Jacob Alphabet Soup
icon by samantilles
My warm thanks to the 24 authors who collaborated to write the 28 ficlets included in our Jacob Alphabet Soup: Acarlgeek, Aelfgyfu, Amaranth Traces, Amberflyant, Beatrice Otter, Colej55, Eilidh, Fig Newton, Gategremlyn, Gravity, Izhilzha, Jmas, Lokei, Merry, Night Spear, Random, Samantilles, Sela, SG_Betty, Telepathicpixie, Thraesja, Traycer, Wonderland, and Yvi. An extra thank-you to Samantilles, Traycer, and Acarlgeek, who stepped up after the last minute to write an extra letter!
Stories here range in rating from G to PG-13, and in size from a few hundred words to over 3,000. Expect spoilers for the entire series through Threads in S8.
Due to LJ's posting limitations, I could not post all 27 stories in full. Shorter ficlets are complete here, with links to the author's individual LJ for feedback; longer stories are excerpted, with links to the author's individual LJ for the rest of the fic. The entire anthology is posted in full at Dreamwidth.
Please note that spelling of Selmak/Selmac has been left to the discretion of the individual authors. :)
A is for Airborne
by sg_fignewton
Jacob missed stick time.
He missed the living vibrations that thrummed beneath his fingers as he manipulated the joystick of the F-100D and absorbed information from the CDP with practiced calm. He missed that heart stopping moment when he broke through low-lying scud to see the ground perilously close, disaster only averted by skill and reflexes. And, perhaps most of all, he missed that glorious instant when he tore loose from the clouds' gray embrace to see splendid, vast stretches of lonely sky.
He'd slogged through his share of ground work, to be sure, but he'd never been happier than the time spent in the cramped cockpit of the sturdy fighter, pushing 750 knots, feeling the power at his fingertips. There were times he grieved or raged, but he never doubted he'd made the right choice in serving his country and defending her.
He wanted that for his Sam. He wanted her to experience that surge of freedom at abandoning earth, even as g-forces press her solidly against the seat of her craft. He longed for her to share that awed wonder that left a pilot both exalted and humbled, and he'd never been prouder when she followed him into the Air Force, even if he never quite told her. So if he could pull a couple of strings to get her into the ultimate flight program... Well, what was the harm in that?
He felt more than anger and frustration when she turned down his offer to get her into NASA; her rejection was nothing less than absolute betrayal. He wasn't above trying a little manipulation, but even that didn't convinced her to leave her "deep space telemetry" and follow her father into the splendor of the skies.
Then George Hammond turned up in his hospital room with his little girl, and they presented him with a chance for a new lease on life - even if it did come with a rather unusual tenant written into the contract. Surprise at the sudden reversal of Sam offering him a chance at fresh wonders didn't stop him from seizing the opportunity with both hands.
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B is for Betrayal
by traycer_
Jacob Carter knew all about betrayal. He had experienced it so often during his lifetime, he was sure he could take insurance out on it. Not to say that he liked the feeling though - the sting... no, the pain that came with it was worse than a gunshot wound in the gut. A bullet wound only hurt for a week or so. Betrayal, on the other hand, hung around for what seemed like forever. A broken heart sometimes never healed.
And still, he had to deal with it on a regular basis, or so it seemed to him. He stared at the coffin being lowered into the ground, his heart bleeding scarlet tears that echoed the soft sobs coming from his daughter, Samantha. She stood next to him in the bleakness of the bright sun, her beautiful young eyes swimming with tears. Jacob wanted to help her, to hold her until she felt whole again, but he was afraid she would push him away, adding more guilt onto his already heaping plate of remorse and denial - too afraid that the act would be more than he could take.
Jacob's son, Mark, stood next to his sister, one arm around her shoulders, hugging her tightly as she cried. There were no tears on Mark's face, but Jacob knew better than anyone that the kid was taking this loss hard. Their mother was dead, killed in a car accident, and Jacob frowned at the anger that surged up inside him. He wanted her back. He loved her so dearly, always anxious to get home to be with her and the kids, never once believing that she would leave him. She was his rock, and he would have sworn she would be there forever.
But now she was gone. He tried to stifle the anger that still raged inside. She had no right to leave him alone with two children who not only blamed him for her death, but now hated him, their own father, with everything they had. It wasn't entirely his fault, he tried to reason with himself. He wasn't even there. Just because she had taken a taxi instead of waiting for him to pick her up...
He coughed quietly, covering up his own sob. It did no good to go over the details now. He had learned a long time ago that the coulda, woulda and shouldas never helped in any situation. All he could do now was try to make peace with his children and move on.
But it would take so much to do that. They hated him. He knew that and to be honest, he understood why. Still, he was their father. That should mean for something. He blinked back the tears that threatened to fall, hating the pain that not only came from his wife's betrayal, but also from his kids.
His cousin came up to him and Jacob looked up, surprised that the service was over. He allowed her to hug him, but he was in no mood to do anything other than nod at the sympathies she offered. She moved on to Sammie and murmured softly, trying her best to help, while Jacob turned to deal with the rest of the mourners, anything to keep from dwelling on the loss of his entire family, of the betrayal of the heart.
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C is for Coffee
by fignewton
Jacob swirled the cup with a forlorn air, breathing in the rich, heavy aroma that curled tantalizingly upwards.
But I like coffee, he thought plaintively, suspecting that the words would have a distinct whine if he said them aloud.
You like the effects of caffeine, corrected the dry voice in his head.
No, Jacob said, setting the cup on the crystalline table in his quarters. I like the taste. I like the smell. I like coffee.
The aroma is most pleasing, Selmac conceded. The taste, however, is not.
They're my taste buds, Jacob complained.
Which I now share with you, Jacob.
