A Thousand Cuts
Sep. 8th, 2022 08:44 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
stringertheoryTitle: A Thousand Cuts
Rating: PG
Fandom: Stargate SG-1
Characters: Teal’c, Daniel Jackson
Word Count: 1853
Categories: gen, introspection, angst
Spoilers: Set shortly after “Maternal Instinct” (3.20); spoilers for the same.
Warnings: none
Summary: Teal’c ponders the massacre on Chulak, and finds he isn’t the only one. Late one night around a fire, he and Daniel Jackson talk about loss and the Jaffa.
Teal’c mourned Apophis’s attack on Chulak quietly, without any outward signs. He had lived for many years, and he had seen many Jaffa die in that time. Sometimes their deaths had been at his hands. He had long ago learned that grief was a luxury that would save no one.
Still, the deaths on Chulak weighed on his mind.
While most of the time the Goa’uld were focused on the elimination of enemy soldiers, he had witnessed them kill their own Jaffa before. Death was often used as a form of punishment, the personality of the particular Goa’uld determining whether that punishment was meted out to the offender or to those the offender cared about. The Goa’uld would also kill simply for the pleasure of it, giving in to the whim to exert their power in the most brutal ways possible. Sometimes they lashed out because they were angry, other times because they were bored. But usually they only killed small numbers of their Jaffa at any given time.
It was not unheard of for entire battle squadrons to face the fatal wrath of their master, though, should their failure be great enough to rouse it. Such a thing occurred rarely—not even the most unhinged Goa’uld would carelessly discard such a large number of warriors at once—but it did occur. And when a Goa’uld conquered another’s territory, the defeated god’s senior officers and personal guard were almost always killed as both a precaution and an example. Any who failed to switch their allegiance after that, soldier or not, were similarly disposed of.
The fact was that threat of death from the Goa’uld was a constant for a Jaffa, a dark counter to the long life carrying their larvae offered. It was the fated end of most Jaffa to either be killed by their master or because of them. Still, the slaughter Bra’tac had described was beyond anything Teal’c had heard of before. He accepted the guilt he felt at the loss, but did not allow it to wound him.
It had been nearly three weeks since Teal’c had found Bra’tac in the halls of the SGC, clothing stained with another Jaffa’s blood. SG-1 had taken only a few days of rest during that period, and were even now camped out on another world, continuing their search for answers and allies.
It was third watch, and Teal’c was alone by the campfire, contemplating loss.
He picked up faint noises from the tent behind him and identified them as belonging to Daniel Jackson. It was early yet for him to be rising to take on the final watch of the night, and Teal’c wondered what might have pulled him from his sleep. Perhaps he, too, had been pondering recent events. Teal’c would not have been surprised if that were the case; Daniel Jackson thought much about much.
Teal’c added another log to the fire while he waited for the answer, and a few minutes later Daniel Jackson appeared and sat beside him. Neither spoke, and for several minutes the only sounds were the crackling of the fire and the rustling of the woods. Then Daniel Jackson’s voice broke the quiet.
“I’m sorry about Chulak.”
So Daniel Jackson’s thoughts had been closely mirroring his own. Teal’c nodded but did not speak. He knew there would be more.
“I feel a bit responsible,” Daniel Jackson continued, and Teal’c could hear the guilt in his tone. “I mean, we were the ones who sent the child into hiding.”
“We could have done nothing else,” Teal’c point out. “Apophis cannot be allowed to have the child.”
“I know that, but the fact remains that a lot of Jaffa died as a result of what we did.”
“Was it because of what we did?”
Teal’c raised one eyebrow in Daniel Jackson’s direction, a challenge, and watched emotions wash across the man’s face. Teal’c wasn’t one to shoulder the blame for the choices of others—his own were heavy enough—but he knew Daniel Jackson did not let things go as easily. And yet this was one burden he did not need to bear.
“Apophis may very well have made his harsesis with another host besides Sha’re,” Teal’c told him, “and we would have been none the wiser to its existence.”
