Heart of Gold
Chapter I: Cure

Everyone told me this wasn't how my life was supposed to turn out, that I could beat the AIDS and return to my life. Everyone said there was hope for me, especially because of my phenominal health record up until that point.

But in their eyes I saw the despair eating away at their souls.

They didn't have to tell me that AIDS had never been cured, and neither had the opportunistic deaseases I had: progressive multifocal leukoencephalopathy. I did the research. They didn't have to tell me that I could only hope for four months. I read the Wikipedia entry. They didn't have to tell me how utterly hopeless my situation was, and maybe it gave them hope to leave it unvoiced, to pretend to prolong the ignorance. Maybe it gave them hope to not acknowledge the fact that if I, one of the healthiest young adults in the western world, had succumbed to disease, anyone could.

And sadly, they are the ones who don't know they were wrong. All the medical staff with their quick, sympathetic glances; all my friends and family, who endured long silences and awkward conversation to try to comfort me; all the community members and professors, who sent me cards and flowers and caring thoughts I'd never known they'd possessed. It's a shame I never told them otherwise, even after I knew. All except for one.

Dr. Repaski was a retired Air Force officer who still preserved his connections in the armed forces. When he heard PML was incurable, he gave me the number for a researcher investigating "a possible cure for terminal disease." It fit the cliche of seeming too good to be true.

* * *

A short, blonde-haired woman wearing a low-quality business outfit entered my hospital room one afternoon and gently set a hard laptop case on the seat of one of the visitors' chairs, trying to be as quiet as possible.

I smirked, opening my eyes wider. "Sarah Anderson, I presume?"

She turned and smiled--nervously, I thought--and crossed to the side of my bed, extending her hand politely. "Yes, Jenn, I am."

I shook her hand, returning her smile, then motioned for her to sit. "Might want to be careful or you'll catch whatever I've got."

"AIDS isn't contageous with casual contact, and I'm healthy enough to handle PCL," she replied. She closed the door before sitting beside my bed.

"I know. But I just can't believe how bad my luck has been. Do you know how low the percentage of AIDS patients actually develop this?"

"No," she admitted, "but I'm not a physician or anything."

That surprised me; I'd been told that she was the head of some breakthrough medical research. I pushed myself a couple inches higher on the pillows at my back, trying to face her sitting up. The effort was useless. "Then why are you here?"

Sarah Anderson leaned forward in her chair to face me levelly. All the nervousness was gone from her demeanor, leave her deadly serious. "I came to offer you another choice."

"About what?"

"Traditional medicine has no way to cure AIDS or PML, only ways to treat them. I'm here to offer you a cure, along with a job, housing, and a marriage if you want them. I'm not at liberty to disclose many of the details, but it's a package deal. All or nothing. If you get there and you don't want it, you probably won't be allowed to return here."

I stared at her, slightly shocked, and all I could think of to say was "That was slightly prepared."

Smiling, she began to relax. "This is my job. I've done it pretty often."

"What kind of job are you offering?" I wondered, knowing it probably wouldn't relate in the least of my major, astrophysics, or my still-burning childhood dream of being an astronaut.

A grimace flicked across her face. "Espionage."

"Espionage?" I repated, startled. Of all the things shoul wouldn't tell me, of all the obviously classified information she was dealing with, that must have been the least sensitive for her to reveal it. "For who? Against who?"

"You wouldn't know them if I told you, but I'm proposing the entire deal on behalf of a US-sanctioned rebellion against a feudal government with which we're all but at war."

I resettled myself on the pillows, hiding my shock. "That doesn't relate to my major."

She smiled again. "Don't worry about it. The marriage, of sorts, I referred to would be with a professional in the field who would do all the work. He's the one who would heal you, but he needs your help."

"For what?"

"That I can't say, exactly. But if it makes you feel better, I've done it for other reasons, and I wouldn't want to live any other way."

I frowned. "A lifestyle change, too?"

"Yes."

"So you married one of these rebels?"

"In a sense, yes."

I fell silent, trying to decide. Actually, I had already decided I didn't want to die, but this may have been too strange, even for me. I wanted to be sure of what I was doing. "I have a boyfriend."

Sarah Anderson looked away at last. "You can't come back enough to have a relationship. I usually end up telling families of people who do this that they've died, though it's sometimes easier to tell them you might come back but carry out the will anyway."

"So this is full time."

"Almost twenty-four/seven, year-round. Like I said, you might be able to come back for a day or two, depending on the political climates there and here. I wouldn't advise it. Because I work here, many of them don't trust me."

