Vala Alphabet Soup

[fignewton]

icon by samantilles

My thanks to the 25 authors who seasoned Vala Alphabet Soup with their talented writing skills: Acarlgeek, Amberflyant, Annerb, Beanpot, Campylobacter, Cleo the Muse, Crevanfox, Eilidh, Emily, Fig Newton, Gategremlyn, Gillian, Holdouttrout, Hummingfly, Jamie, Lexi, Lyssie, Merrykk, Pepper, Random, Risti, Samantilles, Traycer, Wonderland, and Ziparumpazoo. Special thanks to Acarlgeek and Merry for last-minute back-up contributions, and to Samantilles for our Vala icon. And a special welcome to our new Soup contributors -- we have now have a total of 79 authors participating in these anthologies!

Stories range in size from 200 words to 2,600 words, for a total of over 26,500 words of Vala goodness. Ratings range from G to PG-13. Expect spoilers for the entire series through Continuum.

Readers are strongly encouraged to click on the links to the author's individual journals and leave feedback.

A is for Aspect
by fignewton

Vala knows that the Goa'uld are slimy snakes that burrow their way into human bodies and claim their victims' faces as their own. After all, she spent too many years with a symbiote riding her spine, ruthlessly using her body for its own purposes and pleasures. But for all her bitter, intimate knowledge that the Goa'uld isn't the face of the host, she can't help making the association. Even for herself -- for long years after the Tok'ra removed Qetesh, she couldn't look at her reflection without flinching away from the anticipated flash of her eyes.

So when she thinks of Qetesh and Ba'al and Apophis and Ra, she doesn't picture a snake-like creature; she sees the faces of the humans who were forced to host them, and she hates them. She hates the ageless child with the arrogant nose who ruled the System Lords for millennia. She can't stand the golden skin and smooth features and rich voice of Apophis. She despises the dark glint in Ba'al's eyes, the gestures he makes with his hands, and the way the corner of his mouth curls when he smiles. And yes, she knows that in many ways, she still hates herself as the puppet Qetesh used as the tool for her atrocities.

So it is a shock to Vala when she wanders restlessly around Daniel's office, fingering his papers and artifacts and absentmindedly cataloging their value, and she sees a framed picture of Amaunet hanging on the wall. The clothes are too simple and the expression too pleasant, but that face cannot be mistaken.

The Tau'ri think she has no self-control, so it's easy to school her features and hide her initial reaction. She's shrewd enough not to ask Daniel any questions, as the only answer he's likely to give is another demand that she remove the bracelets that tether them to such close quarters. Instead, she tosses out some innuendo, gives him her most infuriating smile when he explodes, and pretends reluctance when he orders the handsome young thing that guards the door to take her as far away as possible without risking their joint collapse.

Tau'ri computers are nothing like the Goa'uld systems she knows so well. Still, Vala has been using what this stolid planet considers to be outrageous behavior as a distraction for a long time now. They don't seem to recognize how much she can absorb just by surreptitiously watching keystrokes and listening to muttered imprecations. She allows herself a broad smile as she seats herself at the computer in the deserted office and easily breaks the codes that allow her to search through personnel files.

The smile disappears, though, when she opens Daniel's file and learns why that picture of Amaunet is displayed in his office. The shock isn't the discovery that he was once married, or that he lost his wife to the Goa'uld; it's the recognition that the face she hates -- the long glossy hair, the haughty tilt of the chin, the sweep of her eyebrows -- all of it, everything that makes up the composite she labels Amaunet, is actually Sha're of Abydos, a woman with her own personality and sense of self before the Goa'uld took it away.

Vala closes her eyes and accepts that she's probably known it, on some intellectual level, all along. It's a kind of lazy mental shorthand, she supposes, that she allows herself to hate the hosts' faces. And maybe it hasn't really mattered until now. But that picture changes things, and while the Tau'ri might laugh at the idea, Vala is usually pretty honest with herself.

She never mentions anything about Amaunet to Daniel. Later, after she takes her second, longer trip to another galaxy and the Ori fashion their mouthpiece from her own flesh, she's quietly moved when he actually volunteers information about Sha're when they think Adria has died. By then, she's already starting to work on her resolve, and hearing Daniel speak of his wife makes it easier to see the person behind the facade.

It's difficult to make that shift in perception, but slowly, painfully, she learns to focus her hate for the Goa'uld beyond the faces they steal for their own purposes. She gets more practice than she really wants, especially when Athena straps her down and strips her of memory. It's a difficult process, and she wishes she could just forget the whole thing and go back to the easy way of thinking.

But when the Ori are gone, and Adria is... permanently elsewhere, and the Tok'ra summon SG-1 to witness Ba'al's final execution, Vala finds it surprisingly easy to ignore the face that Ba'al has worn all those millennia and focus on the innocent host instead.

"I think I might stay a while and help him through this."

"Yeah," Daniel says calmly. "I thought you might."

There's a wealth of understanding in those few words, and she carries that comfort with her as she moves toward the trembling figure. She doesn't think he'll survive for more than a few hours, a day or two at most -- as Daniel said, the man suffered as Ba'al's host for too long. But for herself, for Sha're of Abydos, and for every other human being that the Goa'uld have claimed as their own... Vala is ready to look upon that face without a snake behind it, and give him the grace of his sense of self for as long as he might yet live.

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B is for Box
by gategremlyn

"Dinner last night was very nice," Carolyn told her father. "I'm glad you came. Mom was glad you came."

"I'm glad I came too," General Landry said. "I'm sorry it took me so long."

Carolyn bent her head and put her hands in the pockets of her lab coat. "I need to get back to the infirmary." She looked up hesitantly. "Will I see you for lunch?"

"I'd like that." He gave his daughter a big smile. She smiled back and for a minute Daniel thought she was going to kiss the her father right there in the cafeteria. Even though it was pretty empty at this time of day, he was sure if Carolyn kissed her father, the news would be around the base within the hour. Knowing Carolyn's reserve and the general's rank, he was relieved to see her regain her professional demeanor as she nodded to her father and left.

Landry had a harder time with his professional demeanor. He was grinning from ear to ear. Finally noticing Daniel and Vala looking at him from a couple of tables away, he nodded to them and made his way to the door, muttering something about a meeting he needed to get to right away.

Daniel smiled back, giving the general a little wave. "I'm glad the two of them have started to work out their differences," he said, his eyes still on the doorway. "It's about time, too. They've been on the base together for more than a year, and I was beginning to think they'd never--" He stopped when he saw Vala's downcast eyes. She was looking into her coffee cup, not giving any indication she heard anything Daniel was saying.

"Vala?"

She looked up briefly and then picked up the fork from her plate and started to play with the pie on it. She didn't eat any of it; she just stabbed at it until it was a messy pile in front of her.

Daniel couldn't understand the change that had come over her. Two minutes ago, they'd been talking about work and shopping trips with Sam. They'd been enjoying a well-earned break from a series of training scenarios Mitchell and Sam were torturing them with when they'd overhead General Landry and his daughter talking.

Ah, there was the problem--fathers and daughters. Daniel understood.

"You okay?" he asked.

He picked up his coffee cup and took a sip, trying to be as non-threatening as possible. It had taken the combined forces of the SGC to get Vala to even talk to her father during his... visit, only to have him turn tail and run without so much as a "see you later."

"I'm fine," Vala answered in a voice that was anything but. "I'm glad General Landry and his daughter are getting along so well. Good for them." With that she threw her fork to the table, pushed back her chair, and stomped out of the room, leaving Daniel looking after her with his mouth hanging open. He left his coffee on the table and followed after her.

He caught up to Vala as she was opening the door to her room. Daniel wondered if she would allow him in. He didn't ask, he just slipped in behind her as she walked in and slammed the door behind them. He didn't sit, feeling that that would be too forward, and he didn't say anything, feeling that that would be too direct. He stood with his hands in his pockets and waited.

Vala paced for a couple of minutes before she turned to glare at Daniel. Trust Daniel to interfere in her business. He and Mitchell had made her go see that good-for-nothing man she called a father. Jacek hadn't changed a bit. He was still the same useless, manipulative, dishonest, sneaky-- She saw Daniel standing by the door and ran out of adjectives.

She might as well show him the box.

She bent down and, from under the bed, pulled out something that reminded Daniel of his mother's old jewelery box. She tossed it on top of the covers with a carelessness that made it jump. Daniel heard a metallic clatter from inside. He kept waiting, knowing that Vala wouldn't have gone this far if she didn't intend to tell him more.

"My father bought this for me when I was a little girl."

"It's...nice."

"It's rubbish. A cheap trinket he bought or stole while he was running one of his scams."

Daniel ignored the bitterness. "What's in it?"

Vala looked surprised at the question. "More rubbish," she answered throwing back the lid for him to see. "Little toys, little payments to appease me for each time he was away."

Daniel took a step forward to look at the contents of the box more closely. It was full of jewelry: necklaces, rings, and earrings including the gaudy pair she'd bought on her last shopping trip with Sam. "How did you manage to hold on to this--the box? How did you keep it while you were...." He didn't know how to word the question. She didn't talk much about her time as Quetesh.

She walked to the far end of the room, keeping her back to Daniel. How has she salvaged one box when so many other things were lost? "A cousin of mine on my mother's side took it when I entered the temple. She kept it for me and when I went back... when I came home, she gave it to me." She'd been on the run soon after, away from her home, her people, and her past. She'd left with the clothes on her back, and a little box under her arm. "I took it with me to P8X 412. Azdek must have kept it with my things, thinking it belonged to a god, because it was there when we went back. This was the only thing I got to take with me."

"That treasure didn't belong to you," Daniel reminded her.

"So you keep saying."

"You helped those people, Vala. You did the right thing leaving the treasure behind. You know that."

She did know that. She'd taken refuge on the planet because it was out of the way of any Goa'uld who would be looking for her. It had given her time to find a new job--as a thief and a liar. Like her father, she thought. Daniel had changed all that.

"Tell me about the box," he suggested. He didn't want to rehash their encounter with the priors on P8X 412, nor did he want to argue with Vala about her ill-gotten gain--even if she had eventually returned it to its rightful owners. "If you kept it, it must be important to you."

She turned and said moodily, "Trinkets, trash, useless pieces of junk Jacek brought back to me when he wanted to buy my affection. They mean nothing to me." She crossed her arms and didn't say anything more.

Daniel, deciding he wasn't in immediate danger of being thrown out of the room, sat on edge the bed. He looked at the box again.

"I had a box like this once," he said quietly, "when I was a kid. Mine had a little drawer in the bottom that used to stick every time I tried to open it. My parents bought it for me when I was about five to keep all my treasures in."

"What did you keep in there," Vala asked, curious despite herself.

"Bones, mostly."

"Ew! Bones?"

"I thought they were mummy bones when I was young. I suspect they were bones from animals that had died in the area. My parents gave them to me to pacify me because I couldn't play with the real ones." Vala looked confused. "Even as a child I knew I wanted to be an archaeologist like them."

"What else?" She sat down on the other side of the bed, looking not at Daniel but at the contents of her box.

What had he kept in the box? "Well, I had a few small books in there, mostly on hieroglyphs; a pad of paper and a pencil for my notes, a small brush that my parents gave to me to help them clean the dust off the artifacts. A deck of cards--"

"You had a deck of cards?"

"I played a mean game of Fish."

Vala mimicked the motion of a rod and reel. "I though fishing was a pastime where you put your line into the water and brought up whatever unsuspecting creature caught itself on your hook while you were being eaten by ravenous insects."

Daniel chuckled hearing Teal'c's voice in her explanation. He'd no doubt told her of the joys of fishing at Jack's cabin. "No, not that kind of fish. Fish. It's a card game. I'll teach you to play sometime."

"Can you make money playing it, like poker?"

"I never did--and who taught you about poker?"

"It's a military base. Of course I know about poker." She changed the subject before Daniel inquired into her winnings. "What else was in the box?"

He paused for a minute thinking back. "I had some pictures in there, too, mostly of the workers and their families. A lot of us boys played together. I think there was even a picture of me on a camel."

"A camel?"

Daniel had lost himself in the moment before he remembered that Vala didn't know what a camel was. "In my office there's a picture of me in front of a pyramid. Do you know the one?" Vala nodded. She'd teased him about his long hair and unkempt appearance. "The animal I'm sitting on is a camel. It's a beast of burden used even today by many people who live on the desert."

He smiled, thinking of the picture of a smallish six-year-old boy perched on a huge beast. "I don't know if the picture was of my first camel ride or not, but it's the first one I remember. I was trying so hard to be grown up and manly, riding on a camel the way the adults did. The swaying motion almost made me sick."

"Sounds awful."

"It's great fun... once you get used to it. Within a week I was an old hand at camel riding. Once I could do that, my parents took me to digs that were farther away, to places where we had to make camp and stay for days. I loved going with them."

Vala wondered at this expansive mood of Daniel's. It wasn't often he talked to her about his past. If fact, she couldn't ever remember him talking to her about it. All that she knew she'd pieced together from Teal'c and Sam. "Did you have other pictures in there?"

"Yes. My favorite was one of my mother and father fighting."

"A picture of your parents fighting is your favorite?" Vala asked. "You had a more difficult childhood than I did."

"My parents didn't fight--at least not often."

"Then why--?"

"Because my mother's waving an old bone (from a real mummy I think) in my father's face, and my father's leaning back trying not to laugh. One of the workers snapped it and gave me a copy. When my mother saw it, she laughed and told me to keep it to remind me not to take everything so seriously. To this day, I don't know what they were fighting about."

Vala thought that was one of the few lessons of his parents that Daniel hadn't, or perhaps couldn't take to heart. He was one of the most serious people she'd ever met. He sat looking down at his hands folded in his lap.

"What happened to it, to the box?" Vala asked, seeing the look of sadness on his face. By now, of course, she'd heard of the tragic circumstances surrounding the death of his parents.

"I don't know." He opened and closed the lid of little box making it squeak. "I imagine someone put it with my parents' things and shipped it, along with everything else, to Nick--to my grandfather. Knowing Nick, he probably threw everything out."

"You call your grandfather Nick?"

"You call you father Jacek," Daniel pointed out.

After a minute, he reached into his back pocket and took out his wallet. With care, he pulled out a worn picture and handed it to Vala. "When Nick... left, I went to pack up his belongings. He had a copy of the picture in an album. I don't know if it was the one from my box or if my parents sent him one, but it's the same photo."

She looked down to see a woman with reddish brown hair and an irritated, angry look on her face waving a large bone at a man with a crooked smile and sparkling eyes. Vala laughed out loud. "Oh, Daniel, you look just like them. You get that look on your face all the time," she said, pointing to Daniel's mother. And this one," she moved her finger to point at Daniel's father, "this is the look you get when you know you're in trouble. You get that same look in your eyes. This is you."

The look of surprise on Daniel's face...surprised her. "Didn't you think you looked like your parents?"

Daniel shifted uncomfortably on the bed. "Well, naturally I look like them. I mean they're my parents, of course I look like them."

She handed him back the picture. "You are them, Daniel. Not just in the way you look."

Daniel smoothed his hand over the well-worn picture. "Um... thank you."

Vala swallowed around the lump in her throat.

"This is my latest piece of rubbish," she said, changing the subject. She pulled out the necklace Jacek had foisted on her with just before his hasty and unlamented departure. She swung it in front of Daniel waiting for him to agree with her appraisal.

He took it in his hand and looked at it carefully. "Turn around," he said.

"What?"

"Turn around." He made the motion with his finger, looking at her over the top of his glasses.

She turned and then felt the faint tickle of the necklace chain resting against her skin.

"There." Daniel fumbled with the clasp, and then awkwardly patted the back of her neck.

"Can I have a copy of your parents' picture?" she asked, turning back and fingering the chain around her neck.

"Why?"

"Because I want a picture of you."

"It's not a picture of me, it's a picture of--" Seeing her smile, he stopped. With a sigh of surrender, he picked the picture off the bedspread and gave it to her. "Here."

