I don't do fanfic, but....
Feb. 28th, 2005 12:03 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
redthroatedloon...I had to get this one out of my system. This is an SG-1 post-Moebius II short, sort of a speculation of what may have come later. It's not beta'd, and written quickly, so apologies to all....
The tent always felt cool and pleasant in the late afternoon, a nice contrast from the dusty heat outside, where the evening breezes had not yet had the chance to bring relief. The only sounds that drifted through the opening, along with bright sunlight, were those of the children, who ran through the camp shouting at their games, still too young and heedless to care about heat and sweat.
Children and fools. Katep stood patiently and watched as O'Neill screamed, his face distorted by rage and grief.
"She didn't have to die," he shouted.
One of the three men who waited behind Katep shifted warily, and Katep raised a hand, holding them back. He kept his eyes on Daniel, who had been accepting the stream of curses and threats for much longer than Katep would have countenanced. Perhaps sensing this, Daniel glanced at Katep for a moment, and nodded almost imperceptibly. After seven years and two rebellions -- one successful -- the two men understood each other perfectly. Katep would allow Daniel to handle the situation unless things became violent. Then it was Katep's responsibility, as the head of the village, to do what was necessary to keep the peace.
However, there were also formalities to observe, and the moment O'Neill stopped to catch his breath, Katep stepped forward. "O'Neill," he said, loudly and slowly. "We mourn for your loss. You do not have to worry -- she will have the funeral befitting the wife of a great leader. Nothing will be spared."
To no avail. As usual, O'Neill ignored him, remaining focused on his opponent. "It wasn't necessary," he panted. "She didn't have to die."
Daniel shook his head, and after bowing slightly to Katep (to acknowledge the discourtesy and apologize on O'Neill's behalf), he shrugged tiredly. "You both knew the rules," he said, his voice level. "Nothing that would affect the timeline. You should have been more careful."
Both of O'Neill's hands pulled into tight fists, as if he were barely restraining himself. Katep watched carefully. This was a violent man. "We could have gone away," O'Neill growled. "Nobody would have known."
Daniel smiled slightly. "It's not a matter of anyone knowing," he said patiently. "You knew that. Samantha knew that. It was a matter of adding to the gene pool. It was necessary."
"Damn it, she deserved better!"
Katep could see that Daniel's temper was starting to fray. There was, Katep knew, a great deal of heat beneath that cool exterior, but his friend usually kept it carefully hidden. "Yes, she did," he answered slowly, each word carefully enunciated. "And things would have been a lot easier if you two had told us when you first knew about it. There is only so much you can do at this level of technology. The midwife tried the best that she could, but it's impossible to keep conditions sanitary here. At that point in the pregnancy, septicemia was a real possibility. You should have known that. Janet would have told you that."
"Janet? Who the fuck is Janet?"
Daniel took a breath, and closed his eyes for a moment. In the background, the women wailed ceremoniously, doing their best to honor the dead. But there was no real feeling in it. She had been a stranger to them.
When O'Neill spoke again, his tone was measured, flat. There was nothing in it but hate. "You don't care," he said. "You really don't care. First you kill Teal'c, then you kill Samantha. You're a fuckin' murderer."
This was a serious insult, one Katep would have never let pass, but Daniel didn't seem to take it as such. His face remained void of expression. "Teal'c -- your Teal'c -- died because his symbiote matured, and he knew that to allow it to live would be death to this civilization and Earth's future. So he asked me to destroy it, and he died. If I could have changed that, I would have. He was very like the man I once knew. As for you two..."
For a moment, something seemed to catch in his throat. "Sam -- my Sam -- died to keep this timeline clean. She was the one who told us the rules; she made us swear before she died that we would do anything -- anything -- before we'd violate Earth's future history."
O'Neill started to speak, but Daniel held up a finger and continued. "When my Jack and my Teal'c died, it was left up to me to maintain the timeline. I'm sorry that Samantha died. But neither she, nor you, nor I, are important. These people are important. The future of this world is important. And if you, and she, had gotten that, had put your mission before your hormones, we wouldn't be having this conversation."
Katep knew immediately that, whatever Daniel had just said, it was too much. He jerked his head sharply at his men, but in spite of his watchfulness, he was almost too late. O'Neill launched himself at Daniel, his hands going straight for Daniel's throat. It took almost a full minute for them to drag O'Neill out of the tent, while the man screamed, "You goddamned faggot! What the hell would you know about love? You sonova..."
A moment or two, and Katep and Daniel were once again alone in the tent. Daniel stood rubbing his throat almost absently, and they listened as the cries faded into the distance.
Katep put a sympathetic arm on his arm. "Do not worry," he said. "We will give him his drink, and in time, another woman, and he will be better."
There was something dark in those eyes, something Katep always feared seeing. For those moments, Daniel seemed less than human, and more, and Katep was reminded of Ra, whose thoughts were unknowable. But then, thankfully, his friend returned to himself, took a breath, and patted Katep's hand where it rested on his shoulder. "Yes," he said. "I'm sure you're right. Thank you."
They stood companionably for a moment, and then Daniel said, "I'd better begin preparing for the ceremonies. O'Neill will not be able to say the words; I will say them for him. Later, then?"