"Trust is important in espionage."

She nodded. "I don't spy, though; I recruit."

"Right." I thought over what she'd said: a cure, a job, a marriage, and a near-complete abandonmnet of everything I knew. How much did I want to live? On the other hand, how much had I always wanted adventure? "No backing out and no complete information until I've already agreed?"

"Unfortunately. The Air Force requires it."

"Can I at least talk to the guy before I marry him? Or is there a possibility for divorce?"

"Yes, of course you can talk to him beforehand. He'll want to make sure he likes you, too. And if it really doesn't work out, he'd rather risk his life to leave you than stay."

"Okay then." Forcing a smile onto my face, I reached out and shook her hand again. "Nice doing business with you, Ms. Anderson. My family will be here in a half an hour. What do you want to do after then?"

Her first genuine smile of the day lit on her face, making her look a couple years younger than me, as though she might be just eighteen or nineteen. "I'll make arrangements while you visit, and we'll leave as soon as you're ready."

* * *

I hadn't really expected a plane ride on a stretcher, but the PML had already paralyzed my body from the waist down. My doctor insisted that I was in no condition to fly, but Anderson assured me that the plane was more than suitable for keeping me in health. I had to agree that it was one of the plushest vehicles I'd ever seen. She let me enjoy take-off before returning to business.

"This is a non-disclosure agreement I need you to sign before I can tell you anything else."

I skimmed over it, understanding repeatedly that whatever she was about to tell me, I couldn't tell a soul on earth, except maybe the president, if we ever met, a few officials I neither knew nor cared about, or any officers or staff at Stargate Command. I signed as though my life depended on it. Oh, right, it did. "Done."

She took it back, looking highly relieved. "Thank you for all this. Now where should I start?"

"Well, tell me about this guy I'm marrying."

"Okay, technically, you're not getting married," she began, sitting on a couch adjacent to my stretcher. "I only made the comparison becuase if you ever do marry, your husband cannot possibly know you as intimately."

"That's creepy," I remarked.

"only on the surface. Chyson will hear every one of your thoughts, and you will hear all of his."

I frowned. "Why? And why could he possibly need my help?"

"He's not human, and he's--"

"Not human!" I screeched. My eyes popped wide open, and I nearly tried to bolt straight up.

Anderson moved to the floor beside me to hold me still. "Calm down! We need you to save your strength at least until we get there, and it's a long trip."

"Okay, okay. I'm just really excited. Is this a result of SETI?"

She shook her head. "Another program contacted the Tok'ra. Please just settle down, at least until I explain what's going to happen."

"right." I gave her a reassuring, completely calm and sane smile. "Go on."

"once we land, I'll drive you to Stargate Command. The doctor there will take a small blood sample in case future DNA comparison is necessary. While that happens, some of the SGC personnel will talk to you if you have any more questions. Then we'll go to the planet where the Tok'ra base is right now. When--"

"Planet?" I repeated softly, excited but trying to avoid her scolds.

She nodded again, grinning. "We have a way to travel to other planets in seconds."

"Sweet," I whispered. "So when we get there?"

Her excitement disappeared, replaced by worry. "I'll take you to talk to Chryson and his host, and if you--"

"Host?"

She sighed. "Tok'ra are symbiotic creatures that look like little snakes or dragons, but they're highly intelligent, and extremely passionate. They live in their hosts' necks and interface directly with their brains."

"Sounds dangerous." And disgusting. But she'd already told me she was one of them, and I didn't want to offend her.

"it isn't. I've never heard of a symbiote killing its host upon entry, only exiting. Even then, they're more likely to kill themselves."

"What about infection?" I wondered, knowing I was more than susceptible to it.

She shook her head. "If Chryson is going to cure you of AIDS, he can handle something as minor as an infection. I got shot once by a handgun and healed within a few hours. The man who recruited me to become a host once walked away from a crash-landed cargo ship. You don't have to worry about it."

"Good." That was when it hit me that I was going to live. The AIDS that I had fought for the past two years, the PML that had confined me to the hospital, was going to disappear, and it would mean almost nothing to these people. Like rubbing Neosporin on a scraped knee and covering it with a Bandaid. I was going to sell my life to them in gratitude for what they considered miniscule. That made me wonder what they thought was important. "You said it's a rebellion against an established government?"

