Death Does Not Conquer
Death Does Not Conquer
by Noda
TITLE: Death Does Not Conquer
AUTHOR: Noda
EMAIL: Noda@win.bright.net
DATE: 08-04-00
STATUS: Complete
ARCHIVE: Yes, please.
SPOILERS: Major ones for "Divide and Conquer," Possibly small ones through season 4
SUMMARY: Sam tries to deal with her grief over Martouf.
DISCLAIMER: Stargate SG-1 and its characters are the property of Showtime/ Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. This story for entertainment purposes only and no money whatsoever has exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the author.
AUTHOR'S NOTES:
~Death Does Not Conquer~
I can't believe he's gone. Of all of us, why was it Martouf who had to be the one? The Goa'uld probably realized he'd be above reproach; the last person we'd suspect. And he was. I hate to admit our enemies had chosen the perfect candidate to become a zatarc, but they had.
I'd so wished my father could have been present for the signing of the treaty, but now I couldn't thank a higher power enough that he wasn't there. Martouf was--had been--my father's closest connection to the rest of the Tok'ra. A confidant and friend he was going to sorely miss. As we all would. Even the colonel looked dismayed at this turn of events. True, he was never Martouf's biggest fan, but I think that had more to do with me than Martouf himself. No matter what emotions Jack associated with Martouf and myself, or the Tok'ra's duplicity, he'd never wish for his death. I saw him shoot Martouf, but it was in the leg, only to bring him down. Not to kill him. No, that "honor" fell to me.
I've never been clear on what my feelings for Martouf were, but in the instant he called my name, begging me to be the one to end his life, I knew I hated him. How could he ask such a thing of me? Only hours before, he'd been telling me how fond he was of me. What a pale word. As pale as his features in death. I knew what he'd really been trying to say, but I was scared. Scared and confused about what I felt for him, and what I was still denying feeling for Jack. I watched the expectant look drop from his face as I covered my discomfort with some lame speculations. I can't be certain, but I think my obvious brush-off of his confession hurt him more than the second shot from the zat gun.
I don't know how long I sat at the base of the 'gate, holding his still form. Daniel, the colonel and Teal'c stood around me, unsure what action to take. General Hammond was returning the "decoy" to the surface, and most of the SFs had lowered their weapons and left the room. The threat was gone.
The threat. I could never think of Martouf as a threat, even when the evidence of what a danger he'd become lay all around me. The means of his attack was still attached to his hand. Freya and Anise were certain to dissect the device as surely as they would his body. She promised his death would be proven to be a "noble sacrifice." The words seemed a contradiction to me. What nobility was there in his untimely demise?
I couldn't seem to move, my arms were locked about Martouf's head, as if by holding him tightly enough I would find he hadn't died after all. Freya finally had to pry my arms off him, promising to take care of his body in a manner he would have wished. I looked at her with pure hatred. What good were her promises? Hadn't she promised to find the zatarc? Not that Martouf's options would have been any better than the ones offered us, but perhaps Lantesh would have been able to assist in Martouf's de-programming. Now we'll never know.
And it wasn't just Martouf that was lost. Lantesh, too was gone. All his wisdom and experience in fighting the Goa'uld died with Martouf. If only the Tok'ra weren't so opposed to using a sarcophagus. I admit, just this once, I wished the Tok'ra would relent and make an exception, allowing the use of the device. But what would be the cost? Was a corner of Martouf's soul too much to pay to ease my conscience? What if the situation was reversed? Wouldn't Martouf do anything to bring me back from the dead?
I was still sitting at the base of the ramp, in my blood-stained fatigues, staring at nothing. I hadn't even noticed when the Tok'ra left, taking Martouf with them. Nor did I notice the rest of my team moving closer until I felt the colonel's hand on my elbow. I looked up at him then, unshed tears in my eyes. He was trying to help me to my feet, but I had seemed to have lost the capacity to stand on my own.
Colonel O'Neill was supporting me, holding onto my left arm as Janet came forward and took my right arm.