"This one?" She took it carefully, knowing how much it meant to Daniel."I'll get a copy of it the next time I'm off the base, and then I'll give this one back to you."

"I know."

"I need to put it... " She looked for a place to put it. Maybe on the--

"Here," Daniel said, patting the box. "It'll be safe in here."

He held it up for her while she placed the picture on top of the jewelry. Carefully, she closed the lid and slid the box back under the bed. The little box once filled with useless trinkets had become a treasure beyond worth--because she'd been allowed to keep it.

"It's pretty," Daniel said, nodding at the necklace.

She fingered the chain and the copper bauble Jacek had given her. It was from Meronet, she remembered him telling her, the planet with the twin suns. Her father had taken her there once. "Yes, it is," she finally said. She caught Daniel's hand in her own. "Now, when are you going to teach me to play Fish?"

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C is for Contetremps
C is for Vala Mal Doran, contetremps extraordinaire!
by eilidh17

"Come on, Daniel, its only lunch. Nothing wrong with friends sharing fond moments over a meal, is there? It's not like we're going on a date."

Rolling his eyes in exasperation, Daniel groaned, "Not going on a date." His plans for a productive day had dwindled down to him being shadowed by Vala every time he left his office, and sometimes while he was still in it. Timing being what is was--in this case, very bad--SG-1 were between missions. So, while Daniel had a pyramid-sized pile of work to excavate, Vala was--

"I'm so bored. Don't make me beg." Swishing her hair in Daniel's face she jutted her chin out definitely. "It's so yesterday."

"No begging, and no lunch." Not even bothering to meet her gaze, Daniel shifted the pile of files in his arms--destined for the linguistics and anthropology department--and tried to look like they held more interest for him than the pony-tailed mosquito currently buzzing in his ear. Coming to a halt and rocking gently back on his heels, he heaved a resigned sigh. "Isn't there something, anything else you could be doing other than annoying me?"

Vala buffed her nails on her black shirt and held them up into the light, admiring her recent manicure. "Oh, darling," she cooed appreciatively. "Unless there's a sale on DeLafee I don't know about or the once a year panty bonanza at Victoria's Secret has been brought forward a month, then no... not really."

Blinking his confusion, Daniel decided he really didn't want to know what she was rambling about, but his traitorous mouth had other plans. "De la... 'Of the fairy?'"

"No, no, Daniel: DeLafee choc-o-late... Imported, Swiss, and the most wonderful, creamily seductive treat in the entire galaxy." She settled her hands on her hips for dramatic effect. "Did you know each little morsal is dipped in edible gold flake?"

"Really? You don't say."

"Uh-huh," she nodded earnestly. "Real gold. Seems your rather quaint little planet prefers to eat its treasure rather than hoard it for a day of meteor showers."

"What?" Daniel's brows settled in a confused heap on the bridge of his nose before shooting up in surprise. "It's called a rainy day."

"Well." Vala tossed one hand out in front of her and huffed, "We all know it doesn't rain in space. Meteors showers, on the other hand, are quite a--"

A tight smile on his face, eyes closed, Daniel held a hand up to stall her. "Stop!" he ordered, holding the hand in place until she fell silent. "I have no interest in gold flake-dipped chocolate."

"Well, you would if the flakes got caught in your teeth. Most undignified."

"Vala!"

"But I'm bored."

Daniel slid his fingers under his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. "And I'm busy," he grumbled. Shifting the awkward files in his arms, he set off towards the elevator again.

"Well, that's it then," Vala called after him. "I'm off."

At last! Hoping for all the world that his captor was releasing him to an afternoon of peace and sanity, Daniel was bemused when, only a few steps later, he could sense her following him. "I thought you said you were leaving."

"No," Vala drawled. "I said I'm off."

"And?"

"Off to the Victoria's Secret sale."

"What sale?"

"The one that I'm hoping they've brought forward a month."

"What are you talking about?"

Increasing her stride, Vala caught up to Daniel easily, and twirling a lock of hair around one finger, she regarded him with concern. "Really, Daniel. You should pay more attention. You asked what I could be doing and I answered with DeLafee and panties."

Pausing briefly in his stride, Daniel stared open mouthed at Vala before snapping it closed. "Oh, way, way too much information there."

"What?" Vala blinked innocuously, biting back a mirthful smile. "I have quite the fondness for chocolate and fluffy unmentionables."

"You do know there is a reason they're called 'unmentionables'?"

Vala smiled sweetly and threaded her arm through his. "There is?'

Pulling away, Daniel jostled with the pile of files as he drew up to the elevator. "Look, I don't have time for this... this, whatever it is you're trying to do. Now, if you don't mind," he added, gesturing to the closed doors.

"Oh, but I do, darling." Vala's voice took on a dejected whine as her gaze flickered up and down the deserted corridor. "It's just not fair, we have a whole planet of shopping to explore and we're stuck here enjoying the weighty merits of all work and no play. Don't get me wrong, Cameron and Muscles are fun when they're not being so serious, but this," she waved absently into the air, "is not what I had in mind when I joined your merry band of treasure hunters."

"We don't hunt treasure, and given your rather colorful history, you should be lucky General Landry let you on the team at all."

"Oh, yes. General Hank. Charming man really... in a grandfatherly way. Did I tell you about my grandfather? Horrid, irritating little weasel. Abhorred children. Something I always found rather amusing since he had twenty-one of his own."

"Va-la," Daniel warned, his patience waning by the nanosecond.

"No! Wait! Hear me out. Saldon, his name was. He had five wives!" Vala held up four fingers, and quickly counting them over, frowned before flicking out her thumb. "Not a brain cell between them, but they all had fantastic child-bearing hips, or so I'm told." Hands back on hips, she sashayed from side to side. "Do you think I have great child-bearing hips? No, don't answer that."

Patience now plummeting even lower than the topic of conversation, Daniel pushed past Vala and punched the 'up' button on the elevator, all the while tapping his foot impatiently.

"So," Vala continued on, oblivious to Daniel's frustrations, and still admiring her wildly swinging hips. "Saldon couldn't stand children. Hated them. Do you know," she mused, attention now drawn away from her hips as she tapped a finger on her chin in thought, "he was thought to have given several children away to a slaver in exchange for a cargo ship? I mean, how a parent could be so-"

One arm hugging his files, Daniel smacked his forehead with his palm and closed his eyes, breathing deeply. "What," he ground out between clenched teeth, "does this have to with General Landry?"

With her head cocked to one side, Vala shrugged and beamed brightly. "Nothing at all. I just thought you might be-"

"Well don't."

"What?"

"Think!"

Wearing a look that crossed between looking perplexed and confused, Vala said, "There's no need to be rude, Daniel."

"I'm sorry, but I just don't have time for this. My departments are up in arms over the lack of time and resources they're being given before items are crated off to Area 51, and the General has me hashing out a treaty for the Timians -- a mission you're a part of. Isn't there something better you could be doing besides bugging me? What about Mitchell and Teal'c? I'm sure they'd love some company."

"I don't think they like me." Vala pouted and crossed her arms, refusing to meet his gaze. "I'm really no good at this whole 'bonding' thing," she sulked, making air quotes with her fingers.

"This is a joke right?" Daniel wasn't buying it. "How long have you been on this team?"

Shuddering, Vala turned defiantly away and faced the elevator door. "It's Muscles," she murmured. "He doesn't like me. For some silly reason he can't seem to get past me being a Goa'uld once. Apparently, he met me one time."

"And?"

"And? I don't know. Honestly, Daniel, you don't expect me to remember every enemy Jaffa I met while I was a host?"

"No," Daniel admitted, "but surely Teal'c must have elaborated?"

"Oh," Vala sighed and turned to lean against the wall, picking at a hang nail. "He had plenty to say. Most of it I wouldn't care to repeat in present company, the details are just too sordid."

Not generally suspicious by nature, Daniel could tell when his chain was being yanked, and right now his Vala Lie Detector was pinging away merrily. "None of this happened did it?" he asked, peering down at her over the top of his glasses. "Teal'c never said a word. In fact, I'd venture to say you never even met him, did you?

Suddenly fixated on her nuclear ruby-painted nails, Vala looked up and pursed her lips. "No," she admitted, "but it could have happened that way."

"Go away."

"Daniel?"

"Shoo," he hissed with a flick of his wrist. "Far, far, away."

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D is for Daniel
by hummingfly67

She doesn't like the quiet.

That is when her mind runs riot, thinking thoughts (dark and terrifying thoughts) she'd rather not think ever again. The times when those thoughts get too loud, so loud she wonders how she doesn't go insane (and honestly sometimes she thinks it just might be too late to worry about that particular demon) she seeks out the one person that keeps the quiet at bay.

Vala determinedly bounces into Daniel's office, a bright smile fixed firmly in place. "Daniel, darling, I am quite literally starving!" she announces. "You must take me to dinner." Her energy and motion carry her to his work counter, and she collapses against it dramatically, managing to toss her hair back artfully in the process.

All in vain, it seems, as Daniel doesn't even look up from the text he has his nose buried in she notes with a quick peek in his direction. Her spirits plummet slightly.

"Hmmm...what? Did you say something, Vala?" he mumbles, index finger tapping at a passage in the book as he turns his head to the right to peer at another book - one of several scattered around him.

Well, at least he knows it is her. She cheers herself with that thought as she straightens and props her chin on one palm, elbow on the counter. Reaching out with her free hand, she gives his book a little nudge. "Dinner, Daniel. You need to take me to dinner. I'm starving."

He bats at her hand irritably, sending her a brief frown before he resumes reading. "You know the way to the mess hall, Vala."

"Of course I know the way, silly," she responds lightly, sidling closer to him. "But I want to go to dinner with you." She pokes his khaki-covered bicep in synchrony with 'you'. "Actually I think you should take me out for dinner, out of the mountain."

Daniel sighs, and lifts his head to stare at her, brow furrowed and looking adorably befuddled. "And why would I do that?"

"Because we still haven't had our date yet!" she says earnestly, suppressing the urge to bat her eyelashes at him (it really irritates him, and never works anyway). "Our official first date," she amends, "since the original one was so rudely interrupted."

He sighs again. "Vala...it wasn't a date. How many times do I have to keep saying that?"

"I know, I know...two friends and co-workers, blah blah blah," she retorts, rolling her eyes. "Really, Daniel, how long are you going to drag out that nut on your chest?"

Daniel blinks rapidly, automatically glancing down at himself before meeting her gaze again. "Wha-? Oh! That's chestnut, Vala. Chestnut." He adjusts his glasses, sliding them further up his nose. "Etymology suggests-"

"Yes, yes. Spare me the lecture, Daniel!" she interrupts. "As I was saying, you really need to come up with a new excuse. That 'not a date'" -- she uses air quotes -- "line is getting tired. No one is buying it."

He blusters, cheeks reddening and mouth opening and closing fruitlessly. It's not the most attractive of looks, but she senses that might be a conversation for another day.

After a deep breath or two, he seems more in control. "Vala, I need to get my notes in order for tomorrow's mission briefing, and it's going to be a late night as it is. Go ask Cameron or Teal'c to go for dinner."

His tone is final, but she takes comfort in the fact that it is neither angry nor frustrated.

"I'll leave you to it then, Daniel," she tells him as she flounces out of his office. "We'll plan our date for another night."

His protest is half-hearted at best and Vala smiles as she heads to the elevator to go the mess hall. Now she really is starving.

***

Early the next morning, the team discusses their next mission to PX-something or other. Really, why does SGC insist on these ridiculous alpha-numerical designations? Names, now that is a clever idea. And so much easier to remember. The Daniel in her head begins a lecture on binary code extrapolation and she tunes him out, unable to contain a yawn. Glancing up quickly, she is relieved to see only Muscles appears to have noticed, and if she is not mistaken that arch of his eyebrow is one of amusement.

She amuses herself by doodling on her notepad. Certainly Daniel will assume she is taking notes on the mission, and see this as diligent and industrious of her - won't he? If he knew the truth, he'd be disappointed, and would most likely accuse her of not being serious, of making a mockery of the system and their efforts. She isn't, though. She is fully capable of dividing her attention in more than one direction at a time. Honestly, how did he think she survived in the wilds of the galaxy? Good looks and charm only get a girl so far.

Besides, she knows her team will always have each others' fives. No, wait. It is sixes. Like the clock; six refers to someone behind you. Though personally she thinks her behind is a ten. Worst-case scenario, an eight. Those horrid one-piece coveralls, for instance. She shudders inwardly.

The real Daniel drones on, much as the Daniel in her head often does. She thinks to herself how sad is it that he lectures her in her head as much as he does in reality, and has to hide her sigh of melancholy.

Returning her attention to her notepad, she quietly flips to a clean sheet of paper and proceeds to draw a fairly decent caricature of Daniel, if she does say so herself. Adding glasses gives it that final touch, and distinctively distinguishes the picture from Cameron, if she were ever to draw one of the Colonel. For added measure, she writes Daniel's name underneath the drawing.

Daniel

She admires her scrolling penmanship; how the little loop at the bottom of the 'D' of his name swirls into the 'a', the flourish of the 'l' at the end. Her keen eye spies something else as well, something she'd never noticed before. If one were to switch two of the vowels in Daniel's name, one would end up with 'denial'.

With an uncomfortable feeling in her stomach, she sits up straighter, clutching the notepad to her chest, and turns her full attention to Cameron, who has taken over the briefing from Daniel. Now is not the time to ponder her own capacity for denial.

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E is for Evil
by crazedturkey

At first she screamed.

The sound echoed only in the confines of her own head.

Qetesh seemed to find it amusing.

"You may continue to scream for the rest of your life, little slave. It will make no difference. And it will be forever."

Vala screamed as another controlled her arms, used her legs, issued commands using her voice.

With no vocal cords to tire, a scream can continue for a very long time. Still, a mind can only scream for so long. Eventually Vala just settled into weeping.

She wept as Qetesh maimed. As Qetesh tortured. As Qetesh killed, often simply for the fun of it.

Qetesh loved the noise, thrived on the misery and the horror of her host. She went out of her way to be creative in her destructive activities only to hear, to feel, the increase in Vala's own misery. To further Vala's own destruction.

A host shares all with its master. But the master may keep itself separate, if it chooses. Qetesh chose, delighted, in allowing Vala to know her plans, know the true depth of her depravity.

"It makes things more delicious."

With no privacy even in the reaches of her own mind, Vala continued to weep.

She wept for a long, long time.

On a day no different from any other, filled with destruction at her own hands, Vala made a decision. The weeping, the railing, the screaming, it made no difference.

And so she stopped.

That, and that alone, managed to finally affect the thing twisted around Vala's spinal cord.

It redoubled its efforts. It devised methods of torture for other human beings that Vala had not, could not, ever have fathomed. It created mayhem and murder. Even locked out of the parasite's brain, Vala could sense its frustration, sense its concern. Vala watched it whip itself into a frenzy trying to elicit a response from the small part of their shared brain that was still hers alone.

Vala was still horrified by the destruction Qetesh wrought using her face, her body, her hands. But she made herself hard, made herself numb, made herself separate.

Vala stayed distant. Immune.

She broke herself away from the evil in order to surmount it.

And she survived.

Until that final, glorious day when she Qetesh was dragged from her body.

When it was finally, finally, her turn to scream.

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F is for Flirt
by beanpot

Vala had a reputation and she knew it. She knew they all teased her when she wasn't in the room and some even did so when she was standing next to them. It never bothered her, really. After seeing life through the eyes of Qetesh, rumors and knowing nods were minuscule next to ordering genocide. Especially when it was true, but the truth is always twisted and complicated.

Sam got it - Sam understood. Vala would get an eye-roll or knowing grin or sad pat on the shoulder from Sam as Vala smiled, glanced through coyly downcast eyes, and walked triumphantly away with a plate of hot cookies. Or a toss of the hair and a shimmy in the walk while arguing for Daniel's release from the Ori-following tribe followed by a deep exhale and inhale that might have sounded like a sob. With hard eyes, Vala would curl up next to a tavern keeper on a planet while the boys would glare and scuff their boots, and Vala would walk away with information on the rumored Sodan survivors or another story on Merlin. Once home, Vala would stand under the streaming hot water for just a few minutes more and Sam would show up in her room with a bottle of wine and stories of her own.

