing to the small boy whom Jacob had been.

Later memories showed Selmak that many Tauri children were not as lucky , then or now, and that war always seemed to exist in some form on the planet, but Selmak found Jacob's experience remarkable, none the less. Remarkable and utterly surreal.

It's all in the point of view.

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H is for Hebron

by amaranthtraces

Jacob wanted to be angry.

He was really trying.

He'd be successful if it wasn't for a certain parasite and its annoying tendency to meddle with his brain chemistry.

"I heard that."

"Damn it, Selmak," thought Jacob. "You should be angry too." He walked through the open doorway and slammed his fist against the crystalline wall of his chamber. It gave a distinctly unsatisfying thump.

"Calm down."

"Anise knew. She knew all along. She deliberately made an innocent man host to a Goa'uld."

"We don't know that."

"Did you miss the way she was looking at us? Why else did they send us away on that stupid, pointless, and conveniently timed mission?"

Selmak's only response was to send another wave of calm through his body.

He shook his shoulders, trying to physically rid himself of the sensation. "There's no way she ever believed Tanith had been converted to the ways of the Tok'ra. They're lying to us."

Images flashed through Jacob's mind. Conversations falling silent as they approached. Non-critical missions. Too-quick smiles. Behind the images, Selmak's consciousness pressed through, "I know."

"Oh," Jacob said aloud.

"I'm sorry." Jacob reached back and massaged his neck. Selmak's body rippled appreciatively under his fingers. "I just feel for Hebron. Trapped in his own body, forced to watch, helpless and oppressed."

There was a pause before Selmak replied. "Do I make you feel that way?"

"It's not the same thing."

"That's not an answer, dear friend."

Jacob sat heavily on the edge of his sleeping platform. "Sometimes. Maybe a little. But it's really not the same thing."

"You have kept that from me."

"Nice to know I have a few secrets left."

"I have sensed your discomfort in certain situations and have allowed you to maintain control even when the other Tok'ra would expect to be speaking directly to me. But I never fully understood the reason for your feelings."

"I just don't like being out of control." Jacob was standing again and began pacing the room. "I'm getting used to it. But my point is that if I have trouble with you in my head - someone who respects me, someone I like, someone who keeps me calm so that I don't start a riot - if I feel it to some degree, for Hebron it must be a million times worse."

The pacing wasn't helping, so Jacob sat down once more. "I couldn't even..." He sighed. "I couldn't even imagine."

"The High Council undoubtedly saw it as a no-lose opportunity. We would either acquire a new ally or gain a method feeding false information to the Goa'uld."

"You agree with them?"

"I never doubted the High Council until I blended with you."

Jacob couldn't help but smile. "That's not an answer, my friend."

"How is it that a man with your strong military background has such a problem with authority?"

"I don't have a problem with authority. I have a problem with people doing the wrong thing."

"When Tanith's usefulness ends, I am confident that the High Council will remove him and free Hebron."

"Who, in the meantime, is left to suffer untold horrors."

"We cannot change what's been done."

Jacob swung his legs up and lay back on his sleeping platform, draping one arm over his eyes and finally embracing the calm Selmak was exuding. "That doesn't mean I have to like it."

"No, we certainly don't."

Sleep edged closer, welcomed by both. Pointless as it was, the mission had still been long and tiring.

"Selmak?"

"Yes?"

"I'm glad I have you in my life. And my head."

"As am I."

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I is for Individual

by sela21k

Individuality: The set of characteristics that somebody recognizes as belonging uniquely to himself or herself and constituting his or her individual personality for life.

"Individual..." Jacob repeated quietly to himself as he closed the dictionary.

Individual...echoed in his head in the voice of someone he did/didn't know.

"That's the problem, isn't it?" Selmak prodded gently.

Jacob sighed. "Individual...for life. But not anymore"

"In a way, yes." Selmak agreed. "We are together for life."

"We." Jacob whispered. "We."

"Yes, we." Selmak confirmed. "In your language, a first person plural personal pronoun used to refer to the speaker and at least one other person."

Jacob smiled wanly. "You sound like my fifth grade English teacher."

"I have been many things, including a teacher," Selmak replied.

"I", Jacob repeated woefully.

"First person singular pronoun used by the individual to refer to himself or herself."

"Individual."

"Yes."

"Singular."

"Yes."

"Am I, still?" Jacob asked plaintively. "An individual? With my own thoughts and feelings? Am I still singular?"

He could feel Selmak smile gently. "The very fact that you can ask that question proves that you are."

Jacob shook his head. "I'm not so sure." he said. "After all I'm alone in this room but yet not alone in my head. You're always going to be there." He sighed. "A man does need some private space -- especially from the women in his life."

Selmak laughed. "The reason you think of me as a woman is because you still think of me as my former host. I have been both male and female."

"Ok, see that's what I mean. I didn't need to know that." Jacob rubbed his temples feeling a headache coming on. "Too much information, in my head with no way to filter it out."

Realizing the headache was the result of emotional tension, Selmak decided against trying to ease it. It was important to let the host experience the full extent of what they were feeling in order to allow them to accept all that the blending could offer at their own pace. Right now Jacob was struggling with what he perceived to be his loss of individuality, identity, self. It happened with all blendings and it was perhaps the most difficult part for the host.

"There are ways for us to establish boundaries," Selmak assured him gently. "And you will learn them. Our blending is still new, days old. Give yourself time."

"Myself..."

"First person reflexive pronoun, used when the object of a verb or preposition refers to the same person as the subject of the verb - "

"Ok, whoa!" Jacob laughed. "I get it, I get it." His headache was started to ease. "So, there are ways that I can still keep to myself to myself? There are some very personal...intimate...private - "

"Yes," Selmak assured him firmly. "You can block off any memories, thoughts or subjects you want to keep to yourself and I will respect that. You will also find there are memories I have that I want to keep to myself as well."

"We can do that?" Jacob asked relieved. "And you won't be ...

"Offended? Not at all." Selmak replied. "Every individual needs to have their space. Especially in their own head."

Jacob let out a deep breath. His headache was gone now. "Then I think I'm going to be ok." he said laying the dictionary aside.

"Yes," Selmak said fondly. "You are."

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J is for Jack

by amberflyant

We'd just got our asses kicked by Anubis, and seeking refuge on the SGC Alpha base, I have to admit I was darn shocked to see so many of the rebel Jaffa camped there. While I may have been shocked, my fellow Tok'ra was disgusted, and so it started. Ping! Round one and trouble was instantaneous.

Artok and Ocker eyed each other, centuries of hatred and mistrust between our races seething. Brat'tec and I waited to see how it would pan out, and predictably, it all went very poorly. A no nonsense commander, Jack stepped in and sorted it quickly, but still the animosity crackled like electricity in the air.

While everything seemed to be under control for awhile, they ended up at each other's throats once more, and they oozed animosity. The fallen Tok'ra's funeral had been heart breaking for us, we'd lost so many in the assault, and Ocker reacted poorly to Artok's question. The Tok'ra is a race steeped in ancient tradition, and we demand silence as a mark of respect during our rites. But, Artok couldn't have known any of this, how could have he? On some level, Ocker must have realized this to be the truth, but still over reacted. Many of his friends had died that day and his emotions were raw.

The two men fought, and yet another layer of hatred was added to tiers of loathing. Jack was pissed by the commotion, and in his inimitable style, told 'em to can it. He does this very well, and the look of annoyance he shot me grated on my nerves. He is right though, Ocker is a problem. He is well suited to the role the Tok'ra gave him. He displays a particularly pugnacious personality, and I think his host must weary of his bigotry and tirades. I know I sure as hell would.

Selmac sees no problem though and he thrives on the adrenalin. In my younger days I did as well, but not now, and I needed a break from them all. I found myself a quiet place and hid from the bull shit. Let them fight it out without me there to hold metaphorical hands.

An upturned crate made the perfect makeshift seat, and I watched the Jaffa warriors go through their paces. They really are exquisite fighters and I found myself mesmerized by their training. Graceful, these men move as one, but naturally Selmac chided me for my whimsical thoughts. I get why. There are literary centuries of animosity there, and I know there's no point in my arguing with him. For some reason, this only makes me feel even lonelier. It's a big universe and we are such a tiny part of it. What hope is there really? Deep shaky breaths began to wrack my body and I should have gone into the warmth, but I chose to stay seated on the crate and watch warriors of the Free Jaffa fight and defend.

Selmac tersely interrupted my thoughts while reminding me my own people needed help, but for once, I tuned his bitchin' out. I didn't think it was possible for the day to get any worse, but the gaping hole in my left thigh changed my mind. Who knew a staff blast frying your flesh could hurt so much? I know Selmac is busily healing it, but it still hurts like a bitch, and my temper is only passable.

The Jaffa are silent now and I wonder why. Selmac snipes that he doesn't care. I was concentrating so hard on what the warriors were trying to achieve, I suppose I didn't hear the faint rustling of footsteps. Not a good way for a soldier to keep alive, but I was distracted... things were troubling me.

Through the silence I heard the sounds of a soft sigh. Turning my head towards the noise, I thought about ignoring whoever it was, but that isn't really an option. There was an icy feel to the wind, but I wasn't sure if that was the real reason I felt my teeth chatter. This planet has un-nerved me the moment I fell through the 'gate, but I can't pinpoint why.

Despite my inclination to ignore the person wanting my attention, I look up, glad that I did.

It's Jack O'Neill.

This is one interruption I find oddly calming, and truth be known, I've been looking forward to talking to him. I was beginning to wonder if I should go find him, but he came looking for me, and that pleases me more than I care to admit. We are more than just friends now; he is like a son to me.

Wasn't always that way. I clearly remember the day George introduced me to this brash, insubordinate subordinate, and I wasn't impressed. If O'Neill had been under my command, colonel or not, he'd have been peeling potatoes every time he shot off that smart mouth of his.

George Hammond and I have very different styles of command though, and he saw what I didn't. He saw a man worth more than the everyday spit and polish. Luckily, I am man enough to admit I was very wrong to ever doubt the integrity Colonel O'Neill shows his command.

Jack looks at me very carefully before he sits down. No talk, no excuses, he just nods and sits. A feeling of warmth wraps around me now, and my teeth finally stop chattering. This has been a god awful day, and I hear the fatigue in Jack's voice.

