Title: Die, Martouf, Die!
Author: Wendy Parkinson
Category: Humour, S/J
Spoilers: minor spoilers for Brief Candle, Enigma, Past and Present and Jolinar's Memories
Season/Sequel info: Set season three, before Pretense. Eighth in the Danny Lurks series, sequel to 'Twas the Night before Christmas'.
Rating: PG13 (a little bad language)
Content Warnings: none (unless you *really* like Martouf.... in which case, this story probably isn't for you!)
Summary: Martouf finds out what the samandjack list think of him.
Author's notes: As usual with a Danny Lurks, this story was inspired by the list - I'd like to thank everyone on samandjack who contributed to the 'Tok'ra 2', 'Gratuititous Martouf Death Abounds' and 'Killing Martouf 101' threads. I couldn't have done it without you! Special thanks to Alli, Katrin, Karen and Amywyn whose words I 'borrowed'. I hope you don't mind!
Disclaimer: Stargate SG-1 and its characters belong to MGM, Gekko Corp and Double Secret Productions. This fan fiction was created solely for entertainment and no money was made from it. Also, no copyright or trademark infringement was intended. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
All feedback and constructive criticism will be greatly appreciated. No flames please.
copyright Wendy Parkinson January 2000
DIE, MARTOUF, DIE!
Jack stood facing Martouf, their eyes locked, hatred crackling between them. The colonel raised his handgun and fired. One, two, three, four shots slammed into the Tok'ra. Jack's eyes widened in horror when he realised that not only was Martouf not dead, but he was still standing up, though he did have four neat holes in his chest through which O'Neill could see daylight. Martouf smiled evilly. "She's mine, all mine," he cackled. Jack fired again. This time the Tok'ra collapsed very slowly and hit the floor with a thud. His head fell back, his eyes stared into space.
Jack took a couple of steps towards him, about to check if he really was dead, when he saw Martouf's symbiont, Lantash, begin to emerge from the Tok'ra's mouth. Up and up he rose, like a snake from a basket, until he reached his full height of about two feet. With horrified fascination, Jack noticed Lantash tightly gripped a miniature gun in his slavering jaws. He turned so it was pointing at the colonel. Despite the obstruction in his mouth, Lantash spoke, his voice clear, high-pitched and frighteningly reminiscent of Chip'n'Dale. "Eat lead, sucker!" he squeaked. Jack's fascination turned to fear as Lantash pulled the trigger.
The tiny bullet hit the colonel in the right knee and he fell to the floor, arrows of pain shooting up and down his leg. "You little snake! That's my bad knee!" he shouted, as he raised his gun and aimed at Lantash. When he pulled the trigger, the bullet found its target and the symbiont keeled over with a theatrical flourish, the miniature gun clattering away across the floor. Lantash shuddered violently a couple of times, then lay motionless on the ground.
Jack swore under his breath as he dragged himself to his feet and limped over to the Tok'ra. He gently prodded him with his boot. No, there were no signs of life. He was definitely dead. Becoming aware of approaching footsteps, Jack swung round and was confronted by the sight of Major Carter, her face inches from his and contorted with rage. "Oh my God!," she yelled, "You've killed Martouf! You bastard!!"
Jack awoke with a start and sat up in bed. Now that was a weird dream! He took a couple of deep breaths to steady himself. Did he really hate Martouf *that* much? He shook his head and wearily rubbed his hand across his face. Perhaps he needed to get out more..... and stop watching South Park late at night......
As he descended to the SGC, Jack stared at the elevator wall and tried to forget about the dream. His mind went back to New Year's Eve. He hadn't seen Carter since, she'd had a few days leave. A few days to cool down and forgive him, or a few days to plan his painful death.
They'd gone to a bar for a few drinks, just the two of them. Since their kiss on Christmas Eve, they'd been a lot closer. To Jack, there had definitely seemed to be a promise of things to come. Then he'd performed the famous O'Neill 'foot in mouth routine' and been awarded a maximum '10' for technical merit and '9.7' for artistic impression. He'd ruined everything.