"It's not only men you flirt with," Sam once said as they were reloading their P90s behind a wall - Vala thought it might have been a bakery based on the shelves. Sam shifted her body weight and unloaded the clip into the odd monster-thing that had been chasing them for hours, then turned and continued with a grin, "You love this stuff. Flirting with danger and such."

Vala looked at her quizzically, "Isn't that the title of one of those Romance novels I borrowed from Cassie?" She peered over in the direction the boys were suppose to be setting up the claymore-rigged trap. "They're taking their precious time, aren't they?"

"Yep," replied Sam, her clipped words the only hint at her exhaustion and then the signal came the trap was set.

"I suppose next time we should handle this ourselves, then?" Vala asked as she slid a knee underneath her, ready to run.

"As always," Sam replied. "But next time, Cam is the bait."

Two hours later, they were stepping back through the gate flush with victory. As the walked down the ramp, masking limps so they wouldn't be sent to Dr. Lam, Vala turned to Sam and said, "It's not really the danger and it's not really flirting. It's life and it's living it and after everything, I don't have a choice but to live it as richly as possible."

Sam nodded and Vala took a deep breath and exhaled, squared her shoulders and twisted her frozen mouth into a smile that would melt butter.

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G is for Genuine
by pepper_field

"Is it genuine?"

Vala Mal Doran -- or, for today, Lady Sharmusi sin Bargry-Monicanre -- straightens her posture slightly, just enough to suggest aristocratic outrage. She shoots a look down her imperious nose at do-Smosta, who ducks his head and holds out his hands placatingly.

"I mean no offence, my lady," he says, his knowing glance touching her fleetingly. He thinks he can read her. He thinks he can see past the aristocratic exterior, the paint and the ribbons, to the desperate poverty beneath. But he's wrong -- or partly so: the desperation is real enough, but not because of money, or her lack thereof. What she is really trying with all her control to hide is her need for speed. If she doesn't get off this godforsaken, backwater planet soon... "But even a humble trader such as myself must take care to... receive a fair price."

The irony is, the price is far from fair -- to her. On any civilized planet, she could have bought his whole ship, crew and all, ten times over for this little, jeweled trinket. It's not merely a rather gaudy and tasteless ornament: it is technology. It is power, and knowledge, and if she'd had some other valuable to trade, or time enough to steal something -- anything -- else, she would never have thrown it away like this. If do-Smosta -- the greedy, distrustful fool -- had even half a grasp of what this could do when fitted into the right kind of engine, she could have made him beg for it. But she does not have time, and he understands less than he knows. do-Smosta sees only the materials of its manufacture, the gold and pretty jewels. He may even have it melted down. She could almost cry at the waste.

"You insult me, do-Smosta," she says, warningly. She closes her hand over it. "I may see what the next ship has to offer." Not that she will. She needs passage off this rock, she needs it now, and his was the only ship ready for takeoff, the engines turning over even as she sauntered slowly past. Nonchalance has been a hard-learned lesson, but she can't give him any reason to suspect that her skin may be more valuable than this bauble.

"Wait, wait, my lady," he says, tone honeyed. "Don't be hasty. I'm sure we can come to some arrangement." He purses his lips. "Passage to Jarshonus, eh? It's possible, of course. Possible. It is a little out of our way, but not by a great deal." He shakes his head. "But fuel, though -- fuel is so expensive in these hard times."

"This will more than pay for the cost, as I am sure you're aware." She lets her eyes wander, looking bored, and in his attempts to catch his captain's attention, a crewmember stood at the top of the ship's ramp catches hers, instead. "Is your man signaling for you to hurry?"

do-Smosta glances up irritably, and waves the man back into the ship. The man gives a gesture that efficiently conveys, 'Well, don't blame me if the engines overheat and explode, then,' and disappears back into the cavernous dark of the ship. do-Smosta looks back at Vala, and she gives him a bland smile.

"Passage to Jarshonus," he says, finally. He reaches out, impertinently plucking the trinket from her fingers. "Very well. But I will have my people examine this on the way -- just as a precaution, you understand. If it is not genuine..." The threat is left unfinished, but she understands. If it is not genuine, he'll space her -- or worse.

"It's genuine," she says, firmly.

---

"Is she genuine?"

Even on the edge of disaster, the villagers are looking at her with distrust. She has visited here before -- back when her body was just another suit of clothing for a snake -- so it's perhaps understandable. They trust Daniel, of course, despite the fact that he arrived with her, and that he's done nothing but give them bad and worse news. She's not even surprised by that any more. It's just a gift he has. Hell, even she trusts Daniel, despite many hard lessons in the folly of belief.

Daniel looks at her. She shifts urgently from foot to foot, giving him a glare as he pauses for a long time. Yes, it means trusting her to weigh his life and the lives of these grubby people above a quite unholy amount of treasure -- but it's not her fault that she's the only one here who can use the Goa'uld-locked controls. She didn't ask to be an ex-host, and she didn't ask for the previous incumbent -- the one who took over after Quetesh was beaten and extracted and killed, and her host was beaten and spat upon and exiled -- to leave this ridiculous trap. But if Daniel doesn't assure these people that she is indeed for real, and persuade them to let her get on with rescuing their collective asses, they are all going to die.

She says as much with her expression. Daniel still hesitates. Damn him. The villagers look between them, faces falling.

"Daniel," she says, sweetly. "Won't you tell these nice people that I have only their best interests at heart?" Daniel bites his lip. "Daniel, darling, I don't mean to rush you, but you are aware that the countdown is already halfway through?"

The villagers begin to murmur angrily. Well, at least they'll all perish in a fiery explosion of doom before they have time to take their vengeance out on their ex-god's ex-host, Vala tells herself, trying to be philosophical. But it's such a waste of a perfectly good life...

"She's genuine," says Daniel, quietly. The villagers exchange glances. Daniel looks at them, and says, loudly and with more confidence, "You can trust her." He steps forward, and they move back, allowing a little space, which grows to become a path. The murmurs don't abate, but they are willing to trust her at last. Vala discreetly rolls her eyes. Villagers.

"Well, it's about time," she grumbles, as she strides past him toward the controls.

"You're welcome," says Daniel, mildly.

She pauses, and looks back over her shoulder, amusing herself by making his brows draw together in a suspicious frown when she throws him her most genuine smile.

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H is for Hug
by merrykk

No one touches a god in normal ways. No one touches a conman's daughter normally either. And if a thief expects to be given normal touches, they are certainly a bad thief and most likely one step shy of being a dead thief. Touch is a weapon, or has been as far back as Vala chooses to remember, and everyone knows this and sticks to the most useful and distracting functions.

It must be some vestige of childhood, then, when Vala clings to Daniel after being reborn from Ori fire (she thinks). And when he holds her back, she doesn't consider it then, but in the many dull hours he forces on them during the bracelets' continuing hold she watches him from under long lashes. Her gaze may look like a flirt; she doesn't care. But she wonders what he gained with that touch, and what battle he was fighting that needed a weapon like a soft brush of the cheek. It doesn't make sense.

Tomin overwhelms this carefully sculpted worldview, and she feels regret late one night. He's already a combatant in her mind, each touch of hers designed to keep their battle safe from defeat. She mourns the lost chance to live at peace with him, gone forever now. He hugs her tightly when he is miraculously healed, a peaceful joyful gesture (as she now realizes), and after the moment of her worry is gone she files it away.

Someday, somehow, she will learn how normal touch works.

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I is for Identity
by midvacent

Vala's immediate mind was a mess of memories as she clung tightly to Daniel's jacket. He was silent and watchful, his eyes never leaving her face. She averted her gaze and looked out the window. The trees were green and greener and went too fast for her to see. She felt dizzy and squinted against the light. It was dull and white and too, too bright, the sky a suffocating blanket of grey. It was pressing down on her, pushing her out as it pushed itself in, mocking and heavy and silent

"Hey." Vala jumped as Daniel's voice pulled her back to her body. "You're safe now."

"Yes," she said and tried to breathe. Her breath caught and she gasped. Their concern was like a weight. Pressing, cloying. She didn't want it, didn't need it. She tried to imagine herself part of the landscape going by. It was no good. She was anchored to the present. To the stuffy air and plush seats and the people crowding in. Vala said nothing more the whole way back to the mountain.

They traded grey sky for grey walls and ceilings and corridors of buzzing light. The humming of electricity, activity. She knew this. She knew the smell and sense of weight and urgency, emergency. The lights flashed. Incoming off-world activation. People rushed by or walked past. Guns and clipboards, green and black, white and blue. The movement made her dizzy. She was flanked every step of the way. Daniel by her side. Teal'c at her back. Sam just near enough to touch, and Cameron led the way. Down, down, down in the elevator, the numbers blurred together.

She panicked when Dr. Lam told her to lie down.

"I'm fine, really," she said, her hands shaking. "I just need a moment."

She tried not to remember before. Before in a chamber of gold on gold. Before on a bed, a goddess wed. Before when she spun away from everyone, the galaxy her own, her mind a wreck.

Daniel tried to hold her. She pushed him away and cried, silently. He let her go and she was free and falling and the floor was cool. She breathed in, she breathed out. She was herself. No one else. No one else. And she was sheltered. Because Daniel was terse and Cam was blunt and Teal'c was a tower and Sam sat down and held her hand and the nurse went away. And Dr. Lam, eventually, shook her head and let them be.

In and out. Up and down. Light and dark. The masses cower below her. Her Jaffa, loyal and strong. On the deck of her Ha'tak, the world below a rain of fire. On her throne, ordering an execution. In her lab, overseeing the tablet. Athena, the fool. Ba'al, laughing. A hand on her arm. A staff blast. Glowing eyes. The thrill of pleasure. A dead child. The Tok'ra. A device at her neck. The villagers, their stones. The hit. The fall. She runs and runs and runs and runs and -

Vala woke, breathing hard. She heard the dull thud of footsteps, the beep of some machine, people talking. She opened her eyes.

"Hey," Daniel said. He stood at the end of her bed. Sam stood to his right and Teal'c next to Sam. Cam sat in a chair next to her.

"Hey," she said, trying to regain her composure. "How long was I out?"

"About ten hours," Daniel said.

"We were getting worried," Sam said.

"Oh." Vala wasn't sure why they would be. Had she overslept and missed something? A few moments of silence passed.

"I'm glad you're ok," Daniel said.

Cam shifted in his chair and winced. "We all are," he said, face pinched.

Vala frowned. "I'm sorry about your arm," she said.

He waved off her apology. "Not your fault. I'm just glad you're alright. Besides, you patched me up."

Sam smirked.

Cam glared at her. "Would you let that go?"

Sam shook her head, grinning.

"What?" said Vala.

"Cam's always losing his pants," said Sam. Daniel did a very bad job of stifling a snort.

Cam was not amused. "It was twice! Geez."

Vala considered the golden opportunity before her. "When was the first time?"

Cam groaned. "Oh, no," he said.

"Oh, yes," Sam said, and pulled up a few chairs. "Anyway, in an alternate reality, a version of us found a way to use a black hole to create a multi-universal rift."

"Long story short, alternate versions of ourselves started showing up through the gate," Daniel said as he sat down on the empty bed next to hers.

"The strangest thing you ever did see." said Cam.

"It was a most surreal experience." said Teal'c.

"Yeah," said Sam, "Even for us."

Vala smiled. Tentatively, she allowed their story to take her away from herself and on to something better.
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J is for Jail
Breaking Out Is(n't) Hard To Do
by lifeistoobrevis

Vala paced the small cell she was in like a wild animal.

Step, step... She reached out and wrapped her fingers around the bars. I could so easily just slip out and... NO! She stepped back and resumed her pacing. She had promised Cameron that, should she happen to fall into trouble on this quaint little planet, she would wait for her team to negotiate her way out. It was a peaceful world, a society of Monks... And it's not as if she was in any danger, unless you count the insane boredom she was currently suffering from. So, she had promised, of course... not without great exclamations of "What could possibly go wrong?!"

This negotiation was important to the SGC, the planet was rich with naquadah. How the Goa'uld had missed it she'll never know. And, after her recent psychological exam, she felt that it was important for her to show that she could be a team player and follow the rules.

But, right now, she was wishing that she'd never made that promise... And also that she'd never removed her BDU jacket, which is what had landed her in this predicament in the first place.

How was she supposed to know that seemingly innocent action would have so greatly offended them. It had been unbearably hot and stuffy in that temple.. and it's not as if she were standing there nude, they should be so lucky, she still had her tank top on, after all... And, quite frankly, she figured she should be the one with her nose out of joint, or so Cam would say. She hadn't been the one to go screaming and covering her eyes just at the mere sight of their skin.

But, anyway, here she was, impatiently waiting, for patience had never been one of her virtues, for her rescue by SG-1.

So, it was with great relief when she finally heard the main door open, followed by a Monk ushering her team towards her.

"Well, it's about time!" She said with a smile... Which quickly faded as her cell door opened and her friends were pushed inside.

Her brows furrowed and she tilted her head to the side, "This isn't quite how I envisioned our happy reunion," She observed.

"We uh..." Cameron stammered.

"We were having trouble negotiating for your release," Daniel cut in when Cam trailed off.

Sam leaned against the bars, clearly out of sorts, "They wouldn't even let me in the building!"

"Okay... but how did you guys wind up in here?" Vala finally asked, curious.

"I may have umm..." Cam trailed off again.

"After many hours of negotiation, Colonel Mitchell insinuated something about the presiding Monk's mother." Teal'c added, helpfully, with a barely noticeable amused smile on his face.

Vala's mouth fell open and she lamented missing the only interesting thing that had happened on this whole mission.

"I don't think we're going to be able to negotiate anything with these people..." Daniel sounded, dejectedly.

"You mean, I've been sitting in here for nothing?!" She declared in a huff.

"I'm afraid so..." Sam looked at her in sympathy. She pulled a small pin out of her pocket and then smiled, "But I should have us out of here in a jiffy."

With that, Vala pulled a set of keys out of her pocket and waved them around. "That won't be necessary, Samantha. It's time for Plan C." With a flick of her wrist, she had the door opened in a flash. Turning back, she faced her four friends, three of whom were slack jawed, the other simply staring at her with amused approval. "I lifted this off of the guy who brought me in here," She explained with a toothy grin.

"You mean, you could have broken out of here anytime you wanted?!" Cameron asked, incredulously.

"And saved us hours of mind numbing, not to mention fruitless, negotiations?" Daniel added.

"Of course. Did you really think that this tiny cell and a handful of Monks could hold me?"

Daniel's hands flew wildly in the air. "Then why didn't you?!"

"He," She pointed at Cameron, "Told me not to," She stated as if it were obvious.

Cameron leaned against the side of the cell, as if he needed the support. "Since when do you ever do anything you're told?"

All eyes were on her and she suddenly felt very self conscious. Since I actually care about the respect and trust of the people telling me things, she thought, but didn't say. Instead, she just stepped out of the cell and indicated for them to follow her. "Well, darlings, I don't know about you... But I don't intend on being here when they come back. Let's blow this icicle stand."

"Popsicle," Cam corrected, walking past her. "It's popsicle stand."

When Sam came up alongside her, she asked, curious, "I noticed you skipped Plan B, what exactly was that anyway?"

"Oh," Vala shot the other woman an impish smirk, "As that happened to involve the very thing that got me into this mess in the first place, I thought it best to skip that idea."

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K is for Kleptomaniac
by acarlgeek

Vala indignantly slammed the large dictionary shut with a thud that resounded through Daniel's office, "I am NOT!"

Cam pursed his lips to contain an instinctive snappy comeback to Vala's childish denial. Sam, Daniel, and Teal'c all had their eyebrows raised and heads cocked in eerily similar stances. Sam and Daniel both had their lips tightly compressed, probably for the same reason Cam did. This was a stupid discussion that should never have come about, anyway. Vala had predictably failed a simple, albeit unplanned, test, and comparing her actions to technical definitions was a pointless detour that wasn't going to get anywhere.