Five months of being a Tok'ra with no access to coffee. After all, he hadn't come through the Stargate with any personal supplies outside the BDUs they gave him in place of his hospital scrubs. As an unabashed coffee addict, he'd been vaguely surprised when he didn't suffer any withdrawal symptoms in his first days offword. Still, he supposed that a symbiote capable of curing cancer and fixing arthritic knees would have little trouble tweaking his seratonin levels and adjusting his neurotransmitters to avoid caffeine-induced crankiness.
Then that business with the Reetou brought him to Earth again, and George pressed the small, precious package of freshly-ground beans into his hands right before he returned to the Tok'ra base. There weren't any coffemakers on Vorash, of course, but Jacob had little trouble rigging a steam-driven espresso machine with the crystal from a broken ribbon device, a zat, and some creative manipulation of Tok'ra crystal technology.
Coffee.
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D is for Decision
by eilidh17
Fear rushed through Jacob's body, his heart beating erratically with cold panic as it was assailed with conflicting emotions of doubt and fear, disorder and chaos. Faces pressed in all around him. Some he recognized, others were complete strangers, the myriad of expressions ranging from happy and joyous to fearful and hate-filled.
Shuddering, Jacob wrapped his arms around his chest as the cold shock of the flashbacks leached at his body heat to leave him shivering when normally Selmac would have regulated his body temperature. Fatigue had also plagued him lately, and although being blended had taken away the requirement for sleep, Jacob found himself succumbing to the need to rest on occasion.
'I am sorry.'
The sincerity in Selmac's tone haunted Jacob, his friend apologizing more and more frequently as the symptoms of his old age impacted on both of their lives.
'Don't be,' Jacob returned as he pushed the last fading remnants of the flash back away, 'I told you I can handle this.'
'You should not have to when you know there is a choice.'
'Which I rejected,' Jacob chided mentally while his lips played a mirthful smirk. 'You're stuck with me for the long haul here.'
'Samantha and Mark-'
'Will survive without me as they would have done if you weren't around to save my sorry ass all those years ago. Are we going to rehash this whole conversation again? I made my decision and I'm not changing it.'
'You are truly a stubborn person.'
'Taught by the best. Look, I don't have a death wish, if that's what you're thinking. Give me some credit here, Selmac. My decision is purely selfish. The replicator threat is far greater than anything the Goa'uld have thrown at the galaxy in the last few thousand years, and I really believe that we need your experience to help defeat them.'
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E is for The End
by izhilzha
There's a shift, and suddenly he can't feel much of anything. There's something solid and cool under his arms, his chest (possibly why he's not flat on his back on the floor), and an echoing distortion that's messing with his senses, screwing with his information uptake.
He can't breathe, for a long moment.
Sam--Samantha--is next to him, then, asking what happened.
"I don't know," he tells her, and that's the moment he does know.
He gets his feet more or less under himself and stands there while she goes off to check things out. Makes himself take deliberate breaths. Leans on the stone of the weapons console, trying to regain his balance. Trying, trying to get used to the sense of negative space that's short-circuiting everything. It's familiar, but it's been almost six years since he lived like this, and God, it's disturbing.
I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, he catches himself thinking. I should never have asked this of you. Never. It's a lie. He couldn't have done anything else. Selmak would be the first to tell him that. It was only tradition and generosity (and love) that had prompted any other suggestion.
And then weeks of repeated argument, since he could be as stubborn about using their shared gifts to the last moment as Old Wise One could be about sparing the life of his host.
The needs of the many, though; they both understood that. The arguments had ended in shared purpose.
And they were right. They had won.
That soaring thought finds no echo, dropping into the void without even a subconscious response.
Selmak. Please. He hasn't used his name for years, not between the two of them, not in their own head. It does no good now; he's begging an almost-corpse, and he knows better.
It's just so lonely in here.
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F is for Frantic
by colej55
As a father, I wanted my kids to do well in life. I always knew Mark wouldn't follow in his old man's footsteps, but I've got to tell you, I was really surprised when Samantha joined the Air Force. She used to talk about being an astronaut as a kid, but that was just because of all the hype surrounding the moon landings. Besides, after her mother died and she blamed me, I was sure she'd go in a completely different direction than her not so dear old dad. She never ceases to amaze me! Who'd have thought that my kid would earn a doctorate in theoretical astrophysics and then start climbing the ranks in the military?
As a parent, I try not to dwell on all the unpleasant things that can happen to my family. We've already been through enough heartache when the kids lost their mother. Besides, fear will make a man old faster than anything else that I can think of. Selmak's telling me not to worry... that Sam's been trained for just this kind of situation. Who the hell trains for being blown up by one of Anubis' super soldiers? I liked it much better when my kid worked in "deep space radar telemetry".
You know, I never really bought into that ruse -- especially after she and O'Neill were awarded the Air Medal. But I never figured that what she was doing would be more dangerous than riding a rocket into space. I knew it had to be something pretty special for her to give up that particular dream, but traveling from planet to planet through a wormhole being chased by people who've been taken over by hostile, alien, brain-boring snakes? Yeah, right. And I'm gonna spawn wings and fly off into the wild blue yonder without a jet! Selmak is laughing at me -- just in case you're wondering. Even if Sam had told me the truth about her job, I would have thought that "deep space radar telemetry" made a much better cover story than that load of bull.
Now, I'm laid up while Selmak works on my wounds and I don't mind telling you that I'm frantic over Sam. I want to be out there looking for my little girl. Col. O'Neill, Daniel, and Teal'c have promised that they'll find her. What I'm really afraid of is that they'll find parts of her -- strewn about like some broken, discarded toy.
Frantic is a good word. I don't show it because everyone looks up to me not only because of Selmak, but because of my stars. As a military leader, I've learned to suck it up and take it. But as a father, I'm distraught. Sure, Sam is a seasoned soldier with years of combat experience under her belt, but she'll always be my little girl and a father has a right to be terrified when his child is missing and in danger.