They'd been chatting about the past year over a couple of beers when Sam mentioned the Cloning Machine. Jack had said, "The delivery times are much better now. It only takes two days."
Sam's jaw had dropped, then she'd asked, "How do you know?" Before he'd had chance to reply, she'd taken in his horrified expression and continued, "It was you, wasn't it? You sent for the maximum aggressiveness and femininity clone, didn't you? I can't believe you. You said you had nothing to do with it!" Jack opened and closed his mouth a couple of times but no sound came out. "You lying, cheating, two-timing, double-crossing..... *man*!"
Anger blazing in her eyes, she reached across for Jack's drink. Realising he was about to get an impromptu beer shampoo, he did what any self-respecting, special forces trained, Air Force officer would do under the circumstances. He dodged sideways, just in time to see the contents of his glass fly past his shoulder and soak the shirt of the guy standing behind him. To Jack's horror, the guy in question was a 6' 5", 300lb, gorilla of a man with an attitude problem that made Attila the Hun look like Mother Theresa.
By the time Jack had managed to placate Neanderthal man by buying him and all his friends a drink, and offered to pay his dry cleaning bill, Sam had gone. He hadn't seen her since.
Daniel glanced at Sam out of the corner of his eye. They were in the Gateroom waiting for her father, Jacob, and she'd just had a few days leave. She should be in a good mood but he could tell she wasn't. Her lips were pressed tightly together, her arms folded firmly in front of her chest. She stared into space, her eyes cold and angry. Every atom of her body language screamed that she was as mad as hell with someone.
Jackson knew it wasn't him, he'd only said, "Hi," and all he'd got in return was a grunt, and a bad-tempered one at that. He glanced to his other side. Teal'c stood impassively, gazing patiently at the Stargate. No, she couldn't possibly be mad at Teal'c, he never said enough to annoy her. Which brought Daniel to the other obvious candidate. Jack. He looked over his shoulder towards the Gateroom door. The colonel was late. And he'd been monosyllabic all week. It all added up. After such a promising start at Christmas, Sam and Jack's burgeoning relationship must have hit problems before it had really begun.
"Incoming traveller," said Graham Simmons, over the tannoy. The Gate began to revolve. "Chevron one encoded."
The Gateroom door slid open and Jack ran in. "Morning campers. Sorry I'm late. Did I miss anything?"
"Morning Jack," replied Daniel. "You got here just in time." He watched Sam for her reaction to Jack's arrival. She never looked at her commanding officer, just kept staring straight ahead at the Stargate. The colonel opened his mouth to speak, then seemed to change his mind and went and stood next to Teal'c.
Daniel looked from Jack to Sam, and then back again. This was ridiculous. They were adults. Couldn't they behave like them? "I've had enough of this! What's the matter with you two?" he asked.
"Nothing," said Sam.
"I'm fine," said Jack.
Teal'c frowned. "No, you are not. You are both like bears with painful heads."
"It's sore, not painful," corrected Daniel. "I agree with Teal'c. Last time I saw you two together you were getting on great, planning to go out on New Year's Eve. What happened?"
Sam faced him, her eyes blazing. "Not that it's any of your business, but I found out that *he* sent for the clone that ran off with my Jack."
"Oh," murmured Daniel.
Jack pursed his lips. "I don't think 'ran off' is a very accurate way to describe it, Carter. As far as we know, they only went to the broom cupboard."
Sam glared at him. Daniel pushed his glasses back up his nose and took a deep breath. He wasn't going to let this drop, they were behaving like kids. "Jack, did you intend the clone you sent for to run off with Sam's Jack?"
"No, of course not," the colonel replied indignantly.
Sam opened her mouth to speak but Daniel raised his hand to stop her. "Let me finish!" he snapped. "Sam, until you found out that Jack had sent for the clone, you two were getting on fine, weren't you?"
