Hathor! This is all your fault!
Apr. 8th, 2003 09:53 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ravenThe other thing - I finished the fic for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
hathy_col. It's a pile of crap because I can't check the accuracy of the canon quotes. However, I have been out of the fandom for a year, so I consider this an achievement.
Warnings - not nice. It ain't nice at all, folks. AU episode tag to The Light.
Stanger Things
Stranger things have happened.
People have overslept before. People have forgotten to set their alarm clocks. I’ve done it myself. Maybe the phone’s faulty. Maybe it fell off the hook. I’m running across town for no goddamn reason. I’ll ring the bell and he’ll come to the door, all wide-eyed and pissed off. I’ll have a few choice words for him, he’ll either be sarcastic or contrite, depending on his mood and how much sleep he’s had, I’ll stand by the door tapping my foot while he gets himself together, and we’ll hit the yellow brick road.
So the guy was acting strange yesterday. He subsists on a diet of chocolate and caffeine, he’s always wired. The general knows he’s stressed, he’ll forget yesterday’s little disagreement in no time. He’s got a soft spot for the kid. Hell, everyone does. He’s got a puppy-dog-eyes thing going on, but that’s not all. He’s too damn passionate about things. He’s my conscience.
He’s got a wicked sense of humour, too. Not that I said that out loud.
I could kill him for putting me through this, though. “You’re his commanding officer, yadda, yadda, yadda, why didn’t you prevent this, blah, blah, blah...” The truth of the matter is of course that God himself couldn’t stop Daniel doing anything he doesn’t want to. He must have been one hell of a spoiled kid.
Although, he didn’t have... never mind.
He doesn’t have any respect for our pseudo-gods, either. Snake-baiting, should it ever become an Olympic sport, would probably be his preferred method of taking over the universe. Some of the stuff he says to them… makes me laugh sometimes, drives me crazy most of the time. I wish he would realise that they’re gonna zat him/kick him/melt his brains, but he doesn’t exactly have self-preservation that high on his list of priorities. Could kill him for that, too. What he makes up for in IQ points, he loses in flagrant stupidity. If that makes sense. Shut up, Jack.
If I think about him, I tend to think he’s close by. Weird thought. He usually rides shotgun; I don’t let him drive considering he didn’t drive for a year on Abydos and still caused camel accidents. But if I take a look to my left, he isn’t there. It makes sense for me to be thinking about him, I’ve been sent to chew his ass out, but I don’t understand the way my mind works these days. Probably has something to do with the molecules of my brain being scrambled and unscrambled twice a week.
It’s getting late, but I’ve reached the place. Thankfully I don’t have to look discreet, I’m in civvies. I know I shouldn’t have to hurry, there’s nothing to worry about, but a little efficiency never hurt anyone. The elevator won’t come, but I was in Special Ops, I can cope with a few flights of stairs. They don’t even make me breathless.
I’m there. Daniel even walks shotgun; at my right side. “Hello, we’re peaceful explorers from the planet Earth…”
But he’s not there now.
Why’d he leave his door open?
Why’s it so cold in here?
Why... oh, holy God.
“Daniel!
Details crowd in; cold, wind, ice, open door, open windows, balcony, railing, wrong side...
When did it come to this? Why...
No questions. Not now. I’ll fix this, promise, if only you’ll come back to this side of the railing...
Take my hand.
I’m hanging on.
He’s not. His hands are so, so cold, so loose…
“Daniel...”
The wind’s blowing him now, making him unsteadier than he already is. His hands tighten on mine, they’re getting warmer, I’m getting warmer, I’m pulling him over… see? It’s okay, see?
He lets go.
I don’t need a theoretical astrophysicist to figure out what happens next.
[“Daniel? See you round.”]
The wind gets stronger...
[“Daniel was our soul, our conscience.”]
...and stronger...
[“We’re in very big trouble. They’re coming.”]
...and stronger. Until I can’t take it any more, and I run downstairs, down and down and down...
[“Daniel! There are no footsteps! Stay with us!”]
...and down...
[“I love you. I will always love you.”]
...until I’ve reached the lowest point I can possibly reach in this life or any other.
[“Charlie.”]
Blood flows softly, red contrast on the white of Daniel’s skin. There is no reality, no last words, no last snake-taunt, nothing but this, another life sacrificed for the fate of humankind or something else like that.
All that’s left is...
[“Ma’at.”]
I wish I could hear him say it one last time. I can only say it myself, let the word hang on the frosty air while I carefully, militarily inform the rest of the Happy Days Gang.
I listened when he told me things, I listened, I did, and if I’d only listened harder, watched more carefully, taken more care, he would have been in my arms, drunk enough to make words spill out in twenty-three different languages, and I would have been listening.
Ma’at. Useless, stupid, crappy mythology, couldn’t save my friend, and I’m doomed to eternal damnation as the white feather falls into the scale. I can fall down beside Daniel’s body, and wait in the cold morning, and feel the empty space at my right side, but it won’t make a particle of difference, not any more, not when there’s blood spilling over the floor.
Strange things... I came here today to get Daniel’s ass out of bed and tell him there were four guys dead back at the Mountain.
It’s okay to shed tears for a civilian. It’s in the handbook, I checked.
People will gather round in a minute, sensationalist vultures. Don’t ask, don’t tell, no-one’s ever gonna know the truth of this one except me and two others.
Three others, but the third’s lying at my feet.
White feather, mea culpa.
hathy_col. It's a pile of crap because I can't check the accuracy of the canon quotes. However, I have been out of the fandom for a year, so I consider this an achievement.Warnings - not nice. It ain't nice at all, folks. AU episode tag to The Light.