Right now, the best I can do is hope that her teammates will find her and bring her back in one piece so I can tell her how much she means to me. I've never been the best father, but all I can think of is having just one more chance to hold her securely in my arms and say, "I love you, Sam. You've done good, kid, and I'm so proud of you."
Yeah, frantic....
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G is for Grape Soda
by sg_betty
Surreal is a point of view.
When Jacob first blended with Selmak, he had frequent surreal moments.
When he suddenly became aware that he was in an alien craft, looking down at an alien world, sharing his body with an alien life form.
When he looked at his food, unfamiliar textures, strange smells, and it didn't seem like food at all.
When a feeling came over him that he wasn't at home, that underground tunnels grown miraculously on command were not where he lived, and yet the minute before, the crowded streets of Washington had seemed like a distant memory.
There was nothing in these shards of time that was different from the second before, only sudden astonishment, an instant when it all seemed beyond belief, incomprehensible. He found himself thinking of things he hadn't thought about in years, of what 'normal' had meant when he was a child, of the fact that in the span of one life, a man could witness both the birth of television and Earthly travel through the galaxy. He wondered how the world could have changed so much, so quickly.
He'd think about what life was like when he was a boy, when his parents thought of airplanes as remarkable, when space travel seemed impossible fiction.
He'd think about clean, tidy houses on orderly streets, the smell of grass and the sound of the lawnmower, the neighbor's pride in his brand new Buick.
He'd think about summer holidays and running outside at dawn to play until dark, carefree.
Baseball in vacant lots, stickball in empty streets. Kick-the-can and swimming in the river.
Barbeques and picnics, fresh corn on the cob, burgers and steak, potato salad and his favorite grape soda.
For Selmak, these were the surreal moments. No previous host had memories like these, memories of utter freedom and plenty. Memories of unquestioned safety. Memories of a childhood without work or fear.
This was not to say the memories Selmak experienced through Jacob were free of conflict. Among his earliest were of 'rationing' and his father's absence, of fathers of friends who never returned. But this rationing was more of an inconvenience than genuine hardship, and the war that kept his father from home was a distant and incomprehensible thing to the small boy whom Jacob had been.
Later memories showed Selmak that many Tauri children were not as lucky , then or now, and that war always seemed to exist in some form on the planet, but Selmak found Jacob's experience remarkable, none the less. Remarkable and utterly surreal.
It's all in the point of view.
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H is for Hebron
by amaranthtraces
Jacob wanted to be angry.
He was really trying.
He'd be successful if it wasn't for a certain parasite and its annoying tendency to meddle with his brain chemistry.
"I heard that."
"Damn it, Selmak," thought Jacob. "You should be angry too." He walked through the open doorway and slammed his fist against the crystalline wall of his chamber. It gave a distinctly unsatisfying thump.
"Calm down."
"Anise knew. She knew all along. She deliberately made an innocent man host to a Goa'uld."
"We don't know that."
"Did you miss the way she was looking at us? Why else did they send us away on that stupid, pointless, and conveniently timed mission?"
Selmak's only response was to send another wave of calm through his body.
He shook his shoulders, trying to physically rid himself of the sensation. "There's no way she ever believed Tanith had been converted to the ways of the Tok'ra. They're lying to us."
Images flashed through Jacob's mind. Conversations falling silent as they approached. Non-critical missions. Too-quick smiles. Behind the images, Selmak's consciousness pressed through, "I know."
"Oh," Jacob said aloud.
"I'm sorry." Jacob reached back and massaged his neck. Selmak's body rippled appreciatively under his fingers. "I just feel for Hebron. Trapped in his own body, forced to watch, helpless and oppressed."
There was a pause before Selmak replied. "Do I make you feel that way?"
"It's not the same thing."
"That's not an answer, dear friend."
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I is for Individual
by sela21k
Individuality: The set of characteristics that somebody recognizes as belonging uniquely to himself or herself and constituting his or her individual personality for life.
"Individual..." Jacob repeated quietly to himself as he closed the dictionary.
Individual...echoed in his head in the voice of someone he did/didn't know.
"That's the problem, isn't it?" Selmak prodded gently.
Jacob sighed. "Individual...for life. But not anymore"
"In a way, yes." Selmak agreed. "We are together for life."
"We." Jacob whispered. "We."
"Yes, we." Selmak confirmed. "In your language, a first person plural personal pronoun used to refer to the speaker and at least one other person."
Jacob smiled wanly. "You sound like my fifth grade English teacher."
"I have been many things, including a teacher," Selmak replied.
"I", Jacob repeated woefully.
"First person singular pronoun used by the individual to refer to himself or herself."
"Individual."
"Yes."
"Singular."
"Yes."
"Am I, still?" Jacob asked plaintively. "An individual? With my own thoughts and feelings? Am I still singular?"
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J is for Jack
by amberflyant
We'd just got our asses kicked by Anubis, and seeking refuge on the SGC Alpha base, I have to admit I was darn shocked to see so many of the rebel Jaffa camped there. While I may have been shocked, my fellow Tok'ra was disgusted, and so it started. Ping! Round one and trouble was instantaneous.
Artok and Ocker eyed each other, centuries of hatred and mistrust between our races seething. Brat'tec and I waited to see how it would pan out, and predictably, it all went very poorly. A no nonsense commander, Jack stepped in and sorted it quickly, but still the animosity crackled like electricity in the air.
While everything seemed to be under control for awhile, they ended up at each other's throats once more, and they oozed animosity. The fallen Tok'ra's funeral had been heart breaking for us, we'd lost so many in the assault, and Ocker reacted poorly to Artok's question. The Tok'ra is a race steeped in ancient tradition, and we demand silence as a mark of respect during our rites. But, Artok couldn't have known any of this, how could have he? On some level, Ocker must have realized this to be the truth, but still over reacted. Many of his friends had died that day and his emotions were raw.