Anderson nodded. "The Goa'uld are a race of beings similar to the Tok'ra who have ruled over human-inhabited planets for millenia. They oppress the humans and make them worship the Goa'uld as gods. The Tok'ra might not have fought them just for that, though. The Goa'uld also take unwilling hosts. I know Chryson can save your life, and I know you can save his. But until you two actually blend, you can back out."

"thanks. That's comforting." If she hadn't looked so grave, I would have laughed. I'd signed up to join the interplanetary justice league! Not only was I going to leave Earth and meet aliens, I was going to fight against the galaxy's injustices! If only I could have told my family; they would have cheered instead of crying. Glancing at her, I took a chance. If the aliens didn't like my humor, I might as well have found out then. "Can I confess something to you?"

She tensed but nodded.

"I think this is the most awesome day ever in my life."

Her wide grin returned, along with her relieved expression. "I'm glad. I only hope that holds true."

"It probably will," I assured her. "So do these Tok'ra symbiote things just hang out and heal or what?"

* * *

Whether because of my situation, my excitement, or some sane part of my brain still working, the Stargate was one of the most beautiful devices I had ever seen. Going through the wormhole, even on a gurney, was more exciting for me than any rollercoaster I had ever ridden. The sheer physics of it astounded me, even after spending my entire time at the SGC talking to Dr. Samantha Carter, the resident astrophysicist. I had to touch it to believe it, and it did not let me down.

I was still thinking about it long after we arrived on a desert planet with a clear, bright sky tinted with the shades of a beautiful red sunset. Eventually, I noteced that a second person had taken hold of the gurney to help carry it over the desert sands, and she spoke light-heartedly with Anderson.

"Matt couldn't come?" the brown-haired woman in strange tan clothes asked, sounding disappointed. Her back was to me; I couldn't see her face and could barely hear her over the desert wind.

"He's a little behind in school," Anderson answered. "Does he always neglect his homework so much?"

The other woman let out a short chuckle. "Always. Either you or Vinnet is going to have to get on him about that."

I startled mentally at her open dicussion of top secret topics, but neither noticed.

"Vinnet can. She's more of a stickler for duty. I'd just as soon let him figure it out for himself."

"Then get on him, Vinnet. He can learn by practice."

Suddenly, the two stopped walking, and I picked my head up to look around. Just as Anderson put her hand on my shoulder to get me to relax, something popped out of the ground and surrounded us. For a moment, I thought we were being eaten. Then a light flashed, the open desert landscape changed to an enclosed blue cave, and the thick rings around us fell back into the ground. They moved me about five more feet before stopping again.

The new woman turned to me, her eyes flashing with a mysterious golden light I had seen only once before. "Thank you for what you are about to do. It is only through the sacrifices of people like you that the Tok'ra persist." Her strangely deep voice almost faded from my ears by the time she spoke again, this time to Anderson. "We would like to continue speaking to you in the commisary at your convenience."

"Of course." As Anderson began Wheeling me to my destination, wherever that was, the other Tok'ra left in a new direction.

"Who was that?" I wondered.

"Katorin and Sally King. Sally's son, Matt, has been staying at my house since they blended."

Something in the pit of my stomach managed to sink, even though I was lying flat. "She's not allowed to go back and visit him?"

"Not often. Usually not unless there's official business, and I usually take care of that unless the Council wants to send someone unaffiliated with Earth."

"Sounds complicated."

"it can be. Mostly, it's just irritating." She turned the gurney into a side corridor, which turned out to be a small room, and stopped it beside an old man lying on a blue table that matched the walls. Then Anderson smiled at me. "Yell if you need anything. I'll be down the hall a little bit hwere I won't be eavesdropping. Otherwise, I'll speak to you and Chryson when you wake up."

"Thanks," I mumbled and watched her leave.

Again, the utter surreality of it threatened to overwhelm me, and I reminded myself I was actually there. I had actually lived a couple weeks with PML, met with an alien, and traveled to another planet through a wormhole and on a gurney, no less! I was lying beside an alien who wanted to, as far as I could tell, possess my body so he could go on fighting the injustices of the galaxy. and here I thought I was going to grow up to be excited about astrophysics all on my own.

Taking a deep, calming breath, I looked over at the guy again. He looked human, just like everyone else I'd seen. He was big for an old guy, more muscular than I had ever hoped to be, and he had no right to be so tan while bed-ridden. Yup, I was jealous. Under the light sheet draped over his body, he seemed to wear the same ugly tan uniform as Katorin, which poked out over his shoulders and left his arms bare to the too-cool air. Around his neck, he worse a bright turquoise band of stones held together by dark leather; the taut muscles in his neck held it an inch from his skin in some places.

after a couple minutes, his eyes flashed as they opened, and he turned his head to face me. A pitifully small smile pulled at the corners of his lips. "I was beginning to think Vinnet would never arrive." His eyes closed as he spoke, and he left them that way. "What is your name?"

