Part One
Thankfully, I don't remember a thing.
I don't remember being lifted and placed in the isolation chamber
again. I don't remember the stifling sense of claustrophobia I endured,
which by the way is so totally unfair to inflict on a semi-conscious
man, helpless and enclosed as if in a plastic coffin... or one of those
stinking Gou'old sarcophagi.
And I also don't remember the slick touch of the symbiote as it glided
past my lips, or the tearing bite in the back of my throat and the
writhing and rough skin of the thing as it wormed its way inside my
head, laying up next to my brain like a spawning salmon. I don't
remember it at all, so don't ask.
Because if I did remember any of these things, it might tick me off royally.
Okay, I can act like an idiot at SGC and get most people to half-way
believe it, but I can't fool myself now. Yes I remember it. Every
moment since Carter woke me up and talked me into this. If I had the
strength I might kick my way out of this coffin and take it all back,
tell Carter no way, no deal, no thank you very much. I don't want one
of those damn things poking around in my mind again. There's little
enough room in here for me and my memories.
How? How on earth could I have agreed to this? Fear of death, sense of
duty, pity for Carter... she begged me to do this. She had to know how
I'd feel about it, that I'd rather be dead than have a snake in my
head-- and yet she asked, pleaded, and pinned me with those blue eyes
that I can see even now in against the red-shot darkness of closed eyes.
I suppose it doesn't matter now; it's done.
But... God damn it!
The alternating waves of heat and cold fade swiftly, and I am left
feeling weak but alive. I can't see, can't open my eyes though I keep
trying. I am not in control any more. I am no longer alone in here.
"He fights." The husky, reedy sound of a Tok'ra voice. I can hear it
clearly, can tell that the speaker is standing very near, above my head
and to the left; if I could move my arms, I could touch them. "I have
never seen one struggle so fiercely. Perhaps it is too late after all.
We should halt the blending."
Yes! Stop it! I don't want a bait shop in my head!
"Kanan did not think so. We must give them some more time." Selmak's
voice? That means that Jacob is here. Why won't he stop this? Why can't
he hear me? Jacob! I don't want this anymore!
Someone is twisting a fillet knife in the base of my skull. Suddenly I
can smell so many things, and my stomach jumps sickeningly. I am glad I
can't move, or I would have rolled off of this slab and vomited on some
Tok'ra's shoes. I can smell a snake, smell the pungent fluid that the
symbiote are preserved in. I can also smell stone and water, sweat,
musky odors of living things, sharp bitter clinical smells, too.
Okay, this officially sucks. I can't move, can't see, can't speak, and
now I can't sleep. I feel as if I've been wadded up and shoved in a
closet, the door closed on me despite my screams against the dark.
Don't shut me in here! There's a snake in here, too.
But they can't hear me.
If I ever get out of this one, I swear that I'll eat a bullet before enduring this again.
Someone opens my eyes, but I know it isn't me. This is wrong on-- oh! so many levels! God damn it, and God help me!