"Hey, hows the leg?"

"It's better. One of the perks of being a Tok'ra" As I say this I feel his body stiffen.

"If you say so. What was all that crap at the funeral?"

He looks at me, and I shrug. He'd never understand anyway, so I go for the Hail Mary pass.

"I wouldn't read too much into it."

"Why do you guys have to be so dang...?"

Still, Jack needs to understand what he can't accept. This is an infuriating man really.

"Cranky?" Finally, I get a smile from him, and I decide to press my point home. "It's complicated... symbiote and host. The blending of two personalities does sometimes have its drawbacks." As I thought, he makes no attempt to hide his revulsion from me.

"Tell me about it."

He places his hands on top of his thighs, and his knuckles are clenched and white. Clearly this is a topic that stills bugs the crap outta him, but I have to continue. Have to try and make this right.

"Jack, there's no denying you had a bad experience. But if you hadn't had a symbiote implanted..."

"Ah! Please, don't use that term, huh?"

Jack's eyes are very hard now, and I know I am pressing an issue he doesn't want to discuss...ever.

Selmac is seething now, and he is telling me this pup deserves a smack. Well, Jack O'Neill is a lot of things, but a pup isn't one of them. And, I am also disinclined to smack a man that could kill me with a butter knife. Still, he is annoying me, and he needs to be told the hard truth.

"If you hadn't been blended with Kanan, you'd be dead right now. By the way, if I hadn't become a Tok'ra, I'd be dead too. Kanan broke one of our highest laws. He used you. I can tell you that even Selmac was sickened by it and there's no way he could have hidden those feelings from me. But Kanan did something terribly wrong while trying to do the right thing. You can't forgive him for that?"

Silence. Then he whispers, "No."

Now, I am more sad than pissed. "It's a shame a true blending never really occurred. You might be able to understand the Tok'ra a little better." Then he cuts to the chase.

"Oh, I think I understand 'em just fine."

These words haunt me. I have to know, so I ask.

"You don't like us much any more, do you?" The feeling of ice is in the air again, and damned it to hell if my teeth don't start chattering again. My legs hurt, but more than that, my heart hurts. I don't know if I want to hear the answer to my question. He looks up at me and shrugs.

"I like you."

He likes me? God almighty, maybe I will slap him after all! I could go on and explain why we mistrust the Jaffa. I could try and get through that stubborn Irish head of his that for 2,000 years, every time a Tok'ra died at the end of a staff weapon, a Jaffa was holding it. We just got our asses kicked by an army of Jaffa loyal to Anubis. But, why bother. Jack O'Neill will never understand the Tok'ra, but that's okay, he understands me, and I can live with that.

I will always offer my hand in friendship and I can only pray that he will continue to take it. We have that much in common.

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K is for Kohl

by thraesja

"You've got to be kidding me!" Jacob winced as the pilot of the tel'tak turned to peer at him. He'd spoken aloud. Again. A month wasn't nearly long enough for him to be used to talking to someone else entirely inside his head. And he really didn't want the extra attention at the moment. He shrugged an apology and the woman turned back to her console.

"I assure you," Selmak answered. "I am not."

"I can't wear this." He held up the offending garment, wrinkling his nose. "It's ridiculous."

"It is expected."

"Why didn't you tell me it would be this bad?"

"You didn't ask."

Jacob snorted. Fair enough. And he supposed Selmak would be used to skirts. As a species, Jacob found that even male Tok'ra had pretty strange taste in wardrobes. As for Selmak, she'd...he'd...she'd been a woman for quite some time.

"Will you please pick a pronoun? You're driving me mad."

"You don't mind if I call you a he?"

"I am in a male body."

"Believe me, I'd noticed," Jacob said. "Are you sure you don't mind? You've spent so much time in female hosts..."

"Call me whatever makes you comfortable. Just get dressed."

Jacob sighed. With another glance at the pilot and a curse for Tok'ra views on privacy, he pulled off his tunic and leggings and stepped into the skirt, quickly wrapping it around his waist. It came maybe halfway to his knees. He could actually remember having an argument with a teenaged Sam over a hemline this short. He had to clamp down on the thought before his worry got to him again. "He really expects his court to wear this crap?"

"Zipacna is not so powerful that he can be considered to have a court, though that may be changing." Selmak was silent as Jacob pulled the matching shirt--for lack of a better term--over his head. "There is a mirror inside the storage cabinet. We can use it to apply the kohl."

"The what?" Jacob was really hoping he'd misunderstood. He opened the door and found a small pot of the black substance he remembered from his days in the Middle East. "You want me to wear makeup?"

"I want you to look the part. You've served in your military's covert operation forces. Surely you've had to disguise yourself from time to time?"

Yeah, but this was a far cry from camo face paint. And he'd never dressed in what on any normal planet would be considered drag. Although, there was that one time in Kuwait with the burqa...never mind. He really didn't need to remember that at the moment. He tugged at his hem. Then again, at least the burqa had covered his thighs and knees. Not to mention his--"Alright, how do I do this?"

"It would be easier if you let me do it."

Jacob considered arguing--after all, he was going to be trapped on the sidelines for days while they fulfilled their mission--but he figured they didn't have time for him to work out the great female mystery of eyeliner. With what even he had to admit was ill grace, he let Selmak take control.

Selmak was quick and efficient. Jacob's eyes soon stared back at him, fully rimmed in black. "I can't believe I agreed to this."

"The information we obtain may prove valuable. Amonet, Apophis, and Klorel have all disappeared, one by one. The Tok'ra must learn of their fates if we are to determine who will soon wield their power. It is a dangerous assignment for your first mission as Tok'ra, but as your face is completely unknown..."

"I know. I just wish we'd been able to get a hold of Earth. They've dealt with Apophis before, Garshaw said."

"As have we." Selmak dabbed at a smudge on the tip of Jacob's nose. "Your daughter is most likely quite well, Jacob. There are many reasons the chappa'ai might not have engaged. Most of them are benign."

"It's the ones that aren't that have me worried." Now Selmak was fussing with smudges Jacob couldn't even see. "Enough already, we look fine." Fine enough for Jacob to risk a dishonourable discharge if he'd still been military, he thought ruefully.

"Our manner of dress might warrant your dismissal from your military forces?" Selmak asked.

"Well, no...Yes...Maybe." Jacob sighed. "It's complicated. Can I please have my body back while I can?"

Selmak returned control without further comment, though Jacob was sure the silence wouldn't last long.

The pilot turned to look back at them. "Selmak," she said, in that reverberating voice Jacob still hadn't gotten used to. "We have arrived. They expect you to transport down momentarily."

Jacob nodded. "Thanks."

He started heading for the rings but was interrupted when Selmak said, "Wait. We've forgotten our hat."

"Hat?"

"In the box beside the storage cabinet."

With some trepidation, Jacob opened the box in question.

"You've got to be kidding me!"

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L is for Loyalty

by merrykk

You are melded to her--him--Selmak--but the thoughts don't overwhelm you at first, not for the first two days. The emotions do, and Selmak apologizes and says that it is a relief to have the strength to feel again. You wonder about gender differences, and yet something that might be Selmak tells you that you're a prejudiced fool. Yes, that must be Selmak; your own critic is much harsher, as it should be after such a life as you've led.

Then, in the quiet of night, your words have prompted the thoughts to flow from Selmak to you. You expect, for some reason, to see them like a film. Instead, they are sharp like your own memories, flashes of emotion and thoughts that labeled them in the moment and in every reliving thereafter.

You feel Selmak's beginning as if it were a rebirth, the gasping breath of a newborn come to grips with the fact that it is no longer secure in womb-like comfort. But Selmak's comfort was in godhood and armies, the cruel hand of the Goa'uld incarnate. Yet like a newborn, the new world is to be seized with every last strength. You feel what Selmak felt then, a sudden loyalty to destroying the womb where he was cradled at such a high cost.

You have a moment to catch your breath, to think on your past days in this new life and think that you always hated politics. This new loyalty is Selmak's, and you does not understand what it means.

*No* Selmak says. *No*

And you know you got the wrong message.

*My compatriots are younger, and they forget both themselves and me. They forget that bureaucracy will destroy us. They forget that we should be loyal to an idea only, that all sentient beings deserve life, and that few costs are too high to pay for that greatest of freedoms. And they forget that I will not tarry to remind them, now that I am truly alive again.*

You think that maybe it will not go across so well. But this loyalty you understand, and for the first time you are one with Selmak.

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M is for Major Matt Mason

by samantilles

"I'll be back in a minute!" Jacob watched his daughter dash out of her lab at the sound of an unauthorized incoming wormhole, and suddenly finding himself bored, he began gazing about the room.

Off on a shelf, out of the way, he spotted something he never thought he'd see again. Though battered and his paint well worn, Major Matt Mason stood guard over Samantha's lab. *Who is that supposed to be?* Selmak questioned, and Jacob released a chortle of a laugh. He took the action figure from the perch on which he was standing, holding him lightly in his hands.

"Major Matt Mason. Well, I'll be." The memory of the day he brought it home flashed for Selmak to see.

Sam entered the room just then, spying her father. "You know, I told you I wanted a Barbie Doll." She gave him a huge grin.

"She was never good enough for you kiddo. All she did was sit around and wait for some guy to pick her up. Now, Matt Mason on the other hand, he was a real role model." He carefully replaced the relic back on the shelf. Sam crossed her lab and joined him at his side. "You remember the day I brought him home for you? I couldn't get you to stop crying for the life of me when you opened that package. You were sobbing about how none of your friends would let you play with them with a stupid astronaut doll. I couldn't believe how upset you were."

Sam took Matt and fiddled with him for a moment. "Mom made me pack him when I went off to space camp that summer. She promised me all the cool kids at space camp would have Major Matt Mason's friends and I could play with them instead."

"I don't remember that at all." Jacob murmured.

"You were away then." She whispered back. Any louder and it would have been accusatory. "But she was right. He went with me everywhere after that. He was the poor unfortunate victim of gravity experiments and my lucky charm during exams. Man, did I get some strange glances in graduate school with an ancient astronaut sitting on the desk."

The room fell silent for a moment. "I knew you liked him eventually, but I never knew he was that important to you."