"I guess so."
"Right." Daniel was warming to his subject now. "So, in that case, is the clone leaving you really such a bad thing?" Sam looked doubtful. Daniel pushed on. "When you think about it, those clones were made for each other, weren't they?"
"Made for each other?" echoed Sam and Jack in unison.
Daniel winced. "Sorry, no pun intended."
"I'll believe you," said Sam, a smile starting to tug at her lips.
"But thousands wouldn't," finished Jack, smiling hesitantly at the major. "Am I forgiven?" he asked quietly.
"I'll think about it," she said, smiling shyly at the colonel.
Daniel turned to Teal'c. The big Jaffa watched his friends, a rare smile lighting up his face. Daniel pushed back the urge to laugh. Perhaps things would be OK after all.
"Chevron seven locked."
The Gate gave its familiar roar, the event horizon formed and Jacob Carter stepped through its shimmering surface, closely followed by Martouf.
"Oh joy. He's brought Marty along," muttered Jack under his breath.
"Dad," said Sam, as she ran into her father's arms.
Jacob hugged her. "Sam, it's good to see you. You look a little peaky. Have you been eating properly?"
"Yes Dad." She pulled away from him and turned to Martouf. "Nice to see you again."
"It is always good to see you, Samantha."
The Gateroom door opened and General Hammond marched in. "Hello Jacob," he said, extending his hand.
"George. You're looking well. Could I ask a favour? Would it be possible for me to spend some time with my little girl today?"
Hammond smiled. "I don't see why not. SG1 aren't scheduled to go on another mission until tomorrow." He turned to Sam. "Take the rest of the day off, major."
"Thank you, sir."
"So, Marty, to what do we owe the pleasure?" asked Jack.
Martouf momentarily looked puzzled, then seemed to work out what the colonel meant. "Since the incident with Sokar, Jacob is not allowed to travel alone."
"Sensible precaution," agreed Jack.
Jacob said, "Martouf, I'll be safe here. You don't need to follow me around. I'd like some time alone with Sam. Why don't you stay here and visit with Colonel O'Neill, Dr. Jackson and Teal'c?"
Daniel glanced across at Jack. The colonel's face was a picture. Martouf was not one of his favourite people and it showed. Sam and her father said their goodbyes and headed out of the Gateroom arm in arm. Jacob's voice drifted back to Daniel just as the door was closing. "So how are things between you and Jack?" To Daniel's intense frustration, the door shut before Sam answered.
"Could SG1 report to the science lab, please?" announced Simmons over the tannoy. "SG3 require your assistance."
"Makepeace is in the lab?" said Daniel incredulously.
Jack raised his eyebrows. "God help us all!"
Daniel smiled apologetically at Martouf. "Sorry about this. We'll be as quick as we can. You can wait in my office, it's on the way to the lab."
Jack shook his head. "And I thought I was intellectually challenged! Those guys are still at the 'banging the rocks together' stage."
"It was an unbelievably stupid thing to do." said Daniel. "I would have liked to study that artefact, it had some interesting carvings on it. It's a shame it exploded. They shouldn't have drilled a hole in it."
"If they were Jaffa under my command, it would be within my rights to dismember them," said Teal'c with feeling.
"Ooh... don't tempt me," said Jack, with a grin. "Let's go find Marty, shall we?"
"Martouf?" Daniel said as he walked into his office, closely followed by Jack and Teal'c.
The colonel glanced around the untidy room. "So where is he?"
The archaeologist shrugged. "I left him downloading the list e-mail for me. Last time he was here he said he enjoyed reading them."
"I find it difficult to believe Martouf liked reading Sam and Jack romances," said Teal'c, his brow creased into a slight frown.
"He did seem to have a preference for character death stories," admitted Daniel.
"And just who would be doing the dying?" enquired Jack conversationally.
Daniel winced. "Never Sam, occasionally me and Teal'c, but mainly you."