"Jenn Cors," I replied softly, almost afraid I would wake him or break him with my voice. He looked so tired.

"You are from the Tau'ri?"

"I... don't know."

His brown eyes blinked open for a moment then shut again. "Sarah brough you from her planet?"

"yes."

"Then you are Tau'ri." His grin widened slightly. "I always wanted a Tau'ri host. So exuberant and naively corageous. Like me."

I chuckled slightly at his generous description of himself but said nothing. Even if I was one, I hated meeting with dying people.

"How do you feel about the Goa'uld?"

"Think I'd have to see one to be sure, but they sound pretty dispicable," I answered honestly but still softly.

He opened only one eye this time. "Are you always so quiet?"

I tried to shake my head. "No, sir. It just doesn't seem right to be loud. I'm always quiet around old people."

He chuckled to himself, the sound resembling a heavy breath or slight cough more than a laugh. "You should get over that quickly. After all, little Vinnet is well over four hundred."

"No way!" I replied, my voice sneaking a little louder.

His smile faded, and his eye closed, and for nearly a minute, I reassured myself that he had't died by watching the shallow rise and fall of his chest. finally, his soft, deep voice returned. "Jenn Cors, do you want to be my host?"

"I think so."

His brow knitted. "I don't like leaving those I've become attached to. Jenn Cors, do you want to host me until one of us dies? That could be nearly two hundred years."

I bit my lip. He seemed like a cool guy, and though I hadn't heard every detail, every Tok'ra host I'd seen acted pretty happy. It looked like an adventurous lifestyle, and any adventure for two hundred years beat dying in less than four months. "I'm as sure as I can be under the circumstances."

He nodded. "Then I will let you and Sedesh talk. Kiss him when you're done."

"Okay."

He was silent again for a while until a weak, thready voice came into the room. "Chryson wants to remind you that it will take time for him to heal you. He has used much of his energy keeping my alive." He paused for a moment, and I saw his breaths come quicker. "I hosted Chryson for two hundred and one years, and he has saved my life many times over. I hope you have so much fun with him as I have." He paused again. "Do you have antyhing to ask me?"

"No," I answered, fighting tears from my eyes. He looked so frail, so totally empty of the vivacity that echoes in the fitness of his body. We both knew he was going to die soon.

"Then kiss me."

Hesitanty, I rolled onto my side and used my upper body to lean over him, my arms shaking, and I pcked him on the cheek."

"Thank you," he whispered, "But that won't help Chrys transfer."

Shaking, totally insecure about what I was doing, I covered the man's shrivelled, open lips with my gloss-coated lips and waited for something. Sure enough, something enered my mouth, and for an intant, I thought it was the old man's tongue. Until it kept going. Whatever it was reached the back of my throat before it stopped passing my lips, and it tasted like blood. Startled, I gagged on it, hardly noticing as I feel back onto the gurney. A small, blue-green-scaled tail flicked in front of my nose then trailed aong the roof of my mouth. With the first breath of fresh air that hit my lungs, my vision went black.

Calm down! a toneless voice commanded. You are going to be okay. No one will hurt you. The worst is over.

And then the memories came, good and bad and full of emotion. Chryson had lived through the worst of times, but all of it only left him more resolved to fight hard and well and to get his fair share of joy out of life.

* * *

My mind awoke long before my body cared to, and it only wanted to hit the snooze. All I remembered besides the feeling of something forcing itself into my mouth was lying in a hospital bed in Ohio, safely dying of an incurable disease.

I worked my tongue around my mouth, but I found nothing other than the persistent iron taste of blood. I felt okay. Maybe a little tired.

I lay there a few minutes, almost drifting back to sleep before I heard voices.

"I'm glad we weren't any later," Anderson commented.

"Leave it to Chryson to wait until the last minute before saying anything," another, vaguely familiar female voice replied. "How are they doing?"

"I will check," an alien voice replied. Cold fingers pressed agaisnt my neck for a couple seconds. "She is alive." They moved and gently pressed a tender spot on the back of my neck. "Chryson is responsive but tired.I would expect he is at his limit."

"Gambler."