"He's even been to Abydos. I tucked him away in my vest pocket on my very first trip through the gate. Mind you, just hours before on our first meeting, I had smart mouthed the Colonel about my playing with my Matt Mason doll. When I packed my bag, I just knew he had to come with me, just like all those years at space camp." She paused for a moment before giving her dad a grin. "It's crazy, but when I was stuck in that death glider after destroying Apophis's ship and I caught the sight of Earth above me, I wished I had him with me then, so that Major Matt Mason would actually have been in space."

Jacob choked on a guffaw of his own, trying to hold back the side splitting laughter threatening to come out. "Selmak just asked me why the doll would care one way or the other-" He paused to gulp air. "And why you think bringing a doll would have been strategically a good move given the limited space you have in your gear. Obviously trinkets are not well known among the Tok'ra."

The reminiscing was cut off by another blaring siren and Sergeant Harriman's voice on the loudspeaker calling the Carters to the gateroom.

***

Sam's tears flowed freely on that lonely afternoon. Her father's funeral had been a quiet affair, though a larger ceremony at the SGC was due to commence shortly. She held Major Matt Mason tightly in her hands, rubbing the fading spacesuit with her thumb, providing more comfort than any other plastic doll could ever give. Major Matt Mason was everything she loved about her father; his ardent encouragement for her successes in life, their shared passion for space and science, and an unending loyalty to their country and each other. She held onto the doll for what seemed to be years as she pulled enough courage to face other people, and like the first mission to Abydos, she slipped him into her pocket and carried him with her.

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N is for Netu

by gategremlyn

Sometimes hell is more than a place.

~::~

"Daniel, your eyes are so swollen and your pupils so dilated, there's no possible way you can see straight. Just stay right here until you're only seeing one of of us. Maybe if you ask nicely, Jacob will loan you Selmac for a few minutes--long enough to get rid of those bruises. I'm going to see if I can get Carter to make this tub go faster." With that Jack left the two of them alone.

Jacob and Daniel sat side by side in the empty cargo bay. After a few hours of much needed rest, everyone was doing their best to put Netu far behind them, everyone except Jacob and Daniel. Jacob was under orders from his daughter to stay put and rest or there'd be no trip to Alaska. Jack had told Daniel he was still high on the blood of Sokar and couldn't be trusted to walk in a straight line let alone be around anything technical or important. So the two of them tried not to look out of place and useless as the rest of the crew scrabbled to get them home.

"Jack's right, you look terrible," Jacob said looking over at the battered man slouched beside him. "You look like I feel. I understand the dilated pupils, but how the hell did you get not one but two black eyes?"

"Apothis backhanded me when he was done with the memory device." Daniel put his hand on his right cheek and rubbed absently. "I wouldn't tell him where Sha're's child was and he was pretty pissed. I think he wanted to do more but he ran out of time."

"And the other one?" Jacob asked.

Daniel explained, "I needed the guard to hit me so I could get our communicator back."

"You needed the guard to hit you? Run that by me again, Daniel?"

"I punched him in the stomach. When he hit me I fell sideways into the table where the device was. I grabbed it on the way down."

Jacob nodded. Jack was right, Daniel was still high hours later, or he had a concussion. Why else would he describe being punched in the face so matter of factly? Daniel looked exhausted. Jacob remembered that both Sam and Jack had passed out once Apothis had returned them to the cell. Daniel's return, right as Aldwin detonated the bomb, meant that Daniel hadn't had that luxury. Instead, he'd helped create the explosion that had opened the door of their prison, he'd almost carried Jack to the ring room, and he'd kept up a steady dialog through the communicator with Teal'c on the teltak. He hadn't wavered even once. Daniel was made of tough stuff. "Good thinking."

"Thanks."

"I mean it, Daniel, you kept your wits about you and got us out of there. Thank you."

"I only got back what I'd been stupid enough to lose in the first place. If I hadn't been so busy baiting Apothis, no one would have noticed the device. That's when they took it."

"They would have searched you eventually. Don't worry about it. And baiting Apothis? Yeah, I understand that."

Daniel didn't answer and the two of them settled into a more comfortable silence.

After a few minutes when the only sound in the room was the hum of the engines, Daniel asked softly, "What did you see, Jacob, when they put the memory device on you?"

"They didn't use it on me, Danny, remember? By the time you guys showed up they were just waiting for me to die. You and your team really are nuts, by the way." Jacob shifted uncomfortably at the thought. Bynar wasn't waiting for him to die. He would have tortured him again and again, drawing out his death, demanding information about Tok'ra operatives and Earth's defenses that he could never surrender. The arrival of SG1 had only delayed the inevitable.

"I'm sorry, Jacob." Daniel wasn't looking at him. He stared at blank wall across from them instead. "I wish we'd gotten there sooner."

"You shouldn't have been there at all," Jacob snapped with more force than he intended. "When we get back to Earth, I'll be having words with George about it."

"General Hammond wasn't--"

"--the only one," Jacob finished. "I'll also be having words with the Tok'ra council." He tried to take the sting out of his words. As irritated as he was at the rescue, he knew the reasons behind it--and considering the outcome he was grateful, too. He also knew that Daniel, least of all, deserved his wrath. "Martouf's already hiding on the bridge so I won't yell at him. He knows if he's driving, I'll save the chewing out until later." Daniel didn't smile or look over at him. He sat with his knees drawn up and his hands dangling between them.

"What did you see, Daniel?" Jacob finally asked. He didn't know if Daniel would tell him. They weren't close, the two of them. They were acquaintances more than anything. He knew about Daniel from what Sam had told him, and no doubt Daniel knew about him the same way. They'd worked together and come to respect one another but it wasn't a friendship. He didn't want to pry, but he didn't want Daniel to sit there and suffer either, not if he could prevent it. He knew that eventually Jack and the rest of SG1 would corner him and make him talk, but if he could ease the way, well, what else did he have to do for the next hour of so?

All the other members of the mission had shared their experiences on planet somehow. Jacob had overheard Sam and Martouf talking about Jolinar. Jacob and Sam had talked at length about her torture and the painful memories it had reawakened for both of them. He knew they'd be discussing it again, maybe when they got to Alaska. He also knew Jack had told Daniel about his vision of Charlie. But he didn't recall Daniel telling anyone what he'd seen.

"I saw Jack." When the voice came, Jacob was almost surprised to hear it. Of all the things he'd been expecting, that wasn't it. He thought the memory device might have picked up on Daniel's memories of his parents, or worse yet, his memories of Sha're, but Jacob couldn't see how any memory of Jack would be painful for Daniel. The two of them were firm friends. They bickered constantly and even fought on occasion, but Jacob couldn't think of an instance where Daniel and Jack had been at odds with one another, at least not something that could be considered useful as torture. That was one more thing to talk to Sam about on their vacation.

"He said he trusted me, that he believed in me," Daniel continued in the same dull voice.

"I'm not following you."

Daniel took a deep breath. "In the vision I was looking at the things Kasuf had sent me from Abydos after the funeral." Daniel took another breath. "When Jack came into the room he asked me how I was doing. Then he said he believed in me. That's when I knew it wasn't Jack."

Jacob thought it over, trying to figure out why Daniel would be so upset about his vision. "You know Jack trusts you, don't you? Even if he's not sure about finding Sha're's child. He believes in you as much as he believes in anybody."

"I know," Daniel said. "I don't expect him to believe me right now, but he'll come around eventually."

"Then what is it, Daniel? What's really bothering you?" Jacob asked.

"Like I told Jack, it's hard. I loved her so much, Jacob, and when she died... How she died..." Daniel bowed his head. "I was holding the cup Sha're and I drank from at our wedding. I saw it just as clearly as I see you." Daniel held out his hand as if reaching for something only he could see. "Apothis called Tea'c the murder but he wasn't, he was only doing what he had to do. It was me. It was my fault. And I'll never forgive myself that I--" His voice broke, leaving the sentence unfinished. His hand fell into his lap.

"You never will forgive yourself, Daniel. Believe me, I know." He also knew that it was the drug loosening Daniel's tongue, making him vulnerable and letting him say things he wouldn't normally say. Jacob thought briefly about letting the conversation drop, but in this case he felt uniquely qualified to speak. He understood Daniel's pain because he'd been there. The circumstances were different, of course, but the guilt and the grief were same. For Jacob his wife's death was a long time ago, and an ache that never went away. For Daniel the wound was raw and bleeding. "I know how it is, Daniel. We let other things get in the way of time we should be spending with the people we love. I know I did. Sam relived the day her mother died when Apothis tortured her, did you know that? Did you know, Daniel, that my wife died because I didn't pick her up at the airport and she died in a cab on the way home?"

"But you couldn't have known," Daniel insisted. He pulled away from his own hurt hearing Jacob's. "It was an accident, that's all. Jacob, Sam knows that. She knows you--"

Jacob stopped the flow of words by putting his hand on Daniel's knee. "I know. And I know Sam knows. But what we know in our heads and what we know in our hearts, those are sometimes very different things, Daniel." He watched Daniel blink as the realization set in. "You couldn't have known, either," Jacob continued. "It was a tragedy the way my wife died. If I had gone to the airport to pick her up she might still be alive today." Daniel was looking at him, tears in his eyes. "It was a tragedy the way Sha're was taken. If you hadn't opened the Stargate, if you'd been there when Apothis showed up.... Nobody can predict the future, Daniel, and nobody can change the past."

"I know." Daniel pulled himself up until the his head rested on the wall. "But what we know in our heads and what we know in our hearts.... It's just so damn painful. Sometimes I don't know if I can make it to the next day or even the next hour. If it weren't for the fact that Sha're told me to find the boy, I'd be gone."

Jacob cleared his throat. "Gone?" He hoped Daniel didn't mean--

"Gone. On a dig somewhere far away. I even thought about staying on Abydos to be near Sha're."

"You can't bury yourself when you bury your wife," Jacob said gruffly. "You can't run away." He'd almost done the same thing. He'd thrown himself into his job so that he didn't have time to think. It hadn't worked for him and it wouldn't work for Daniel.

Daniel looked over at him. "Can I ask you a personal question? You don't have to answer it."

"Ask," Jacob said. "If I don't want to answer it, I won't."

It took a long time for Daniel to continue. "Why did you never remarry?"

The question took Jacob aback. "Remarry?" He'd never really given it any thought. He'd just been too busy to consider--

"I'm sorry," Daniel said, cutting off his thoughts. "It's too personal a question."

