She spits the blood out on the dirt and watches with interest as the glossy beads soak into the ground, like they were sucked in by an unseen obscene underground force. Her mother once had a necklace of beads the color of blood. Right then, she recalls the way those beads felt running through her young exploratory fingers. An image blooms repeatedly behind her eyes, the beads falling and scattering across the kitchen floor of their home. Her mind's eye follows the bouncing trail of one bead, the pinnacle bead, as it skitters under the table. A hand reaches out and picks it up. The fingernails are gold.
With absolute assurance, she knows that the image, or memory, wasn't real. Not hers, not Jolinar's. Most people didn't have a choice when it comes to memories, but Sam does. Time taught her to separate the two and she knows the necklace never broke, never scattered under the kitchen table. The beads did not bounce and roll away. And the hand hadn't been there under her kitchen table, the long gold fingernails had never slid back out of sight.
Her head hurts so much she can feel the pull of gravity, the weight of her body, slowly sinking her towards the ground. She wants to lie down, to rest her head for a moment, to close her pulsing eyes and sigh in relief.
She knows she can't lie down.
Forcing herself up, forwards, she crawls towards the Colonel. He sways in her vision but at least he seems real. She slides her hand across the skin of his neck, feeling the taught tendons and bones before she finds the pulse point and waits. Beat. Beat. Beat. A little slow, but nothing to worry about. Just unconscious.
Resisting the urge to lay her head over his heart and sleep, Sam turns her spinning head, eyes seeking the other humanoid forms of her comrades amongst the darkness, amongst the shadowed shapes.
Crying out, she suddenly stumbles jerkily to one side, a hand coming up to press against her eye. In the darkness she sees another image, the up-close glowing eyes of a Goa'uld. Fear has her lowering her head to the ground and protecting her head. Almost as quickly, a deeper darkness spreads across her mind and she feels her body tumbling onto her back. Her hand flings out, a knuckle grazing the edge of another body.
Jonas.
With blurred, darkening vision, she sees her hand reach out further towards him, fingers spreading awkwardly over his cheek. He stirs but does not awaken.
Alive.
Stronger now, Sam fumbles onto her side, then her front, dirt clinging to her hands and clothes. Her mouth tries to form the word her brain wants her to speak but brain to mouth contact seems to fail. Easing onto her heels, trying to keep her lolling head from dropping, rag-doll useless, to her shoulder.
She forces herself forwards, into the darkness of the other side of the cave. She feels the presence of the Jaffa like she feels her own limbs. There. Always there. Part of her.
She tries to speak, but ends up spitting blood from her mouth again. The taste is vile but she's used to it.
Can't be good.
In the back of her mind, a picture moves, flicks past in freeze frame. Gold eyes, gold fingernails and a strange, strange smell. Sweet, cloying, like flat diet coke the morning after the night before, and the lingering stickiness of candy floss around the mouth.
Sam nearly crawls over Teal'c's body. His warmth is reassuring and for a moment she sits by his side, leans on him selfishly. She knows he's alive but as she reaches out to check his wrist pulse, her head lolls back.
*Tok'ra*
It has to be Jolinar, she thinks, vaguely, as her vision darkens, a spotted blanket slipping over her eyes.
The smell comes back in full force, accompanied by the sound of satin sliding over satin, slithering like a silken snake.
Jolinar's memories in Dolby Surround Sound.
She tries to giggle at her own weak, hysterical joke, but the blood continues to trail from her mouth.
No, not good.
She holds her head in her hands and for a long, strange moment, she marvels at the small size of her own skull, her fingers pressing over all the strange dips and bumps that form her features. Her hands are icy cold and they cool her heated mind. Her skin burns as under her palm she can feel the beat of her temple running out of control.
*Tok'ra human*
Sam catches Teal'c's wrist and the pulse beats steady and strong. She suspects he is healing himself and as she sways closer she can smell the distinctive scent of fresh blood. It is difficult, though. His blood or hers?
Her hair moves, ruffles behind her ears almost as if something had brushed past her. She turns her head slowly, blinking away the darkness, tries to distinguish the shapes from those inanimate and those not.
Then she sees in her minds' eye, a wavering, twisting image. A woman, thin as rope, with her back to her. A gold dress, a color so rich it hurt to look at, slides over her snakelike body, seamless, the pale arms winding down to where a dagger is held, point down, behind her back.
