Title: Five things Jacob missed about Earth

Rating: G

Spoilers: extremely minor things for the show in general – if you know Jacob, you're pretty much good to go.

Summary: title 'splains it all.

Author's Note: written for lj: sg1_five_things

Date: 17/08/09

Disclaimer: I don't own Stargate, but I plan to ask for it for my birthday.



He had known his life would be forever changed. It wasn't as if he really had a choice, but Sam had been sure to tell him what he was getting into before the transfer. He had been given a twenty minute primer on intergalactic politics and alien biology – enough to prepare him for the act, but not necessarily for the life. Sam, bless her well-meaning heart, had focused on the facts she could present him, she had not known to tell him that it was the tiniest of things that would shake him so completely.

He could live without television, traffic he had been all too happy to give up, and the Tok'ra's aversion to a good piece of steak… well, he was learning to let go. But even now, years later, there were still days that he'd pause – taking a short break in a day filled with flying alien spaceships, shooting a weapon Selmak refused to let him refer to as a 'ray-gun', and battling megalomaniacs with literal gold complexes – and pray wholeheartedly for just one damn cup of coffee.


Jacob saw his children far more now that he lived on another planet than he ever had while living on Earth. And yet he also missed them far more than he had ever thought possible. He found it ironically cruel that, though he was now willing, he was not able to talk to them anytime he wished.

He missed Mark's open laugh, and watching him dote on his small children the way Jacob had never been able to. Heck, he even missed arguing with him. their relationship was better than it had ever been, and yet even the most basic details of his existence were forbidden to his eldest child.

And as for his youngest child, his Sammie, he felt the distance between them all the more, knowing that she too was out there somewhere he couldn't reach. She had inherited her mother's beauty, a smile that shone for days, but the fire that lit up her eyes was all him – and he knew only too well how that fire could lead her into trouble. He regretted not being with her, fighting at her side, and sharing in her life.


He remembered the day he first put on his officer's uniform: his father had shaken his hand and his mother had smiled, tears in her eyes. They had been so proud; and so had he. He had worked hard to earn that uniform, and had ever after worn it with pride. It had been his whole life.

It was in uniform that he had distinguished himself, progressively adorning his shoulders with his rise up the ranks. It was in uniform that he had first met and wooed Marie, young and vibrant the pair of them – their whole future before them. it was in uniform that he had polished his medals until they shone, until his wife had had to force the cloth from his clenched hands so he could stand at the graves of his comrades, his friends. And it was in uniform that he had stood next to a beaming Sam, the only present member of a crumbling family, the blues of their matching uniforms blending together in her graduation photo.

The wool of the beige Tok'ra tunic – though Selmak had informed him that it was not wool, but in fact a synthetic polymer – was itchy against his skin. It caused him to wriggle his shoulders and scratch at his knees throughout the day in a vain attempt to alleviate some of his discomfort. Martouf had assured him, when he had presented the neatly pressed, though unimpressive pile, that it was a common enough reaction and that it would ease with time. Jacob wasn't so sure.


Jacob ignored the distinct sound of snickering I his head and concentrated on his swing, following the arc of the ball's trajectory as it flew over the green.

He ignored the bemused sigh as he, Jack and George walked after it, chatting quietly about inconsequential things as they enjoyed each others company without the presence of a hundred rampaging Jaffa swarming over the nearby sandbank.

Why hit the ball so far, he heard. If you're only going to follow after it?

Jacob gave an internal sigh of his own, but refused to take the bait. The Tok'ra had little in the way of recreation, workaholics the lot of them, and he was determined to enjoy his one 'day off', even if he had to endure the chuckles resounding inside his head.


Every Tok'ra base looked the same. Every planet they moved to looked like the last. He had never expected to miss Washington so much.

He missed the small garden Marie had so lovingly attended. He missed the shopping centre he had hated visiting but which Marie dragged him to every Sunday he was home. He missed the theatre on the corner where he and Marie would go, leaving the kids with a sitter while they snuck in the back to make out like teenagers.

On the base everything was crystal; so foreign, so alien. And nothing, nothing, reminded him of his wife.