"No, Daniel, I don't mind answering it." Jacob frowned, working out an explanation. "No one's ever asked me that before, that's all, and I had to think about it for a minute." He took a deep breath. "I didn't remarry because I was too busy raising my kids and moving up the ranks in the Air Force."

Daniel wanted more. "Only that?"

He should have known that Daniel wouldn't accept the easy answer. Finally, he gave the honest answer. "I didn't remarry because I loved my wife too much. She was my whole world, Danny, not just as the mother of my children but as a person who stood by me. She didn't take any crap from me either. Sam reminds me of her that way. And she was a force to be reckoned with. Do you know she had a doctorate in biology? Another thing Sam gets from her mother, her brains, because she didn't get them from me." Jacob paused to think about the woman who'd been his life. He'd been lost without her. Even as he went about the business of living, a part of him had died that day. He cleared his throat. "She was also the best damn kisser I ever knew--not that I knew many."

Daniel chuckled. "The day Jack and Sam came to Abydos, Sha're kissed me in the pyramid right in front of everybody, just before I went to the cartouche room. I think she wanted me to know where I belonged."

They settled again into silence, each thinking about the woman he loved.

"I didn't remarry, Daniel, because I could never forgive myself for what had happened. Not for a long, long time."

"Jacob?"

"What, Daniel?"

"Does it ever get any easier?"

Jacob wanted to give Daniel the flippant answer and tell him that with time, everything would be fine. But he couldn't. Daniel deserved better from him. Daniel had gone to hell for him--and he was still there in a hell of his own making. "No, Daniel, it never gets easier. There's not a day goes by I don't think of my wife--not a day I don't blame myself for her death. I still miss her. But you learn to deal with it, and you learn to move on. You learn to find a way to give your life purpose. You've got people around you who care for you--let them." His voice cracked and he stopped.

A few minutes later he heard Daniel sigh. "Are you okay, Daniel?"

"No, Jacob, but like you, I will be. I will be."

"Are you still seeing double?"

"I was seeing triple, but don't tell that to Jack. Seeing double is actually an improvement." Daniel smiled. Jacob could see the gratitude in his eyes.

"Well, how about us two old widowers go find out where the action is? We should probably rescue Aldwin before Teal'c throws him off the ship."

"And if Jack's trying to help Sam, she'll be ready to push him out of the airlock." Daniel stood carefully, keeping a hand on the hull. "Will you keep me from running into the walls?" he asked.

"Sure. You gonna hold me up as we walk?"

Daniel nodded. He held out a hand and helped Jacob get to his feet. "Thank you," he said simply.

"Anytime, Daniel. Anytime."

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O if for Officious

by acarlgeek

Obnoxious also fit the bill occasionally, but the supercilious bossiness of the Tok'Ra was grating almost all of the time, while the obnoxiousness only applied some of the time, like right now.

Jacob was extremely glad that Selmak was older, wiser, more patient and plain more pragmatic than most of the other Tok'Ra, but even Selmak occasionally displayed that overbearing "we-know-best" attitude, along with a mental pat on the head and unspoken "run along and play until we grown-up Tok'Ra have finished working". The hypocrisy of such an attitude when the Tok'Ra were assuming that the SGC, specifically SG-1, would implement their plans like obedient offspring was what flared Jacob's annoyance into obdurate ire, "No, Selmak and I will go, and we will have to explain the entire situation to George before the SGC will agree to assist us."

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O is for Oncology

by samantilles

The last thing Jacob Carter wanted was to die alone in an oncology ward. As his body worked to kill itself, he spent many hours in brooding silence lying alone, unable to concentrate on a book or the television. A single thought kept him preoccupied; I can’t die alone.

When the Oncology ward released him, he went home to a large empty house whose memories of laughter and love haunted him. Jacob swore he heard the patter of footsteps in the late evening and always expected his little girl to run around the corner and leap into his lap.

He wrote a hundred imaginary letters to his son and made just as many imaginary phone calls to his daughter, but too stubborn to ever put his feelings down on paper or say them out loud. He was down to weeks, according to his doctor, but it was the days of silence and loneliness that nearly killed him.

Then George Hammond called out of the blue and told him that his precious little girl won the Air Force Medal, inviting him to the ceremony in DC. His doctors would never have let him travel, if they had known, but he saw this as his chance to reconnect with his daughter. He pulled out his dress blues, carefully aligned his decorations and mulled over polishing his shoes while the conversation with his daughter he must have rewrote itself in his head over and over again.

He took a gamble, packing up the house. He used every connection he had, calling NASA and the Air Force Space Command. He put his house in order and left for Washington with a small truck of furniture on its way to Colorado Springs, the letter he finally wrote to Mark in his bag, and hope in his heart that he wouldn’t die alone.

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O is for Options

by traycer_

He could say no. He had other options to consider. Of course, the only other alternative was death, but still, willingly having a parasitic being in his head was a little hard to comprehend. Jacob Carter stared at his daughter, Sam, trying to make sense of the whole thing, while George Hammond spoke to him of the dangers, and the possible pitfalls of giving in.

"The Tok'ra can, and will, take over whenever it's needed, but they don't believe in taking complete control," George said, his tone sincere. "So don't worry about that."

Jacob grinned wryly at that statement. That was the least of his worries. "Let me get this straight," he finally said, truly trying to understand what it was they were asking him to do. "You want me to go to this other planet, let some snake worm its way into my head, then sit back and let it go about its business?" Sam had a guilty look on her face and George nodded, but as bad as it sounded, Jacob knew that he had no other choice. It was worth the chance, if it meant beating this cancer. And besides, when all was said and done, all he ever really wanted to do was live.

"Bring it on," he said weakly. Sam gave him a relieved smile, which made it all worthwhile to Jacob. He would do anything to make his daughter happy. "Just makes sure this Tok'ra knows that I won't give in without a fight."

"Will do," George said, his own relieved smile lighting up his features.

"Now that will be a scene," Sam said with a pained expression on her face. "There's definitely going to be a power struggle there."

"Ha, ha," Jacob said snidely, only to smile broadly when Sam laughed.

He turned to George to ask, "This is mainly for our allegiance with them, right?"

"And for your health," George made sure to add. "This means that you're going to live, Jacob. That should be your main reason for agreeing."

"It is. More than you can imagine."

George nodded, while Jacob closed his eyes for a moment, needing a brief respite to stay awake. Life was the only option for him now. He would let the snake in, and he would live to fight another day. It was more than he could ask for.

He opened his eyes and looked into Sam's beautiful blue ones with the understanding that he was doing it for her too, and he voiced his thoughts out loud, knowing she would appreciate his motives.

"I wouldn't have it any other way."

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P is for Puzzled Papa

by acarlgeek

General Jacob Carter was puzzled, deeply puzzled. Mentally, but not externally where anyone could see and exploit his predicament, he stared after his daughter in undisclosed and utter confusion. Sam had always been fascinated by space, always. Ever since she was old enough to read (and that hadn't been very old), the topic that had held her attention and been the driving force behind her activity selections had been space: space phenomena and the space technology and space travel programs necessary to get closer to space phenomena. Jacob suppressed an external smile; finding that Matt Mason astronaut doll had been a Christmas coup, especially when a second set of accessories needed to be acquired for Sam's next birthday in order to kit out her previously neglected Barbie for space travel, too.

Sam had focused her exceedingly bright mind on astrophysics and joined the Air Force because both of those career choices were likely pathways into space. Unfortunate timing with the Challenger disaster and the temporary cessation of American manned space travel had steered Sam into studying her prized planets and stellar phenomena from earthbound offices and laboratories. Remote sensing and 'telemetry' were better than nothing, but Jacob couldn't believe that his daughter was satisfied with what amounted to a support position if he could get her a frontline posting with NASA, which was the only viable U.S. route to out there. Sam wasn't too old for the astronaut program. She also wasn't as determined as her brother to reject Jacob's participation in her life. So why was she insisting that she didn't want the goal she'd spent her entire life trying to achieve?

There were so many ways in which Jacob had failed to help his children fulfill their dreams. He thought he'd found the perfect final gift for his daughter, but she claimed she had something better? He'd confirm whatever she was working on really was better, if it was the last thing he did.

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Q is for Queen

by ryf

They brought her back home and buried her in the sand.

Jacob hadn't known her, but still he had memories. He, as all the others, carried Egeria's memories with him. And on top of those memories, he also shared Selmak's grief.

From the outside, it was probably hard to understand. Egeria had been thought dead for so long, and it had been even longer that she had last had a host and been able to communicate with her children.

Still, Selmak had effectively just lost his mother. And the pain... it wasn't any less than when Jacob had lost his wife. Maybe it was even more severe because on top of losing a loved one, Selmak also once again had to face the reality of being a member of a dying race. A dying race which could have been saved. None of Egeria's children since she had been taken captive by Ra were Tok'ra that could strengthen their numbers, because they had been experimented on.

So many Tok'ra lost.

The pain their queen must have endured... it was unbelievable.

It took days for the elder of the Tok'ra to recover from the shock, and Selmak was one of the elders. Jaboc watched as they prepared the funeral, listened as they shared their memories, and comforted when Selmak needed it.

They had all lost something. Their creator, their comrade, their mother. Their queen.

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R is for Rebels and Regrets

by nightspear

I. Sam(mie) and Mark

Sammie had decided at five that she was going to be just like Dad. That had been kind of nice until Dad found out that (a) it was no longer acceptable to call a really cool astronaut a kiddie name like 'Sammie' and (b) she thought her dad was an astronaut who possibly lived on the moon when he wasn't living in Washington D.C.

Then, one day, Jacob was late coming home from work, and his wife died. It didn't matter how much anyone regretted it; that was it.

...x...

Sam's idea of being a rebel was getting pissed off at her junior year physics teacher and handing in a week of physics homework in which every '-1' had been replaced with 'e^(i*pi)' and every trigonometric function had been written as an infinite series. As rebellious phases went, especially when his kids both hated him for what had happened to their mother, Jacob supposed it could have been worse.

...x...

Mark ran away from home. That was worse.

Not that Jacob cared, of course. Mark had made it clear that Jacob wasn't welcome in his life, so there was simply no excuse for Mark to be worming his way into Jacob's head.

...x...