With his usual measured dignity, it was Teal'c who finally verbalized a response, "Since you persistently succumb to an abnormal impulse to purloin items for which you have no need, your actions very definitely match the description of a kleptomaniac."

The fire in Vala's eyes intensified, "My impulses aren't abnormal; everyone takes things that are left lying around. Besides, I DO need the things I take, eventually."

Daniel's head dropped into his hand as his forbearance snapped, although his tone remained patient, "No Vala, most people do not steal everything they can lay their hands on. Most people realize that items left unattended in the open are not automatically abandoned. Your urge to bedizen yourself is not universal, not an excuse, and definitely not a 'need', especially with what you took this time." Daniel raised his head and locked disappointed eyes with the pouting Vala before continuing, "Hoarding things until you find a likely buyer is not fulfilling a 'need', either. Wants and needs are two different things, and you steal things because you want to take them, not because you need them." Cam was amazed at Daniel's perseverance, and that Vala had actually allowed the man to complete his statement.

Sam held out her hand, "Give back the 'Hello Kitty' earrings. They're a present for one of General Hammond's granddaughters. We need to get them wrapped before he finishes his meeting and leaves the base." Teal'c tilted his head to reinforce Sam's order. Cam kept his mouth shut.

With a sigh and toss of her head, Vala dropped her gaze and removed the contested items from her ears, "All right, but I'm NOT a kleptomaniac. I can obey your prim rules about possession any time I want."

Four pairs of doubtful eyes challenged her to prove that statement.

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L is for Lesson
by risti

It started with just one small rock. Vala looked at it closely and then held it out towards the midday sun, her eyes widening as the sun glistened off of it's surface.

"Is it a diamond?" Vala looked up at her father as she asked, wide-eyed and innocent.

Her father smiled, and reached down to ruffle her hair. "Not yet."

Vala's eyes narrowed again. "How can a rock turn into a diamond?"

A huge grin broke out on her father's face. "That, my dear, is what I plan to teach you today."

A short while later, her hand fisted around the rock as if it were already as valuable as a diamond, Vala stood alone in the middle of the crowded market, and tried not to panic. The object of the game is simple, her father's voice echoed in her mind even while she shrunk down to make herself even smaller in the sea of people. You start with this rock, and see if you can trade it in for something bigger or better.

A delicious scent drifted through the dull rank of too-hot, too-crowded bodies and for a moment, Vala forgot all about her task. Looking up, she saw a man in a stall across the street had just pulled pies out of a hearth. The pies were always her favourite part about these outings with her father, fresh and hot and overflowing with seasoned fruit. Licking her lips, Vala took determined steps until she reached the stall. It wasn't until she was standing there, her mouth open to make her request, that Vala remembered that the object in her hand was still just a rock. Maybe one day it would be a diamond, but right now, it wasn't even a bronze coin.

"Whatta you want, girlie?"

Vala's grip tightened once again on the rock in her hand.

"Well? You're holding up the line."

Vala took a deep breath, and found herself sticking her hands into her pocket, ready to slink away in embarrassment. It was at that point that she felt it, and remembered.

Here, take this, and pick up some oakroot serum for your sister while you're out her step-mother had insisted. The last thing Vala had wanted to do during her day with her father was buy stinky cream for her step-sister to slather onto her pimply face, but it wasn't like she was actually being given a choice.

"Ok, either order something or get out of here."

"I'll take a berry pie, please." Vala's voice rang out stronger than she had expected it to as she pulled out the coin in her pocket.

The piemaker snorted and slapped a pie down on the counter, and Vala passed over her coin.

Vala took her pie, and sat down to enjoy it while contemplating exactly how to win this game her father had challenged her to. She was about to dig into her third slice when it occurred to her. After taking a moment to savour one last mouthful, it was time for the show to begin.

Coughing and wheezing and generally making enough of a commotion to draw the eye of half the people in the room from that alone, Vala stood up, bracing her hands against the table as she did her best imitation of her step-sister that one time she tried to stuff an entire pheasant's wing into her mouth, and ended up nearly choking to death in the process. She succeeds in bringing at least half a dozen people to her side, including one woman who proceeded to wrap her rather capable arms around Vala's chest and began squeezing at regular intervals.

Deciding that bruised ribs were more than she had initially bargained for, Vala decided it was time for her to move on to the next act. Gasping for air a few times was enough to get the woman to release her, and Vala was pleased to note she was able to drag out a few tears after squeezing her eyes shut for a moment.

"Dearie, are you alright?"

"What happened?"

"Do you need a drink of water?"

"No, what she needs is space, you idiot."

Vala looked up then, that last voice belonging to the woman who'd just assaulted her in the interest of keeping her alive. Probably her best choice for a champion, all things considered.

"There was a rock in the pie!" Vala managed to break up her words with a few sobs.

The crowds around her gasped, and Vala sobbed again to keep the grin off her face "The baker, he put it in there on purpose because he, because he d-didn't like me."

"What?!" The baker was still behind the counter, but clearly paying attention to what was going on.

The crowds murmured in disapproval, and sure enough, Vala's chosen champion marched over and began a diatribe on how Vala could died, and how would he have felt if that had happened. Vala buried her head in her arms on the table, unsure of her ability to keep the smirk off of her face.

She walks out of the bakery with a smile on her face and two coins jingling together in her pocket.

It's not a diamond - not yet - but it's a start.

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M is for Mother
by 6beforelunch

The day dawned fair and clear, with bright sunlight streaming through the curtains and spilling across the bed. Vala slipped from the bed and pulled back the red and blue curtains, letting in as much of the early morning light as possible.

"Mother? Do you want to finish our castle today?"

There was no response from Vala's mother, who laid unmoving on her side of the bed. Vala shrugged her bony shoulders and got dressed. Mother had happy days and sad days. On happy days, they did all sorts of fun things, like build castles out of paper and make wheeled carts to race down the old hill, but on sad days, Mother mostly stayed in bed. Mother had gone to bed early last night saying her heart hurt, but Mother was always saying things like that and Vala rarely paid her any mind.

She went into the kitchen and turned the faucet on. The water came out black and sooty, but that was normal. While she waited for the pipes to clear, she slid the wooden chair over to the stove and stood on it to light a fire. When the water ran clear, she filled a pot, tossed in two handfuls of grain, and sat on the chair in the middle of the kitchen, swinging her legs as she waited for her breakfast.

When it was done, she spooned it into two bowls and carried one to Mother, who had not moved.

"Breakfast, Mother."

Mother didn't respond.

Vala shrugged again and put her breakfast onto the stand by her bed. She ate her own breakfast, made herself a strong cup of keshi and went outside. The city was busy and awake. It was warm today, and the sweat slid down Vala's neck. Anton Gunnes shoved her into a wall for no reason. She shoved him back and he hit her. Vala was about to hit back when she saw Anton's father coming out of the street and started to cry instead. Anton's father hit him and drug him back inside by the ear and Vala laughed as soon as they were gone. She didn't like Anton. He was always pushing her and pulling her hair and throwing things at her.

Mother said maybe he liked her.

Mother was kind of dumb, most of the time.

She went back inside.

Mother still hadn't moved.

Vala yanked the blankets off of her and opened the window. She turned and looked at her mother, and realized she didn't look quite right. Vala poked her, pulled her hair.

Nothing.

Vala sat down on the edge of the bed, realization gripping her. She bit down on her thumb.

It occurred to her that she was sitting in bed with a corpse and she leaped from the bed and rushed to the other side of the room.

Now what?

She walked up the stairs to where Mr. Simonsen lived. Up two flights, the stairs twisted and turned. Vala liked to stop and look down. The way the stairs spiraled down made her dizzy. She didn't stop today. She knocked hard on the door.

"Who is it?" Mr. Simsonen shouted.

"Marta!"

She heard him curse and the thump of his cane against the floor. The door opened with a creak.

Mr. Simsonen was a big man with a bad leg. His meaty hands rested on his small cane which bent under his weight. He sneered down at her. "You aren't Marta."

"You wouldn't have gotten up if you'd known it was me," Vala said. "My mother is dead."

Mr. Simsonen rubbed at his thick neck. "Are you certain?"

"Yes I'm certain."

"Does she have a pulse?"

"I don't know what that is."

"Put your hand on her neck and see if you feel it beating."

Vala really didn't want to touch her mother again, but she walked down two flights of twisting stairs and went inside. With a shudder, she touched her neck. It felt cold and there was nothing beating. She walked back up the twisted stairs and knocked hard again.

Mr. Simsonen yelled at her to come in. He was back in his chair, his feet up on the ratty footstool. The sound of two men arguing came through the window.

"Well."

"No pulse."

Mr. Simsonen cursed again and struggled to his feet. They walked to the old, dirty lift in the back of the building. Vala never liked using the lift. It rattled and creaked and she thought it would fall at any moment.

Mr. Simsonen walked into their small room like he owned it, which was fitting, because he did.

"Dead. Figures she would be as much trouble dead as alive." He peered at Vala. "Why aren't you crying?"

Vala shrugged.

"Normal little girls cry when their mothers die."

Vala shrugged.

"Figures," Mr. Simsonen said, and left her.

Vala waited. Some men came and took Mother away. Then Mr. Simsonen came back. "Where's your father?"

"Dunno."

"You'd better find out. Your mother was behind on her rent again. You can stay two days more, and then unless I get some money, you're out."

Vala took the wagon to the chapa'ai. She didn't have any money, so she waited until it was crowded and the people were hanging off of the sides, then she hopped on, nestled between a big woman and a skinny man. The skinny man smelled like a bakery, like the sweet rolls Mother made once. Mother's sweet rolls had not turned out very well, but Vala decided it was a good memory, since Mother had been happy that day, and she smiled.

The conductor noticed her on the side of the wagon and yelled. Vala hopped off and ran, ducking into a narrow ally. She laughed and waved cheerfully as the wagon rumbled past, the conductor cursing at her but unable to stop to punish one girl.

There was a little store by the chapa'ai, where people left messages and packages for travelers. The counter was very high, and Vala had to wave her arms up and down before anyone noticed her.

"Yes?" asked a disembodied voice from far above her. It sounded very bored.

"I need to leave a message for Jacek."

"What's the message?"

"His wife died. His daughter is waiting for him at home."

"Wife died...daughter waiting for him..."

"Also, we'll lose the rooms if he doesn't pay the rent by the third day of Skerpla."

"Lose the rooms...is that all?"

"That's all."

"Three bronze," the voice said.

Vala put a silver coin on the counter. "Keep the change," she said. She'd stolen it from the big woman on the wagon.

She went home and sat on the step. She tried to cry. She thought about all of the things her mother had done for her, and about sweet rolls and castles. But in the end, Vala's mother hadn't done very much for her. Vala made the food and cleaned the rooms and stole the money when Jacek didn't come home. Her mother had been useless a lot of the time, and even on her happy days, she hadn't always been fun to be around. She tried thinking about all of the times Mother had told her she loved her, and had been nice to her, but mostly all she could remember were the times when Mother didn't get out of bed, or the times when she kept Vala up all night because she had a brilliant idea to become a singer and needed to practice her voice.

The third day of Skerpla came and went. Vala stole a few silver coins and paid the rent. She sold mostly everything of her mothers, only she kept a few hair barrettes because she liked the way they sparkled.

Jacek came home on the fifteenth day of Skerpla.

"Hey, kid," he said when he walked in, like nothing had changed. That was okay. Vala kept telling herself nothing had changed too. "I got your message. Sorry to hear about your Mother and all."

"So what do we do now?"

"We...yeah..." Jacek sighed. "Look, Vala, there's no easy way to say this, so I'm just going to come out and do it. Your mother and I, we weren't exactly what you'd call married."

Vala frowned. She wasn't stupid. She'd known all along Jacek wasn't a proper husband like Anton's father was. Anton's father went to work every day and came home every night and cared about his family.

"She was kind of my mistress."

Vala bit her lip. "You're still my father. You still have a responsibility to take care of me."

"Yeah...about that...your mother was a busy lady, if you know what I mean. I can't even be entirely sure you're mine. It made Jensina happy when I played Father, that was all it was."

Vala couldn't seem to make herself cry for real, but she could fake cry with the best of them. She started with a pathetic little sniffle and then some big fat tears rolled down her thin cheeks.

"Oh, don't cry," Jacek said.

Vala started sobbing.

"Here's the thing, kiddo. My wife, she's not a very nice lady. You don't want to live with us. Really."

Vala sobbed.

"Don't you have anyone else?"

"On--on--only you."

Jacek shook his head. "Alright, come on then."

They walked through the streets, Vala all but running to keep up with Jacek's long strides. They came to a small squat house in a nicer part of the city. It was very white. The outside was painted white and the inside had white walls and white rugs over a white washed floor.

"Adria, dearest!" Jacek called, and a thin woman with perfectly styled hair and bright blue nails came out of a back room.

"Who's that?" she asked, jerking her chin at Vala.

Jacek told her and they had a big fight. Adria yelled, Jacek tried to explain, Adria threw things, Jacek ducked. Vala walked over to the window and looked out at the yellow flowers in front of the house.

When it was over, Jacek said, "Look, I'll keep her out of your hair as much as possible. She's a scrawny little thing, but she might come in handy, who knows? Just feed her and let her sleep here when I can't take her with me. That's all I'm asking."

He slipped out of the house, leaving Vala alone with Adria.

Adria looked her over. "Your mother was a whore."

"At least she wasn't frigid."

'Frigid' was Mother's favorite insult. Any woman Mother didn't like was frigid.

Adria slapped her and stormed away.

Vala stood alone in the white room in the white house and stared at the white walls. Then, slowly, she folded in on herself like a leaf in a fire, shriving into nothing. Curled up in a ball on that white carpet, she finally cried real tears.

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N is for Nights
by randomfreshink

She knows he knows that she knows where he keeps his credit cards--lower left drawer, a folder labeled 'miscellanea'. And she has no idea what that says about Daniel. Or herself, for that matter, since she thought to look in that folder first. The thing is--he hasn't moved them.

She also knows he's seen the bills--several months worth now--with the occasional rare reference book thrown in for cover. The theory is that it's possible Daniel might not get around to noticing what he hasn't bought if there are a few things in the mix that he might have bought. The flaw, however, is that she's never seen any evidence the man ever forgets anything, unless it's forcibly removed from his brain. So the books are mostly a distraction.

But she's the one distracted because he hasn't said a word. Not an eyebrow lifted over the cashmere bunny slipper-socks--she had them on in his office last night, and even wiggling her toes at him, which made the bunny ears flop, produced only a blank stare. Or the scraps of lace which she cannot bring herself to ruin by wearing--there are planets where this is worth a large fortune instead of the small one Daniel paid. Or the dilithium crystals she found at a bargain price, but which proved a sore disappointment and quite put her off that bay place.

Daniel has to have noticed her buying power crystals. But...nothing. Which means he's intentionally not saying anything. And that has her worried. It means he knows she needs this to help her through the nights.

It's not the actual shopping. Yes, acquiring is satisfying, particularly when your life has been about being able to pack and run in five minutes. And she still can. Honestly, she can. Well...perhaps in ten now. Fifteen tops. But how can she resist browsing that is extraordinary? And so what if she can't finger the fabrics, or sniff the perfumes, or accidentally pocket some poor trinket in desperate need of a loving home. The virtual world is her playground after the midnight hour. She's never seen any place with such variety--usually someone comes along and kicks the hell out of such initiative and talents as these Tau'ri have on display.

But this is more about...possibilities.

And it's an excellent way to pass the time that hangs on her when others sleep and the base winds down to a speed that leaves her skin itching and ready to walk off without her.

She's certain Daniel knows this.

She's seen him pass his own long nights, usually with his dusty books and his computer to keep him otherwise occupied. But some nights he cannot stay and she is left underneath a mountain. She's seen him reluctant to leave, and she's kicked him out a few times, telling him to go.

