A/N:  I am currently suffering writer's block with my other stories, so I got the idea for this one and decided to go ahead.

The story takes place around 3-4 season of Stargate.  Given this is a side project – update frequency will be decided completely upon amount of reviews, otherwise, expect long periods of wait.

Title: Reincarnating crimes

Spoilers: none (that I know of)

Summary:  Jack's past as an assassin catches up to him when someone he's killed is introduced to SG1

Disclaimer:  I own nothing but my cat (and I think she owns me) Stargate SG1 is owned by its various channels and created, whose name I can't remember.  The Shriti'ai is completely fictional but much of their beliefs are based on the Hinduistic model.

Not BETA'D – there will be mistakes, hopefully not large ones

Prologue – Mission Objectives

The soldier walked slowly through the camp, making his way to a particular tent.  Shadows covered everything, except for the small flames that were allowed to grow for warmth.  He walked past the sleeping figures with ease; trusted since he was a friend, an ally, … and their killer.

For months the soldier had worked with these people, slowly gaining their trust.  At first he had merely been an American, not to be trusted, but his advice and hard-work had turned the hearts of these people.  It was a difficult task; they were an ancient sect, the Shiriti'ai, of Hinduism that followed their leader, the Puranas or Living Lengend. 

The Shiriti'ai renounced the caste system and devoted every action as a prayer to the universe, so that they eventually be reincarnated as a higher being.  The Puranas, much like the Dali Lama, was said to have been reincarnated a thousand times over and had existed since before the Buddha or Jesus the Christ or Moses. 

They encouraged their neighbours to renounce the capital views of the West, and because of that the surrounding political leaders were unhappy.  The sect remained in no country for long, but wandered from East Asia to the Middle East teaching the mantras to reach Nirvana – the absence of the materialism that plagued humanity into a higher being that existed in Nirvana.  However, political leaders of the various countries viewed the members as fanatics. 

Eventually, the American government decided that the unrest being caused by the Shiriti'ai was causing the Middle East to destabilize.  Which brings us back to the lone American.

After receiving his orders, the soldier had been placed in an area where it was believed the Shiriti'ai would visit next.  Several months passed, but the analysts were right.  It had taken time, but the soldier now had access to the entire camp.

More than accepted, he had been embraced by no only the people but the Puranas as well.  They had spent many nights talking in the leader's tent; talking about life and death and duty.

Now duty brought the soldier to his friend's tent for one last time.

The assassin entered quietly, but wasn't surprised to see the man still awake with his back towards the assassin.

"So it is time, then, my friend," the man remarked.

"You've known all along, haven't you?  Who I am, and what I'm here to do?" the assassin asked.

The man turned to face the soldier with a half smile on his face.

"You are not the first to come for my life, nor do I suspect you will be the last.  But none have I ever been blessed to call my friend."

The soldier stepped forward, and knelt before the man.

"I can't save my life, but I can save my people.  If I am murdered, I will become a martyr and my people will follow the path of revenge.  If, however, I die of natural causes they will simply leave and wait for my arrival."

The assassin nodded, and produced from his pouch a small tablet.

"We're given these, in case of capture.  They're quick and painless – it'll look like you had an aneurysm."

The man took the tablet with a steady hand, and replaced it will a pendent necklace.

"I have had this pendant for many lives.  I wish for you to hold on to it, and return it to me when we meet again.

The assassin looked at the gift with disbelief.

"I can't take this!  You know I don't believe in reincarnation, and besides, shouldn't you give this to someone trustworthy.  After all, I am sorta here to kill you," the soldier said, his natural sarcasm showing through.

The man laughed and said, "Don't worry, my friend.  For a assassin, you're the epitome of trust.  I only ask that you lead my people to Sanctuary."

The soldier's head shot up.  Sanctuary?

The man handed over a map that was on parchment that appeared centuries old.  It detailed a path towards a destination in India known as Sanctuary.

"Whenever our sect has been on the edge of extinction, we return to Sanctuary and wait.  Soon, the world changes and we are free to roam again."

"For crying out loud, does the term 'assassin' mean anything to you?" the soldier asked in exasperation.

"I trust the man who has walked with my people, and fed with them, and slept with them.  It is that man that I entrust this to.  All I ask in return is for your true name, John Smith."

"Jack O'Neill."

"I shall remember that.  Until we meet again, my friend."  With that he popped the tablet in his mouth.  The Puranas convulsed a few times then collapsed.  The soldier felt for a pulse, only to find none.  He stared by the body for the whole night.