I wrestled my eyes open to gaze up at Anderson's chin.

"Good morning," the second voice--Sally King's?--said cheerfully.

I frowned at her, warding off a headache with my squinted eyes. "What's good?" I mumbled, still in the same hopeless, grouchy mood I'd been in for the past couple weeks.

"You are alive," Vinnet answered simply. "The PML must have progressed further than I had anticipated for you to remain unconscious so long. Please relate my apologies to Chryson."

Instinctively, I glanced to my left, hwere the old man's body lay, covered completely with the sheet. There was something that needed to be said concerning the body, something important, but for the life of me, I couldn't recall it.

A hand rested on my shoulder, and I turned to see Anderson's--no, Vinnet's--concerned face. "Jenn, please tell me where you are from."

"Akron," I answered quickly. Then another name crossed my mind as being the right answer, and it boethered me that I couldn't place where it was. I gazed at Vinnet, hoping for some miracle to cure my confusion.

She had one ready. "Iechnor was the homeworld of Chryson's first host. Since you are only his fourth host, his other hosts' memories will affect you more."

I nodded as she went along, taking in all the information I could and slowly reassuring myself that it wasn't a dream. "How many hosts have you had?"

"Sarah is my fifth, though I am younger than he."

Katorin nodded. "All Tok'ra are born with memories of how to the fight the Goa'uld, but Chryson has an exceptional talent for evading them. His abilities have been put to better use."

"Doing what?"

Infiltrating parties far worse than the Goa'uld and destroying them before they replace a predictable enemy with an unpredictable one. I make sure the more unimaginative of us can still do something.

I was too confused trying to figure out who had spoken to be in any clear state of mind when I felt a sudden burning in my eyes and the hands I wanted to touch them with wouldn't move.

I'll be doing this often; you're going to have to learn to be calm.

Then, with hardly any warning, my mouth began to move, and a strangely deep voice came from my vocal chords. "I appreciate the kind words with which you refer to me, but if you will excuse me, I must leave." My legs swung over the side of the gurney, and the entity possessing me took only a moment to gain my balance.

Katorin glared at me--no, us. "Your last mission is voice. You should rest until the Council reassigns you."

I felt the sudden urge to laugh at the mention of the Tok'ra High Council, but the entity, Chryson, allowed only a chuckle to pass my lips. "My last mission was crucial, and I left under favorable circumstances. Sedesh gave me his permission to use his body upon my return to the mission."

A memory surfaced to counter my confusion. Sedesh, despite his conservative nature, had cared about the people they wanted to save enough to allow Chryson to use his corpse dishonorably. Both believed the mission to be of the utmost importance and urgency, and both knew that circumstances had conspired to make Sedesh's untimely death quite convenient.

"No." The recruiting Tok'ra sounded offended. "You know the ways in which we honor our hosts. Your plan has too many risks."

"you don't need to tell me about risks, Vinnet," Chyrson replied, glaring down at her through my eyes. "I would hardly consider it if I couldn't minimize them. His body need be seen for only a few seconds. A zat'nikatel works as well as any wormhole vortex."

"After two centuries, he deserves better."

"yes, he does, but he agreed that it would be better to further the mission than to uphold his post-mortem rights." Chyrson continued to glare at Vinnet, though she really wanted to look back at her former host.

Vinnet stared right back, unfazed. "Do you have any corroboration of that?"

The exact sense of Sedesh's perspective flipped across my mind, and I remembered somehow that the gambler Tok'ra was speaking truthfully. I started to say something in the way of defense but still had no control of my body.

Chryson broke eye contact and finally walked around to Sedesh's side. "I don't need to explain myself to you or the Council. I would say the same with a za'tac detector and it woudln't make a difference. Thank you for your work, Vinnet. I will see you when I return."

I didn't see their expressions as the other two reluctantly left, but I couldn't imagine they'd be thrilled. Why'd he do that? I wondered to myself. They seemed genuinely concerned.

They were, the toneless voice answered, but without reason. I know my actions are right, and once you accept what's happening, you will, too. They and the Council limit themselves by adhering to tradition. I had hoped their hosts would change that.

Oh. I watched quiety as my hands tucked the sheets around Sedesh then picked him up. He left heavier than anything I could lift, but my arms held him all the way down the hall the way I had come and back through the Stargate.

* I **4685 words*
A/N: I could post chapter two soon, but I'd like to know if anyone is reading this. Please leave a message after the tone--I mean, as a comment... or e-mail, etc, what have you...