But is he leaving his cards where she found them so she won't dig into his books and find something to lure herself away from this place that she will not think of as home? (Homes always end up being some place you have to quit, so she's learned better, but Daniel sometimes makes her want to learn new things, too.) Does he believe she needs something to think about other than oh, say a hundred million people or so who may be enslaved or killed by the Ori thanks to her? Or is he giving her another obsession to balance the one of working out hopeless plans to save Adria from what she's becoming?

She's not certain as to his reasons, which leaves her tapping Daniel's credit card on her lower lip and thinking. What she thinks is that they have rules, and she plays fair--well, mostly. She doesn't exceed his limit--it's five thousand whatevers this world uses for an exchange rate. She doesn't buy things she can steal elsewhere--she only needs an excess of jewels and gold in hand as readily liquidated materials. In return...well, there is no return, which has her frowning, and then doing a search. And he still doesn't say anything when the coffee of the month starts showing up.

It's fair trade--a phrase she likes--and organic, which seems redundant because of course coffee's an organic substance. The first to arrive is a Sumatra Telong, which has both of Daniel's eyebrows lifting. And then he drops his chin, looks at her over the tops of his glasses. He still doesn't say anything about what she does with her nights, but he smiles.

#

The bars are only in her mind, she knows, but she knows that Samantha knows about that, too. They've both been hosts. And say what you want, Tok'ra or Goa'uld still means another consciousness in your mind, and she's never been that good at sharing. So, on the nights when the siren's call of the Internet can't be heard over the noise in her head, she heads down the hall. She likes her room, or what she's made of it. Mostly. But the door has a lock that works both ways. She keeps three sets of keys--one on her, one in the room, and one hidden in Daniel's office. But all that only helps so much on some nights.

That's when Samantha can be counted on for a late raid on what should be locked refrigerators, or to dig into a stash of cookies tucked away, or for long ramblings about what's not going right in the current experiment. The one tonight smells as if it might just explode. Vala knows she should listen better--she could help, she has an aptitude for technical things. One Qetesh exploited--and that can put you off a talent. They don't talk about that, either.

Mostly, Vala likes watching how Samantha can light up like a new dawn. They've stayed up until dawn on a few nights, and Samantha's snuck them up to the top of the mountains to watch the stars fade. The mountain seems cozier afterwards, warm after the chill air, safe after the sloping dirt footing. But the best part is that Samantha needs these little breaks every bit as much as Vala--it's an equitable exchange (fair trade). And tonight they went out together and didn't get back to the base until the middle of the night. Samantha showed off her new pink toe nail polish, admired the black lacy things Vala bought with Daniel's credit card, and fell asleep curled up on the other side of the bed. And Vala kept watch while Samantha kept muttering equations in her sleep.

#

There are things she knows about Qetesh that no one should have to know, and she knows he knows this. But what Teal'c knows is not readily acquired by anyone. She at least knows she never had much to do with Apophis, but it's not for nothing that Qetesh was known as 'mistress of all the gods'--Qetesh, as the Tau'ri saying goes, got around. But now she and Teal'c belong to the same club of former believers who've thrown their gods down into the dirt and lived to celebrate it.

It's a small club. Most of SG-1 doesn't belong, because none of the others were raised to worship someone who arrived in the glowing-eyed flesh to serve up punishment and reward. Vala remembers growing up on one of Qetesh's worlds, kneeling before her god, trembling so hard her teeth clicked and ached. She is never doing that again. Ever.

But Teal'c does not speak of meeting Qetesh, and Vala doesn't go looking for any memories there, either. Muscles and she, they both live in this moment and on this base. And they gravitate to each other on the ancient festival nights. Wep-renpet. The festival of Opet. The celebration of Nehebkau. Feast days when human slaves worshiped, and Jaffa had time off between battles.

They celebrate Wep-renpet, the night of the new year, with a Star Wars marathon and popcorn coated in something that makes it sticky and sweet. Instead of consulting oracles for Opet, Muscles breaks out something called an 'eight-ball' which provides cannily accurate answers. "Is Daniel ever going to figure out that thing...?" She stops there, but only gets a burning face when it comes back with, "You May Rely Upon It." And Muscles smirks.

For Nehebkau, it's supposed to be about rebirth after the death of Osiris. Instead, they spend the night making a list of dead false gods, toasting each downfall with iced Sumatra Telong, the decaf that Daniel won't touch. Vala takes one of Muscle's candles when she goes--and she knows he knows she took it, but one needs to keep light fingers in some kind of shape. And he smiles, and she knows something else that he knows--how a single warm light can push back the darkness.

#

She suspects that it's becoming a bit old to keep going on about how he keeps losing his pants. But she also knows that he knows she wouldn't be teasing him if he'd been the least bit reasonable about staying out of the infirmary. This time it's not even Daniel's fault--Cameron did not get hurt trying to keep Daniel out of injury. No, Cameron lost his pants to a pant-eating plant that was on its way to becoming a man-eater, too.

Cameron is also bitching about someone named Audrey, and Vala knows a cultural reference when it flies over her head. But she can't find a spot of him that isn't bruised. Since she can't smack him, she settles for crossing her arms and a huffed breath. Then she goes out and comes back with one of Daniel's thicker musty books.

It's Cameron's turn to let out the breath, but then he winces and she settles on the edge of his bed and starts reading. The story is by a man named Homer--she's heard that name before so she picked this. It's about a lost hero trying to make his way home. Cameron tries not to seem like he's listening, but he is, and then he is asleep. She stays with him until Samantha wakes her, sends her to her bed and takes over. They finish that book in a few nights. And Vala orders more books that Daniel might think he has bought. Not that she thinks Cameron likes the infirmary or anything, but it's not a bad thing to prepare for the worst.

It's later that the books start showing up in her room--stories about treasure (an entire island of it), about a man washed up on another island, and one about a gentleman thief. So she wonders aloud one night at dinner what's wrong with Tau'ri women that they don't have adventures. 'Princess of Mars' lays on her bed that night. And now she has a new habit of reading at night--just a few pages, just to see how the story turns. And for some kind of happy ending.

#

She knows he knows just how close she and Daniel have become. She also knows he knows that she knows how close he is to Daniel as well. She doesn't think a general is supposed to care about someone under his command the way he does. And it's going to be a very long night for all of those who care about Daniel because the IOA wants to kill him.

She heard General O'Neill's answer to that straight through the halls of Stargate Command--"Over my dead body."

She's certain he means it, so now she's got a cup of coffee--not Sumatra Telong--in front of her. And they're waiting in the place where everyone usually eats.

"What happens next?" she asks, and turns her cup to the time that marks a quarter of an hour.

The general lifts a hand, unbuttons his coat. His eyes gleam, even through fatigue. Coffee steam lifts in front of him like a magic incantation. The black liquid fills the air with burnt bitterness. But he drinks it, winces. Then says, as if it doesn't matter, when they all know it does, "We wait."

Leaning forward, she prompts, "For?"

He gives a shrug, then his mouth lifts a fraction and he asks, "You play chess?"

She learns fast--a dozen moves to grasp the basics. They play through the night. Waiting. She chews her fingernails, and she knows they're plotting more than strategy that goes onto a board. After that, they don't have time for anything until they have Daniel back and he's safe and him again and is sleeping, exhausted, in the infirmary aboard the Odyssey. The general shows up, lifts a finger to shush her--as if she needs that. She makes a face at him and he lifts an eyebrow and a folding chess set.

After he lays out the board--on top of Daniel, who will go on sleeping if he knows what's good for him--she picks up a knight, twirls it. "For traveling?"

"Sue me--I'm an optimist. Thought he'd be up to playing." He nods towards Daniel, who doesn't so much as twitch, and who looks human again, his skin flesh and not bled white and marked by the Ori. She lets out a breath and folds her hands so she won't reach out to touch Daniel and tell the world too much about everything. Then she glances at the general--at Jack.

He catches the look, gives it back with interest. Then he says, "You know, you can play online. Might take some of the strain off his wallet." He nods at Daniel again, smiles, indulgent now that he isn't pissed at the man for a damn fool plan that almost got Daniel killed.

"What?" she says, and she bats her eyes for added innocence. Twice. She's fooling no one, she knows, but she's in the mood to indulge herself. She also holds out two hands. He taps the back of the left, and he still has a trigger finger callus. Opening her palm, she reveals a black knight, and she offers up a smug smile. She always likes having the advantage.

They play through the night. And then through other nights as well (you really can play online--will Tau'ri wonders never cease).

And Daniel finally does look at her and lifts an eyebrow when a hand-carved chest set shows up on his credit card bill, but not in Vala's rooms.

"What?" she asks, wiggling her cashmere bunny slipper-socks at him. "You don't like buying gifts for friends?"

His smile slips out, and he turns away, trying to hide it before she can see. But she knows that he knows when it comes down to the bottom line, it's about whatever gets you through the nights.

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O is for Obedience
by holdouttrout

Vala rehearsed the names she was going to call her step-mother when she got back. She had learned some new ones since being sold into slavery; it would be a shame not to get to use them. She figured it was only a matter of time until she could charm Fierenze into trusting her--she was her father's daughter, after all--and it wasn't like she didn't know the address. After that, she figured she would tell her father what Adria had done--it was almost guaranteed he would throw the witch out after this.

Vala's father might not be around much, but he did love her.

She was pretty sure, anyway.

Well, no matter. All she had to do was bide her time until Fierenze trusted her, and then...

She was a little vague on the details of her plan, but they all involved the image of Fierenze dead in the dirt. That seemed a safe place to start. It wasn't like she could escape and hope for Adria to pay back the good money she'd gotten for selling Vala in the first place. It was probably already spent.

Besides, Fierenze deserved it. She definitely wasn't the first slave to pass through his hands, and if she left him alive, she wouldn't be the last.

Maybe, after, she wouldn't go back at all. She was almost more likely to run into her father out here than at home. More importantly, she could avoid Adria altogether.

From now on, the only person who was going to control Vala would be herself.

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P is for Pigtails
by merrykk

After two years of SGC meetings, Vala had figured out that being late did not, in fact, lessen the time you spent there, as there was not only repetition of everything you'd missed but also wearisome admonitions. And for non-Earth persons like herself, this last part held especially true, as if she was any less aware of how time worked. So she slipped into the limousine on schedule when the President called the team to an urgent meeting, and twiddled her thumbs as the rest of the team failed to arrive.

Rolling her eyes absently towards the ceiling, she wondered if Earth humans thought about more efficient communications. Such as what Cam called Goa'uld television balls, and less formal prevarication and more "this happened, do this, with this".

Finally Sam slipped in the car opposite her, nearly matching Vala in her official uniform. She called for the driver to hurry, and took a deep breath as the car started moving. "I can't believe I didn't hear the first phone call," she said, fastening her seatbelt as they started driving out. "That reactor was loud, but--oh Vala." She paused and her tone fell as she looked up.

Vala blinked and knew that voice all too well. "Did I button the wrong number of buttons?" She glanced down at her front and wondered how many superfluous customs one tiny piece of a planet could have.

"No," Sam said with a quick grimace. "Hair."

Vala brushed the curled ends of her pigtails with slight confusion. "It's clean."

"It's the pigtails," Sam said flatly, gesturing. "And the crystal marble barrettes. Vala, it's the U.S. Government, we're supposed to go looking nice."

Vala frowned. "I've been studying your culture's beauty standards, and I know that 'looking nice' in the case of females means suggesting extreme youth."

"What?" Sam shook her head slightly.

"Big eyes, wide forehead, small chins, small noses," Vala ticked off on her fingers. "Not to mention the clear soft skin. I just accessorized likewise."

Sam stared at her. "That's why you've always worn hair sparkles? You thought--" she broke off, flustered.

"No, that first year was trying to discover why you valued diamonds over crystals even though nearly the only difference is scarcity," Vala admitted solidly. Then she snorted, "As for the broader discovery, I think it's fairly obvious."

Sam rubbed at the bridge of her nose. "No, Vala, no. Those pigtails just make you look...well, never mind, I can fix them, come here." She indicated the adjacent seat in the limo.

Vala hid her piercing look in her exaggerated movement over to the other seat, turning her back to Sam so Sam could tug and twist at her hair. It was odd, but she wasn't certain she believed her friend. Surely as a scientist she should know that you didn't ignore correlations that strong, and however Sam might protest, there was a very odd but clear fascination with childlike features in this country. Vala had found it hard to use to her advantage, her skin and nose in particular being mature enough to earn her high marks on many another world with other standards.

But as Sam twirled her hair up into a hasty bun, pulling everything in tight and supplementing Vala's shaping hair pins with the barrettes, she saw no reason to protest. As Daniel always said (voicing what intuition told her on its own), part of learning a new culture--"anthropology"--was observation without attempt to change. Activism hadn't worked with meetings and schedules; she wouldn't even bother confronting hairstyles.

It was just a shame, since she had such a large collection of sparkles now. She wondered if she could possibly sell them offworld as rare "Earth Diamonds"--after all, their scarcity in the galaxy would be just as great as true diamonds on Earth, and anything that kept the status symbol was a perfectly ethical aspect of business.

Then again, Earth ethics were as complicated as anything else when it came to appropriate lies and exaggeration (television "commercials"), and cons (the longer ones that were instead called "infomercials", so the naming didn't make any sense at all). Vala sighed, but it wasn't for her hair as Sam guessed.

She just doubted that anyone but Teal'c would ever understand that Earth was strange.

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Q is for Quixotic
by cleothemuse

"We should have horses!"

Cameron spun around, looking as though he hadn't a clue what I meant. "Horses?"

"White ones, specifically," I clarified, letting him know by my expression how serious I was about the lack of equine transport. "How can we honestly consider ourselves to be on a rescue mission if we don't have white chargers?"

The "alleged" leader of SG-1 continued to give me a look of utter confusion. "How the hell did you come up with that?"

"Don't be silly, Cameron, there are numerous documented examples of damsels in distress being rescued by knights riding up on white chargers. Of course, Samantha's the only damsel currently in distress, but we shouldn't let a mere technicality stand in the way of us and our daring rescue of her and Daniel."

"Vala... we're not going anywhere until Teal'c gets back with reinforcements."

"By which point any manner of terrible things could have happened." The Tau'ri were terribly innocent to the dangers of the galaxy. One would think that a people capable of producing such an incredible variety of books, television shows, and movies would be capable of imagining all the potential horrors which might befall the unwary or unprepared, but they continued to astound me with their naivety.

"Like what?" Cameron asked. Almost immediately, he held up his hand in an attempt to forestall my reply, exclaiming, "Wait, wait! I don't want to know!"

Nonsense, I thought to myself, figuring that if he'd uttered his question in the first place, then he most certainly did want to know. "They could have been captured for hosts, could be being tortured for information, could have been taken as slaves--surely you've noticed that Daniel and Samantha were scarcely beaten with an 'ugly stick', I believe you call it--though I must say they're both considerably older than is typical--"

"Vala!"

"--for the average sex slave, but I'm tastes do vary from place to place... though I heard once--"

"Vala!"

"--about a certain world which actually had the ability to reduce the physical appearance of their captives to a level closer to 'teenage', thus enabling them to sell older slaves as though they were much younger--"

"Yo! Mal Doran!"

"--than they actually were," I finished, grinning at him winningly. "The side-effects were unpleasant, I'm told. So... are we ready to ride off into the sunset?"

Cameron frowned. "Riding off into the sunset occurs at the end of the movie, not during the resc--that's not the point!"

"Exactly! The point is, Daniel and Samantha need our help, and we're the perfect people for the job." Honestly, for a man who claimed to be an "adrenaline junkie", Cameron could be every bit as boring as Daniel or Samantha in full-on scientist-mode.

"Sure we are," he agreed readily, "but only if we wait for reinforcements!"

I thrust out my lower lip a little, just to let him know how disappointed I was with his pig-headedness. "In my expert opinion, that might take too long."

"Your 'expert' opinion wasn't asked for," he growled.

"Given that rather egregious oversight on your part, you should thank me for offering it anyway." I shook my head lightly, letting him know how fortunate he was that I wasn't offended.