Stanger Things
Stranger things have happened.
People have overslept before. People have forgotten to set their alarm clocks. I’ve done it myself. Maybe the phone’s faulty. Maybe it fell off the hook. I’m running across town for no goddamn reason. I’ll ring the bell and he’ll come to the door, all wide-eyed and pissed off. I’ll have a few choice words for him, he’ll either be sarcastic or contrite, depending on his mood and how much sleep he’s had, I’ll stand by the door tapping my foot while he gets himself together, and we’ll hit the yellow brick road.
So the guy was acting strange yesterday. He subsists on a diet of chocolate and caffeine, he’s always wired. The general knows he’s stressed, he’ll forget yesterday’s little disagreement in no time. He’s got a soft spot for the kid. Hell, everyone does. He’s got a puppy-dog-eyes thing going on, but that’s not all. He’s too damn passionate about things. He’s my conscience.
He’s got a wicked sense of humour, too. Not that I said that out loud.
I could kill him for putting me through this, though. “You’re his commanding officer, yadda, yadda, yadda, why didn’t you prevent this, blah, blah, blah...” The truth of the matter is of course that God himself couldn’t stop Daniel doing anything he doesn’t want to. He must have been one hell of a spoiled kid.
Although, he didn’t have... never mind.
He doesn’t have any respect for our pseudo-gods, either. Snake-baiting, should it ever become an Olympic sport, would probably be his preferred method of taking over the universe. Some of the stuff he says to them… makes me laugh sometimes, drives me crazy most of the time. I wish he would realise that they’re gonna zat him/kick him/melt his brains, but he doesn’t exactly have self-preservation that high on his list of priorities. Could kill him for that, too. What he makes up for in IQ points, he loses in flagrant stupidity. If that makes sense. Shut up, Jack.
If I think about him, I tend to think he’s close by. Weird thought. He usually rides shotgun; I don’t let him drive considering he didn’t drive for a year on Abydos and still caused camel accidents. But if I take a look to my left, he isn’t there. It makes sense for me to be thinking about him, I’ve been sent to chew his ass out, but I don’t understand the way my mind works these days. Probably has something to do with the molecules of my brain being scrambled and unscrambled twice a week.
It’s getting late, but I’ve reached the place. Thankfully I don’t have to look discreet, I’m in civvies. I know I shouldn’t have to hurry, there’s nothing to worry about, but a little efficiency never hurt anyone. The elevator won’t come, but I was in Special Ops, I can cope with a few flights of stairs. They don’t even make me breathless.
I’m there. Daniel even walks shotgun; at my right side. “Hello, we’re peaceful explorers from the planet Earth…”
But he’s not there now.
Why’d he leave his door open?
Why’s it so cold in here?
Why... oh, holy God.
“Daniel!
Details crowd in; cold, wind, ice, open door, open windows, balcony, railing, wrong side...
When did it come to this? Why...
No questions. Not now. I’ll fix this, promise, if only you’ll come back to this side of the railing...
Take my hand.
I’m hanging on.
He’s not. His hands are so, so cold, so loose…
“Daniel...”
The wind’s blowing him now, making him unsteadier than he already is. His hands tighten on mine, they’re getting warmer, I’m getting warmer, I’m pulling him over… see? It’s okay, see?
He lets go.
I don’t need a theoretical astrophysicist to figure out what happens next.
[“Daniel? See you round.”]
The wind gets stronger...
[“Daniel was our soul, our conscience.”]
...and stronger...
[“We’re in very big trouble. They’re coming.”]
...and stronger. Until I can’t take it any more, and I run downstairs, down and down and down...
[“Daniel! There are no footsteps! Stay with us!”]
...and down...
[“I love you. I will always love you.”]
...until I’ve reached the lowest point I can possibly reach in this life or any other.
[“Charlie.”]
Blood flows softly, red contrast on the white of Daniel’s skin. There is no reality, no last words, no last snake-taunt, nothing but this, another life sacrificed for the fate of humankind or something else like that.
All that’s left is...
[“Ma’at.”]
I wish I could hear him say it one last time. I can only say it myself, let the word hang on the frosty air while I carefully, militarily inform the rest of the Happy Days Gang.
I listened when he told me things, I listened, I did, and if I’d only listened harder, watched more carefully, taken more care, he would have been in my arms, drunk enough to make words spill out in twenty-three different languages, and I would have been listening.
Ma’at. Useless, stupid, crappy mythology, couldn’t save my friend, and I’m doomed to eternal damnation as the white feather falls into the scale. I can fall down beside Daniel’s body, and wait in the cold morning, and feel the empty space at my right side, but it won’t make a particle of difference, not any more, not when there’s blood spilling over the floor.
Strange things... I came here today to get Daniel’s ass out of bed and tell him there were four guys dead back at the Mountain.
It’s okay to shed tears for a civilian. It’s in the handbook, I checked.
People will gather round in a minute, sensationalist vultures. Don’t ask, don’t tell, no-one’s ever gonna know the truth of this one except me and two others.
Three others, but the third’s lying at my feet.
White feather, mea culpa.
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no subject
on 2003-04-08 11:37 am (UTC)This fic is BRILLIANT. I really, really wouldn't. It's just.... oh my. C'etait tres, tres bien!
Saving and printing to re-read later. Take a bow girl!
no subject
on 2003-04-08 12:41 pm (UTC)Oh, you...
*clumsy bow*
*disappears into distance*