"Why am I not surprised?" Jack pursed his lips and looked round the room again. "So where *is* Marty?"
All three swung round in unison at the sound of a cough, then a sniff, then a slight rustling. Jack pointed towards a table on the far side of the office. Daniel nodded in agreement. That was where the noise had come from. Teal'c approached the table cautiously, then slowly bent down and peered underneath. "I have found Martouf," he announced, straightening up and turning to face Jack and Daniel.
"He's under the table?" asked Daniel incredulously, not able to think of a good reason for such strange behaviour.
The Jaffa nodded. "Yes, Daniel Jackson, he is under the table. He appears distressed."
Jack took a deep breath, walked across the room and crouched down next to the table. Although he disliked the Tok'ra, he instinctively felt sorry for him when he saw him. Martouf sat with his knees drawn up under his chin, his arms tightly gripping his legs, trembling with fear. When he saw Jack, he cowered away, his eyes huge with panic. "Hey Marty, it's only me! No need to be frightened!" the colonel said, in the most reassuring tone he could manage.
"You hate me! They all hate me!" Martouf said, his voice tight and strained.
Daniel crouched down next to Jack. "What's the matter, Martouf? Don't you feel well?" The Tok'ra shook his head and looked away. "You know, Jack," continued Daniel, "I haven't seen anyone behave like this since Kawalsky...." He never finished his sentence. The two men stared at each other in horror, simultaneously turned to look at the computer, then were on their feet in a flash and ran across the room. Daniel grabbed the mouse and scrolled quickly down the screen, taking in the subject headings. "This is bad," he mumbled. "Jack, I think you'd better look at this." He pointed at the screen.
Jack read out loud. "Tok'ra 2, Tok'ra 2, Tok'ra 2, Tok'ra 2.... There are dozens of them." He shrugged. "I guess he doesn't like being talked about." He shot a quick glance over his shoulder at Martouf, who was still quivering under the table.
"No, it's worse than that. Look at those two." Daniel pointed to the bottom of the screen.
"Killing Martouf 101 and Gratuitous Martouf Death Abounds?"
"Yes, those two!" A trace of exasperation was beginning to creep into the archaeologist's voice. "No wonder he's upset!"
Jack frowned. "They wouldn't, would they? I mean, they're not serious, are they?" He thought for a moment then added, "Do you think we ought to get him a bodyguard?"
"I don't think so. He's kind of 'the man they love to hate'. But perhaps we ought to take precautions, remember what they did to Kawalsky.... and they liked him!"
The colonel nodded. "The crayon torture, golden crowbars, ruffled ducks..... it was unbelievable. The man was a wreck."
The colonel looked puzzled. "Daniel, why do they dislike him so much? I know he irritates the hell out of me but he doesn't have that effect on everyone. Sam seems to like him."
"Er..... they think he's a threat to you and Sam getting together."
"Oh." Jack seemed lost for words.
Daniel ploughed on. "They hate Narim just as much, possibly more. And Kynthia, well, she's probably top of their hit list."
"Kynthia I can understand, it's the same reason as Martouf, isn't it? But why do they hate Narim?"
Daniel raised his eyebrows. So Jack didn't know what had happened between Sam and the Tollan? Well, he wasn't going to be the one to tell him. "Perhaps it's that silver suit. They have a distinct preference for men wearing jeans."
"Oh." There didn't seem to be much that Jack could add to that. He frowned. "Could you try talking to Martouf? Explain to him what they're like. After all you've been through this. They didn't like you making out with Kira, did they?"
"No..." agreed Daniel doubtfully, "but they only called me a few names. They didn't threaten to kill me."
"I don't think they really mean it. Think about it.... I often die in their stories and they don't hate me."
Daniel pushed his glasses back up his nose and sighed. "True," he agreed.
"And think about all those Danny whumping stories..."
"I try not to..."
"Sorry." Jack smiled encouragingly. "Talk to him, please?"