The two men fought, and yet another layer of hatred was added to tiers of loathing. Jack was pissed by the commotion, and in his inimitable style, told 'em to can it. He does this very well, and the look of annoyance he shot me grated on my nerves. He is right though, Ocker is a problem. He is well suited to the role the Tok'ra gave him. He displays a particularly pugnacious personality, and I think his host must weary of his bigotry and tirades. I know I sure as hell would.
Selmac sees no problem though and he thrives on the adrenalin. In my younger days I did as well, but not now, and I needed a break from them all. I found myself a quiet place and hid from the bull shit. Let them fight it out without me there to hold metaphorical hands.
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K is for Kohl
by thraesja
"You've got to be kidding me!" Jacob winced as the pilot of the tel'tak turned to peer at him. He'd spoken aloud. Again. A month wasn't nearly long enough for him to be used to talking to someone else entirely inside his head. And he really didn't want the extra attention at the moment. He shrugged an apology and the woman turned back to her console.
"I assure you," Selmak answered. "I am not."
"I can't wear this." He held up the offending garment, wrinkling his nose. "It's ridiculous."
"It is expected."
"Why didn't you tell me it would be this bad?"
"You didn't ask."
Jacob snorted. Fair enough. And he supposed Selmak would be used to skirts. As a species, Jacob found that even male Tok'ra had pretty strange taste in wardrobes. As for Selmak, she'd...he'd...she'd been a woman for quite some time.
"Will you please pick a pronoun? You're driving me mad."
"You don't mind if I call you a he?"
"I am in a male body."
"Believe me, I'd noticed," Jacob said. "Are you sure you don't mind? You've spent so much time in female hosts..."
"Call me whatever makes you comfortable. Just get dressed."
Jacob sighed. With another glance at the pilot and a curse for Tok'ra views on privacy, he pulled off his tunic and leggings and stepped into the skirt, quickly wrapping it around his waist. It came maybe halfway to his knees. He could actually remember having an argument with a teenaged Sam over a hemline this short.
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L is for Loyalty
by merrykk
You are melded to her--him--Selmak--but the thoughts don't overwhelm you at first, not for the first two days. The emotions do, and Selmak apologizes and says that it is a relief to have the strength to feel again. You wonder about gender differences, and yet something that might be Selmak tells you that you're a prejudiced fool. Yes, that must be Selmak; your own critic is much harsher, as it should be after such a life as you've led.
Then, in the quiet of night, your words have prompted the thoughts to flow from Selmak to you. You expect, for some reason, to see them like a film. Instead, they are sharp like your own memories, flashes of emotion and thoughts that labeled them in the moment and in every reliving thereafter.
You feel Selmak's beginning as if it were a rebirth, the gasping breath of a newborn come to grips with the fact that it is no longer secure in womb-like comfort. But Selmak's comfort was in godhood and armies, the cruel hand of the Goa'uld incarnate. Yet like a newborn, the new world is to be seized with every last strength. You feel what Selmak felt then, a sudden loyalty to destroying the womb where he was cradled at such a high cost.
You have a moment to catch your breath, to think on your past days in this new life and think that you always hated politics. This new loyalty is Selmak's, and you does not understand what it means.
*No* Selmak says. *No*
And you know you got the wrong message.
*My compatriots are younger, and they forget both themselves and me. They forget that bureaucracy will destroy us. They forget that we should be loyal to an idea only, that all sentient beings deserve life, and that few costs are too high to pay for that greatest of freedoms. And they forget that I will not tarry to remind them, now that I am truly alive again.*
You think that maybe it will not go across so well. But this loyalty you understand, and for the first time you are one with Selmak.
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M is for Major Matt Mason
by samantilles
"I'll be back in a minute!" Jacob watched his daughter dash out of her lab at the sound of an unauthorized incoming wormhole, and suddenly finding himself bored, he began gazing about the room.
Off on a shelf, out of the way, he spotted something he never thought he'd see again. Though battered and his paint well worn, Major Matt Mason stood guard over Samantha's lab. *Who is that supposed to be?* Selmak questioned, and Jacob released a chortle of a laugh. He took the action figure from the perch on which he was standing, holding him lightly in his hands.
"Major Matt Mason. Well, I'll be." The memory of the day he brought it home flashed for Selmak to see.
Sam entered the room just then, spying her father. "You know, I told you I wanted a Barbie Doll." She gave him a huge grin.
"She was never good enough for you kiddo. All she did was sit around and wait for some guy to pick her up. Now, Matt Mason on the other hand, he was a real role model." He carefully replaced the relic back on the shelf. Sam crossed her lab and joined him at his side. "You remember the day I brought him home for you? I couldn't get you to stop crying for the life of me when you opened that package. You were sobbing about how none of your friends would let you play with them with a stupid astronaut doll. I couldn't believe how upset you were."
Sam took Matt and fiddled with him for a moment. "Mom made me pack him when I went off to space camp that summer. She promised me all the cool kids at space camp would have Major Matt Mason's friends and I could play with them instead."
"I don't remember that at all." Jacob murmured.
"You were away then." She whispered back. Any louder and it would have been accusatory. "But she was right. He went with me everywhere after that. He was the poor unfortunate victim of gravity experiments and my lucky charm during exams. Man, did I get some strange glances in graduate school with an ancient astronaut sitting on the desk."
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N is for Netu
by gategremlyn
Sometimes hell is more than a place.
~::~
"Daniel, your eyes are so swollen and your pupils so dilated, there's no possible way you can see straight. Just stay right here until you're only seeing one of of us. Maybe if you ask nicely, Jacob will loan you Selmac for a few minutes--long enough to get rid of those bruises. I'm going to see if I can get Carter to make this tub go faster." With that Jack left the two of them alone.
