Thicker Than Water
by Pho
"For our father." Those words whirl around my head like an angry swarm of stinging loc'ta; each word impaling itself on my soul. My mechanical counterpart had barely enough time to strike the killing blow before succumbing to his own ... malfunctions. He met my eyes and actually believed in the moment of his termination that he had done me a favor. That he had avenged the wrong done to my family so very long ago. That what he had done was right.
'Our father.' Did he honestly believe that we shared any tie other than our mental transfer? My counterpart was a mechanical being impressed with my thoughts, my dreams, my ... fears, but he was not me. Nor was he the son of my father. There was no blood there to tie the future to the past. *He* had not lived and breathed the terror of the flight from Chronos' court, as friends of my father smuggled my mother and myself to the safety of Chulak. He remembered it, but he did not live it. Just as he remembered that those same friends paid for their act of kindness with their lives. He remembered, but he did not watch his mother weep as yet another name was added to the list of the dead. He has no mother.
Nor did he live the path of vengeance for all of his formative years. Fighting each childhood battle as if it was Chronos he faced. The other *had* no formative years. He came into this universe as an automaton, bearing the form of a Jaffa who had long passed adolescence. His memories, although real, are mine, and mine alone. His creator stole them from me to share with *him*. An act I have not yet truly forgiven.
My double's form lies very still, all semblance of life ended. It is uncanny how his creator could duplicate so much that was mine alone. The small scar on my ankle, earned in a mock battle before I came of age. The brand of Apophis with its telltale flaw so that no Jaffa would feel worthy to show his face to his God. All forged in a machine, by a machine. Even the mark of the Prim'ta is falsified; he carries no Prim'ta. He never endured the ceremony of passage, where a Jaffa child receives the first of many symbiotes. The pain, fear, and joy of that moment are mine. Mine alone.
'Father.' My blood runs cold as I turn to look at the ... God who took his life. Who ripped the symbiote from its living womb and twisted its guts to leave a trail of poison in my father's body. Who watched for days as the poison slowly ate away at my father's will to live. Who gloated over the pain-filled screams as my father begged for release. Who proudly broadcast my father's suffering and eternal shame for all to see.
By killing Chronos as he did, my double has unwittingly taken my honor from me. Or am I mistaken in this? Was this last act truly an act of vengeance in the name of my father, or was it his final revenge? Revenge for the life he could not lead, the life he could not truly lay claim to.
I have sworn few blood oaths in my lifetime - retribution for the death of my father was the first, retribution for the death of Shau'nac was the last. Those in between are of no consequence; I have fulfilled them all. But to my utter shame, those oaths that mean the most to me, I have been prevented from bringing to fruition. *He* has stolen the first from me. Denied me the right of the son to avenge the father. The Tok'ra, and my friends, have stood between myself and Tanith, the murderer of Shau'nac - may the gods forever curse his name.
'For our father.' Not so, false one. *My* father. Mine alone. I will not grant you the right to share in the bonds of blood. The Tau'ri have a saying that blood is thicker than water. It is the stuff that oaths are made of. The robot Teal'c had no blood to bind him to action of any kind. That he believed himself deserving of striking the final blow to Chronos will haunt me forever. That one's death should not have been so easy.
I have failed in the fulfillment of my first blood oath and my failure galls me greatly. I must now turn all of my energies, all of my hopes on the fulfillment of the last oath. Eventually, I will be free to pursue Tanith, and I will let nothing, not even death itself, prevent me from salvaging what remains of my honor. Upon the soul of my father, this too I vow, and woe be unto anyone who stands in my way.