The stuffy bureaucrats responsible for ensuring I was monetarily compensated for my heroic efforts on behalf of the SGC had insisted I be given an "official" title--one which reflected my contributions without revealing anything they deemed "classified" information. After much deliberation, they finally settled on something involving the words "tactical", "cultural", and "expert", and as an ascribed expert on tactics and culture, I was merely doing my best to inform Cameron of the possibilities, thereby doing the job they paid me to do. Of course, I'd also gotten them to pay me for the nine months I spent conducting "participant-observation cultural anthropology research" amongst the Ori's followers, and cinched the deal with a few more choice words from some of Daniel's most yawn-inducing textbooks. Words like "sociological perspective" and "cultural relativism" earned me a fat back-pay check, which went a long way toward purchasing my new wardrobe.

Of course, that had nothing to do with the predicament in which my dear friends had found themselves, so it was with only a little reluctance that I returned my considerable brain-power to the matter at hand.

"Oh! I have an idea! You stay here and wait for Muscles, while I do a little scouting ahead," I offered, walking my fingers through the air to demonstrate my intent.

Cameron closed his eyes and thumped himself on the forehead with a loosely-curled fist. "That's a bad idea. What if you get captured? Instead of just rescuing two people, we'll be rescuing three!"

"Nonsense!" I protested. "I'm far too clever to get captured."

"Oh, but Sam and Jackson aren't?"

That took me aback for a moment, but only a moment. Of course Daniel and Samantha were terribly clever, but not so clever as me when it came to sneaking around and slipping past armed guards. Well, there was that time I accidentally tripped over an untied bootlace--terrible construction, if you ask me, especially when the Tau'ri have more useful fastening devices like zippers--and accidentally alerted some rather stinky ursine creatures to our presence. But those were neither armed nor guards, so I hardly think it counts.

"Of course they're clever," I replied matter-of-factly, "but Samantha-clever and Daniel-clever. If they were attempting to find their way out of a technological trap, for example, or an archaeological puzzle, then I'd have every confidence in their abilities!"

Cameron snorted. "So if there was a challenge involving the need to talk someone's ears off, I'm sure you'd be more-than up to the task."

"I've never heard of anyone doing such a thing, Cameron, and while it sounds rather painful, I'm certain it would be an effective method for rendering someone incapable of hearing escaping prisoners sneaking past them. Should I attempt to 'talk the ears off' of the gentlemen down below?"

"No! I want you to stay right here!" he insisted, punctuating the last three words with a downwardly-stabbing forefinger. Interestingly, he was turning a rather attractive shade of crimson... or was that carnelian? I was never quite certain why the Tau'ri insisted on having so many different words to describe the same color.

"That's a terribly inefficient use of our available resources," I reminded him. Once Muscles returned with reinforcements, we would then have to conduct the necessary pre-rescue reconnaissance, thereby wasting time which should be spent carrying out the rescue itself.

"Who's the team leader again?"

"Oh, Daniel is, of course."

"What?!" he exclaimed, wheezing a little. I briefly wondered if I should remind him that it was necessary to breathe regularly, but I dismissed that notion as being somewhat superfluous, given that he should know that by now.

"Well, 'officially' you are, but you tend to just do what Daniel, Samantha, and Teal'c tell you to do, so I suppose you're more of a leader by proxy for whichever one of them is the expert on the particular situation. And, since I'm officially a 'cultural and tactical expert' or some-such, I hereby declare you my leadership proxy for carrying out my tactical expertise." Glad I'd worked it all out so neatly, I nodded my head and stood up to begin my scouting mission.

Poor Cameron looked positively apoplectic, and I was beginning to be concerned he might have some sort of health problem he'd failed to share with Muscles when our large friend inquired about our safety before departing for the Stargate. "Now just hold on a minute!" he roared, using a volume I considered to be greater than was probably wise, given the fact that we were supposed to be concealing our presence from the same people who had captured Daniel and Samantha. "Your so-called 'cultural and tactical expertise' relates only to the Ori and their followers, not bad-tempered, backwater barbarians!"

I crossed my arms, letting out a sigh of mild exasperation. "My expertise also includes the Lucian Alliance and the other dregs of galactic society, and these 'bad-tempered, backwater barbarians' are certainly scraping the bottom of the proverbial barrel. Ergo, expertise applies."

"No, it doesn't!"

"Yes, it does."

"Doesn't!"

"Does!"

"Doesn't!"

"Guys!"

Startled by Daniel's voice, I turned around to see him emerging from the tree line along with Samantha, Teal'c, and SG-3. "Oh, that was fast!" I exclaimed.

"It was indeed," Teal'c acknowledged, dipping his head gracefully in Cameron's direction. "Everything went precisely as planned."

Taking in the knowing grins being directed toward me, I was quite certain I knew what his plan entailed. "Oh, you're welcome, Muscles!" I exclaimed. "It wasn't easy keeping Cameron busy while you snuck in for the rescue, but I gave it my usual stellar effort." Snapping off a jaunty salute, I happily led my team back to the Stargate, satisfied with a job well-done.

Still, it was a shame we didn't have horses... walking off into the sunset just wasn't the same.

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R is for Royal Treatment
by samantilles

Daniel watched as Vala stepped through the Stargate, her hand swiping at her eye. The wormhole quickly disengaged and the blaring sirens came to an abrupt stop before she made it to the bottom of the ramp.

"So, how is he?" Daniel's voice echoed slightly in the embarkation room.

Vala shook her head. "He didn't survive. It was silly to hope..."

Daniel extended his arm around her shoulder and directed her to the door. "It is never silly to hope. Hope is how we survive day to day."

Vala welcome the friendly embrace, nodding to Daniel's wisdom. The walk to the locker room was silent.
*

Daniel stared at his watch. Though late in the evening, he had fully expected Vala to come find him by now. The silence in his office suddenly became unsettling, and before he knew it, he was walking towards her quarters.

He rapped softly on her door and waited a moment for some acknowledgement she was inside. He turned to leave when the door opened. Vala stood there, her face flushed and her eyes puffy. She smiled when she realized who it was.

"I figured you might want to talk."

"I could think of some other things to do, Daniel." She smirked and winked at him.

He rolled his eyes and shifted his weight. "Vala!"

"Can you blame a girl for trying?" She batted her lashes and smiled widely.

"Yes, I can. If you want to talk, you know where to find me." Annoyed, Daniel turned to leave, but Vala stopped him with a hand on his arm.

"Actually, since you're here?" Her demeanor turned serious, the raw emotion Daniel witnessed when she entered the door took her over again. He nodded and followed her inside.

*

"How are you handling Ba'al's extraction?" Daniel took the chair from the desk and moved it a bit closer to the bed where Vala sat.

"You'd think with as many as I've seen, I wouldn't be as emotional anymore. It's still hard to believe that Ba'al is gone for good." She wiped a tear from her cheek. "I didn't even like him, but the host inevitably feels some of the same feelings as the Goa'uld inside them."

"It must be difficult living with those memories."

"It could be worse. Qetesh told me right after we blended that she chose me as her host from among the entire population of a hundred worlds. She tormented me with the thought that I was fit to be a queen, and as such I was now a goddess. I don't know if it was only my natural beauty that caught her eye..." Vala pulled on her charm, fluffing her black locks, "...or my wit and poise, but I couldn't help but relish the royal treatment I received, even if just vicariously as a host. Otherwise I hated every single minute of it," Vala defended herself, though she saw no look of disgust or disappointment in Daniel's face. "I still prefer being free. Of course, if people still want to treat me like royalty, who am I to deny them that pleasure?" She gave a shrug of the shoulders and an innocent look.

"Sha're was royalty, well, as royal as the culture allowed. She was the daughter of the village leader, and a leader among the women of the tribe. I imagine Teal'c and Apophis saw in Sha're what Qetesh saw in you." Daniel's eyes were unfocused, obvious that he was caught up in a thought or a memory.

His gaze turned back to her, voice thick with emotion. "How do you live with it all?"

"Me? I made the best of it. I took the skills my father taught me and the knowledge I kept as host, and I made do. Even before becoming host, I enjoyed living the good life, with servants and jewels and all the accoutrements of the royal lifestyle. Material wealth aided in my comfort, and as one of the best liberators of priceless treasure in the galaxy, naturally I was comforted greatly. Qetesh's remaining memory helped me immensely. She was devious even for a Goa'uld, a natural con-artist. Of course, I do remember her using some of my signature moves against Ba'al at the battle of Selenis."

Daniel rolled his eyes. "Of course." He smiled at the thought of Goa'uld needing a human to become even more devious, if the statement was true. "I know you don't get the royal treatment here at the SGC--"

"I don't need that anymore, Daniel. I have you and Sam, and Muscles and Mitchell. Having people who believe in me and being a part of a team is a much more powerful feeling than all the riches in the world."

Daniel raised his eyebrows in suspicious surprise at her declaration.

"Seriously, all I need is you guys and a credit card that someone else pays. Maybe a tiara. But really, that's all."

Daniel smiled through a groan.

"I can't help but be a little jealous of Sha're. If I had the support I know you would have given her after her extraction, everything would have been very different. I never expected Qetesh to be removed, not a glimmer of hope. I'm sure Sha're knew you were searching for her. I also know if something should happen to me, I'd have the glimmer of hope now too."

Daniel dropped his head and sighed. He breathed in deeply. "I will always regret that she was taken and we couldn't save her, but you're right, I'm sure she fought as hard as she could and took comfort knowing I was out there looking for her. She deserved better in life."

"We all deserved better, you included, Daniel. But fate plays its hand and we must make do with what is dealt to us. I survived being taken as host. I survived the extraction and subsequent abandonment by the Tok'ra, to live in a galaxy where my face was associated with evil and domination. I gave birth to the Orici and repeatedly tried to kill her. You had to survive your wife being taken as host and suffer through her death. I don't know all of your past, but I know you've survived a whole lot more. Sam, Mitchell, and Muscles all survived too. There is something to be said for that."

Daniel sat there in silence, letting Vala's words wash over him for a moment. "You know, when I came to talk, I thought I'd be the one consoling you, not the other way around." He shook his head in disbelief.

Vala moved closer to him and sat on his lap like she had done many times before. She gave him a firm embrace and welcomed the return gesture. She wouldn't give up this friendship for all the riches in the galaxy.

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S is for Sparkly
by annerbhp

Like most things, the barrettes are about distraction, about disarming, because how much threat can a woman stuck in her childhood really be? She sees the way people look at her, one quick sweep up her body, ending at pigtails and glitter, the way the humans on Earth can't take that seriously.

She wonders if this inability to see children as capable or sneaky or remotely threatening is some heightened genetic impulse bred in their isolation--the tic that keeps them from eating their demanding young like many, many other species would. Do.

The Tau'ri cherish their children, protect them and lavish attention on them, put them on a pedestal she suspects will do them no good when they finally get shoved out of the nest. But it's not their inevitable fall from grace that matters to her. They're on their own, just like she's always been, and it's the best way to be really. They will see that someday. What really matters as she wanders into offices and pokes through lockers and peruses wallets is that the photos of their young seem a constant among the Tau'ri.

She studies them carefully, building a collection of common characteristics in her mind, because she suspects this may be their greatest weak spot and knows she can use that, the disquiet raised by the juxtaposition of leather-bound cleavage and little girl rosy cheeks--drawing them closer and repulsing them in the same beat. They don't look closer because they are scared what that might mean about them and their proclivities if they do. The Tau'ri can be so predictable in their morality.

She can use that.

She likes the way their gazes bounce off her, absorbing nothing but the surface she presents them. It's safe. Protection.

It's not a pedestal or lavished attention or affection, she knows. But that's okay, because in her experience greater height is a detriment, extra trouble she doesn't need when the inevitable shove to the ground comes.

She's cushioned by their indifference.

Exactly the way she wants it.

She steps into the gate room, one eye on SG-1's reaction. She tells herself her greatest fear is their lack of offspring blunting the effect of her look. They each glance in her direction and just as quickly away and she tells herself that's relief she feels pitching in her stomach.

As she approaches, Cam tugs at her pigtail, fingers gentle and face amused. "Okay, Dorothy, you ready to go?"

"Oh, I don't know," Daniel says, glancing at her again. "It's possible she could find a more ridiculous outfit to wear."

Vala dutifully pouts, sticking her tongue out at him.

Daniel rolls his eyes and Cam pushes him towards the wormhole. "Come on, children, we've got places to be."

Teal'c falls into step next to her on the ramp as they follow. Right in front of the event horizon, he pauses, turning to look at her.

"Your hair is luminescent," he comments.

She laughs, flicking her hair back over her shoulder. "Do you like it?"

"Do you not fear giving away your position?"

She glances sharply at him, feeling a little jolt in her stomach. His expression is mild, but his gaze is not.

She tilts her head to the side, widening her eyes, instinct telling her to go for helpless rather than seductive in this situation. Childlike. "I don't know what you mean."

The corner of Teal'c's mouth lifts. "It is simply an observation, Vala Mal Doran." With that, he steps into the wormhole, disappearing from sight.

She fights a moment of disorientation--something sharp and dangerous that she tells herself isn't anything like vertigo.

Checking her barrettes one last time, she steps into the event horizon.

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T is for Teal'c
What Vala and Teal'c do for fun when the rest of SG-1 is not around
by ziparumpazoo

They plan vacations, though they never actually get to take them; there's plenty of adventure to be had going through the Stargate on a daily basis, after all.

Vala's always loved a good caper, so maybe one day, when they are no longer under the threat of imminent extinction, she might take the time to see a bit more of her newly adopted world for herself. She's pretty sure she can convince Teal'c to accompany her. He possesses both a driver's license and a healthy fascination with kitschy tourist stops, so she's pretty sure she'd have no problem convincing him to explore the path less traveled.

One day, over lunch, Vala corners Daniel and asks, "If you were to just up and catch a plane to anywhere on Earth, where would it be?"

Daniel hems and haws, of course. There are very few countries he hasn't visited at some point in his life, and he can find something fascinating that he'd like to revisit in almost all of them.

Teal'c asks him to narrow it down to one location that epitomizes the rise of Tau'ri civilization. Vala asks him about fashion and trade goods. Daniel suggests Rome. He's about to launch into a discourse about the comparative history between the Roman Empire and the decline of the Ancients throughout the galaxy, but Vala pats him on the shoulder and thanks him for his time. Teal'c watches her leave, grabs the last of the grapes from his tray and, with a nod to Daniel, follows Vala out the door. Daniel looks across the table at Cam, who just shrugs and asks him if he's following Nascar this season.

Teal'c had introduced Vala to Google early on, and now they pore over satellite images, street plans, and hotel recommendations. The architecture is impressive; similar in style to the capitol city on Merak Four, where Vala spent half a cycle working as a bar-maid shortly after she was freed from Qetesh.

They pull up photos of some of the major tourist attractions, and while the fountains and piazzas are lovely, Vala starts to feel a bit uneasy. It's only when Teal'c, with a quiet grunt, closes the browser window that had been displaying a history of the Coliseum that Vala realizes that Earth's ancient history hits a little too close to home for her liking. It wasn't too long ago that she herself was presiding over such displays of carnage and grandeur during her time as a Goa'uld.

Teal'c doesn't let her dwell. "Major Carter once mentioned that one day she would like cross America on her motorcycle." He types in a new search string and brings up a list of sites festooned with images Vala recognizes from that movie they'd watched with all the talking automobiles.

Teal'c clicks a link and points to an image of a row of cars half-buried in the dirt with their tail fins pointing at the sky. "I believe we could start our journey here, in the birthplace of one of the greatest men to ever lead the SGC."

Vala looks up at him. It's rare for Teal'c to speak of anyone other than Bra'tac or the members of SG-1 with such fondness.

Teal'c draws himself up a little straighter. "General Hammond of Texas," he says, and she catches the barest hint of a smile.

Anybody who can engender that much respect from Teal'c is worth making a pilgrimage for, in Vala's opinion. She starts looking up driving directions and motorcycle rentals. This is more her style of vacation, anyhow.

She might even suggest that they bring Daniel along. There seems to be quite a bit of Earth's culture that wasn't covered by his studies.