Jacob and Daniel sat side by side in the empty cargo bay. After a few hours of much needed rest, everyone was doing their best to put Netu far behind them, everyone except Jacob and Daniel. Jacob was under orders from his daughter to stay put and rest or there'd be no trip to Alaska. Jack had told Daniel he was still high on the blood of Sokar and couldn't be trusted to walk in a straight line let alone be around anything technical or important. So the two of them tried not to look out of place and useless as the rest of the crew scrabbled to get them home.
"Jack's right, you look terrible," Jacob said looking over at the battered man slouched beside him. "You look like I feel. I understand the dilated pupils, but how the hell did you get not one but two black eyes?"
"Apothis backhanded me when he was done with the memory device." Daniel put his hand on his right cheek and rubbed absently. "I wouldn't tell him where Sha're's child was and he was pretty pissed. I think he wanted to do more but he ran out of time."
"And the other one?" Jacob asked.
Daniel explained, "I needed the guard to hit me so I could get our communicator back."
"You needed the guard to hit you? Run that by me again, Daniel?"
"I punched him in the stomach. When he hit me I fell sideways into the table where the device was. I grabbed it on the way down."
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O if for Officious
by acarlgeek
Obnoxious also fit the bill occasionally, but the supercilious bossiness of the Tok'Ra was grating almost all of the time, while the obnoxiousness only applied some of the time, like right now.
Jacob was extremely glad that Selmak was older, wiser, more patient and plain more pragmatic than most of the other Tok'Ra, but even Selmak occasionally displayed that overbearing "we-know-best" attitude, along with a mental pat on the head and unspoken "run along and play until we grown-up Tok'Ra have finished working". The hypocrisy of such an attitude when the Tok'Ra were assuming that the SGC, specifically SG-1, would implement their plans like obedient offspring was what flared Jacob's annoyance into obdurate ire, "No, Selmak and I will go, and we will have to explain the entire situation to George before the SGC will agree to assist us."
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O is for Oncology
by samantilles
The last thing Jacob Carter wanted was to die alone in an oncology ward. As his body worked to kill itself, he spent many hours in brooding silence lying alone, unable to concentrate on a book or the television. A single thought kept him preoccupied; I can’t die alone.
When the Oncology ward released him, he went home to a large empty house whose memories of laughter and love haunted him. Jacob swore he heard the patter of footsteps in the late evening and always expected his little girl to run around the corner and leap into his lap.
He wrote a hundred imaginary letters to his son and made just as many imaginary phone calls to his daughter, but too stubborn to ever put his feelings down on paper or say them out loud. He was down to weeks, according to his doctor, but it was the days of silence and loneliness that nearly killed him.
Then George Hammond called out of the blue and told him that his precious little girl won the Air Force Medal, inviting him to the ceremony in DC. His doctors would never have let him travel, if they had known, but he saw this as his chance to reconnect with his daughter. He pulled out his dress blues, carefully aligned his decorations and mulled over polishing his shoes while the conversation with his daughter he must have rewrote itself in his head over and over again.
He took a gamble, packing up the house. He used every connection he had, calling NASA and the Air Force Space Command. He put his house in order and left for Washington with a small truck of furniture on its way to Colorado Springs, the letter he finally wrote to Mark in his bag, and hope in his heart that he wouldn’t die alone.
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O is for Options
by traycer_
He could say no. He had other options to consider. Of course, the only other alternative was death, but still, willingly having a parasitic being in his head was a little hard to comprehend. Jacob Carter stared at his daughter, Sam, trying to make sense of the whole thing, while George Hammond spoke to him of the dangers, and the possible pitfalls of giving in.
"The Tok'ra can, and will, take over whenever it's needed, but they don't believe in taking complete control," George said, his tone sincere. "So don't worry about that."
Jacob grinned wryly at that statement. That was the least of his worries. "Let me get this straight," he finally said, truly trying to understand what it was they were asking him to do. "You want me to go to this other planet, let some snake worm its way into my head, then sit back and let it go about its business?" Sam had a guilty look on her face and George nodded, but as bad as it sounded, Jacob knew that he had no other choice. It was worth the chance, if it meant beating this cancer. And besides, when all was said and done, all he ever really wanted to do was live.
"Bring it on," he said weakly. Sam gave him a relieved smile, which made it all worthwhile to Jacob. He would do anything to make his daughter happy. "Just makes sure this Tok'ra knows that I won't give in without a fight."
"Will do," George said, his own relieved smile lighting up his features.
"Now that will be a scene," Sam said with a pained expression on her face. "There's definitely going to be a power struggle there."
"Ha, ha," Jacob said snidely, only to smile broadly when Sam laughed.
He turned to George to ask, "This is mainly for our allegiance with them, right?"
"And for your health," George made sure to add. "This means that you're going to live, Jacob. That should be your main reason for agreeing."
"It is. More than you can imagine."
George nodded, while Jacob closed his eyes for a moment, needing a brief respite to stay awake. Life was the only option for him now. He would let the snake in, and he would live to fight another day. It was more than he could ask for.
He opened his eyes and looked into Sam's beautiful blue ones with the understanding that he was doing it for her too, and he voiced his thoughts out loud, knowing she would appreciate his motives.
"I wouldn't have it any other way."
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P is for Puzzled Papa
by acarlgeek
General Jacob Carter was puzzled, deeply puzzled. Mentally, but not externally where anyone could see and exploit his predicament, he stared after his daughter in undisclosed and utter confusion. Sam had always been fascinated by space, always. Ever since she was old enough to read (and that hadn't been very old), the topic that had held her attention and been the driving force behind her activity selections had been space: space phenomena and the space technology and space travel programs necessary to get closer to space phenomena. Jacob suppressed an external smile; finding that Matt Mason astronaut doll had been a Christmas coup, especially when a second set of accessories needed to be acquired for Sam's next birthday in order to kit out her previously neglected Barbie for space travel, too.