"I'll make sure she's okay," she assured him. Releasing his hold, the colonel stepped back, joining Daniel and Teal'c. Janet was muttering some soothing words, rubbing my back and talking about cleaning me up. I nodded mutely, allowing her to take me from the 'gate room without protest.
"Doc?" O'Neill asked, eyebrows raised.
"I'm just going to get her into the shower and then make sure she gets some rest. I think it would be a good idea for all of you," she said.
I don't remember the walk to the locker room, nor Janet helping me out of my clothes, but there I was, nude, standing beneath the needling spray when the tears finally came. I was grateful for the water running down my face. I couldn't tell where the shower ended and the tears began; the sound of running water masking my sobs. Janet must have a sixth sense, though, because soon after I started crying, she called into the shower area, asking if I was all right. It took a moment, but I was able to answer without my voice shaking too much.
I couldn't even begin to take in the events of the past few days. One minute Martouf is giving me little or no hope with the options he's presented me, and the next he's confessing his feelings for me. I barely get my equilibrium back when I find out Colonel O'Neill is willingly sacrificing himself again to possibly save me. I knew I'd become more aware of my feelings for the colonel since the whole business with the replicators, but I tried not to think about it. What appeared to be more than a mutual attraction, simply wasn't an option, and the less I thought about it, the better. Now it was thrust into the fore-front of my mind once more, how he'd been ready to give up his own life, just to save me. It didn't help that I understood how he felt. If the situation were reversed, I'd do the same for him.
I turned off the water and wrapped myself in a towel. My feelings for the colonel mixing with my grief over Martouf. Even at that point, after his painful confession to a room full of people, I had difficulty thinking of him as "Jack." It was as if his title helped maintain my perspective. To think of him by his name only perpetuated the idea that someday we wouldn't have to keep "what happened" in the testing room.
Mindlessly, I dressed, stopping when I reached for my shoes. Suddenly I had a flash of something Jolinar once said to Martouf. Teasing him about his shoes. I buried my face in my hands, trying to will away the memory. Jolinar's memories of her life with Martouf and Lantesh were bad enough, but now they had even more impact on me, mixing with my own memories of the man who'd just died by my hand. My grief, coupled with remnants of Jolinar's anguish were nearly overwhelming, and I swayed on the bench, only to be caught by Janet.
"Are you sure you're all right?" Janet asked, concern wrinkling her brow.
"I'll be fine," I tried to smile. "I just need to get some sleep."
After the prospect of being placed under sedation for an indefinite period of time, I was surprised I actually wanted to sleep. But I wanted the temporary oblivion slumber offered. That is if Martouf didn't invade my dreams, calling out my name with his last breath.
Janet told me the colonel was waiting outside to see me. I know I shouldn't have been surprised, given recent events, but I was still a little taken aback. I thought maybe he'd have been embarrassed his feelings for me came out as they had, and he would have taken the opportunity to escape while I was in the shower.
"I don't know if I'm ready to talk to him," I told her, hanging my head. I wasn't ready to talk to anyone yet.
"You don't have to talk about it, Sam," Janet said, rubbing my back again. The gesture reminded me of soothing a child, telling them the monsters were all gone.
But the monsters were far from gone. The Goa'uld had scored a major victory with Martouf's death. Perhaps not in the grand scheme of things, but certainly on a personal and local level. The only saving grace was Martouf had been prevented from accomplishing his goal. The loss of Per'sus would have been an even greater coup for the monsters.
"Can I tell him he can come in?" Janet asked, bringing my mind back to the matter at hand.
I wiped away the last of my tears, nodding my assent. I didn't look up when the colonel stepped into the room, somewhat hesitantly. I knew he'd be looking to Janet for an estimate of my emotional state, even without seeing the expression on his face. Just because the vocalization of our feelings was new, didn't mean I didn't know his routine in situations like this. He'd seek confirmation from Janet before addressing me. He'd done it before, not only with me, but with Daniel and Teal'c as well.