That was what he'd thought, at least, up until he'd actually gotten a worm-like smartass in his head who disagreed very strongly with that sentiment.

You are the most stubborn human I have ever met, Selmak told him.

Shut up, Jacob told the snake in his head, feeling like he was a little kid passing notes in class while the teacher was giving a lecture. I'm trying to listen to Garshaw. You're distracting me.

I have met many humans. You are my twenty-first host, and I have lived on many planets.

Good for you, you old hag.

I believe, Selmak mused, sounding far too amused, that this would be a good time for me to call you a moron.

Will you stop stealing my insults? Jacob complained. And give me back my body!

In a minute, Selmak chided, and Jacob could have sworn he would have just been patted on the head if Selmak had had hands and didn't live inside said head. Do not sulk.

I'm not sulking.

"As you know," Garshaw said, staring at the hologram in the center of the table. "We have long believed that Setesh is still somewhere on Earth. Now that we have made contact with the Tau'ri, perhaps, with their help, we can find where Setesh is and destroy him. Martouf, as you have dealt before with the SGC, the Council would like you--"

"I will go to Earth," Selmak interrupted.

Garshaw paused. "Selmak, you have just returned from a mission."

Selmak shrugged. "I can handle one more. Afterward, perhaps we can stay on Earth for a short time with Jacob's people."

I hate you, Jacob told Selmak when an image of Mark's face floated unwillingly to his mind.

I am in your brain, Selmak reminded him. You cannot lie to me. The smug tone tapered away. Trust me, Jacob. You do not wish to live the rest of your life in regret.

There is nothing I regret about Mark.

There will be nothing to regret about Mark when I am done, Selmak corrected.

II. Old men

"Jacob Carter has had no more influence on me than any other host," Selmak said.

"There are those of us who disagree," Delek said as Jacob fumed and had to resist the urge to take over from Selmak and point out that he was still there--they were talking to his face, literally. "You have allowed yourself to get too close to these people, Selmak. Your true loyalties are in question."

Screw it, Jacob snapped at Selmak. Screw them! Sam's out there being chased by a Kull warrior!

Patience, Selmak said.

Jacob knew neither he nor Selmak was likely to live to the see the Goa'uld fall once and for all, but he also knew both of them wanted to go out fighting to the end. They were fighting for their children now, and he was not going to sit back and squabble politics while one of his children was out there. I'm taking over, Jacob warned. We're old, Selmak--we don't need our reputation to stay clean. If they want to call us rogue, let them.

Selmak nudged him gently. No. Let me handle this. I will not betray you and Major Carter, Jacob. We may not fear being branded rebels, but neither can we act like young fools and run blindly into the opposition. Trust me.

So Jacob sat back and tried not to think of Sam running around on the Alpha Site.

XXXXX

"The Replicators have launched their assault against the Goa'uld," Delek said. "Ba'al is prepared to hold them off."

Jacob shook his head. "Even if Ba'al knows what he's facing, and even if he's got all the Kull warriors still in his command, he's no match for a wave of Replicators. If Ba'al loses, the chances of stopping a Replicator infestation in our galaxy is almost zero."

"Perhaps," Delek said noncommittally.

"Look," Jacob said, then forced himself to shut up.

Sorry--I need you to wake up and talk, he said quietly to Selmak, prodding his friend's mind awake, then thrust him to the forefront. Selmak settled slowly into his body--Jacob wondered if everyone else could tell how old Selmak was feeling these days--and said, "The Tau'ri are the only ones who have successfully defended themselves against Replicators, and even then, they have only been able to fight a short time before they were forced to flee. If we work with them--"

"We have discussed this already," Delek said coldly. "An alliance with Tau'ri is not a possibility now. We will monitor the battle. That is all."

Jacob looked around the table and saw the no one else was speaking up in their favor. I have an idea, he told Selmak as Councilors and operatives alike dispersed. You know that device that keeps track of all our operatives? We can use it to hack into Ba'al's ships and keep an eye on the battle. At least the SGC will try to do something.

They will never allow us to take that device to the SGC, Selmak said.

I know, Jacob said. That's why we should steal it.

Selmak wanted to laugh. Jacob still always seemed so young to him, even when he felt old.

But that's why you like me, Jacob told him, and was answered with warmth and regret. He forced himself to ignore the latter. So? C'mon--let's steal it.

I do not have much time left. If we are to do this, I must leave you now. Can you succeed alone?

No, Jacob thought, and he would have lied and said something about everything being okay, but Selmak was in his brain, and there was no lying to Selmak. There's still time, Selmak. Not now.

Reluctance. A hint of relief, and of resigned excitement. Very well, Selmak said, and stood up with Jacob and left the chamber. When we take our shift at the monitor, we will take the device and leave through the Stargate. We may not be able to return, Jacob. In any case, I do not believe I will return.

Let's wait on that, okay? Jacob said firmly. I'm not coming back without you, anyway.

...x...

Well, Jacob told Selmak at the end as they looked out over Dakara, I guess this is it.

I am sorry, Selmak whispered. My dear friend. I have already made you a criminal to the Tok'ra, and now my death will be yours.

Hey, I'm the bad influence around here, remember?

Ba'al smirked at them across the Ancient device. "Dad?" Sam said nervously. "Selmak?"

Don't be sorry, Jacob assured Selmak. You gave me my kids back. You gave me the time of my life. We had a great run.

I never planned to let you die with me, Selmak said, and Jacob tried to push away the waves of sorrow as he said, "All right, Sam, try that one."

Let's get this last mission over with, huh? Jacob said. One last time. If Sam lives--if they live--that's all I want. If we're going out, we'll go out with a bang and take the Replicators with us. No regrets.

"Good," Sam said as the discrepancy between the readings dropped again. "All right. What else?"

One last time, Selmak agreed, and they marched toward their deaths--and their children's lives--together.

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S if for Selmak

by sg_wonderland

The Air Force transport is fairly quiet on the way back from Seattle. Seth's body is secured and heavily guarded in the back. From what I gather, Teal'c has declined to hand this duty over to anyone other than himself. Dr. Jackson is stretched out across three seats with a journal, having somehow obtained a cup of coffee. Samantha and the colonel are up front, speaking to Cheyenne Mountain.

Looking out the window, I observe the clouds drift by. This type of transport might seem slow when compared to my usual method, but it gives me the time to think.

"So." Colonel O'Neill appears across from me, cup of coffee in hand. I wonder at this inexplicable ability to consume the unappealing beverage then I glance over and see a sleeping Dr. Jackson, now covered with a blanket but without his spectacles and the coffee cup. The colonel is clearly amused at my expression. "Trust me, he'll never know. And if he asks," he shrugs without remorse, "I can lie with the best of them."

"Colonel O'Neill, may I congratulate you on the completion of a successful mission."

"You may. But it wasn't just me. Everyone had a hand in it."

I glance over at his slumbering teammate. "Quite an impressive young man you have there."

"We like to think so. He's kind of handy to have around. If you guys ever need to flush out another missing Goa'uld..."

"We will not waste time seeking other assistance. Now that we know his capabilities, the Tok'ra may be calling on Dr. Jackson for assistance in the future."

"Just call ahead of time; he's got a curfew, you know."

"Colonel O'Neill, there is something about Jacob that I admit I cannot understand."

"Well," he drains the rest of his cup and sets in under the seat. "You can ask but I can't guarantee I can help you. I don't really know Jacob that well. Maybe Carter...?"

"It is not something I am comfortable asking Captain Carter." His expression becomes a bit more uneasy. "I admit it is somewhat personal in nature."

"Why don't you just spit it out?"

"Although this mission was certainly important to the Tok'ra, it was not a high priority. I fear I slightly....exaggerated the importance in order to get him to his home planet. I find myself disturbed by his estrangement to his son, Mark."

Colonel O'Neill's expression lightens in what I hope is understanding. "You don't get the not getting along with your kids thing?"

"It is not something with which the Tok'ra have any experience. We live without walls, we share no boundaries. Everything is known to all, shared by all."

"I'm probably not the best person to talk to about relationships."

"I understand from Jacob that you had a son?"

His face freezes for a quick second. "I don't see how that's helpful."

"Jacob has not spoken to his son in years. Is this normal on Earth?"

"Not normal," he fidgets. "All families have problems but most people talk them out."

"Was your relationship with your son a normal one?"

His eyes find the clouds out the window for long moments before he speaks softly, "Yeah, we had a good relationship. I'd like to think we would have always gotten along. Frankly, I can't imagine going years and not speaking to Charlie. My father and I had some rough patches, but we're still close. You make the effort for family that you wouldn't make for others. Because at the end of the day, the people in your life, that's all that really matters."

Without realizing it, my vision drifts across the cabin. O'Neill follows my gaze. "Family comes in all shapes and sizes, you know? Listen, are you looking for advice?" Without waiting for a reply, he continues. "Go talk to Mark. What have you got to lose? And you've got everything to gain." Colonel O'Neill taps my knee before grabbing the coffee cup and rising to walk over to re-settle the blanket over Dr. Jackson.

I study the clouds for a very long time.

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T is for Time

by lokei

For every minute spent in organizing, an hour is earned. ~Anonymous

"And Colonel--"

Colonel Jacob Carter turned smartly, at attention in an instant. "Sir?"

"One more thing before you proceed with the tasks at hand. There's a glad-handing occasion up on Pennsylvania Avenue that I'm supposed to bring some of my best men to, next week. Will you and your wife be among the party?"

"It would be an honor, General, thank you." Carter nodded sharply. "I'll just see that these get taken care of, sir."

"Yes, be particularly careful with the third, if you will. I'll need that report by the end of the day tomorrow."

"Of course, sir."

As Jacob hurried back to his office, he glanced at a clock in the hallway. Eighteen-thirty hours. Damn, he was late to pick up Grace--very late. She probably wouldn't have waited for him, he'd have to remember to stop by the store and get a bottle of wine to apologize. Hopefully the dinner at the White House would be enough to mollify her.

The phone in his office was ringing. Jacob sped up, hoping that whatever it was the General wanted was fast.

"Colonel Carter speaking."

"Colonel, this is Doctor Erickson from Georgetown University Hospital. Sir, your wife was in a traffic accident, and I'm sorry to have to tell you that her condition is critical."

A pause that lasted a lifetime.

"Sir, you should really get here as soon as possible."