Sam had focused her exceedingly bright mind on astrophysics and joined the Air Force because both of those career choices were likely pathways into space. Unfortunate timing with the Challenger disaster and the temporary cessation of American manned space travel had steered Sam into studying her prized planets and stellar phenomena from earthbound offices and laboratories. Remote sensing and 'telemetry' were better than nothing, but Jacob couldn't believe that his daughter was satisfied with what amounted to a support position if he could get her a frontline posting with NASA, which was the only viable U.S. route to out there. Sam wasn't too old for the astronaut program. She also wasn't as determined as her brother to reject Jacob's participation in her life. So why was she insisting that she didn't want the goal she'd spent her entire life trying to achieve?
There were so many ways in which Jacob had failed to help his children fulfill their dreams. He thought he'd found the perfect final gift for his daughter, but she claimed she had something better? He'd confirm whatever she was working on really was better, if it was the last thing he did.
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Q is for Queen
by ryf
They brought her back home and buried her in the sand.
Jacob hadn't known her, but still he had memories. He, as all the others, carried Egeria's memories with him. And on top of those memories, he also shared Selmak's grief.
From the outside, it was probably hard to understand. Egeria had been thought dead for so long, and it had been even longer that she had last had a host and been able to communicate with her children.
Still, Selmak had effectively just lost his mother. And the pain... it wasn't any less than when Jacob had lost his wife. Maybe it was even more severe because on top of losing a loved one, Selmak also once again had to face the reality of being a member of a dying race. A dying race which could have been saved. None of Egeria's children since she had been taken captive by Ra were Tok'ra that could strengthen their numbers, because they had been experimented on.
So many Tok'ra lost.
The pain their queen must have endured... it was unbelievable.
It took days for the elder of the Tok'ra to recover from the shock, and Selmak was one of the elders. Jaboc watched as they prepared the funeral, listened as they shared their memories, and comforted when Selmak needed it.
They had all lost something. Their creator, their comrade, their mother. Their queen.
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R is for Rebels and Regrets
by night_spear1287
I. Sam(mie) and Mark
Sammie had decided at five that she was going to be just like Dad. That had been kind of nice until Dad found out that (a) it was no longer acceptable to call a really cool astronaut a kiddie name like 'Sammie' and (b) she thought her dad was an astronaut who possibly lived on the moon when he wasn't living in Washington D.C.
Then, one day, Jacob was late coming home from work, and his wife died. It didn't matter how much anyone regretted it; that was it.
...x...
Sam's idea of being a rebel was getting pissed off at her junior year physics teacher and handing in a week of physics homework in which every '-1' had been replaced with 'e^(i*pi)' and every trigonometric function had been written as an infinite series. As rebellious phases went, especially when his kids both hated him for what had happened to their mother, Jacob supposed it could have been worse.
...x...
Mark ran away from home. That was worse.
Not that Jacob cared, of course. Mark had made it clear that Jacob wasn't welcome in his life, so there was simply no excuse for Mark to be worming his way into Jacob's head.
...x...
That was what he'd thought, at least, up until he'd actually gotten a worm-like smartass in his head who disagreed very strongly with that sentiment.
You are the most stubborn human I have ever met, Selmak told him.
Shut up, Jacob told the snake in his head, feeling like he was a little kid passing notes in class while the teacher was giving a lecture. I'm trying to listen to Garshaw. You're distracting me.
I have met many humans. You are my twenty-first host, and I have lived on many planets.
Good for you, you old hag.
I believe, Selmak mused, sounding far too amused, that this would be a good time for me to call you a moron.
Will you stop stealing my insults? Jacob complained. And give me back my body!
In a minute, Selmak chided, and Jacob could have sworn he would have just been patted on the head if Selmak had had hands and didn't live inside said head. Do not sulk.
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S if for Selmak
by sg_wonderland
The Air Force transport is fairly quiet on the way back from Seattle. Seth's body is secured and heavily guarded in the back. From what I gather, Teal'c has declined to hand this duty over to anyone other than himself. Dr. Jackson is stretched out across three seats with a journal, having somehow obtained a cup of coffee. Samantha and the colonel are up front, speaking to Cheyenne Mountain.
Looking out the window, I observe the clouds drift by. This type of transport might seem slow when compared to my usual method, but it gives me the time to think.
"So." Colonel O'Neill appears across from me, cup of coffee in hand. I wonder at this inexplicable ability to consume the unappealing beverage then I glance over and see a sleeping Dr. Jackson, now covered with a blanket but without his spectacles and the coffee cup. The colonel is clearly amused at my expression. "Trust me, he'll never know. And if he asks," he shrugs without remorse, "I can lie with the best of them."
"Colonel O'Neill, may I congratulate you on the completion of a successful mission."
"You may. But it wasn't just me. Everyone had a hand in it."
I glance over at his slumbering teammate. "Quite an impressive young man you have there."
"We like to think so. He's kind of handy to have around. If you guys ever need to flush out another missing Goa'uld..."
"We will not waste time seeking other assistance. Now that we know his capabilities, the Tok'ra may be calling on Dr. Jackson for assistance in the future."
"Just call ahead of time; he's got a curfew, you know."
"Colonel O'Neill, there is something about Jacob that I admit I cannot understand."
"Well," he drains the rest of his cup and sets in under the seat. "You can ask but I can't guarantee I can help you. I don't really know Jacob that well. Maybe Carter...?"
"It is not something I am comfortable asking Captain Carter." His expression becomes a bit more uneasy. "I admit it is somewhat personal in nature."
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T is for Time
by lokei
For every minute spent in organizing, an hour is earned. ~Anonymous
"And Colonel--"
Colonel Jacob Carter turned smartly, at attention in an instant. "Sir?"
"One more thing before you proceed with the tasks at hand. There's a glad-handing occasion up on Pennsylvania Avenue that I'm supposed to bring some of my best men to, next week. Will you and your wife be among the party?"
"It would be an honor, General, thank you." Carter nodded sharply. "I'll just see that these get taken care of, sir."
