With a slight sense of elation, Stokes pulled his car into the driveway. He hesitated at turning it off, if only because it had been quite some time since he’d driven anywhere. Looking up at the house, he could see why Colonel Marcus had purchased it.
While not as large as Stokes had imagined, it was well-maintained. There was no white picket fence, but the house had been recently painted. He could smell some of the paint fumes from the car window. Down by the mailbox, he could barely read a sign labeled, Beware of Dog: Molly WILL love you to death.
Stokes turned the key and stepped out of the car, wincing slightly with the effort. Annoyed, he reached back inside again and grabbed his cane. His physical therapy was going well, but he was still a few weeks away from being able to walk unassisted. Taking in more of the house as he approached, he stepped up to the door and rang the bell. He heard footsteps, and then the door opened and an inquisitive-looking pre-teen girl stared up at him.
"Hi," he began, but didn’t get any further.
In a glance, she took in his uniform, her eyes lingering on his rank insignia and cane for just a second. Then she looked over her shoulder. "Dad! It’s for you!"
Stokes tried to hide his smile as she waited for Marcus to arrive and then ran back down the hallway.
"Colonel." Marcus smiled at him and extended a hand.
"Colonel." Stokes responded, shaking it. "It’s good to see you again."
"You too. Come on in."
Respectfully wiping his shoes on the mat, Stokes stepped in and looked around. While not as spotless as the outside of the house, he could well envision a healthy and happy family living here. As was apparently the case.
Marcus led him into the living room and gestured for him to sit. He seemed politely oblivious to the cane, and Stokes felt grateful for that.
"Beer?" Marcus asked as he stepped into the adjoining kitchen and opened the fridge.
"Thanks."
He returned with a pair of beers, balanced on top of a large folder that he placed on the table between them. "SGC told me you were back in circulation, or would be soon. You sure have a lot to catch up on." Before he could continue, though, his daughter called from the doorway.
"Dad, I’m going over to Emma’s."
She was out of Stokes’ sight, but Marcus leaned back so he could see her. "Wait up there! Is your homework done?"
"Yup."
"Even the book report?"
"All I need to do is the references."
Marcus stared at her for a second. "All right. Back by dinner, understood?" He heard a sigh from the door, and Marcus relented. "Ok, have fun."
"Thanks, Daddy."
Stokes gave him an amused look after she’d left. "I guess you single parents have it a lot easier than I’ve been led to believe."
"Oh, don’t be fooled." Marcus rolled his eyes. "She’s all sweetness and light right now, but that’s only because I just agreed to let her go on a school trip out of town after her birthday next week." He smiled. "When she finds out I’m one of the assigned chaperones, she’ll change her tune, believe me."
Stokes shook his head in wonderment. "I can’t believe how fast she’s grown. It seems like just yesterday she was ‘little wide-eyed Sylvia’, staring out from behind your leg whenever she saw anyone new."
"I know what you mean. It’s been over five years now. It’s amazing how fast the time slips by." He opened the beers and handed one over. "It was rough at first, but we both had a lot of help. Julia dropped in with advice from time to time, and ‘Uncles’ Nelson and David always seemed to be on standby somewhere nearby. Haley’s mother, Syl’s grandma, lives nearby as well." He sighed. "I was not ready for parenthood, but you do what you have to, you know? I try to do right by Blake and Haley, each day."
Stokes nodded after a moment, and decided to change the subject. "How is Desousa doing, anyway?"
Marcus gave him a sharp look, which Stokes returned stoically. He wasn’t supposed to know about Desousa’s recent ‘injury’, after all. He still had a few friends in the mountain willing to keep him informed about some of the people he’d used to work with. It had helped keep him sane during his treatment and rehabilitation.
"Well, I suppose you’ll hear all about it soon anyway." Marcus relented. "Last I heard, he was still in recovery. I’ll be going offworld to visit him tomorrow." He gave a smile. "You remember Temens, from my team? She’s commanding her own SG team now. SG… 22, I think."
"Good for her." Stokes hesitated, and then plowed ahead anyway. "I heard about Hargrove, too, just before my accident. I’m sorry."