Teal’c noted that Daniel Jackson did not flinch at the mention of his wife’s name, though his brow did furrow slightly. It was an improvement over the past, an indication that he was healing, and Teal’c was pleased to see it.
“Or he might have kept a closer guard on her as the child’s arrival neared,” Daniel Jackson replied, “preventing her from escaping to Abydos, which led to us being able to interfere in his plans.”
Teal’c inclined his head. “Or Jacob Carter might not have been sent to Netu, prompting our rescue mission and your capture, through which Apophis obtained proof that we had been involved in the child’s disappearance.”
“Or, or, or,” Daniel Jackson echoed with a sardonic smile. “I know, we can talk ourselves in circles about why it happened. I already have.”
Teal’c was not surprised. Daniel Jackson pondered things more deeply and broadly than anyone else Teal’c had ever met. And he was strongly impacted by everything that happened around him. Teal’c studied him for a moment before he spoke again.
“I do not doubt that it was my involvement in the child’s disappearance that led Apophis to Chulak,” he admitted. “But I was not the one who ordered the massacre. Apophis alone is to blame for what occurred.”
Daniel Jackson looked at him in the glow of the fire, the flicker of the flames seeming to shift his expression from compassion to remorse and back again. “I’m sorry so many Jaffa died.”
“As am I.”
Looking away again, focusing on the flickering flames, Daniel Jackson rubbed his hands together in a nervous gesture. He licked his lips before turning back to Teal’c, and Teal’c once again saw shame in his eyes, along with regret.
“I hadn’t really thought about it before—hadn’t let myself think about it, truthfully—but every time we go through the Gate, we know we could run into Jaffa and that we might have to kill them, whether to save ourselves or others. That just by being out there we might have to kill your people.”
“It is an inevitability that we will.”
“That you will have to kill your people.”
Daniel Jackson’s tone was probing, and Teal’c met his gaze. Teal’c recalled how, in their very first meeting, he had killed Jaffa he had known for longer than Daniel Jackson had been alive, simply because he had believed in Colonel O’Neill and the conviction in the promise he had made. In all his long years, for all the many Jaffa Teal’c had killed with his own hands, those deaths had been both the easiest and the most difficult. The promise—and his belief in its veracity—had made his choice easy; what he knew he would lose in the process had made it difficult.
“The Jaffa have been killing each other for as long as the Tau’ri have existed,” he pointed out. “Perhaps longer. The only thing that has changed for me is that I no longer kill in the name of false gods.”
“But every Jaffa killed is still one lost to freedom.”
“Indeed.”
Teal’c might not let himself dwell on the Jaffa he had had to kill, the ones he would yet have to, but he still mourned what might have been. To die without knowing the freedom you believed in was one thing; to die without even acknowledging or understanding that that freedom existed was a unique tragedy. He burned for all Jaffa to claim that freedom as their own, yet accepted that many never would. And that he might be the one who kept them from getting the chance, by whatever weapon or circumstance. Jaffa blood would be spilled; it was one of the inevitabilities of the galaxy.
“Does it ever bother you?” Daniel Jackson earnestly asked.
Teal’c considered for a moment before answering.
“While I regret the lives that are lost, allowing such feelings to affect me serves no purpose. There will always be Jaffa who will never see the Goa’uld for what they truly are. If we are to free any Jaffa, there are some that will have to be stopped. With death, if necessary.”
“That’s a blunt worldview.”
“It is simply the truth.”
“Yeah, no,” Daniel Jackson sighed. “I’m not disagreeing with you, I just wish it weren’t the case.”
Yes, the deaths of Jaffa would bother Daniel Jackson despite what they had done to him, what they continued to do on countless worlds, willingly or not. Despite what Teal’c himself had done. Teal’c had seem him react the same way to the conflicts of other cultures, including those of the Tau’ri themselves. Daniel Jackson wanted to save everyone in the galaxy, even from themselves, despite the fact that he knew he could not. Teal’c admired and respected that about him, even as he acknowledged the lack of it in himself. He was too pragmatic to even wish for such a thing.