"Yes, be particularly careful with the third, if you will. I'll need that report by the end of the day tomorrow."
"Of course, sir."
As Jacob hurried back to his office, he glanced at a clock in the hallway. Eighteen-thirty hours. Damn, he was late to pick up Grace--very late. She probably wouldn't have waited for him, he'd have to remember to stop by the store and get a bottle of wine to apologize. Hopefully the dinner at the White House would be enough to mollify her.
The phone in his office was ringing. Jacob sped up, hoping that whatever it was the General wanted was fast.
"Colonel Carter speaking."
"Colonel, this is Doctor Erickson from Georgetown University Hospital. Sir, your wife was in a traffic accident, and I'm sorry to have to tell you that her condition is critical."
A pause that lasted a lifetime.
"Sir, you should really get here as soon as possible."
Jacob stared sightlessly at the piles on his desk, the pictures on the walls, and then at the clock on the bookshelf. "I understand."
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U is for Uniform, Underground, Undercover
by grav_ity
One is the loneliest number that you'll ever do
The stolen uniform fit him perfectly, which made him terribly uncomfortable. In vain, he wished it would chafe or bind or look too tightly drawn across the shoulders, but it did none of those things. He looked as trim and fit, as belonging in his costume as he did in his regular clothes. Which was, of course, precisely why they'd chosen him for the mission.
Jacob didn't see a lot of field work any more. Ever since the System Lords had not been assassinated while they sat in Summit, the other Tok'ra had viewed him as defective. It was annoying. None of the other human races who lived as hosts were looked down on for retaining characteristic traits of their species. Jacob had the most developed espionage skills of any host, but none of the Tok'ra could see past his Tau'ri nature. Selmak told him it would get better as their blending matured, but Jacob hadn't made it this far in life to go back into cadet probation.
He could think on his feet. He spoke the language. He met the basic physical requirements. He wouldn't pass for a native if anyone looked to closely or inquired after his opinion of local sports, but the whole idea was that he looked enough the part that no one would give him a second glace. The mission does not technically exist. There will be no hero's welcome waiting for him at home, and he tries not to think of what awkward lie they would tell his family if he does not return.
Selmak doesn't like closed in spaces. Which is sort of funny, because the Tok'ra have lived almost exclusively in caves or star ships for several centuries now. As the helmet closes around there head, Jacob feels the beginning of a panic that was never his, but it's quickly banished.
"You okay?" he asked.
"I'd be better if you hadn't insisted on that second cup of coffee this morning," she returns. Selmak reacts badly to caffeine, but Jacob has access to it so rarely that he feels compelled to indulge himself now and then.
"You can sit this one out, if you like," He offers.
"Very funny," She replies. And then it's time to go.
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V is for *Vale, amice*
by aelfgyfu_mead
"Goodbye, friend," Selmak whispered into their minds. Everything around them still roared and Dakara shook as though it wanted to throw them off the now-loose pieces of Replicators, but Jacob could hear Selmak's parting words with absolute clarity. Then Selmak relaxed his grasp on consciousness and slipped beyond where Jacob could feel him.
The sudden emptiness overwhelmed Jacob. Silence. Absolute silence. The duet in his mind--their minds- -had ended. His stomach dropped and his knees weakened as he reached inside and found no one but himself.
"Dad?" Sam asked.
"I'm all right," Jacob told her quickly, pushing back off the console onto which he found he'd leaned. The silence was not only in his head: the weapon's vibrations had ceased, the Replicators had stopped, the shooting had ended, and even the echoes had died away. He had missed a few moments.
Jacob managed to keep his composure in front of his daughter. He slipped away from the weapon as soon as he decently could, past those tending to the bodies of those who had fallen keeping the Replicators from the weapon's console. He went halfway around the small building that housed the weapon console and found himself out of sight of everyone. He wanted to be alone. Ah, but that was the great irony: he really didn't want to be alone. He had thought he would never be alone again.
He could remember being newly blended with Selmak and his resentment that she knew everything that crossed his mind. Her? Even the pronoun took him back. When had he stopped thinking of Selmak as female and started thinking of him as male? That he could not remember, and even Selmak's memories yielded no one moment. The transition must have come as they both fully accepted the blending. Selmak was part of him. It became natural to think of them both as male, though Selmak had long favored female hosts and had previously thought of herself as female. The change came not just to Jacob's mind, but to Selmak's as well.
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W is for Wizard
by randomfreshink
"You told him to use his imagination."
"I didn't think..."
"That he would take you at your word?"
"I'd've expected something that asinine from Jack."
"Ah. You believe his thoughts are with and of his friend. But why do you condemn his choice of identity so harshly?"
"You heard him. How many ancient religions does he know? Dead civilizations? Mythologies? And he picks--"
"Oz. Yes...an...unusual choice. A...what is your word for it...wizard?"
"A character from a story who presents himself as a wizard. A magic man."
"An unfamiliar concept, this idea of wizard. Magic is a trick of the false gods. Technology presented as inherent, mystical powers."
"Now you sound like Teal'c."
"A Jaffa? Do you wish to be insulting?"
"You implying the comparison's an insult?"
"Now you are simply showing ill-humor."
"Oh, and no reason for that, is there?"
"You worry as well for those stranded. But you hope. And still have not answered my question. The allegory of a human who portrays himself as something he is not is most fitting for what Daniel Jackson himself was doing. There is a pleasing...irony."
"Been a lot more pleasing, if he'd bought us ten minutes extra."
"You believe he could have done so with another name? But, as you have noted, he knows the gods-- the lies of those who claim immortal powers. Any Goa'uld's name must be tainted. By his knowledge. By just hatred. That would have been a most bitter taste in his mouth. Besides, this word, it is...pleasing."
"Oz?"
"Ahhhzzzzzzzzz. The great and powerful. The sound echoes well in the mind. And not so different from Aah, or Hu, or Ra even. There is...possibility here. I think he chose well, this name of a trickster. A human who managed an illusion."