The head turns to the side and a trail of golden hair hides the face.
Sam is strangely glad.
"Sam."
For a moment, she thinks it is yet another voice in her head. She will not worry about that just yet.
"Major Carter."
Close. The voice is close. And yet wrong, somehow. Familiar, familial. Daddy.
"Come in."
Her attention is drawn to the radio on her shoulder. Stupid, she thinks, reaching to pick it up. The need to make sure her team was alive had overcome her common sense. She holds the black creature in her hand, smiles inanely at it. The big, clumsy button is depressed once, twice, thrice, just because she likes the feel of it clicking into place.
She raises it to her lips and opens her mouth.
Soundless.
Her tongue feels suddenly swollen.
*laughter*
She unclicks the button and turns.
Suddenly, the room is full of gold, blinding. Golden hair, golden eyes, fingers, nails, cloth. A woman stands in front of her, crouching by Sam's right side, her head tilted crazily to one side.
There is blood trailing from her mouth but the blood smells sweet, like dropped rose petals left too long on the table.
*Tok'ra* the woman says, but doesn't say. She leans forwards and presses her mouth to Sam's.
It is then that Sam finds her voice, but only to scream.
*
"I feel fine."
Janet makes a couple of notations on her clipboard and behind her hovers the men of SG-1. The Colonel staunchly keeps his expression neutral, Jonas looks too concerned, and Teal'c is suspiciously keeping an eye on Sam's face, watches for any sign of an untruth.
"You suffered severe blood loss, Major."
Sam doesn't need reminding. She was there, wasn't she?
She begins to slide off of the bed, hopes she is able to stand without fainting.
"See? Fine?" she says, not-too-brightly. Janet is never fooled by tone alone.
Still frowning, Janet nods tightly. "The rest of you keep an eye on her. And no work, Sam. Give it a day. Your lab and office are out of bounds. Get someone to drive you home."
"I'll do it." The Colonel fidgets as he realizes he offered too quickly. He doesn't correct himself, though, because he knows that will look even stranger. Teal'c can't, and won't, drive and Jonas has only just started learning. It is a perfectly reasonable explanation.
"Good."
They walk her to the elevator, Jonas and Teal'c stand and watch as the doors close upon her and the Colonel. He remembers very little of what went on in that cave before the Tok'ra came to their rescue and she feels his eyes flickering towards her curiously. The briefing was delayed until tomorrow so that she could be well enough to participate.
She does not want to participate.
"How did we get like that?" he asks, finally, when they are nearing the surface and the elevator begins to slow.
Sam turns her head, remembers the golden images and the cave with no entrance as she looks at him. Remembers the feel of his neck under her hand.
She distantly remembers a smell - evocative, somehow, of a woman she cannot place a face too, nor a name.
"Teal'c says that planet is haunted by some murdered Goa'uld queen. Your dad says she was betrayed by her lover, who was converted by the Tok'ra," he says as she leaves the elevator and heads towards his car. He watches her like he always does - half guilty, half wondering. "Carter? What do you say about that?"
She is soundless, wordless. Her fingers reach up to touch her mouth, to trace the memory of a trail of blood she can still feel trickling down her chin.
He unlocks the car and just before Sam climbs in her side, she catches a glint of gold below her. She pauses and watches as a pale, shimmering gold hand drags back under the car, the knuckles dusted with dried blood.
All the air suddenly leaves her body, sucked from her lungs, her mouth. For a moment, she is completely still. She waits. Waits for blood or pain or movement.
"Carter?"
Her eyes slide up to meet his. "Nothing. It's nothing, sir," she whispers. Then she climbs up into the passenger seat and slams the door behind her.
Stares straight forward.
Story Notes: E-mail: randomleaves@yahoo.co.uk
Spoilers: Season 6 but only because Jonas
Archive: SJD yes
A/N: Emry beta-ed this. Hi Emry! Otherwise, this is an experiment with the present tense which means it's deliberately vague.
Status: Complete
Spoilers: Season 6 but only because Jonas
Archive: SJD yes
A/N: Emry beta-ed this. Hi Emry! Otherwise, this is an experiment with the present tense which means it's deliberately vague.
Status: Complete
DISCLAIMER: All publicly recognisable characters, settings, etc, are the property of their respective owners. Any original characters and plots are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended. ... [ read more ]