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Hail Dorothy

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It was odd, probably, that Colonel O’Neill’s words bothered Sam more than the actual act of killing Seth. Odd and irrational and so unfortunately true. Hail Dorothy. And all she could think was, if she was a Goa’uld, maybe that’s what her name would be.

She knew she wasn't a Goa’uld. She wasn’t even the host to a Tok’ra, not anymore, no matter that she could use Goa’uld devices and sense symbiotes and—

And she wasn’t going to keep thinking about it. Because if she kept thinking about it, she was going to start crying, and considering that she was currently hiding in Mark’s bathroom, that was probably not a good idea.

Turning on the water—because if you were going to fake using the bathroom, you had to wash your hands to really sell the story—she squirted some soap on her hands and started scrubbing. And scrubbing. And scrubbing until her hands were red and her fingers hurt and she knew she had to stop but she couldn’t because she had to get clean, had to wash off where she had had on the hand device, had to wash off where she had touched Seth, had to—

Her phone rang, and she grabbed it from her pocket, wet hand and all, and shoved it to her ear, ignoring the water dripping onto her shirt collar and down her shirt. “Carter.”

“Carter? Daniel was wondering if you wanted to—are you showering?”

Sam blinked at herself in the bathroom mirror, eyes too large set in skin too gray, then realized what the Colonel was talking about. “Oh. No, sir. I was just washing my hands.” She turned off the faucet, turning away from the mirror because she didn’t want to look herself in the face right now. “What was Daniel wondering?”

“Daniel was wondering if you wanted to grab take-out with us—well, him and me, because Teal’c is kelno’reem-ing extra hard in celebration of taking out Seth…or something.”

Bile rose in her throat at the sound of the name, and she forced it down, instead focusing on saying, “Sorry, sir, but I’m visiting Mark with my Dad, remember?”

“Oh.” Colonel O’Neill hesitated for a second, then said, “I’ll leave you to it. Have fun, Carter.”

“Thank you, sir.” She started to hang up, then stopped when panic at the thought of being alone with people who didn't understand—even her Dad didn’t understand, not really, because he liked Selmak—caught her breath in her throat. “Sir, I—”

“Yes, Carter?”

Embarrassment swamped her, overriding the panic, and she said, “Never mind, sir, it’s nothing.”

Sam could practically see the exasperation on his face when he said, “What is it, Carter?”

“I was just—” She forced the words out. “The fact that I can use the Goa’uld devices, sir, does that…worry anyone?”

The Colonel sighed, static rushing across the line. “Carter, you’re the least snake-like person I know. And besides, if we were concerned about it, we would never have let you off the base.”

Absurdly, that was probably the most comforting thing he could have said. “Thank you, sir.”

“Any time, Carter. Now go back to your family before they send a search party.”

“Yes sir.”

And then she hung up and dried her hands and went back to her blood-family, and this time when she smiled it wasn’t quite so hard.