Jacob stared sightlessly at the piles on his desk, the pictures on the walls, and then at the clock on the bookshelf. "I understand."

= = = = = = = =

The future is something which everyone reaches at the rate of sixty minutes an hour, whatever he does, whoever he is. ~C.S. Lewis

"Jake, I have good news for you." George Hammond's voice rolled over the phone line like a Texan Santa Claus, and Jacob snorted a little at the image. If George knew he'd even thought that, Jacob would be flat as a pancake under one of the deadliest right-hooks in the Air Force.

"Hey George, nice to hear from you," he said instead, "I could use a little good news about now."

"Well, then, you're in luck. You may have heard I'm working out of Cheyenne now, and I happen to have under my command a singularly talented young Air Force Captain."

Jacob smiled. "And what's my Sam gone and done now?"

"She's earned herself the notice of the President, Jake, and the Air Medal. The ceremony's next week, right out there in your neck of the woods. I thought you might like to be there."

"An Air Medal!" That had a good sound to it--always looked good to be the father of someone up and coming, made it easier to throw his weight around on her behalf, too. "For?"

"Outstanding contributions to the field of deep space radar telemetry," George answered, with just enough humor in his voice that Jacob frowned. He knew a cover-up when he heard one, but what the hell could be going on that was at all interesting in Colorado, for God's sake?

"Radar...?" He prompted.

"Come to the ceremony and hear for yourself, Jake. I'll have someone send you all the details as soon as the White House finalizes the schedule. Your daughter's done brilliantly out here."

"As far as that goes," Jacob muttered, glowering balefully at the innocuous looking letter lying face down on his desk. "I guess I'll be seeing you next week, George."

Hammond signed off with another jovial salutation, but Jacob barely heard the click, fingers tapping on the overturned letter, the damning words running through his head on continuous playback.

"We regret to inform you that your tests have come back positive for lymphoma. Please call our office as soon as possible to schedule an appointment to discuss treatment options."

Jacob looked at the calendar on his wall--views from the Hubble Space Telescope, a present from Sam at Christmas-- and turned back to his phone.

"Christopher, I need you to connect me with Commander Kittering at NASA. Let me know as soon as you've got him on the line."

= = = = = = =

Reality is a question of perspective; the further you get from the past, the more concrete and plausible it seems -- but as you approach the present, it inevitably seems incredible. ~Salman Rushdie

"So, who am I now?"

Selmak's laughter rings in his head, and if that isn't a marker of just how weird his new situation is, he doesn't know what would count. Hearing things in his head but not with his ears--what next?

A long full life, Selmak says.

"I've had one of those," Jacob says irritably. "That's what I mean. I was General Jacob Carter, cancer patient, father to a son who won't talk to me and a daughter who was wasting her life in Colorado, and now what am I?"

Jacob Carter, blended with Selmak of the Tok'ra. She repeats patiently. With many years now to fix things you regret, and a daughter who helped save your life. What more do you want?

Jacob thinks about days measured by doctor's appointments, by military operations, by phone calls that change your life, and then about great mysteries locked in mountains that seem to defy time and the progress of 'normal' life entirely. He smiles.

"Absolutely nothing." He hears her chuckle once more and grins apologetically.

"Well, not yet. I'm sure we'll think of something."


They say that time changes things, but you actually have to change them yourself. ~Andy Warhol

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U is for Uniform, Underground, Undercover

by grav_ity

One is the loneliest number that you'll ever do

The stolen uniform fit him perfectly, which made him terribly uncomfortable. In vain, he wished it would chafe or bind or look too tightly drawn across the shoulders, but it did none of those things. He looked as trim and fit, as belonging in his costume as he did in his regular clothes. Which was, of course, precisely why they'd chosen him for the mission.

Jacob didn't see a lot of field work any more. Ever since the System Lords had not been assassinated while they sat in Summit, the other Tok'ra had viewed him as defective. It was annoying. None of the other human races who lived as hosts were looked down on for retaining characteristic traits of their species. Jacob had the most developed espionage skills of any host, but none of the Tok'ra could see past his Tau'ri nature. Selmak told him it would get better as their blending matured, but Jacob hadn't made it this far in life to go back into cadet probation.

He could think on his feet. He spoke the language. He met the basic physical requirements. He wouldn't pass for a native if anyone looked to closely or inquired after his opinion of local sports, but the whole idea was that he looked enough the part that no one would give him a second glace. The mission does not technically exist. There will be no hero's welcome waiting for him at home, and he tries not to think of what awkward lie they would tell his family if he does not return.

Selmak doesn't like closed in spaces. Which is sort of funny, because the Tok'ra have lived almost exclusively in caves or star ships for several centuries now. As the helmet closes around there head, Jacob feels the beginning of a panic that was never his, but it's quickly banished.

"You okay?" he asked.

"I'd be better if you hadn't insisted on that second cup of coffee this morning," she returns. Selmak reacts badly to caffeine, but Jacob has access to it so rarely that he feels compelled to indulge himself now and then.

"You can sit this one out, if you like," He offers.

"Very funny," She replies. And then it's time to go.

It almost looks like home. Children play, cars go past at unruly speeds, and young people walk hand in hand as though they hadn't a care in the world. Only the signs belie the comforts of home. The Cyrillic letters are an alien language to him, even though he's spent all this time learning it; it never feels right. He sits alone on the bench and waits, still and calm, for all the world knows, he is a local, a soldier returned for furlough before heading off again. He tries not to twiddle his thumbs.

They greet him the moment he steps through the Gate and take him to a room he cannot help but want to call a holding cell. Selmak's discomfort, caffeine fueled and bubbling, seems even closer to the surface now, despite her attempts to mask it. It makes him antsy. They wait, barely moving, until Thoth leaves them alone. Now, at last, it is time for action, to discover what's to come. When they are engaged, it is easier to focus on the mission, easier to play their part. Sitting alone with each other provides too many distractions.

This is his last mission like this. He's been promised State-side only, and he'll probably be backing it up with a promotion, though no one will talk about the reasons why. They couldn't tell him for sure, of course, but he got where he was by knowing how to read a room. He'll still serve, but he'll stay with his family and be a smaller kind of hero. No more travel, no more spying, no more facing obtuse wars by himself. He doesn't know what the future will bring, but it will be a quiet one, if he has any say in it.

Two can be as bad as one, it's the loneliest number since the number one

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V is for *Vale, amice*

by aelfgyfu_mead

"Goodbye, friend," Selmak whispered into their minds. Everything around them still roared and Dakara shook as though it wanted to throw them off the now-loose pieces of Replicators, but Jacob could hear Selmak's parting words with absolute clarity. Then Selmak relaxed his grasp on consciousness and slipped beyond where Jacob could feel him.

The sudden emptiness overwhelmed Jacob. Silence. Absolute silence. The duet in his mind--their minds--had ended. His stomach dropped and his knees weakened as he reached inside and found no one but himself.

"Dad?" Sam asked.

"I'm all right," Jacob told her quickly, pushing back off the console onto which he found he'd leaned. The silence was not only in his head: the weapon's vibrations had ceased, the Replicators had stopped, the shooting had ended, and even the echoes had died away. He had missed a few moments.

Jacob managed to keep his composure in front of his daughter. He slipped away from the weapon as soon as he decently could, past those tending to the bodies of those who had fallen keeping the Replicators from the weapon's console. He went halfway around the small building that housed the weapon console and found himself out of sight of everyone. He wanted to be alone. Ah, but that was the great irony: he really didn't want to be alone. He had thought he would never be alone again.

He could remember being newly blended with Selmak and his resentment that she knew everything that crossed his mind. Her? Even the pronoun took him back. When had he stopped thinking of Selmak as female and started thinking of him as male? That he could not remember, and even Selmak's memories yielded no one moment. The transition must have come as they both fully accepted the blending. Selmak was part of him. It became natural to think of them both as male, though Selmak had long favored female hosts and had previously thought of herself as female. The change came not just to Jacob's mind, but to Selmak's as well.

Jacob sat on the ground, his knees up in front of him and his back against the rough-looking structure that held a technological marvel. Even Selmak had been impressed with the weapon, but Jacob's sense of amazement seemed now to be draining out onto the hot sand. He knew he should feel gratitude for their salvation, wonder for the workings of this amazing device, and awe or even fear at its power. He could barely muster a sense of relief. Sam had survived--no, Sam had triumphed. Much of the credit for saving the galaxy should go to her, though God knew if she would ever receive her due recognition. Mark would never even know he and his wife and Jacob's grandchildren had been in danger. Jacob himself would not last very much longer.

When his wife had died, Jacob thought at first that he couldn't go on living. He'd been wrong. This time, he knew he couldn't go on living, a certainty borne not from grief but fact. Given a choice, Selmak would have died without taking Jacob with him. The Replicators had taken that choice from them: both human and Tok'ra were needed to defeat them. Selmak made certain that weapon had succeeded, but then he'd let go.

The knowledge that he could not live beyond a few months at most did not trouble Jacob. He felt a slight surprise at his own calmness, but he could already feel that life without Selmak had lost much of its color and texture. He rested his head against the stones behind him and closed his eyes for a moment. He would have to go back inside soon, before Sam came to ask if anything was wrong. He inhaled the warm, dry air, stifling the urge to cough at the thick dust so recently flung into the air, and he thought how much Selmak had liked such climates. Jacob had long preferred cooler temperatures himself, but Selmak had slowly won him over to the arid regions the Tok'ra favored. He wished he could believe that at some level Selmak enjoyed the planet with him right now, but the symbiote had become a dead weight, something he could just barely perceive at the back of his skull but not quite touch in any way that mattered. Never again would they argue, or share a private joke, or console each other for the losses they'd suffered in Jacob's decades and Selmak's millennia.

Jacob couldn't complain, though. He'd gained the best years of his life from the joining, a time full of wonders and important work and renewed bonds with both his children. He'd need to draw on that happiness he'd had with Selmak to propel himself through the next few weeks. He would be alone again for a little while only. Selmak had held on for Jacob; Jacob could hold on for Sam. His daughter was getting married. He would see her achieve the happiness she deserved, and then he could let go. He would also see Mark and the grandkids one last time; he felt a rush of gratitude towards his companion for reconciling him with his son. He pushed aside the terrible hollowness he felt as his mind kept automatically reaching for Selmak's, and he sought instead to focus on the unexpected joy he'd found in their six shared years. Selmak had helped him secure not only his relationship with his children, but the safety of their planet.