Teal’c looked up at the sky, speckled with unfamiliar stars. He had seen many such skies, had been to numerous planets and moons. And perhaps it would be many years before he would be able to seek rest beneath the stars he knew best, the ones on Chulak. He could find peace with that.
“We can only do what we are able to do, Daniel Jackson. But we must do it, no matter how difficult.”
“I know.”
Daniel Jackson’s voice was weary and resigned. In the flickering light, he suddenly looked much older, and Teal’c contemplated everything he had been through in his short life. Then he took a deep breath and Teal’c could see the fight building back up in him; Daniel Jackson might be resigned to their battle, but he had not given up. And in that moment, the thought occurred to Teal’c that, without the Daniel Jacksons of the galaxy, the fight might not be won at all.
After a few minutes of quiet, Teal’c laid a hand on Daniel Jackson’s shoulder. “I must begin my kel’no’reem for the night.”
“Yes, of course. I have the watch.”
“Goodnight, Daniel Jackson.”
“Goodnight, Teal’c.”
Teal’c rose, but did not walk away. Clasping his hands behind him, he stood still and waited until Daniel Jackson looked up at him. Then he slowly inclined his head, a nod of acknowledgement and gratitude.
“And thank you.”
Daniel Jackson blinked up at him in confusion for the span of a heartbeat, before he nodded in return and gave the barest hint of a smile.
“You’re welcome.”
Teal’c nodded again and moved toward the tent he would be sharing with Major Carter. Before ducking inside, he glanced back at Daniel Jackson. He was sitting in profile, and Teal’c could tell that though he was staring into the fire, his mind was elsewhere. Teal’c left him to it and entered the tent.
Rating: PG
Fandom: Stargate SG-1
Characters: Teal’c, Daniel Jackson
Word Count: 1853
Categories: gen, introspection, angst
Spoilers: Set shortly after “Maternal Instinct” (3.20); spoilers for the same.
Warnings: none
Summary: Teal’c ponders the massacre on Chulak, and finds he isn’t the only one. Late one night around a fire, he and Daniel Jackson talk about loss and the Jaffa.
Teal’c mourned Apophis’s attack on Chulak quietly, without any outward signs. He had lived for many years, and he had seen many Jaffa die in that time. Sometimes their deaths had been at his hands. He had long ago learned that grief was a luxury that would save no one.
Still, the deaths on Chulak weighed on his mind.
While most of the time the Goa’uld were focused on the elimination of enemy soldiers, he had witnessed them kill their own Jaffa before. Death was often used as a form of punishment, the personality of the particular Goa’uld determining whether that punishment was meted out to the offender or to those the offender cared about. The Goa’uld would also kill simply for the pleasure of it, giving in to the whim to exert their power in the most brutal ways possible. Sometimes they lashed out because they were angry, other times because they were bored. But usually they only killed small numbers of their Jaffa at any given time.
It was not unheard of for entire battle squadrons to face the fatal wrath of their master, though, should their failure be great enough to rouse it. Such a thing occurred rarely—not even the most unhinged Goa’uld would carelessly discard such a large number of warriors at once—but it did occur. And when a Goa’uld conquered another’s territory, the defeated god’s senior officers and personal guard were almost always killed as both a precaution and an example. Any who failed to switch their allegiance after that, soldier or not, were similarly disposed of.
The fact was that threat of death from the Goa’uld was a constant for a Jaffa, a dark counter to the long life carrying their larvae offered. It was the fated end of most Jaffa to either be killed by their master or because of them. Still, the slaughter Bra’tac had described was beyond anything Teal’c had heard of before. He accepted the guilt he felt at the loss, but did not allow it to wound him.
It had been nearly three weeks since Teal’c had found Bra’tac in the halls of the SGC, clothing stained with another Jaffa’s blood. SG-1 had taken only a few days of rest during that period, and were even now camped out on another world, continuing their search for answers and allies.
It was third watch, and Teal’c was alone by the campfire, contemplating loss.