*

Vala thinks Teal'c has the perfect poker face, and she's not the only one. She is, however, the only one who knows how many Tau'ri card games, and their trans-planetary variants, Teal'c actually knows. Despite all of Cameron's bragging about being the one who taught Teal'c how to win at Five Card Stud, Vala is of the opinion that when it comes to anything that has to do with either cards, or studs, for that matter, Cam has a lot to learn.

On Friday nights, Captain Simpson from the IT department (whom everyone refers to as 'Bart', though Vala once, on a bet, managed to get him to reveal that his mother calls him 'Jerome') runs a game in one of the guest quarters on level twenty-five. Either General Landry doesn't know about it, or he turns a blind eye; it's much less paperwork for him than approving Vala's entrance fees and travel permits if she were to request a trip to Vegas for one of those big tournaments she's seen on SportsCenter (and how card games compare to athletics is beyond her). She'd point this out to Landry if the subject ever came up. Which, strangely, it never has.

Most of the time it's poker, either Texas Hold'em or Five-Card Draw. Nyan always folds early, but Vala suspects he's just there for the company. The things she could teach that boy if she could only get him to leave his research once in a while...

Some nights, they change it up a bit. Vala prefers canasta because it requires a bit more skill and cunning. She also likes it because Teal'c always asks to partner up with her. He has admitted, only to her, that her playing style makes a suitable distraction and plays a large part in his strategy. They usually split the winnings equally, no matter which one of them comes out on top.

One night, Bart challenged Vala to teach them a card game from her home planet. It might have been because she was a little miffed that Jerome had beaten her on six straight hands. It might have been because she'd gone so far as to insult his parentage and refer to his face as the back-end of a mule. She may also have just been having a really bad night; Adria had given them the slip, yet again, Samantha was still in the infirmary, and Vala had a fat lip from Tomin's attempt to educate her in the Book of Origin.

Teal'c had quirked an eyebrow in her direction, which she'd taken as permission. A quick trip down to the commissary to raid the cutlery bins, and she was back to explain the basics of the game.

By the time the evening was done, Vala was up nearly fifty dollars, Bart had three broken fingers, and Nyan had decided that 'Spoons' was a game he might actually have a chance at winning.

As they dumped the handfuls of now-twisted flatware in the dirty dishes bin, Teal'c was already putting together a list of other 'extra-terrestrial' card games with which to challenge Lieutenant Simpson next week, and Vala was feeling, if not exactly happy, then at least a bit better.

The kitchen staff never did figure out who bent all the spoons.

*

Secretly, Vala likes to hang out in Dr. Lee's lab. He reminds her a bit of Arlos, but it's more than that. Bill explains how things work, and he doesn't assume that she won't understand. Maybe it's just that Bill is happy to have somebody actually listen to him for a change, or maybe he's flirting with her in his own, strange way. Vala's never quite sure which, but she has spent hours listening, and even sometimes assisting him with experiments. Dr. Lee doesn't seem to get upset when she touches and occasionally (accidentally, of course) breaks things. Not the way Daniel gets annoyed with her, at least.

Bill also asks for her input. Vala likes to feel validated like that. That's how she started dragging Teal'c along with her. If there were questions about Goa'uld technology that Vala couldn't answer, chances were that Teal'c could.

She also likes bringing Teal'c along as backup, because sometimes it's difficult to get away. She thinks of Teal'c as her wingman - because as much as she enjoys Bill's company, it's something that is best experienced in small doses. Teal'c always seems to know exactly when to make a graceful exit.

*

Vala has always appreciated a good practical joke. It's not the prank itself, but rather the reaction she can get out of her victims. She finds that it's a good way to measure the character of a person.

Daniel, for example, is quick to cover when he's startled; he's also equally as fast at assessing the situation, and usually, reacting with nothing more than an eye-roll and apparent obliviousness to the fact that she has, in the space of his afternoon's briefing with SG-12, completely rearranged his office so that it is a mirror image of it's previous self.

Being able to choose not to react is a good skill to have in a confrontation involving a tavern full of drunks, each one carrying an arsenal of weaponry that would make a Marine envious. Vala wonders if he's always been like that, or has he been tempered by hard learned lessons.

Vala has never pranked Samantha; their tentative friendship means too much to her. It has been a rare thing, in her experience, to find another women who is willing to treat Vala as she does any other member of the team, without there being some ulterior motive for her largess. It has been a long, long time since Vala has had a girlfriend; Qetesh has never had any use for anyone she couldn't manipulate for her own means.

However, Vala has caught Teal'c in the act of swapping Sam's belongings with those from Mitchell's locker. Vala kept quiet, since she was almost certain that Cameron was the actual target. After Mitchell had left for the day wearing a raggedy pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt that was three sizes too small, she'd confronted Teal'c. At first, Teal'c had played innocent, but Vala could recognize a kindred spirit, and eventually Teal'c, in his own subtle way, and after much coercion on Vala's part, confessed. It took weeks for Cam to find all of his own clothes.

Vala also suspected that, while Sam may not have been in on the joke, she'd easily deduced the culprit. Sam certainly hadn't outed Teal'c either. Vala envied that kind of solidarity.

While Vala and Teal'c might disagree on degrees of subtlety, they do make a good team. Members of Siler's maintenance crew have learned to be wary when they spot the pair of them hanging around the corridors near the maintenance shop together. Sometimes, loitering near the shop door is as much fun as actually pulling a prank on them.

Vala firmly believes in keeping people on their toes.

*

Of all the things that Vala likes to do with Teal'c when the rest of SG-1 have gone home for the night, watching TV with him may be her favorite.

Vala discovered that Teal'c owned his own television one evening not long after she had been accorded permanent resident status at the SGC. She had been wandering the corridors, looking for company and feeling more than a bit sorry for herself. She had, after all, just returned from the Ori galaxy after giving birth to a daughter whom she hadn't wanted, and was not quite ready to admit to the small measure of guilt she felt at her relief at leaving Adria behind. Disconcerted, she rambled through the halls on the level where she'd been allocated a room of her own until she saw the thin sliver of light coming from under of Teal'c's door.

Vala had stopped, intending to knock and perhaps invite him down to the commissary for cake and company, until she'd heard voices from inside the room. She's not sure why she'd expected Teal'c to be alone, as she was, but she had just assumed he wouldn't have company on what she'd been told was a weeknight.

Teal'c must have heard her at the door; he was uncanny that way. The next thing she knew, he was standing in the doorway, and Vala was fumbling for an excuse to have been eavesdropping. Teal'c let her stammer for a few seconds, before asking, "Do you wish to join me, Vala Mal Doran?"

"I, um, yes. Yes, I would like that," she'd managed to get out, slightly embarrassed that she wasn't at the top of her game and had been taken so completely by surprise. Teal'c bowed his head slightly and opened the door to admit her.

Once inside, the source of the voices became apparent. Teal'c had, tucked neatly amongst his collection of tribal masks and votive candles, a small television set. It was tuned to a program that seemed to revolve around couples in fancy dress 'doing battle by means of a traditional Tau'ri dance competition', as Teal'c explained. Vala was immediately taken by the level of pageantry and the caustic remarks from the panel of judges. Teal'c invited her to sit with him and watch.

He was patient with her, answering her questions about the various styles of music. He pointed out the differences between a waltz (which she found slow and mechanical) and the tango (which made her feel like she was spying on the couple in a moment of passionate intimacy), and for a little while, Vala forgot that she was, potentially, the mother of the apocalypse.

It becomes a tradition between the two of them. And while Vala is sure she could request a television of her own, she prefers to spend the evening with Teal'c. She's not sure how much the other members of SG-1 knows about their standing date, but there always seems to be a cache of snacks in Daniel's office (though she knows Daniel doesn't like Kettle Corn), and the small refrigerator in Sam's lab is usually stocked with some sort of beverage that isn't available at the commissary.

When she finally parts company with Earth and the SGC (and she thinks that she will, eventually, because there are still times when she feels the rules and regulations chafe, though those moments are getting to be fewer and further apart), Vala thinks that what she will miss the most is not the jokes and the pranks, not the pokers games and companionship of the other displaced residents of Cheyenne Mountain. Nor will it be road trips she might one day take, or the television she has yet to watch.

What Vala will miss most of all is her friendship with Teal'c.

She wonders if there is some way she can take him with her.

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U is for Uninvolved
by lyssie

She doesn't do it, of course. Become involved. Vala skates on the thin ice of non-involvement, pretending that she is, and putting on a good show for everyone. She knows that getting involved means getting hurt, means letting people and places and things in. Allowing any of that is something that will lead to hurt, heartbreak, or her father disappearing on her again (what was it the last time, a con in the Aeon Sector that he swore up and down he'd had to run from, leaving her to pick up the pieces?).

That's why she flirts and laughs and teases on Earth, never quite getting involved until it's too late--until she realizes she wants to be involved and the not-being-involved feels wrong.

Standing shoulder to upper arm with Teal'c, stealing the basketball from Cameron, shopping with Samantha, annoying Daniel to distraction--that's what she's there for, but she wants more. She wants to feel pride in what she does and not just a rather mercenary pleasure at pulling the wool over yet another person's eyes.

It's a different sort of pride, she tells herself, as she fingers the patch that Cameron gave her. These aren't her people (not like the ones who worshiped Quetesh and still considered Vala their God while she was helpless to stop the Ori from killing them off), but they are her friends.

Perhaps that's of better value, in the long run.

None of which stops her facade. What's the use of having one, after all, if it isn't big as life and bright as day, always constant until it slips. Why, she could sneak out and leave in the morning and none of them would be the wiser.

Though she thinks, she hopes, they would care. That they would miss her as they went about their lives. She knows they would forget her in time--she's forgotten so much in such a short time, things which only swirl to the surface in nightmares (and that one time she was a waitress).

Of course, it's harder not to be involved when her own flesh and blood is intent on destroying the universe (re-writing it in her own image, which reminds Vala too much of the over-whelming need to control that the goa'uld had). Convincing Adria that being involved isn't a bad thing never seems to quite work, though.

Adria is involved, though in the wrong sort of way. Vala sometimes wonders how she would have grown up, had she been a normal child (no kid of hers would have been completely normal, of course).

She doesn't imagine what will happen once they've won (though she imagines winning, a ridiculous caricature of reality from too many bad movies at Teal'c's expense, her foot planted in Adria's back, her arms raised high in victory with some sort of blood-soaked weapon in one and a giant gold medallion in the other). Planning for the future only works when you believe you have one--and as much as she'd like to think they will, she's seen the power of the Ori, she knows too well how easily that sort of power can roll over even the strongest of people.

Which is why she doesn't let it get her down, and if it tries, she beats it into submission with distracting words or basketball games.

"Green jell-o," Vala informs Sam one day in the cafeteria, "is preferable and perfect."

Sam smiles, and waves her spoon filled with wobbly blue jell-o before replying, "It's not better, though."

"It's superior," asserts Vala.

They're off, then, embarking upon the most ridiculous argument Samantha Carter has probably ever participated in. Eventually, they come to a compromise, deciding that neither is entirely superior.

Cameron joins them as Sam is leaving, and Vala steals a french fry from his plate, gesturing as she spots Teal'c in the line as well, "Going so soon, Samantha?"

"I've got readings to analyze," she says, and if there's regret, it's colored with excitement for the data she has in her lab.

Vala leaves her to it, turning her ridiculous argument on Cameron, who looks confused. Teal'c, when he arrives, merely nods in agreement with her. Vala always did consider him smarter than the average human.

Later, she beards Daniel in his den, stealing the current tablet he's working on and making up a completely awful translation before sitting down on a stool and giving him the real one. It was best to do that before he went haring off to the General to tell him the Ori were made of green cheese. Not that Vala took him for that much of a fool, but the look on his face was still priceless.
They work until her stomach demands food, serious work, putting together more bits and pieces of goa'uld and Ori knowledge, some of which unsettles both of them.

Vala still feels her fingers itching, that need to travel more (staying in one place too long is dangerous, makes you traceable). She tells it to go away, knowing they have a mission in a few days. There are others she might be allowed to go out with (that didn't go so well the last time, though, and Col. Reynolds hadn't spoken to Col. Carter for nearly a week since it had been her suggestion), but none of them are her team.

Even as she considers that, she tries to convince herself that she doesn't do this. She doesn't get involved, she doesn't let herself be part of the team.

But following Carter with Teal'c behind them as they run for the gate, Daniel somewhere ahead, and Cameron off to the right in a flanking maneuver in case there's trouble, tells her that's a lie.

Sitting around a campfire, bickering over who has coffee duty or whether Daniel cooks worse than Cameron is something that feels right.

Curled up with Samantha at her back, the colonel sometimes joking that she doesn't miss Teal'c's snoring is so easy to get used to that Vala sometimes just lies there and listens as the others settle, as whomever is on watch begins a careful round of the edges of their clearing.

She's a part of things, she's slowly becoming a part of Earth's history (such as it is, with the history colored by whoever is in charge). Of course, no one will know about her if the records remain sealed forever. Someday, it will be another civilization that will be reading their tablets, deciphering their language and trying to put into words just what made them tick.

The thought always makes her feel a little alone. But then she'll find Sam in her lab, or Daniel, Cameron, Teal'c or half a dozen marines willing to play cards with her (only a few of those left), and she realizes she isn't alone.

Not truly. She's become involved against her better judgment.

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V is for Volunteer
by crevanfox

Qetesh sat upon the dais, proud and terrible. She does not look as the girls are led into the room and forced to line up before her. Instead she inspects the fruit offered on a golden tray by a beautiful slave. Her face twists in distaste at the food. She gestures and the slave bows, retreats in silence.

As fearful as Vala is, her mouth waters at the sight of all that food. She hasn't eaten all day. Still, the Goddess is distracted, the guards are few. Vala edges to the back of the group. She drifts, slowly, a fly on the wall, a slave unworthy of notice; she has had a life time of practice at being unseen, she moves toward the door.

She almost makes it.

A guard sees her. She runs, but he's bigger, faster. His staff weapon traps her to his body.

She fights, and it draws Qetesh's attention. She stalks down, slithers gracefully, thunders like a God coming down from heaven. Her hands, capped in the golden fingers of the hand device are cold on Vala's cheek as she twists her head around, looks deep into her eyes. It's paralyzing, her grip painful. But they are only eyes.

Vala had expected the swirl of galaxies, the knowledge of ages, the eyes of God.

All she sees are the tired eyes of an aging woman. Cruel, and evil, but just a person, not a God.

Later, after the implantation, after the screams of those not chosen fall to silence, Vala is left alone with her new jailor. Qetesh chuckles. Foolish girl, had you not tried to escape, I would not have chosen you. You are nothing, only you willfulness deprived you of the mercy of death.

Vala tries to fight back. But she can't move, and trying makes it feel as though Qetesh has placed her in a vise and is squeezing her very soul.

"Remove those from my sight" Qetesh says as she waves Vala's hand over the still smoking bodies of the other girls. They look like cloth dolls, left abandoned on some child's room floor. Vala knew more than a few of them.

Thank you for volunteering, my host

It's the last thing Vala hears for awhile. She tries not to think about it.

***

Later, after she comes to, alone and numb from unknowable hours spent on the ground, Vala thinks maybe she should have been a little more insistent about letting the others in on her plan. Maybe someone else could have piloted the ship into the supergate as it assembled itself. Maybe someone else would have volunteered.

She's not a joiner, and she's the antithesis of altruistic, so why the flying leap into danger?

Qetesh did not leave her with much, but she did instill within her host a strong sense of self preservation, of tricking others into doing the dangerous work. Qetesh had a hall lined with the heads of allies stupid enough to take on such tasks. Even the occasional slave was given the honour of adorning the hall of fools.

So why did she do it?

A strange animal screeches out in the forest.


***

She's late.

She hasn't done anything to get herself in this situation (she's sure she'd remember).

She's late and these people don't seem like the type to approve of a pregnancy outside of marriage.

every crisis is an opportunity in disguise

Tomin.

He's her way out.