Selmak had fought his own failing body to save the people they both loved, and he had won all their lives. Jacob would give away his daughter on a world safe from Replicators and Anubis. In the meantime, he could mourn Selmak only in private. He remembered the ancient language of the Church of his youth, and it seemed fitting here in the ruins of the Ancients. "Vale, amice," Jacob whispered to his now-silent companion.

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W is for Wizard

by randomfreshink

"You told him to use his imagination."

"I didn't think..."

"That he would take you at your word?"

"I'd've expected something that asinine from Jack."

"Ah. You believe his thoughts are with and of his friend. But why do you condemn his choice of identity so harshly?"

"You heard him. How many ancient religions does he know? Dead civilizations? Mythologies? And he picks--"

"Oz. Yes...an...unusual choice. A...what is your word for it...wizard?"

"A character from a story who presents himself as a wizard. A magic man."

"An unfamiliar concept, this idea of wizard. Magic is a trick of the false gods. Technology presented as inherent, mystical powers."

"Now you sound like Teal'c."

"A Jaffa? Do you wish to be insulting?"

"You implying the comparison's an insult?"

"Now you are simply showing ill-humor."

"Oh, and no reason for that, is there?"

"You worry as well for those stranded. But you hope. And still have not answered my question. The allegory of a human who portrays himself as something he is not is most fitting for what Daniel Jackson himself was doing. There is a pleasing...irony."

"Been a lot more pleasing, if he'd bought us ten minutes extra."

"You believe he could have done so with another name? But, as you have noted, he knows the gods--the lies of those who claim immortal powers. Any Goa'uld's name must be tainted. By his knowledge. By just hatred. That would have been a most bitter taste in his mouth. Besides, this word, it is...pleasing."

"Oz?"

"Ahhhzzzzzzzzz. The great and powerful. The sound echoes well in the mind. And not so different from Aah, or Hu, or Ra even. There is...possibility here. I think he chose well, this name of a trickster. A human who managed an illusion."

"Not so managed. And, my bet--he's worried about Jack...and Teal'c."

"Patience...."

"You even think about a grasshopper and this conversation's over."

"I was about to say Jacob. A short lifespan leaves you with such a limited perspective."

"Yeah, well, Jack and Teal'c are about to have even less of one if this bucket doesn't move a little faster."

"Ah, but we have a wizard with us. Ahhhzzzzzzzzz. The great and powerful."

"Now who's being funny?"

"Oh, this is a story to amuse the Tok'ra for millennium. The wizard who was not. The Tauri with such audacity. We must know more of your wizards."

"Story time's over. We've got a rescue coming up. And a need for a real happy ending here."

"Very well. But later. Our stories are sometimes the best we have to offer, Jacob. They bond our souls."

"Yeah, whatever. For now, can we get this show on the road, oh great and powerful Selmac?"

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X is for Xenophobia

by beatrice_otter

Little Jake Carter was never a science fiction fan, growing up. Instead of bug-eyed aliens, he dreamed of cowboys and Indians. He was always a cowboy, of course; who'd want to be an Indian? Sure, they got to wear buckskin and feathers, but Davy Crockett got buckskin and a coon-skin cap. And John Wayne got guns! Jake could see himself as a cowboy, riding the range. He couldn't see himself as an Indian. They weren't like his family. Jake knew all about people who Weren't Like Us.

"Damn wetbacks, taking jobs from decent hard-working Americans," Jake's Dad would say, frowning at the farm next door. It was a large farm, a big commercial operation, and every year it hired Mexicans from across the border and paid them off the books, and every year Dad had to do the same if he wanted to make any kind of profit on their small piece of land, and every year he muttered under his breath as he paid them, handing out white envelopes full of carefully-counted cash. "Lazy bastards. Gonna spend it all on booze, I know, living in those dirty shanties of theirs." And on, and on. By the time Jake was fifteen and working full time on the place in the summers, he'd heard it so many times he could recite it in his sleep.

To his father's disappointment, instead of staying home to take over the farm, Jake did Air Force ROTC. The two of them sat on the back porch smoking the day Jake announced it. "Look, Dad," Jake said, "I know you can't pay for college and I want to go. With scholarships and a job, I'll be able to pay my own way."

"You'll have to serve after college, though," Dad said. "That worth it? I had some jackasses of officers in the Army, made life hell. Don't suppose that's much different for a brand-new lieutenant. And I knew I only had to serve until we whipped the Jerries." He didn't say a word about the apple trees stretching out in front of him that Jake wouldn't be there to help him pick that year, or the Farmall tractor that might have to be sent to the mechanic if it broke because Jake wouldn't be around to fix it.

"I think I can handle it," Jake said. "There's other threats out there today, Dad. The Russians aren't just sitting at home playing nice. They're not like us. They'd rather build an army to attack us than get their own country straightened out. When they think they can win, they're gonna attack. Somebody's got to fight them, when they come, and I figure it might as well be me."

"I suppose," Dad said, and that was the end of it.

Jake's college experience was fairly normal, as was his marriage to a girl he met there. Once in the service, he rose through the ranks on schedule, and decided to stay in once his basic commitment had been met. He rose through the ranks steadily but unremarkably, the very picture of a model officer. His personal life, too, was perfectly ordinary American home life. Married, two children, a succession of ordinary suburban houses near each base he was stationed at. When his wife died, he grieved, and when his son stopped talking to him, he grumbled but took an obscure kind of comfort in the fact that so many of his fellow officers had similar stories. He made General, and his daughter became a fine officer, and even if he didn't understand his children he loved them and was proud of them, and the life he'd lived. When he was diagnosed with cancer he had regrets of course--who wouldn't?--but the kind of life he'd lived and the service he'd given weren't among them.

The Tok'ra weren't anything he could ever have imagined in his wildest dreams. By the time they'd evacuated to their next base and gotten everything set up and had time to breathe, Selmak had integrated so comfortably into the back of Jake's head that it was hard to remember what life was like without--her? it? him?

Whichever you prefer, Selmak said. It makes little difference to me--I have no gender, as you think of it.

"I think I'll call you a 'he,'" Jake said. He lay back, trying to make himself comfortable. Tok'ra travelled light, and while some furniture such as chairs could be grown out of the same crystals that formed the eerie blue tunnels, mattresses were asking a bit much. So Jake was spread out on an out-of-the-way stretch of floor with a blanket and thin pillow. "You're not a thing, and the only woman I've lived with as an adult was my wife. No offence, but I don't put you in the same category."

None taken, Selmak said with a burst of warm humor. It tickled a little, and felt like laughter. You should know, you don't need to speak aloud for me to know what you think. I try not to pry into my host's thoughts, but a certain degree of overlap is unavoidable. It would be advantageous for you to be fully conversed in that method of conversation before we go on any missions.

I CAN SEE THAT, Jake said. HOW'S THIS?

There's no need to 'shout,' Jake, there's nothing wrong with my ears.

Oh. Right. Jake shifted uneasily, away from a crystal that had been digging into his back. Is this better?

Yes. Selmak paused. I know the floor is hard, but I can help you not notice that, if you like.

Jake paused, a little taken aback. He had no reason to distrust Selmak, and through whatever weird alien connection they shared, figured he knew the guy pretty well even though they'd only met that day. Still, letting him play around with Jake's body?

You do realize that I already 'played around with your body,' when I healed your cancer, don't you? And that it's now our body, not just yours alone? It was said drily, evenly, without the slightest hint of emotion.

If there'd been the slightest hint of threat, condescension, anger, Jake would've ... well, he didn't know what he would've done. But it would have been much different than what he ended up doing. He'd made a deal, and Selmak had kept his part of the bargain in good faith. All right, he thought, and if Selmak picked up on the grudging reluctance, he didn't comment on it.

Jake lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling, waiting for Selmak to work his magic.

Hardly magic, Selmak thought.

Jake gasped in shock, realizing that he couldn't quite feel his body and hadn't even noticed it happening. It was there, but not really, not like it was connected to him, and he couldn't move, and it was like being in that hospital after he'd been shot down over Viet Nam and had spent the first few months after his rescue in a hospital, much of it either delirious from fever or doped up on painkillers. Except this was worse, because with the painkillers he'd known what was happening to his body, and his mind had been foggy enough not to care. He knew what painkillers did to his body. This was ... this was ... he didn't even know what this was, except that he'd never felt anything like it.

Abruptly, he was back, feeling every crack and facet in the crystal beneath him, fingers scrabbling to grab hold of something--anything--that could anchor him in his body, gasping for breath and twitching with adrenaline.

I'm sorry, Selmak said. I didn't think it would frighten you that badly. He did not say that Jake and given him permission to do it, and was carefully neutral in his tone.

Jake appreciated that as he tried to get his breathing under control. Goddammit, he was an Air Force officer, a Major General, not some sniveling kid, and here he was panicking like a brand-new pilot in his first real dogfight. It took a little bit to get himself settled down, and he appreciated that Selmak didn't try to 'help' by adjusting his adrenaline levels. His new ... partner could have done it, without breaking a sweat. Or whatever it was Tok'ra did instead of sweat.

"So," Jake said, once he figured he could keep his voice even. "What exactly did you do just then?"

I dampened the signal from your nerves to your brain, thereby blocking the discomfort. It's useful with minor discomforts, or when fulfilling a mission is more important than the damage that caused the pain. It is simple, and quick to reverse when necessary. And I will never do it without your consent unless our lives or our mission are in grave jeopardy. Selmak's 'voice' was calm, matter-of-fact, soothing.

"And when you 'dampen' the nerves, that means I can't use them?" Jake asked.

When the nerves are dampened, they carry very little either to or from your brain. There was a slight hesitation. My sensations and commands, however, are not directly affected.

"Right," Jake said. He was still learning to interpret the feelings he got from Selmak--the ones that went directly into his brain. He was pretty sure that Selmak was absolutely sincere when he said he'd respect Jake's wishes on the matter. But his words still made Jake uneasy, and he wasn't quite sure why. It wasn't the caveats; they were both reasonable, and in Selmak's place he'd have insisted on them himself.

Maybe it was the background feeling that although Selmak was willing to abide by Jake's wishes on the matter, he didn't quite understand them.