Katep nodded. As he turned to leave, he had a thought, turned, and said, "It is a pity that your friends were not returned with their original souls. The gods must have been in a hurry. Perhaps next time, they will do better."
"Perhaps," Daniel said.
The tent always felt cool and pleasant in the late afternoon, a nice contrast from the dusty heat outside, where the evening breezes had not yet had the chance to bring relief. The only sounds that drifted through the opening, along with bright sunlight, were those of the children, who ran through the camp shouting at their games, still too young and heedless to care about heat and sweat.
Children and fools. Katep stood patiently and watched as O'Neill screamed, his face distorted by rage and grief.
"She didn't have to die," he shouted.
One of the three men who waited behind Katep shifted warily, and Katep raised a hand, holding them back. He kept his eyes on Daniel, who had been accepting the stream of curses and threats for much longer than Katep would have countenanced. Perhaps sensing this, Daniel glanced at Katep for a moment, and nodded almost imperceptibly. After seven years and two rebellions -- one successful -- the two men understood each other perfectly. Katep would allow Daniel to handle the situation unless things became violent. Then it was Katep's responsibility, as the head of the village, to do what was necessary to keep the peace.
However, there were also formalities to observe, and the moment O'Neill stopped to catch his breath, Katep stepped forward. "O'Neill," he said, loudly and slowly. "We mourn for your loss. You do not have to worry -- she will have the funeral befitting the wife of a great leader. Nothing will be spared."
To no avail. As usual, O'Neill ignored him, remaining focused on his opponent. "It wasn't necessary," he panted. "She didn't have to die."
Daniel shook his head, and after bowing slightly to Katep (to acknowledge the discourtesy and apologize on O'Neill's behalf), he shrugged tiredly. "You both knew the rules," he said, his voice level. "Nothing that would affect the timeline. You should have been more careful."
Both of O'Neill's hands pulled into tight fists, as if he were barely restraining himself. Katep watched carefully. This was a violent man. "We could have gone away," O'Neill growled. "Nobody would have known."
Daniel smiled slightly. "It's not a matter of anyone knowing," he said patiently. "You knew that. Samantha knew that. It was a matter of adding to the gene pool. It was necessary."
"Damn it, she deserved better!"
Katep could see that Daniel's temper was starting to fray. There was, Katep knew, a great deal of heat beneath that cool exterior, but his friend usually kept it carefully hidden. "Yes, she did," he answered slowly, each word carefully enunciated. "And things would have been a lot easier if you two had told us when you first knew about it. There is only so much you can do at this level of technology. The midwife tried the best that she could, but it's impossible to keep conditions sanitary here. At that point in the pregnancy, septicemia was a real possibility. You should have known that. Janet would have told you that."
"Janet? Who the fuck is Janet?"
Daniel took a breath, and closed his eyes for a moment. In the background, the women wailed ceremoniously, doing their best to honor the dead. But there was no real feeling in it. She had been a stranger to them.
When O'Neill spoke again, his tone was measured, flat. There was nothing in it but hate. "You don't care," he said. "You really don't care. First you kill Teal'c, then you kill Samantha. You're a fuckin' murderer."
This was a serious insult, one Katep would have never let pass, but Daniel didn't seem to take it as such. His face remained void of expression. "Teal'c -- your Teal'c -- died because his symbiote matured, and he knew that to allow it to live would be death to this civilization and Earth's future. So he asked me to destroy it, and he died. If I could have changed that, I would have. He was very like the man I once knew. As for you two..."
For a moment, something seemed to catch in his throat. "Sam -- my Sam -- died to keep this timeline clean. She was the one who told us the rules; she made us swear before she died that we would do anything -- anything -- before we'd violate Earth's future history."
O'Neill started to speak, but Daniel held up a finger and continued. "When my Jack and my Teal'c died, it was left up to me to maintain the timeline. I'm sorry that Samantha died. But neither she, nor you, nor I, are important. These people are important. The future of this world is important. And if you, and she, had gotten that, had put your mission before your hormones, we wouldn't be having this conversation."
Katep knew immediately that, whatever Daniel had just said, it was too much. He jerked his head sharply at his men, but in spite of his watchfulness, he was almost too late. O'Neill launched himself at Daniel, his hands going straight for Daniel's throat. It took almost a full minute for them to drag O'Neill out of the tent, while the man screamed, "You goddamned faggot! What the hell would you know about love? You sonova..."
A moment or two, and Katep and Daniel were once again alone in the tent. Daniel stood rubbing his throat almost absently, and they listened as the cries faded into the distance.
Katep put a sympathetic arm on his arm. "Do not worry," he said. "We will give him his drink, and in time, another woman, and he will be better."
There was something dark in those eyes, something Katep always feared seeing. For those moments, Daniel seemed less than human, and more, and Katep was reminded of Ra, whose thoughts were unknowable. But then, thankfully, his friend returned to himself, took a breath, and patted Katep's hand where it rested on his shoulder. "Yes," he said. "I'm sure you're right. Thank you."
They stood companionably for a moment, and then Daniel said, "I'd better begin preparing for the ceremonies. O'Neill will not be able to say the words; I will say them for him. Later, then?"
Katep nodded. As he turned to leave, he had a thought, turned, and said, "It is a pity that your friends were not returned with their original souls. The gods must have been in a hurry. Perhaps next time, they will do better."
"Perhaps," Daniel said.