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X is for Xenophobia
by beatrice_otter
Little Jake Carter was never a science fiction fan, growing up. Instead of bug-eyed aliens, he dreamed of cowboys and Indians. He was always a cowboy, of course; who'd want to be an Indian? Sure, they got to wear buckskin and feathers, but Davy Crockett got buckskin and a coon-skin cap. And John Wayne got guns! Jake could see himself as a cowboy, riding the range. He couldn't see himself as an Indian. They weren't like his family. Jake knew all about people who Weren't Like Us.
"Damn wetbacks, taking jobs from decent hard-working Americans," Jake's Dad would say, frowning at the farm next door. It was a large farm, a big commercial operation, and every year it hired Mexicans from across the border and paid them off the books, and every year Dad had to do the same if he wanted to make any kind of profit on their small piece of land, and every year he muttered under his breath as he paid them, handing out white envelopes full of carefully-counted cash. "Lazy bastards. Gonna spend it all on booze, I know, living in those dirty shanties of theirs." And on, and on. By the time Jake was fifteen and working full time on the place in the summers, he'd heard it so many times he could recite it in his sleep.
To his father's disappointment, instead of staying home to take over the farm, Jake did Air Force ROTC. The two of them sat on the back porch smoking the day Jake announced it. "Look, Dad," Jake said, "I know you can't pay for college and I want to go. With scholarships and a job, I'll be able to pay my own way."
"You'll have to serve after college, though," Dad said. "That worth it? I had some jackasses of officers in the Army, made life hell. Don't suppose that's much different for a brand-new lieutenant. And I knew I only had to serve until we whipped the Jerries." He didn't say a word about the apple trees stretching out in front of him that Jake wouldn't be there to help him pick that year, or the Farmall tractor that might have to be sent to the mechanic if it broke because Jake wouldn't be around to fix it.
"I think I can handle it," Jake said. "There's other threats out there today, Dad. The Russians aren't just sitting at home playing nice. They're not like us. They'd rather build an army to attack us than get their own country straightened out. When they think they can win, they're gonna attack. Somebody's got to fight them, when they come, and I figure it might as well be me."
"I suppose," Dad said, and that was the end of it.
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Y is for Y, or Y Not
by jmassg1
Y'know, the thing about hosting an alien symbiote is that everybody expects you to have all the answers.
No, Sam, I've never seen that technology before and neither has Selmak.
No Daniel, we've never come across that kind of writing.
No, Jack, symbiotes don't like to yo-yo. No fingers, you see.
Even George seems to take it as read that inheriting Selmak somehow made me guru of the Tau'ri. As a general in the USAF for decades, I know how to bluff with the best of them, but sometimes there's just nothing there but the fake knowing look.
Sorry guys, don't know much about anything at the moment, other than the fact I'd really like to get the hell out of here. Pun completely intended.
Don't know what Sokar was thinking putting his prison here. Not much good to take prisoners if you're going to bake them by slow degrees.
Oh look, another pun.
Losing it there, Jacob.
Am not.
Are.
My old nana always said, either laugh about it or cry. And pops said never cry in public so....
Could be worse, I suppose.
It could?
Yes.
How?
Could be hotter...
Yeah... guess so. Almost wish...
Jacob!
I did say almost.
Think about something else.
(...)
Jacob?
Trying... all I can think about is how hot it is and how much I stink.
Wasn't going to mention it.
Thanks, buddy.
You're welcome.
You too.
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Z is for Zoo
by telepathicpixie
I find the entire concept to be extremely... unusual.
Considering Selmak's age, not to mention travel experience, Jacob thought that was saying something. They don't have zoos anywhere out there? he inquired mildly, watching his grandchildren run on ahead. They stayed within eyesight, but were obviously eager to reach the penguins.
There was the briefest of pauses before Selmak replied, No. Jacob chuckled softly at her tone and a few passersby smiled, clearly taking his amusement to be the product of an indulgent grandfather herding his charges and not a semi-retired general constantly entertained by his alien symbiote's opinions of Earth culture.
You do not find it unusual to imprison wild animals--predators, even--for the amusement of children? Selmak countered. Put like that, Jacob really couldn't argue with her; it was a bit unusual, he supposed, particularly from the viewpoint of someone foreign to the planet. If he were being honest with himself, he'd always found it a bit strange to be standing across from a tiger pacing its way behind the sheet of glass separating them, a proud warrior relegated to a passing amusement. That same attitude was probably why he had always viewed the idea of retirement with such distaste--putting the old general out to pasture, only bringing him out for holidays and special occasions.
Whether or not it's unusual isn't the point, Jacob returned, finally catching up with Marybeth and Ryan as they plastered their faces against the penguin tank, occasionally shouting out in delight at some antic the penguins were displaying. Even with Selmak providing running commentary, this was some small bit of normalcy Jacob could appreciate. He had no memories of guiding Samantha or Mark around the zoo, smiling at their delight in the animals--probably because he'd always been away too often to find the time. Even once Marybeth and Ryan had been born, Jacob had been an absentee grandfather more often than not. It wasn't until traveling offworld with Selmak that Jacob had fully realized everything he was missing; thankfully, it was also because of Selmak that he was able to repair some of that damage now.
Marybeth and Ryan peeled themselves away from the penguins to rejoin their grandfather, each child claiming one of Jacob's hands in a set of sticky fingers. Marybeth began tugging them in the direction of the wildcats while Ryan made a bid for the reptile house, and Jacob caught a wave of understanding from Selmak that told him he didn't need to explain anything.
C'mon, he said cajolingly to the symbiote while attempting to act as referee--the wildcats were closest and on the way to the reptiles. If you're really good, I promise to buy you a stuffed cobra from the gift shop.
Selmak gave a silent snort and didn't bother to dignify the bribe with a response.
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