It's just a matter of getting him to propose. And of course making him think it's his idea. Women don't initiate the proposal on this world. She just needs him to volunteer.

It bothers her, to think of using him. Tomin is an innocent, one of the few good men she has met in the entire universe (they are in short supply). But desperation makes it easy to overlook the immorality of tricking a man into marriage. Besides, it's not like he doesn't have a choice. She'd never force him; it'll be entirely up to him, in the end.

It will be his choice.

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W is for Warning
by sg_wonderland

Qetesh sighed heavily. If she'd known just how stubborn this one was, she might have chosen differently. But she had been drawn to the host's strong features, lithe body and quick wit. She applied herself again; after all, hadn't she conquered stronger than this one? A brief feeling from a previous host flitted across her mind and she suppressed it immediately. Those were the types of feeling she could ill afford.

"So, Vala, let us begin again..."

*

Vala bided her time and waited and learned, absorbed. If there was one thing Qetesh should have learned by now, it was that Vala had an unlimited amount of patience. One day, she vowed to herself, one day she would free herself. And she would smile as she witnessed the death of the monster that had traded Vala's life, and so many others, for her own.

One day....

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X is for X-Files
by campylobacter

Scene 1: An Uncanny Resemblance

"The debonair bald gentleman," she said, tapping her finger on the monitor, "is General Hammond, whom I clearly recall pointing a zat at on the bridge of the Prometheus before I ringed him to the al'kesh I'd appropriated. Although he bears an uncanny resemblance to Agent Scully's father from The X-Files."

"And are there any recent negative associations tied to this memory, as with your observation that Colonel Carter looks like another X-Files character who was murdered?" Carolyn kept her face neutral while inwardly resolving to re-watch the relevant homemade VHS tapes of episodes she'd recorded during her fellowship at the CDC.

"Oh no, Scully's father wasn't murdered; he was a dedicated, attentive parent." Vala's brow furrowed at a deeper, more personal memory she seemed to withhold from telling the doctor. "However, can you imagine the scandal if Colonel Caldwell--who's the very likeness of Scully's boss--of the Daedalus were to actually wake up in a hotel room with a tall, gorgeous, but dead blonde whose head was wrenched one hundred eighty degrees 'round on her neck--"

"How did you obtain information about Colonel Caldwell and the Daedalus?"

Vala's look of surprise gave way to a wince of contrition. "May I invoke doctor-patient confidentiality on this?"

"Vala, I'm filling out a psych evaluation to determine your fitness to return to active duty. You waived that confidentiality from my superiors in the form's disclaimer."

"Hmm. So I did. Well, my restored memory includes how to access mission files."

Carolyn let her direct gaze answer Vala's answer.

"Right, then. Cameron's passwords are easy to guess, unlike Daniel's foreign-language ciphers; they're NFL mascots."

"I trust you'll be advising Colonel Mitchell to abandon his password creation system."

"Of course, but to his credit he spells them backwards. I can also advise Security to adjust certain camera angles to cover the more egregious blind spots in their surveillance sweeps."

Either lock this woman in the brig forever or let her work as a consultant, thought Carolyn. She knows how to know too much.

"And as long as I'm confessing to seeing files they haven't yet authorized me to access, I must say that the Prior whom Cameron shot..." (Carolyn began writing on the form before Vala finished her statement.) "...looked like the Cigarette Smoking Man."

"From The X-Files. I'm sensing a pattern here." She tried keeping the sarcasm from her voice. Really tried.

"Those reruns were among the few reasons along with Sal and Bonnie that kept me from running away from the diner," Vala said quietly. "Something resonated inside me watching a strong, intelligent woman working side-by-side with a brilliant but tortured man on the noble quest for truth."

Carolyn set down her pen and looked--really looked--at the woman, not the subject, and saw a lost daughter in search of somewhere to belong. Maybe they did have something in common, but she refrained from speaking on the subject of fathers. "Agent Mulder is easy on the eye," she offered with a small quirk of her mouth.

"Well, so is Agent Scully." Vala cocked her head at Carolyn with a playful wink. "And do you know, I threatened to kill Weaver--the Trust operative who tortured me with that memory device--in the most painful way possible, but I swear I saw him shot to death as Agent Pendrell in the episode where that informant levitates out of an airplane." She absently rubbed the spot on her arm where a new transponder had been implanted. "Doctor, am I wonko?"

Carolyn, her face carefully placid as she signed the evaluation form, almost regretted the end of her hour-long evaluation of the pig-tailed off-worlder. "Creative cognitive association actually indicates
functioning problem-solving skills and healthy pattern recognition. In other words, you and your... unique thought processes seem back to normal again. It's what makes you a valuable asset to the SGC."

The worry lines around Vala's mouth deepened into a luminous grin. "So, then, I'm...?"

"Yes, Vala, you're cleared for active duty." Although the CMO wasn't prepared for an enthusiastic embrace, she wasn't reticent in returning it. "It's good to have you back. I prefer delivering good news."

"And I do enjoy receiving it," Vala sighed, bouncing out of her chair. "Thank you, Doctor."

She was almost out of earshot by the time Carolyn called out, "Vala, don't forget your jacket!"

. . .

Scene 2: Prime Number

Daniel raised his iced tea. "A toast to the necessary fifth."

"Here, here!" Various glasses were raised in chorus toward Vala.

She blushed and clinked her drink against theirs. "I'm afraid I destroy the symmetry of your even number."

"Nah," Sam assured her with a quick squeeze around her shoulders. "Five is a prime number, and pentagonal symmetry occurs throughout practically every biological system I've encountered. Also adds some really fascinating properties to the elastic stability of nanopartic--"

"Gotta have five for a regulation basketball team." Cam quickly swallowed a mouthful of microbrew to prevent a physics lecture. "See, I'm point guard, Sam's shooting guard, T's our power forward,
Jackson's center--"

"And the small forward is good for free throws and steals," chuckled Landry, nudging her arm with his elbow.

"All five digits of the hand create the strongest grasp." Teal'c brandished his fork with quiet dexterity.

"Earth, water, fire, air and ether comprise the five elements of the Ayurvedic Dosha." Daniel wiped the condensation on his glass from his fingers.

"I'd rather not represent fire," Vala muttered.

"Let our powers combine! Go Planet!" Cam took another drink. "Sorry; doubt you've seen Captain Planet. Kid's cartoon."

"I've seen plenty of X-Files, however. You know, Agent Mulder's sister reminds me of someone in the photo archives. Instead of dark hair, she had long, curly blonde ringlets, an oval face, large green eyes, fine, delicate features..."

"Yeah... oh, yeah! Ke--" Cam, under Landry's warning glance, barely stopped himself from blurting out classified information in public, but Daniel started choking on his drink, earning double slaps on his
back from Cam and Teal'c. Sam and the Jaffa exchanged a look at the pre-empted reference to the Destroyer of Worlds.

"I used to wonder who we'd really be without memory or other people to remind us," Vala mused. "I suppose at heart I'm a violent runaway."

"Trust me," Daniel coughed. "We don't condemn you for who you may have been in the past."

"Home is where you return to at sunset," Teal'c rumbled, no doubt quoting some ancient folk wisdom.

Vala looked at the faces around her at the table, and felt less alien. She smiled at the face that had succeeded in calling her home and raised her beer in another toast. "To forgetfulness, then."

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Y is for Yesterday
Traces of Yesterday
by traycer_

Taking time to reflect on one's past wasn't always a good idea. Vala Mal Doran knew this more than anyone, but sitting in a freezing cold cavern with absolutely nothing else to do wasn't high on her list of priorities either.

She sat, huddled and shivering, on the cold floor, glaring at Daniel Jackson for his obstinate desire to stay as far away from her as he possibly could. Even Samantha Carter, who had the misfortune of being trapped in the same cavern, was keeping her distance. The fact that she was looking for a way out was no condolence to Vala, who was bored and just a little put out that she was stuck here with two people and still alone. This situation only led to reminiscing, which almost always led to dark, unpleasant memories.

Vala shook away the gloom that was creeping up on her and decided to liven things up a little.

"We have been all over this cavern, looking for every possible escape and all we've gotten for our trouble is a severe case of frostbite."

Daniel gave her one of his 'not now, Vala' looks, and said, "Frostbite?"

"Yes, frostbite." She was determined to get a conversation going no matter what. "My hands are so cold, they're turning blue and tingly." Daniel rolled his eyes, then turned back to the hole in the ceiling that he had been inspecting. "Of course," Vala added after some thought, "Tingly really isn't all that bad."

"Right," he muttered, clearly not paying any attention to her, even though she had put extra emphasis on the word, tingly. This was so typical of him, she thought. They were stuck in this cave, with their only means of escape being the very hole they had fallen through. She knew that rescue would be imminent - well, as soon as their teammates came back from their little side trip. In the meantime, she and her companions would have to wait. In the freezing cold cavern. With people who were more interested in the cave than conversing with her. This was not acceptable. She needed to talk, if only to ward away the memories that still lingered in her mind.

"Teal'c and Cameron will be back any time now, you know."

Sam looked back at her and nodded, then came back and sat down next to her, putting her hands under her arms to warm them.

"Moving around will warm you up," Sam said, although she made no move to do so herself. Vala shrugged, while Sam added, "I just wish we could have seen that covering up there before we stepped onto it."

"Too late for that now," Daniel said as he came over to sit down with them.

"I know," Sam said. Vala heard the resignation in her friend's voice, and found herself remembering another time...

"Let's not dwell," she said forcibly, more to herself than to her friends, then smiled brightly at Daniel, who stared at her with an inquisitive expression. She shrugged again, then added, "There are more interesting things to talk about than what could have been."

"Like what?" Sam asked, just as Daniel put up his hand to stop her.

"Don't ask," he told Sam with a warning glance.

"Too late," Vala said sweetly. She smiled at Daniel, more to aggravate him than anything else, then said, "Actually, I don't have a clue, but anything would be good. I'm bored." Her pout was fake, but she could tell it was working on Daniel. He was now back to glaring at her, which pleased Vala. Picking on Daniel always livened things up.

"How long do you think it will be here before Teal'c and Cam find us?" Daniel asked instead.

"I don't know," Sam said. "Maybe a couple of hours." She huddled up even more for warmth. "God, it's cold." She looked at Daniel, then added, "This reminds me of the time General O'Neill and I were stranded in Antartica." She looked around, then up to the hole in the ceiling. "Even has an escape route up there. Of course, that's much higher up, but still..."

"I remember that," Daniel said. "We thought you had gated to another planet, only to find out that you were on Earth the whole time."

"Yeah. We nearly froze to death."

"Which is not a pleasant experience," Vala said, realizing with a sigh that she was not going to be successful in chasing away the dark memories that had popped up ever since she had realized she was once again trapped in a cave. In the cold. She turned her attention to her companions and smiled. At least she wasn't alone.

"When were you ever 'frozen'?" Daniel asked, not unkindly. He genuinely appeared to be interested.

"Well, I didn't actually 'freeze' to death," she felt it prudent to say. She pulled her knees up and hugged them to her chest, as she stared off into the shadows that rimmed the walls of the cave. "I was young. So young." The light filtering down from the hole in the ceiling didn't do a whole lot in chasing away the shadows. Vala didn't mind, though, as she thought about her childhood. "I was a beautiful child."

This was said in a matter-of-fact tone, which prompted a smile from Sam. Vala noticed it when Sam said, "I'm sure you were."

"I was," Vala insisted. She turned back to the shadows, remembering the ones from her past. "It seems like only yesterday..." Her voice trailed off as she thought about all the yesterdays, even those she missed during the time Qetesh ruled her life. "Sometimes, I think yesterdays are better off left alone."

"Words of wisdom, Vala," Daniel said, his expression softened by sadness. Vala could only wonder what brought on that look. A noise from above kept her from finding out.

"Hey!" came a voice that Vala recognized. Her heart leapt in anticipation when she looked up and saw Cameron Mitchell's face peering down at them through the hole. They were finally rescued. "Sam! Are you down there?"

"Yes," Daniel answered instead. "We've been down here for awhile now. What took you guys so long?"

"We've been looking for you," Cameron said, just as a rope sailed past his head and snaked down through the hole in the ceiling. "We'll have you out of there in a jiffy."

"Good thing," Daniel said. "Although I was just getting interested in that story Vala was trying to tell us."

"We don't need to dwell on our yesterdays," she told Daniel, as she strode over to the rope. She tugged on it, then turned to give him a huge smile. "Ladies first."

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Z is for Zany
by amberflyant

Vala had been called many, many things in her life. Monster, thief, con artist, fallen angel, goddess, but being dismissed as zany hurt the most.

It had started all so innocently. Sashaying into Daniel's office smile a mile wide, Vala wanted company to pass the time of day, and he was always good for a laugh. What she got however, was a painful reminder of where she was, who she was, and why she was there.

Some lessons were always painful to learn.

"Daniel? This alphabet soup I bought, what's its purpose?" Vala spooned some of the soup onto the desk top and poked at it suspiciously.

"Mm? You bought that crap? Oh, well, parents buy it as a treat for their kids I suppose. All the letters of the alphabet are swimming around in a salt ridden, chemically enhanced bowl of gruel. See, there's a Z, or is it an N sideways?"

"Z? As in?"

"Z as is zany! Like you, zany! Now, please, wipe that disgusting mess from my desk and drink it somewhere else!"

Daniel had called her zany in a teasing voice and couldn't have known the distress it caused her. Zany? Nope, that wasn't her at all, not by a long shot.

"Oh, right, sorry about that. Yes, you read that important book about the dead. Who needs to worry about the feelings of the living?"

"What? What did you say?"

"Nothing, it's just me being zany!"

Walking out without a backward glance, Vala dumped the mug of chicken soup into Daniel's trash can, ignoring his squawk of protest. She'd suddenly lost her appetite.

Vala was a born survivor; but then she'd had little choice in the matter. From an early age she'd learned looking like a fool could be an easy way to throw people off guard, and considered it a small price to pay. Motherless, ignored by her father and despised by his new wife, the lonely little girl decided no one would ever be allowed to know the real Vala Mal Doran, no matter how much they pried.

Zany? No, that was a facade. Vala knew things that no person should ever have to know.

She had slipped up once, though. As a young woman, she'd wanted to love and to be loved, but circumstances so terrible tore her away from his arms. Taken by an evil she'd been powerless to control, she lived a nightmare for years until finally being liberated. The Goa'uld, Qetesh, was removed and Vala returned from the dead. Freed from her slavery at last, she looked to her lover's eyes and flinched at the loathing she saw there. Throwing her shoulders back, she hardened her heart and fled once more. Love was overrated, and she had no use for it.

She found refuge on a planet she ruled and, with casual cruelty, continued the deception. If the Goa'uld could use her, then why not repay the favor? Vala masqueraded as Qetesh once more, and honed her skills as a survivor, thief, and fallen angel to perfection. But, every plan has its weaknesses and Vala was forced to flee, leaving raised fists and loathing behind her once more. Another chink in her armour, but what choice did she have? She had to survive, and so, she did what was needed. Hardly the actions of a zany woman, and the naquadah in her blood meant she became adept at using Goa'uld technology. Vala Mal Doran was well aware that she'd turned into a woman to be reckoned with.

The void left by the demise of the Goa'uld meant more evil surfaced, and while she never joined the Lucian Alliance, she had been happy to do business with them. Right and wrong blurred for her, but she considered herself choice less. A girl had to do what a girl had to do, no matter how distasteful, and if not the Lucian Alliance, Vala figured another evil would take their place.

And she'd been right. If she'd thought the Goa'uld to be monsters, she could never have imagined the menace the Ori would bring to her universe. More fanatics, more evil, more of the same.

Vala grew weary, but still she raised her dukes to the world and fought on.

Finally, she'd found herself a home. She was with people who liked her, even trusted her, but, did they respect her? Did they understand her? Did they realize the road she'd been forced to travel to get where she was? The sacrifices she'd made along the way? Never allowing herself to trust a man, let alone love one.

Zany? Is that what they thought of her? Vala lowered her head and wept.

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