"Perhaps we can arrange a trade," the alien raises two of its five tentacles in an enigmatic gesture, and Sam is reminded that just the other day she had been wondering why nearly all of the alien life forms they've encountered so far have been bilaterally symmetrical. Be careful what you idly ponder, she thinks.
"A trade." She carefully schools her voice and stance into neutrality, betraying none of her misgivings. It's probably a wasted effort, as her body language must be as foreign to the alien as its mannerisms are to her, but seven years of first contact experience cannot simply be ignored.
"An exchange," the creature elaborates. "Your companions will be released, and in return you will provide us with one of your memories."
"Memories?" Sam tries to make it a statement, not a question, but the note of inquiry creeps in on the last syllable.
"The archive of our race's experience, while it contains much of merit, has not gained any significant additions in several generations. We feel that a memory from a source so different from ourselves would improve its variety considerably."
The old trapped-in-a-room-with-only-ten-movies scenario. Sam regards the alien for a moment before responding. "Suppose I agree to this exchange. A memory for my team's release. How do you plan to extract this memory from my mind? For that matter, do you even know if you can extract it, given our differing physiology?"
"It is true that your genetic make-up is somewhat divergent from our own," Sam can't decide if the understatement is intended to be humorous or not, "But our examinations of your companions indicate that with some slight adjustments, our extraction technology should be both effective and safe for use in this manner."
Sam grimaces slightly at the reference to examinations, and then has to bite down on a slightly hysterical giggle that arises from a sudden image of the Colonel snapping at a tentacled alien for shining a penlight in his eye. The past thirty-six hours without sleep are beginning to take their toll. She takes a deep breath and exhales slowly before saying "I'd still like to know more about how the process works before I agree to anything, if you don't mind."
The alien blinks in what she takes for assent. "That is quite reasonable. Please observe." A tentacle is extended, bearing a tiny cluster of what looks like coral. "We believe that implanting the device in one of your aural receivers will allow it to function sufficiently for the memory extraction procedure."
Sam takes the tiny device and examines it curiously. She's fairly certain this is going to constitute a breach of base security, and she makes a mental note to have her IDC changed the minute they get back to base. "What memory are you planning to extract?"
"We will select one together," replies the alien, with another unreadable gesture. "It may take some time for us to agree upon a memory that is both suitable for our archive and with which you are willing to part."
"Part?" Sam freezes, her inspection of the extraction device forgotten. "What do you mean, 'part with'? I'm not actually going to lose the memory. Am I?" She is frustrated by how plaintive the question sounds.
"Why else would your consent be required?" asks the alien in evident confusion. "The memory extracted will be in our archive. How could it also continue to be housed in your mind?"
Sam can feel her eyes widening, and she finds herself involuntarily holding the extraction device further away from herself. "Can't you just take a copy? Leave me my memory and keep an identical version for your archive?"
"If that were possible, this would hardly constitute a fair exchange." Sam is fairly certain she detects a note of reproach in the alien's voice. "But of course nothing can be done without your agreement. I will understand if you are not willing to accept our terms. A memory is a significant cost, even for an exchange such as this one."
Sam wonders momentarily if the alien means to imply that the rest of SG-1 is worth relatively little, but decides that memories really are that highly valued here. She thinks of Linnea and decides that maybe that's only right.
Well, look on the bright side, she decides. If memories really are the coin of the realm here, then at least that makes me a billionaire. She takes a deep breath and another long look at the device, then resolutely places it in her left ear, shoulders tensing involuntarily.
At her silent nod, the alien blinks and--
"It's pretty cool, isn't it? You and I working together?" Felger grins enthusiastically. "We're sort of like the intellectual Butch and Sundance of the SGC."
Sam doesn't even bother to hide her annoyance. "Butch and Sundance got cornered and killed by the Bolivian army."
"Whoa." Sam can't help the soft exclamation that escapes her as she is swept unceremoniously from the present moment into the memory and then back again.
"The device appears to be working as predicted," says the alien, without seeming to note her discomiture. "We will begin in earnest, now."
Jolinar is dead, and Sam is left feeling bereaved and hollow. The heartache is as devastating in intensity as it is frightening in its strangeness. Some far-away part of her insists that she should be glad to have her body and mind back under her own control, to have the uninvited intruder gone. But Sam still wakes to find herself weeping, wracked with a loneliness so acute that it's like a physical sensation rather than an emotion.
Even while Sam is wincing at the pain of the memory, she finds herself shrinking from the idea of losing it. Before she has time to do anything more than wonder how it would change her to lose Jolinar's loss (and isn't that an odd thought?) the memory is replaced by another.
