You know, I actually have a Bra'tac-centric story that got to about 3,500 words and then petered out because I didn't know enough about the Jaffa political landscape in S9-S10 (I think was the issue), and I could never be motivated to canon review.

Bratac also shows up in the ashrak fic and the pre-canon Teal'c fic! But you're right; there is always room for more Bra'tac fic.

Therefore: bits of Bra'tac, after Changeling, recovering and coming to term with Tretonin and these weird humans!

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"Do you know what it is like on Chulak, when a warrior can no longer carry a symbiote?" Bra'tac asked, and the doctor – this woman doctor, Dr. Frasier – looked at him with an expression that carried its share of amusement, or perhaps forbearance. No lack of respect, at least so far as the Tau'ri were wont to show it. But Bra'tac had the impression that he was being humored.

"I don't," she said.

Bra'tac exhaled. "The family of this aged man, his chal'tii, his comrades, would gather around," he said. "As he declined into the afterlife they would observe the ancient chants. There would be singing, feasting, howling."

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A strange sort of ingeniousness. Among the Tau'ri there were those who could not rise from their chairs, so they had devised a chair that could carry them about as though they were walking. It was such a common affliction, apparently, that it was taken without surprise that they had such contraptions ready on hand.

Bra'tac wheeled into the SGC's commissary feeling strangely unhungry. Perhaps it was because he no longer had to eat to support the symbiote which suckled at the nutrients his body provided in its pouch. Perhaps it was because he had not yet come to terms with the shame of being so weak, of knowing that his ultimate independence from the Goa'uld was inextricably wound with his weakness.

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in line in front of him.

"Bra'tac," she greeted.

"Major Carter," he said, and glanced away, toward the food lying on the counter, much of it now at eye level. Difficult to reach.

Major Carter followed his gaze, and a good-natured wryness came into her tone. "Yeah, they don't really make that accessible, do they?" she asked. "Tell you what." She grabbed another tray from the stack. "Just tell me what you want, and I'll grab it for you."

"Appreciated," Bra'tac said, and it was. Though he'd have more appreciated having no need to appreciate this.

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that the weakness of women was their station, not their nature. Just as the death of men was their station, as the subjugation of all Jaffa was their station. The Goa'uld had created these stations in antiquity and forced all Jaffa to submit, but while Bra'tac had seen the latter two for what they were, it had taken the Tau'ri to show him the first.

And now a drug of Tau'ri and Tok'ra design coursed through his veins, and he sat in a rolling mechanism which the Tau'ri provided for their weak and wounded, and these foreign revelations ran through his mind. The Tau'ri muddled matters. Major Carter was a warrior and a woman – two stations which in the Jaffa were never meant to cross. A warrior and a scientist, similarly. A warrior who looked on the fact that he could hardly stand, that his belly was empty of the prim'ta, and whose response was not even to blink, but to carry his food and invite him to her table.

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