Jake? Selmak's voice was slightly hesitant.

"Yeah?" Jake said.

You keep having background thoughts that are slightly ... odd. I would like your permission to see where they come from.

"What's odd about 'em?" Jake asked, defensive. In response, Selmak showed him a picture: a bug-eyed alien monster from some low-budget science fiction movie from his childhood. Jake blinked, and started laughing. "Yeah, sure. Look around all you want to. I had no idea my memory of that was so good."

Human memory retains many details that you cannot consciously call to mind. My own abilities are not so limited. With that, Selmak dove into his memories. Jake could see what he was looking at, but second-hand and through Selmak's thoughts, and there was no order to it that he could see (although he kinda thought it was perfectly logical to Selmak). All told, it was kind of like watching someone rifle through his drawers, commenting on what he found. Selmak's reactions were funny, and Jake found it a lot more interesting and less intrusive than he'd expected. All told, they went through every bad science fiction movie he'd watched on late night tv when there was nothing else on, every movie Sam had dragged him to as a kid, every book of hers he'd read to stay connected with what she liked. And they did it in under half an hour.

So, whaddaya think? Jake asked when Selmak was done with his whirlwind tour.

Despite what your daughter believed as a child about 'advanced races being morally superior,' the more 'cheesy' science fiction with evil invading aliens is more realistic, if far less scientifically accurate. Selmak's voice was tinged with regret.

Yeah, no kidding. The Goa'uld are body snatchers, all right, and they're sure as hell trying to invade.

And they are not the only ones you need to fear, I'm afraid, Selmak said. Though they are the greatest threat. I saw stories of short aliens with large heads and dark eyes experimenting on people. There is an alien race that looks very similar to that--the Asgard. They have worked to keep the Goa'uld in check for many thousands of years, but ...they, too, have masqueraded as gods when it suits them. And this is not the first time I have heard rumors of medical experimentation on humans. Though they are, in general, benevolent. If seldom very active about it.

So, even the guys on our side aren't always on our side, Jake said. Not a big change from human warfare, then. He consciously did not think of what Colonel O'Neill had taken him aside to whisper in his ear before letting him come to the Tok'ra. If Sam wasn't going to make a big deal of it, he wasn't either. He figured Selmak probably knew what was on his mind, anyway, but there was no point in offending his new best friend by rubbing his nose in things.

Possibly not, Selmak said. He hesitated. I will note that we will both need to be at our best tomorrow.

Jake nodded. And morning--or what passes for it around here--will come all too soon. Gotcha. He hesitated. Let's try that nerve thing, again. Now that I know what's coming.

...alright.

It wasn't so bad, once you knew what to expect, Jake figured, and given how tired he was, it didn't take long to drop off. After that, Selmak knew to explain to him exactly what he was doing before he did it, and Jake learned to trust him. And he didn't think much more about it.

A year later, Jake went back to Earth for the first time since blending with Selmak. (He didn't count five minutes in the Gateroom before heading out.)

His first thought, once they were in Washington State and out of the SGC's jurisdiction, was how ... weird everything was. He'd forgotten the stink of car exhaust. The plane to get there--he'd flown planes like that, thought them excellent military transports, and now all he wanted was a tel'tak. And then they got there and the ATF was already there and for the first time since their blending it was Selmak who was keeping his head down, not Jake. And for all Jake enjoyed the turnabout (if not necessarily the constant prompts that when this was over, his son was only a few hundred miles south), it was weird. Not to mention trying to come up with a cover story to explain alien cults without actually saying the word 'alien.'

And afterwards they did end up going down to visit Mark and his family, and Selmak had a good time feeling smug at Jake for how well it was going and asking all kinds of questions about what life was like on the First World, and generally enjoying the break from their usual lives. Jake enjoyed it, too, and did his part in ensuring mental harmony by letting Selmak's gentle jabs about how hard Jake had resisted this reunion pass without (much) comment. It was nice, sitting in a well-kept middle-class house with his family around him, not having to worry about staying in character or being attacked or what the next move by Apophis or Sokar or Ba'al would be.

It wasn't until his time on Earth was almost up that it really hit him. He was sitting at the kitchen table reading the paper while his son and daughter-in-law were at work and his grandchildren were at school. Sam was sitting on a barstool next to the kitchen counter with her laptop writing something--a report, a scientific paper, he wasn't sure.

I thought the public was ignorant of aliens, Selmak said. Else why have you not introduced me to Mark?

They are, Jake said, spotting the headline that caught Selmak's eye. Alien doesn't just mean bug-eyed monster from outer space, it also means a foreigner, someone very different. Illegal alien means someone from another country, usually Mexico, who's in this country without permission. He remembered how absurd it sounded back in the eighties when the PC patrol first started to make noises about how 'wetbacks' was insulting and Not Nice and so you should call them 'illegal aliens' instead. Jake had thought that if they were insulted, they should go back to wherever they came from and try to enter the country legally. Beyond that 'aliens' sounded like they were creatures from the black lagoon or body snatchers or Vulcans or something, rather than just foreigners who didn't respect America enough to stay out when they weren't wanted, or enough to learn the language and blend into the melting pot once they got here.

Hmm, Selmak said. Well, it says something about your culture that you categorize evil invaders from other planets with the same word you give to others of your own species who come from other places on this same planet. Though I can't say I'm surprised; such an attitude to foreigners seems to be common among Humans regardless of the planet they're from.

You can't cast stones, Jake said. Tok'ra don't have the same opportunity. If a symbiote isn't like you, isn't Tok'ra, it's a Goa'uld and therefore your mortal enemy. Can you even imagine a world in which there are several groups of symbiotes that are not Goa'uld? How you would deal with the others?

Point taken, Selmak said, and turned his attention to something else. Jake went on to the next article and reached absently for the cup of coffee Mark had poured him before he left. It was a habit left from decades of reading his morning paper over breakfast, and he didn't realize it until the cup was half-way to his lips.

"Cold? Want a warm-up?"

Jack looked up from his coffee cup to see Sam reaching over to the Mr. Coffee sitting a few feet away from her. "No, thanks," he said. "I'm fine." He set the coffee cup down gently--Selmak didn't like it, and so Jake had decided to avoid it for his sake, and because it didn't taste the same now--and turned back to his paper.

He'd been reading it differently, he realized. He wasn't reading it like a concerned citizen wanting to know what was happening in the world, he was reading it like a tourist looking for interesting things about the town he was visiting, odd quirks he could share with Selmak. It wasn't just that he wasn't drinking coffee like he used to, he wasn't thinking like he used to. It wasn't that they weren't like him; he was not like them. Not anymore.

He sat in his son's kitchen with his daughter by his side, less than a hundred miles from where he'd grown up, and realized that he was the alien now.

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Y is for Y, or Y Not

by jmassg1

Y'know, the thing about hosting an alien symbiote is that everybody expects you to have all the answers.

No, Sam, I've never seen that technology before and neither has Selmak.

No Daniel, we've never come across that kind of writing.

No, Jack, symbiotes don't like to yo-yo. No fingers, you see.

Even George seems to take it as read that inheriting Selmak somehow made me guru of the Tau'ri. As a general in the USAF for decades, I know how to bluff with the best of them, but sometimes there's just nothing there but the fake knowing look.

Sorry guys, don't know much about anything at the moment, other than the fact I'd really like to get the hell out of here. Pun completely intended.

Don't know what Sokar was thinking putting his prison here. Not much good to take prisoners if you're going to bake them by slow degrees.

Oh look, another pun.

Losing it there, Jacob.

Am not.

Are.

My old nana always said, either laugh about it or cry. And pops said never cry in public so....

Could be worse, I suppose.

It could?

Yes.

How?

Could be hotter...

Yeah... guess so. Almost wish...

Jacob!

I did say almost.

Think about something else.

(...)

Jacob?

Trying... all I can think about is how hot it is and how much I stink.

Wasn't going to mention it.

Thanks, buddy.

You're welcome.

You too.

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Z is for Zoo

by telepathicpixie

I find the entire concept to be extremely... unusual.

Considering Selmak's age, not to mention travel experience, Jacob thought that was saying something. They don't have zoos anywhere out there? he inquired mildly, watching his grandchildren run on ahead. They stayed within eyesight, but were obviously eager to reach the penguins.

There was the briefest of pauses before Selmak replied, No. Jacob chuckled softly at her tone and a few passersby smiled, clearly taking his amusement to be the product of an indulgent grandfather herding his charges and not a semi-retired general constantly entertained by his alien symbiote's opinions of Earth culture.

You do not find it unusual to imprison wild animals--predators, even--for the amusement of children? Selmak countered. Put like that, Jacob really couldn't argue with her; it was a bit unusual, he supposed, particularly from the viewpoint of someone foreign to the planet. If he were being honest with himself, he'd always found it a bit strange to be standing across from a tiger pacing its way behind the sheet of glass separating them, a proud warrior relegated to a passing amusement. That same attitude was probably why he had always viewed the idea of retirement with such distaste--putting the old general out to pasture, only bringing him out for holidays and special occasions.

Whether or not it's unusual isn't the point, Jacob returned, finally catching up with Marybeth and Ryan as they plastered their faces against the penguin tank, occasionally shouting out in delight at some antic the penguins were displaying. Even with Selmak providing running commentary, this was some small bit of normalcy Jacob could appreciate. He had no memories of guiding Samantha or Mark around the zoo, smiling at their delight in the animals--probably because he'd always been away too often to find the time. Even once Marybeth and Ryan had been born, Jacob had been an absentee grandfather more often than not. It wasn't until traveling offworld with Selmak that Jacob had fully realized everything he was missing; thankfully, it was also because of Selmak that he was able to repair some of that damage now.

Marybeth and Ryan peeled themselves away from the penguins to rejoin their grandfather, each child claiming one of Jacob's hands in a set of sticky fingers. Marybeth began tugging them in the direction of the wildcats while Ryan made a bid for the reptile house, and Jacob caught a wave of understanding from Selmak that told him he didn't need to explain anything.

C'mon, he said cajolingly to the symbiote while attempting to act as referee--the wildcats were closest and on the way to the reptiles. If you're really good, I promise to buy you a stuffed cobra from the gift shop.

Selmak gave a silent snort and didn't bother to dignify the bribe with a response.

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