A pained look entered Marcus’ eyes, and he leaned back heavily. "Suna’s death hit him very hard. I don’t think you can be that completely crazy about someone and not implode if you lose them. We all did what we could to help him, but…"
He hung his head. "You may have heard he started drinking… a lot. About six months after we got back, the police found him in his car, wrapped around a tree about a mile from his favorite watering hole." He sighed again. "I don’t think we’ll ever know if it was an accident, or if it was suicide."
They shared a moment of silence.
"At any rate," Marcus snatched the top file off the table, "to business. You’ve got a lot of catching up to do. The SGC authorized me to give you these to read over, but I’ll give you the broad strokes version, if you want."
Stokes spread his hands. "Go ahead."
"As you know, the Goa’uld are gone, at least for the most part. The System Lords were all wiped out by the replicators, or by the Jaffa during their rebellion. If any snake-heads made it out alive, they’re in hiding by now."
"Good riddance."
Marcus nodded. "Still, with no single authority out there anymore, the galaxy is a big mess right now. The Jaffa have formed a ‘Free Jaffa Nation’, but you know how complicated that is. They’re still figuring out what freedom and democracy mean for them, and that’s a slow process. As for all the human former slave worlds, most of them insist on running their own show, and the SGC is content to let them, at least for now."
Stokes had heard bits and pieces of this from friends, and felt comforted by hearing it all confirmed. "So there aren’t any big bad guys anymore?"
"That’s… complicated. We’ve gotten reports of a new group on the scene: a bunch of, I guess you could call them missionaries, called the Ori. We’re still not sure just what their capabilities are, but their motivations run about the same as the Goa’uld’s did."
"Are they a threat?"
"That’s still unclear. We don’t know if they’ll just leave when people refuse their ‘message’, or if they’ll press the issue. Only time will tell, I guess."
He grabbed another file. "These guys are definitely trouble, though. After the Goa’uld fell, a few human planets banded together and formed something called the Lucian Alliance. They’re a vicious bunch, kind of like an interstellar crime family. They sell a kind of addictive plant called kassa, use Goa’uld ships they’ve pilfered to bully people into doing what they want, and have a pretty extensive human trafficking network. We’ve had very little contact with them so far, but every time we did, it turned out violent."
Stokes opened the file and paged through it. "And here I thought a galaxy without the Goa’uld would be peaceful."
"Yeah, you and me both."
Suddenly, Stokes remembered something he’d been curious about for months. "Is it true we have our own ships now? I heard rumors about that a while ago, but no one would confirm it."
"Oh, yeah." Marcus smiled broadly. "The Prometheus, the Deadalus, and a new ship called the Odyssey that isn’t quite finished yet." He flipped through the files before grabbing one and handing it over. "Prometheus was powered by a substance called naquadria, but the later ships don’t need it, now that we have asgard technology."
"I remember. That’s like super-naquadah, right?"
Marcus nodded somberly. "Super-powerful, but also super-unstable. The crew nearly blew themselves up during the shakedown cruise. Thanks to the asgard, our ships are now safer, and our new birds are faster and stronger than anything the Goa’uld ever had."
As he gave an admiring whistle, Stokes noticed that they’d only removed about a third of the stack of files on the desk. "How much more is there?"
"Oh, you have no idea." Marcus gave him a tight smile as he grabbed two folders labeled Antarctic Base and Atlantis Expedition.
-.-
By the time Tony finally finished updating Stokes on everything that had happened, several hours had passed. When Syl got back, he asked Stokes to stay for dinner, but the Colonel politely declined.
As the Colonel’s car sped off, Tony watched from the porch and shook his head. The poor man had been in a terrible car wreck several years ago. From what Tony had heard, the doctors had told him he’d never walk again. In typical, stubborn Stokes fashion, he’d eventually proven them wrong.
Smiling at the thought, he turned to open the double doors to his house-
-.-
-and walked into probably the dirtiest bar he’d ever seen.
Two heavily built men were playing pool on a slightly warped table to the left, and a dozen or so more sat at the bar across the room, or in alcoves eating greasy food. Bad country music was being piped in by an old, probably dilapidated stereo. Poorly stuffed animal heads graced the old wooden walls. The place was probably a fire hazard.