"Hey, Carter, how ya doin'?" he asked in a practiced, nonchalant voice. He too had fallen back on a standard no-strings-attached designation. No emotions could be associated the use of my last name, and I was grateful. I think if he would have called me "Sam" at that moment, I would have lost it again, and I didn't want to cry any more. Not in front of him, not in front of Janet, or even for myself. I was drained, my mind numb, still not realizing the full impact of what it was going to mean to never see Martouf again.
I know part of my sorrow was tied to Jolinar's feelings for Martouf, but up until now, I hadn't realized how fond of him *I* really was. I didn't care for him in the same way I felt for the colonel, but there was a definite *something* between us that transcended friendship. I couldn't put a name to it, because I didn't understand it myself. Only that if there was a category between friendship and love, he fit somewhere in that niche.
The colonel took a seat next to me on the bench, picking up my hand and squeezing it. "I'm sorry," he said. Fortunately he didn't continue. It was difficult enough to hear those two words. I blinked back the tears that were threatening once more, nodding slightly.
"Feel like going home?" he asked.
My voice was hoarse as I answered, "yeah, I need to get out of here." I didn't expect him to offer to take me home, but I was thankful he did; I couldn't have driven in the state I was in.
Leaving the locker room, I spotted Daniel and Teal'c lounging against the wall. Well, Daniel was leaning, Teal'c stood with his hands behind his back, his face revealing nothing as he bowed his head toward me. That simple gesture spoke volumes and I thanked him for his concern. Daniel's face was nearly the opposite of Teal'c's. His blue eyes were bright with unshed tears. Not for Martouf, necessarily, but for me, and the pain he could see in my own eyes. Daniel, too, was silent, and I found myself releasing the colonel's hand to embrace him.
"Thanks, Daniel," I whispered in his ear. I wondered if the colonel found it odd I could express my affection for Daniel so openly when my feelings for him had to be dragged out in some eleventh hour confession. Looking over at him, he seemed to understand. It wasn't that I didn't want to turn to him, it was more that I shouldn't and from the look on his face, he'd reconciled himself to that truth.
I was still in somewhat of a daze when we reached the colonel's vehicle, driving in silence to my apartment. Again, he didn't push me to speak, he was there to lend me his strength. He'd always done that, I noticed. Just because we'd come to the conclusion our feelings for each other ran deeper than what was considered "proper," didn't mean anything had changed between us. He was still the same steadfast man I'd come to care about, able to offer support without expecting anything in return. In that moment I knew why I saw him as more than just my commanding officer. He was my balance, my sanity when I needed grounding.
I lay down on my bed, allowing the colonel to cover me with a quilt. As he sat down next to me, brushing the hair back from my forehead, I discovered I was glad he was the one who'd brought me home. Janet could have provided the service, but I needed this assurance from Jack--yes, Jack, I finally let my mind call him--that we were indeed, "okay."
"Sam," he said, looking into my eyes. "I'm not trying to belittle what you felt for Martouf. I know I wasn't always kind when I spoke to him, but I suppose I was jealous." Jack lowered his head, taking his eyes from mine. I hadn't expected him to be so forthcoming with his feelings about Martouf, but then, maybe he was feeling a little guilty over his treatment of him.
"I didn't want the guy to be a zatarc. Not only because of the threat he posed, but because I knew what it would do to you." This time Jack looked up and met my eyes once more. "Death does not conquer if we remember, and as long as you remember him as the man he was, not the man he became, you'll always have a part of him with you."
*Kind of like Jolinar,* I thought. She and Martouf hadn't actually been reunited, but in a sense, they were, together in my memories.
I rolled over onto my side, taking Jack's hand in mine, amazed at his insight. I hated to think he'd gained his wisdom through experience, but it was a fact of military life. We both knew about death and losing someone close to us. That didn't make it any easier. Each life seemed harder to lose than the last. But Jack was right: death does not have to conquer, if we remember.
The End
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