Sam pauses for a moment to soak up the atmosphere of the street bazaar, smiling at the wild patterns and dizzying colors that surround her. A few feet away, Jenny is picking over a blanket strewn with cheap jewelry and trinkets, and further down the row of stalls Daniel and Teal'c are buying a blindingly pink shirt that Sam knows must be for Teal'c. Even displaced in time and on the run, the Jaffa's taste in outerwear remains bafflingly outlandish. Oh well, at least "outlandish" seems to be the standard look in 1969. Sam smiles to herself, feeling oddly content.
"Look at these!" Jenny calls, and she turns to find the younger girl holding out a pair of spectacles with magenta lenses. Sam takes them, smiling, and after a moment says "Rose-colored glasses it is," and pays the vendor a nickel for them.
She finds the sensation of channel surfing through her own memories as uncomfortable as the last time she experienced something like this, en route to Netu. Perhaps more so, given that this time she's not the one with the remote.
The Kull warrior finally lies still, but Sam has to ask. "Is it...?" She can't even work up the strength to finish the question, but thankfully there is no need.
"Yeah, it's dead," says the Colonel. "Right, Teal'c? He's dead." At Teal'c's nod, he gives her a small smile and repeats, with conviction. "Yeah' he's dead. You wanna get up?"
She feels reaction set in at the comfort in his voice, but she's fairly certain that she keeps the tears out of her voice when she replies "I just need to rest for a minute." She is safe. She is exhausted and hurt and thirsty and barely alive, but the Colonel and Teal'c are there, and she is safe. She wants to pull the fact of their presence around her and go to sleep like a child shielding herself from the monsters with the impenetrable barrier of a blanket.
She feels, rather than sees him sink to the ground beside her and when he softly says "C'mere," she leans gratefully into the hollow of his shoulder, eyes shut against the universe. Safe.
Sam feels her throat constrict. Maybe this was a bad idea.
They are both wearing stiff dress blues, but they manage to hug warmly anyway. Her father pulls away, smiles. "Sam I'm so proud of you."
She grins back. She knows it sounds overdone, but she says it anyway: "Today the Air Force, tomorrow the stars."
She gives herself a mental shake. It will be a loss, but it's worth it if the team all makes it home.
"This is how your culture represents the heart, isn't it?" Jonas thoughtfully examines the card taped to the wall over Sam's desk.
"Yes, that's what we call a valentine," Sam replies absently. "Cassie made it for me a couple of years ago." At Jonas's curious glance, she elaborates, "We have a holiday called Valentine's Day that's dedicated to showing our appreciation for the people closest to us."
"And these valentines are tokens of your affection?" Jonas smiles.
Sam smiles back, and nods. She entertains the idea of explaining about Saint Valentine and the clandestine marriage of Roman soldiers, but the thought that she wouldn't be able to explain it as well as Daniel would have makes her sigh a little sadly instead.
Jonas is looking at the card again. "So when is Valentine's Day?"
"February fourteenth," Sam replies automatically, thoughts still on Daniel.
"So two months from now," says Jonas. "Should I give valentines to you and the rest of SG-1?"
The question startles a small, horrified laugh out of Sam before she can stop herself. "Um, no, Jonas, I..." she can see his face beginning to fall ever so slightly and scrambles for a reply that will neither hurt Jonas's feelings, nor result in a truly awkward scene with the Colonel in two month's time. "That's really not necessary, it's...the implications of a valentine are...kind of complicated." Okay, Jonas doesn't look heartbroken, but he dousn't look entirely reassured, either. "It's just...complicated," she says again, willing him to understand.
"The Tau'ri custom of valentines is indeed a complex tradition." Sam hadn't even heard Teal'c enter the lab, but his deep voice cuts through her increasing mental desperation with profound composure. "It has been my understanding that while it is not uncommon for valentines to be exchanged between friends and family, it is a predominantly romantic gesture, and bears many connotations of attraction and desire."
Jonas's expression shifts into comprehension. "Oh," his smile is slightly baffled, but bears no trace of disappointment, and Sam attempts to silently telegraph her profound thanks to Teal'c as Jonas shakes his head and laughs. "You're right, that does sound complicated."
The memory lasts so long this time that she wonders if this is the one the alien has chosen, but then it's on to the next channel...
She feels Martouf's heart stop beating as she holds him cradled against her, and she knows it is too late. Not even Lantash can save him, now. The pain she feels at his loss might not be all her own, but that doesn't make it hurt any less.
...and the next...