Tony shook his head and kept going. He hadn’t come for the decor, after all. Squinting through the haze, he picked out the man he’d come to meet at the end of the bar. The bartender gave him a questioning look, and he shook his head. He wasn’t here to drink, either.
Quietly, he sat down next to Hargrove.
The recently resigned former Major was a mess. As Hargrove looked over, Tony could see his bloodshot eyes and dirty mat of hair. He actually did fit in here. The overpowering smell of alcohol washed over Tony, and an empty shot glass clattered to the floor as Hargrove turned to face him.
"What’re you doing here?"
Despite his obvious intoxication, Hargrove’s voice was only slightly slurred. Tony wasn’t very surprised: a man like Hargrove could probably hold his liquor. "I was going to ask you the same thing, Hargrove. You’ve got a lot of people worried, you know."
"Go away." He turned back to the bar and raised a hand to order another.
Shaking his head, the bartender poured another shot glass full and put it in front of him.
On impulse, Tony snatched it before Hargrove could grab it. He could see the man tense up, and his breathing quicken. "I know you’re in pain, but-"
"You don’t know anything!" Hargrove coughed once and glared at him. "Don’t pretend you do!" Slowly and deliberately, he took the glass back and drained it, turning back to the bar. Tony’s gut twisted, and he sympathetically put his hand on Hargrove’s shoulder.
Hargrove moved faster than Tony would have thought possible. Twisting away from him, he swung a lightning-quick right hook that caught Tony square on the jaw.
Before he knew what was happening, Tony was on the ground, bleeding from the mouth and staring up at his attacker.
Several people stood up, either to clear the area or to get involved, but Tony raised his hands placatingly. "It’s all right, everyone. It’s all right." He stood up slowly. "Just a difference of opinion, that’s all."
Hargrove stood implacably and menacingly, but didn’t attack again. "I’ve owed you that for a long time, Tony." Almost as an afterthought, he wiped blood from his knuckles. "Now you’d better go, before I do something else I won’t regret."
It was obvious there was nothing he could do right now. Nodding, Tony stepped back. "Think about what she’d want you to do, Hargrove. Your friends are all waiting for you to come back to work."
Fingering his bruised jaw, and bruised pride, Tony turned away and stepped back through the door-
-.-
-and into his house.
Grimacing, he grabbed his jaw again.
It had long since healed, but the brief chat with Stokes about Hargrove had brought the encounter back to him, vividly. Even back then, Tony should have known that the man didn’t want help. Tony had gotten exactly what he'd deserved.
With a sigh, he headed upstairs to check on Sylvia. At least he could still be a help to her, even if it was only with her homework.
-.-
First Vorash, then Ravannah, and now here. Tony thought to himself the next day, as he looked around at the forested glade. Wherever ‘here’ is, anyway. He didn’t remember the SG designation, exactly. As far as he was concerned, this was just ‘the latest Tok’ra planet’.
Up ahead, he saw figures leave the treeline, and spread his hands placatingly as they approached. On closer inspection, he could tell they were wearing the sandy tunics and sturdy open-topped shoes favored by the Tok’ra. He slowly took out his SGC credentials and displayed them.
After triple-checking his paperwork, one of them gave him a final glare and jerked his head to the planet’s west. Tony smiled ruefully. Ever since the fall of the System Lords, the Tok’ra had known safety in a degree they’d never known before. Ever. Still, they tended to be suspicious, secretive, and controlling.
His stomach twisted as he realized they reminded him of Hargrove.
He and his three ‘escorts’ moved into the woods and then stopped, standing close together. In customary Tok’ra fashion, a hidden set of rings activated, and spirited them away. Probably far, far underground somewhere.
Tony had never actually been in Tok’ra tunnels before, but he’d heard descriptions and seen pictures. Gray rock had been replaced by multifaceted crystal, arranging into a series of polygons on the walls. The floors were flat, and looked like a kind of marble. As his escorts had left him as soon as he’d arrived, Tony wandered around a bit before finally finding his way.
