Non Omnis Moriar
by Suz

Disclaimer - MGM/Gekko/Double Secret own them. Thank God!

Spoilers for 'Jolinar's Memories', 'The Devil You Know', 'Proving Ground', 'Summit' and 'Last Stand'. A 'Last Stand' episode addition. This could in many ways be a sequel to an earlier story, 'Non-Persistent', but it wasn't planned that way.

{} or [] indicate thoughts. {{}} or [[]] indicate memories.

I started this story in January. Today it finally finished itself.



It was wet.

*He* had missed the rain, or so *he* told him. Then *he* showed him. The memory of sand, deserts, dust.

Most of their hiding places had been hot, unrelenting. Perfect.

But this one had rain. Since losing Martouf {pain} *he* had been recovering, and while *he* had spent that time surrounded by liquid, *he* had missed the experience of water contacting the skin of *his* hosts body.

Half on the ground, half-leaning against the tree, Elliot gasped for breath. It continued to get harder to breathe and...there was something inside him. Not Lantash, but something lower. Something moving that wasn't supposed to be.

Something serious.

The footsteps were getting closer.

A wave of 'this can't be happening' assaulted him, and he quickly directed his thoughts. [This should be weirder than it is.]


Elliot frowned. It was pure instinct, but it was also something of a moot movement. What was the point of frowning when the person you were frowning at was inside you? He laughed, bleakly. Or at least thought about laughing. [Should I be worried?]

{The blending is not complete due to both of our injuries.}

And something started to make sense to him. As part of his training for the SGC, he'd naturally been briefed on all of Earth's allies, including the Tok'ra. He'd also been briefed on what to expect should he ever - and this being one damn strange universe, anything was possible - become a host to a Tok'ra himself.

And the footsteps were getting closer.

There had been the expected headache, the confusion and the stunning disbelief...but no sudden and overwhelming flood of memories. It was only when he specifically thought of or focused on something that the memories came dripping out.

Like Major Carter.


The footsteps had stopped.

Opening his eyes with *his* help, and seeing {Samantha} when he should have just been seeing Major Carter. Speaking to her in someone else's voice as he tried to comprehend the rush of emotion and flashes of memories her image, her voice, her smell provoked.

{Jolinar. Samantha.}

{{"You shouldn't have done it, Martouf."}}

{{"I could not watch them kill you."}}

They were leaning over him, around him, amused. He could imagine that he didn't look like much of a threat: pale, shaking, gasping for breath.

Looking like a drowned rat.

False advertising. Definitely. Elliot guessed these Jaffa hadn't had much experience with that.

They did, however, know that he was carrying a symbiote. "Tok'ra, kree!" That was right - they had symbiotes in their stomachs, didn't they?

{O'Neill calls them snakes.}

Yeah. That sounded like him.

A laugh came out this time, and the Jaffa stopped being amused. They performed a perfunctory search but there were so many pockets on his uniform that they easily missed the one that was holding the poison.

{Over confidence. Good.}

[You'd think they'd be a little more wary after all the times we kicked their butts.]

Lantash attempted an explanation. {You are dressed like the Tauri but you've obviously recently been blended...and you look like you are dying.}

Which he was. There was no getting around it. He was dying, Lantash was dying and - hopefully - soon all these Jaffa would be dying.

"Tok'ra, kree!"

Elliot couldn't have moved even if he wanted to. In fact, the only body part he wanted to move was his arm, so his hand could reach into his pocket and press the button - but not yet.

Part of him wanted to say the hell with it and get it over with, get it over and done with. But he had no idea if releasing the poison here would get the Jaffa at the Stargate, and - most importantly - he had to make sure that SG-1 {Samantha} and Jacob Carter made it far enough away not to be at risk or found any time soon.

So he stayed where he was, head lolling as he rested against the tree.

"Hassack," the big burly one muttered - but weren't they all big and burly? - before giving instructions in Goa'uld to the others that Lantash understood and Elliot didn't. Two of them grabbed him - though one of them probably could have easily managed his limp weight alone - and began dragging him towards their encampment.

Good. Wonderful. Excellent.

Dammit, this wasn't fair! Yes, it was the right thing to do. It was the brave, noble, heroic thing to do. He'd be forever remembered that way at the SGC. By SG-1. By Grogan and Satterfield. By Hailey.

But his team was dead. Major Mansfield was dead.

And he...

He was still a kid. Optimistically starry-eyed at the prospect of working on a SG Team, he'd stated quite firmly that he was well aware of the risks he'd be taking whenever he went through the Stargate. That this wasn't your average military position.

And he *had* been aware of the risks. He really had.

He just hadn't expected it to be quite so risky on his very first mission.

His knees, shins and feet were dragged through the dirt as they pulled him along, closer to...

Yeah. He was definitely panicking now. His breath was even shorter - not just because of his injuries - and his eyes were actually starting to water. God, imagine if Grogan saw him like this and God he just wanted to see Grogan again and it wasn't fair this wasn't fair it-


His head jerked up, breaking his constant view of the moving ground.

Major Carter. Samantha. Yes, this was the whole point, wasn't it? This was for her. This was something worth dying for.

{Samantha will be safe. If you don't release the poison, there's no guarantee she will be.}

Elliot had never loved anyone before. As a friend, sure, as a son, sure, as a brother, sure. But actually in love? Never. Yet now he knew what it felt like. And he knew it was worth sacrificing for.

{She will live,} Lantash told him. {and she will be happy, alone or with another.}

Elliot knew what he was doing of course; Lantash was bringing this subject up in an obvious attempt to keep Elliot's mind off the fact that he'd shortly be facing his own suicide.