They are striking camp when she notices that Daniel's newly-cropped hair is sticking up in the back, and smiles to herself. He hasn't yet realized that only people with long hair are exempt from bed-head. She decides to bring him a comb and is drafting a tactful comment about using it in the morning when the Colonel remarks "God, Daniel, you look like a haystack. Put your boonie on before the birds start trying to roost on you." Sam tries not to laugh at Daniel's look of utter bewilderment, but she's not entirely successful.
...and the next...
Her mother pretends not to see when Sam steals a spoonful of cookie batter and sinks down under the kitchen counter to savor it.
...and the next...
She looks into Fifth's face and knows with implacable certainty that this decision is going to come back to haunt them. Even worse, she knows it's wrong. She sees the hope and trust in his face, and she wants to tell him she's sorry, but she turns and resolutely walks away, less because she has her orders than because she really can't think of any other way. She already knows that regardless of how things turn out, no matter how much they do or do not pay for this in the end, she'll still hate herself for being unable to come up with a better solution when it really mattered.
She closes her eyes, knowing it will make no difference, and takes a shaking breath. She thinks again of Linnea and of Ke'Ra and dares to wonder what this will do to her. How much difference can one memory make?
She looks up at Bynarr, knowing exactly who he is and wishing she didn't.
Will she be just as she was before, only somehow infinitesimally less so? Will she even know that she has lost anything? Or will she go through the rest of her life, worrying at the place where a memory should be like a child niggling at a missing tooth, wondering what it was, wondering if it was important? Her breath catches and she feels her eyes fly open, though she can see nothing but the unceasing flash of memory after memory. Will she one day fail to make the right call, will she one day put her self, her team, her world in jeopardy because she's missing the one thing that would have made her equal to the situation?
She looks at Maybourne and says "Maybourne, you are an idiot every day of the week. Why couldn't you have taken one day off?" There. Now, even if the earth is overrun by hostile aliens, at least the important stuff got said.
It occurs to her to wonder what, exactly, the alien is looking for.
She is surprised to discover that she is not in the least embarrassed to have Teal'c find her crying, and when he silently puts a massive arm around her shoulders, she finds that crying into his neck, sobbing as she hasn't in years, is a welcome and natural relief. A small corner of her mind that is not completely overwrought with distress and loss observes that she must be mellowing out in her old age.
She bites her lip and wishes this would stop...
She wraps her arms around Cassandra and waits for the world to end.
...but the channels keep changing.
Jack says "I will always be there for you," and though he's just a hallucination, she knows it's true.
She's just wondering how much longer this could possibly take when she hears something new for what seems like the first time in ages.
"Ah." The alien's voice cuts through the tide of memory. "Here. Would you be willing to part with this one?"
She's eating blue Jell-O in the commissary, a report open but unread on the table in front of her.
She waits for the memory to continue, to pan out into something she either can't bear to see again or can't bear to lose...but it doesn't happen. She opens her eyes and she's in the present moment, again, the alien regarding her silently. There is a long pause during which she blinks once or twice, and then she asks "That's it? That's the one you want?"
"The experience is unlike any we have on file," replies the alien. "But perhaps you wish to retain it? Shall I continue the process in search of a different memory?"
"No, it's just that..." Sam feels that she's going to start laughing any minute. "You want a memory of me eating blue Jell-O." She decides not to laugh because she doesn't think she'd be able to stop afterwards. "I...that's..." She stops, takes a deep breath, and continues with more gravity and composure. "You're welcome to it if that's what you want in exchange for my team. I assume safe passage back to the Gate is part of the deal."
"Of course," the alien waves a solicitous tentacle. Sam doesn't realize that the procedure is over until a trickle of fine dust escapes her left ear and she realizes that it is the remains of the extraction device. She blinks at the realization that while she can remember the fact of the memory (blue Jell-O, commissary, unread report) she cannot actually recall living it.
"It's like a story your mom tells you about when you were a baby," she says, to no one in particular. "You know it happened, but you can't remember it for yourself." Then a door opens, and the Colonel shouts her name in the sharp way he uses when he's been worried, and she sighs with relief because they're all going home.
On the way back to the Gate, Daniel says "They told us you had bargained for our release." His voice is equal parts relief and concern. "I'm almost afraid to ask what you gave them."
The Colonel doesn't look back at them, but Sam knows he's listening intently for her reply. She laughs a little to herself and says "Blue Jell-O."
Heliopolis Main Archive
A Stargate: SG-1 Fanfiction Site
Clip Show
by KalquessaStory Bemerkung:
A bit on the maudlin side, but I like it and enjoyed writing it. This was my first attempt to write Sam POV, which I tend to find unexpectedly difficult.Site Navigation
Support Heliopolis