"OK, I'll try. You owe me one, Jack."
Daniel took a deep breath and went back to Martouf, leaving Jack standing by the computer. He sat down on the floor just in front of the table. The Tok'ra flinched as he settled himself. "So... the list have said some things that have upset you?" Daniel said. Martouf nodded vigorously. "Do you want to talk about it?"
"They called me a slimy worm," the Tok'ra blurted out.
Daniel frowned. There had to be more. 'Slimy worm' hardly justified hiding under a table. "And?" he asked.
"One of them has an imaginary giant hamster called Martouf..." Daniel felt this was taking on a kind of surreal quality. He managed a weak smile. Martouf continued. "She wants to kill it."
"Oh." There didn't really seem to be an answer to that. "Anything else?"
"One of them said I had a deranged, homicidal clown-like smile."
Daniel felt an irresistible urge to laugh. Somehow the description seemed to fit. He was about to launch into his 'they don't really mean it' speech when their conversation was interrupted by the clattering of the printer. "Jack? What are you doing?"
"Oh, just printing something. Don't mind me."
Daniel was getting a bad feeling about this. "What are you printing?" he said, through clenched teeth.
Teal'c had been peering over Jack's shoulder. He said, "He is printing out a mail entitled, 'Gratuitous Martouf Death Abounds', Daniel Jackson."
"Jack!! You're not helping!"
"Come on, Danny! You should read this, it's really funny! Alli even has one death caused by Graham Simmons. And there's one where Marty finds the SJA and dies of a heart attack after he reads the NC17 section." Martouf whimpered. Jack didn't seem to notice. "You know, anyone would think they know that we know what they're doing." He paused. "Did that make sense?"
"Barely," said Daniel. His eyes narrowed. Sometimes Jack could be so insensitive. Martouf interrupted his thoughts.
"They're out to get me!" the Tok'ra said, staring into space, a haunted look in his eyes. "They're plotting my death. They are more frightening than the Goa'uld. We have severely underestimated the Tau'ri. I am going to recommend that the Tok'ra join forces with the samandjack list in the fight against the Goa'uld. We will be invincible!" He waved his arms in the air and tried to stand up. Banging his head on the underside of the table, he sat down again abruptly.
Daniel grimaced. "I'll be right back, Martouf. Don't go away!" He stood up and went over to Jack who was carefully folding a sheet of paper he'd removed from the printer.
"How's it going?" Jack asked, as he put the paper in his pocket.
"Not good. At the moment, he's definitely a couple of sandwiches short of a picnic. They've completely unhinged him. He wants to recruit the list to join the fight against the Goa'uld."
"What?" Jack couldn't believe his ears. "And how would they help? Write never-ending WIP's so the Goa'uld are too busy reading to attack us?"
"You've come up with worse plans."
"Now *you've* got me worried!"
Daniel grinned. "I'll go and get Janet, shall I?"
Jack nodded. "Good idea."
Jack strolled through the open door of Daniel's office and found SG1's archaeologist totally absorbed in something he was reading on the computer. He cleared his throat. "Hi there."
Daniel swung round. "Oh, hi. How's Martouf?"
Jack puffed out his cheeks. "One of his Tok'ra buddies came and took him back to....." He waved his hand vaguely in the air. "....wherever. They left a replacement to keep an eye on Jacob."
"I hope he's going to be OK. Did Janet get to the bottom of what was wrong with him?"
The colonel shrugged. "Her best guess was that it was some weird Tok'ra shock reaction kind of thing. She also suspected he may have a compulsive need to be loved. When she gave him a happy pill, he calmed down some."
Daniel raised his eyebrows. "Oh."
Looking over Daniel's shoulder, Jack asked, "So what are the Martouf Hit Squad up to now?"
"They've stopped discussing Martouf."
"So what are they talking about now?"
Daniel winced. "Well, put it this way...... if Narim pays us a visit, don't let him near the computer."