It worked. [Another?]

{{O'Neill watching as he holds Samantha's hand.}}

{{Samantha screaming in agony.}}

{{"Turn it off! Turn it off!"}}

{{"Do it!"}}

{{"The woman will come with me."}}

{{"Uh...I don't think so."}}

[No!] No, that couldn't be right! That didn't mean anything; the information was too vague to actually mean anything. Obviously he cared about her, but she was a member of his team. That was expected.

Besides, it was against regulations.

{Simply feeling something is against regulations?}

[Well, not exactly...]

A memory of his own came back to him, just as he was dragged through a puddle.

[[The commissary. The foothold test was over, the base had resumed normal operations, and he was starving. Standing in the queue for what smelt like garlic chicken, he hears a giggle. An honest to god giggle.]]

[[Amused, he turns his head to see...Major Carter. It surprises him. She's sitting opposite Colonel O'Neill, who is also smiling. Which surprises him even more. O'Neill smiling isn't a sight he's used to seeing.]]

[[Reaching the end of the queue with a tray in his hands, he chooses a table not too far from theirs, trying to sit without drawing attention so he can study half of the mythical, legendary and downright scary SG-1 act like normal human beings.]]

[[They're both eating jello. With forks? Somehow he can't see Major Carter thinking to do that herself; it must be the Colonel's influence. She's threatening to make him scrub the floor for getting his blood all over it. He counter-threatens to get even more blood on it in the next fake foothold they take part in.]]

[[She promises that *she'll* be the one to shoot him next time.]]

[[He just grins.]]

[[And then they're talking to him. Realising his cover's blown he mutters something about being hungry. O'Neill explains that 'the jello thing' has become a tradition, after each time they test out new candidates.]]

[[Major Carter grins.]]

{You wondered something even then.}

[No. No, not really. Just...everyone has those random thoughts, right? I've imagined myself with just about everybody!]

It seemed impossible, but a new dribble of water very uncomfortably made its way down his back. How was that possible? Hadn't he been drenched to begin with?

They were out of the forest now. They were out of the forest and in nothing but mud, moving towards the centre of the clearing. They passed a body.



[Haley would have thought he was cute.]

{Pain. So much pain. So many dead.}

[Hey, hey - you're supposed to be the optimist here! Don't go backing out on me now.]

The Jaffa paused at the top of a muddy hill. Apparently having had enough of dragging him along for now, they did exactly what Elliot expected them to do. Bracing himself, he felt a foot on his side and suddenly he was moving down. Not elegantly of course; no, he thumped heavily, landing on various aching body parts and probably worsening his already fatal injuries.

When he reached the bottom, sliding to a halt, he coughed up blood.

[Ohhhh...that can't be good.]

{It does seem unlikely.}

Oh good. Mr Realist was back.

Lying on his side in the mud, he tried to assess his area. The Stargate was a few hundred feet away, swamped with Jaffa and Alkesh's. A couple of those Jaffa were walking in his direction, yelling something to the Jaffa who'd brought him there. Though they may have been yelling, they didn't seem to be particularly angry.

Big and burly deftly slid down the hill - quite surprising for someone who was that big and burly - and laughed at something his Jaffa compatriots said. Grabbing Elliot's hand, big and burly didn't even try to sit him up, instead just dragging him along the slippery ground by his arm.

Swearing internally at the pain to his arm, Elliot hoped this rough treatment would earn him a bash that would set off the poison, but as the trip down the hill hadn't accomplished that, he doubted it.

Nope, he was going to have to reach in and do it himself.

His movement stopped, and the new Jaffa looked down at him as the old Jaffa spoke. Lantash no doubt understood what they were saying, but Elliot could only make out 'Tauri', 'Tok'ra' and a really nasty laugh at the end. For all he knew, they could have been saying anything from "what a weakling" to "small penis size."

And then he was moving again, and this time they weren't going to stop until they reached the camp. Where he'd probably be thoroughly strip-searched, tortured, taunted, and maybe even put in a sarcophagus if there was one around just to keep the nastiness really going.

No. That was not acceptable. He had to make sure the others {Samantha} got away. He couldn't risk the poison being found.

There was only one way to stop that happening.

With the hand he wasn't being dragged by, he started fumbling for the right pocket. Ripping the Velcro apart, he yanked the container out and-


[I'm scared. I'm actually terrified.] He'd never been terrified before. Even when he thought he was going to die in the foothold wasn't like this.

The sky was blue. The rain was stopping.

{I know.}

[There's so much I haven't seen or done.]

Maybe...maybe if they did have a sarcophagus they could heal them - both of them - and then someone might rescue them. The Asgard would turn up and-


[I know. I know.] He fingered the container, his thumb resting on the button. [It's just-]

{Not fair. I know, Stephen. I know it isn't. But this is the right thing to do.}

Lantash was getting weaker. He didn't know how he could feel it; just that he could. So, in his best Goa'uld and in the loudest voice he could muster, he yelled:

"Jaffa, kree!"

His arm was released, but before it could even reach the ground he'd been picked up and was held face to face with big and burly. Over burly's shoulder he could see that the access ramps to the Alkesh's were down. Good. With any luck, this'd get any Jaffa in there, too.

Big and burly snarled something, obviously the Jaffa equivalent of "What the *hell* do you want?"

[Rest well, Lantash.]

Something was dislodging.

{Kick their butts, Elliot.}

He laughed.

Big and burly frowned.

The rain had stopped.

Elliot spoke, confusing the Jaffa even more:

"For Samantha."

And he pressed the button.


FYI, the title translates as 'Not All of Me Will Die'.

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