Desousa looked up as he entered, and gave him a wide smile. "Tony! It’s good to see you."
He was seated on a stone chair with a tall, triangular back, in the middle of the small room. Braced on the chair were a pair of supports at shoulder level, loosely holding his head in place. They looked restrictive, but reasonably comfortable.
"You too." Tony responded as smoothly as he could to cover his surprise. David rarely called him anything but ‘sir’, and even more rarely smiled like that. He’d never been as harsh as Hargrove, but he’d always been… reserved when dealing with Tony. The only times he’d ever shown a more sentimental side had been while playing with Sylvia, over the years.
"How are you doing?" Tony asked delicately.
"Oh, I’m fine. Before I say more, though, there’s someone you should probably meet." The restraints kept him from lowering his head very far, but his eyes flashed with light for a split-second.
[It is a pleasure to meet you, Colonel. I am Alvesh.]
Tony had been prepared for this, but it still unnerved him. Hiding his discomfort as best he could, he stepped forward and shook David’s hand. Or Alvesh’s hand at the moment, he realized. "I understand you were injured by the time David and SG-3 got to you, and that you lost your host. I’m sorry."
Alvesh nodded as much as the restraint allowed. [Thank you, Colonel. Yanoko was a good friend, for a long time. At least I can take comfort in the fact that he died in combat. I know that is how he would have preferred it. As for me,] he gave an abbreviated shrug, [I would have died with him, had your people not been there.]
Tony hesitated for a moment, and then went ahead with the question he had to ask. "Alvesh, you may be expecting this, but I need to know if you’ve told-"
[If I’ve told anyone about Bokal.] The symbiote cut him off.
Tony’s face must have shown a great deal of surprise, because Alvesh started laughing lightly. [I cannot read minds, Colonel. Well, aside from David’s. That question has weighed heavily on his thoughts as well.] He gave a wide smile. [No, I have not told anyone, nor do I intend to. Though I know there has been no word about Bokal in years, his safety is important to David, and therefore to me as well.]
A Goa’uld named Anubis had developed shields that protected his ships from the Tollan weapons years ago, and just as Bokal had feared, had launched a full-scale attack on his planet. For all Tony knew, Bokal was the last of his people left alive. No news, in his case, was probably good news.
"I appreciate that." Tony answered with very real relief. He didn’t often hear something he could take at face value, but Alvesh seemed quite sincere about this. "Could I… talk to David?"
[Of course.]
He paused again, and David was back. "I know you’re going to be upset about all this, Tony, but this had to be done! He was dying, and we all knew it."
Tony scratched his head. "I’m not upset, David. I’m… a little confused. Of all the people, I would have thought you’d be the last to volunteer to take on a Tok’ra symbiote. What happened out there, anyway? The information the SGC got was sketchy at best."
"Right, right." David’s eyes flitted back and forth rapidly as he apparently thought back on it all. "Well, we were surveilling a meet on Pazka, that’s P4C-305 to us, when it all went down. SG-3 was there as backup, and General Landry sent me along to make sure they hadn’t messed with the Stargate. I know what to look for, after all."
"‘They’, being people from the Lucian Alliance?"
"That’s right. Yanoko and Alvesh were trying to gather intel on Millic, one of the Alliance’s Seconds. They arranged a meeting to try and sell some weapons, and we were there as backup, in case the Alliance was planning any surprises for us."
Tony nodded. The Alliance was led by a particularly brutal man named Netan. Just like the head of any crime family, Netan kept a group of lieutenants called Seconds around, to help him maintain the Alliance’s expanding territory. The SGC was still trying to identify all of them, with help from the Tok’ra.
"Turns out Millic was there in person. He figured we were from another branch of the Alliance, trying to muscle in on his territory." David gave a derisive laugh. "He ordered us- I mean them- killed, never knowing who we- they!- really were. It’s actually kind of insulting." He shook his head as much as the restraint would allow. "Sorry. I’m still getting used to the pronouns. I can remember it all happening, as if it happened to me."
"I can only imagine." Tony put in sympathetically.
"Well, Millic and his cronies had pulled out by the time we got down there. They were both in really bad shape." He winced. "One of the bullets had passed through Alvesh’s lower trunk, breaking a few of his ribs, before shattering Yanoko’s spine." He stopped there, for a few seconds.
"I feel the pain now, Tony," he said, looking up. "I feel Yanoko’s spine breaking! Because Alvesh felt it. It was horrible." He closed his eyes. "When we got down there, we all knew there was only one way to save the symbiote. I saw their faces, and I knew they wouldn’t do it. So I volunteered."
At a loss for words, Tony put his hand on David’s shoulder. Finally, he managed to say, "How long before the Tok’ra can find a replacement for you to take on the symbiote, and you can come back to duty?"
David shook his head briefly. "I know this isn’t what you want to hear, Tony, but this isn’t a temporary thing. You were right that I’d be one of the last people you’d expect to do this, but this is something I have to do! I can’t entirely explain it, but I know that I want to see this through." He gave another short shrug. "Besides, it’s not like anyone else had dibs on my body. Not this week, anyway."
After a second, Tony burst out laughing, and David joined in as best he could. As he leaned on the wall, recovering, his laughter took on a sour note. Tony knew that he was losing one of his best. David would be almost impossible to replace, and they both knew it. Still, he told himself, David wouldn’t do something this monumental unless he was sure. God only knows what he’s getting into, but if anyone can handle it, he can.
As they both quieted down, David cut into his thoughts. "I know you were going to visit me in about a week, to take me home, but I asked you here ahead of schedule for a reason. There’s something you need to know." He lowered his voice, looking suspiciously at the door. "Something neither the SGC nor the Tok’ra know yet."
-.-
"Ok, boss, what’s this all about?"
Nelson and Avery had been called in to Tony’s home, very hush-hush, and were now in his basement office behind a locked door. Tony was there, fingering a small silvery coin with a light inset in the middle.
He seemed unsure of himself, and that made Nelson feel the same.
"You know I visited David this morning. He’s fine," Tony assured them, before either could ask, "but he gave me this and told me… something interesting."
He didn’t continue for long seconds, and Nelson could see that he was at a loss for words. Nelson was too curious to wait. "Whatever it is, boss, we can take it. Spit it out."
Nodding, Tony took a deep breath. "You both know that the Alliance has become a big problem for us in the past few months. The Tok’ra confirmed that they’ve been operating for years, hiding from the Goa’uld, and only stepped out into the open now that they can."
He pulled a file from his desk and opened it, showing multiple surveillance photos. "The Tok’ra have been helping us identify Alliance members as best they can. Turns out that David’s new symbiote, Alvesh, caught sight of one of them a few years back. He inquired and the locals told him she was named Sarlaya. He made a note of it, but had his own mission to complete, so he didn’t follow her. Only recently, after he blended with David, did he realize just how important she really is."
Nelson shared a curious glance with Avery. "Boss, shouldn’t we be talking about this at the SGC?"
"He’s right, sir." Avery chimed in. "If it has to do with the Alliance, we should tell General Landry."
Tony shook his head. "I wanted to tell you first. In a minute, you’ll understand why."
He held up the coin. "This is a Tok’ra device that records visual memories and displays them. David used it on himself, or on Alvesh I should say, and then gave it to me. He seemed to think that seeing his memories would be the only way I’d believe him." Tony shook his head slowly. "He was right."
"Believe him about what?"
In answer, Tony placed the coin on his desk and pressed the light in the middle. A now-familiar rectangular screen jumped up in the air above it, showing a holographic record of what looked like a marketplace. "This was recorded over four years ago." Tony explained, and pressed the light again.
The marketplace sprang to life. There was no sound, of course, but people passed in and out of view as the ‘camera’ moved from stall to stall. Suddenly, Tony pressed the light, and the display froze. He pointed to a woman in the corner, wearing a brown robe and hood. "Watch her closely."
Giving him a confused glance, Nelson leaned close to study the paused image, and peripherally saw Avery do the same. Tony unpaused the recording and they both saw the woman nod to the stall owner, pay him, and turn away. As her face came into view, Tony paused it again.
Avery hissed as he inhaled quickly, and Nelson felt his jaw drop.
It was Suna.