He picked up faint noises from the tent behind him and identified them as belonging to Daniel Jackson. It was early yet for him to be rising to take on the final watch of the night, and Teal’c wondered what might have pulled him from his sleep. Perhaps he, too, had been pondering recent events. Teal’c would not have been surprised if that were the case; Daniel Jackson thought much about much.
Teal’c added another log to the fire while he waited for the answer, and a few minutes later Daniel Jackson appeared and sat beside him. Neither spoke, and for several minutes the only sounds were the crackling of the fire and the rustling of the woods. Then Daniel Jackson’s voice broke the quiet.
“I’m sorry about Chulak.”
So Daniel Jackson’s thoughts had been closely mirroring his own. Teal’c nodded but did not speak. He knew there would be more.
“I feel a bit responsible,” Daniel Jackson continued, and Teal’c could hear the guilt in his tone. “I mean, we were the ones who sent the child into hiding.”
“We could have done nothing else,” Teal’c point out. “Apophis cannot be allowed to have the child.”
“I know that, but the fact remains that a lot of Jaffa died as a result of what we did.”
“Was it because of what we did?”
Teal’c raised one eyebrow in Daniel Jackson’s direction, a challenge, and watched emotions wash across the man’s face. Teal’c wasn’t one to shoulder the blame for the choices of others—his own were heavy enough—but he knew Daniel Jackson did not let things go as easily. And yet this was one burden he did not need to bear.
“Apophis may very well have made his harsesis with another host besides Sha’re,” Teal’c told him, “and we would have been none the wiser to its existence.”
Teal’c noted that Daniel Jackson did not flinch at the mention of his wife’s name, though his brow did furrow slightly. It was an improvement over the past, an indication that he was healing, and Teal’c was pleased to see it.
“Or he might have kept a closer guard on her as the child’s arrival neared,” Daniel Jackson replied, “preventing her from escaping to Abydos, which led to us being able to interfere in his plans.”
Teal’c inclined his head. “Or Jacob Carter might not have been sent to Netu, prompting our rescue mission and your capture, through which Apophis obtained proof that we had been involved in the child’s disappearance.”
“Or, or, or,” Daniel Jackson echoed with a sardonic smile. “I know, we can talk ourselves in circles about why it happened. I already have.”
Teal’c was not surprised. Daniel Jackson pondered things more deeply and broadly than anyone else Teal’c had ever met. And he was strongly impacted by everything that happened around him. Teal’c studied him for a moment before he spoke again.
“I do not doubt that it was my involvement in the child’s disappearance that led Apophis to Chulak,” he admitted. “But I was not the one who ordered the massacre. Apophis alone is to blame for what occurred.”
Daniel Jackson looked at him in the glow of the fire, the flicker of the flames seeming to shift his expression from compassion to remorse and back again. “I’m sorry so many Jaffa died.”
“As am I.”
Looking away again, focusing on the flickering flames, Daniel Jackson rubbed his hands together in a nervous gesture. He licked his lips before turning back to Teal’c, and Teal’c once again saw shame in his eyes, along with regret.
“I hadn’t really thought about it before—hadn’t let myself think about it, truthfully—but every time we go through the Gate, we know we could run into Jaffa and that we might have to kill them, whether to save ourselves or others. That just by being out there we might have to kill your people.”
“It is an inevitability that we will.”
“That you will have to kill your people.”
Daniel Jackson’s tone was probing, and Teal’c met his gaze. Teal’c recalled how, in their very first meeting, he had killed Jaffa he had known for longer than Daniel Jackson had been alive, simply because he had believed in Colonel O’Neill and the conviction in the promise he had made. In all his long years, for all the many Jaffa Teal’c had killed with his own hands, those deaths had been both the easiest and the most difficult. The promise—and his belief in its veracity—had made his choice easy; what he knew he would lose in the process had made it difficult.
“The Jaffa have been killing each other for as long as the Tau’ri have existed,” he pointed out. “Perhaps longer. The only thing that has changed for me is that I no longer kill in the name of false gods.”
“But every Jaffa killed is still one lost to freedom.”
“Indeed.”
Teal’c might not let himself dwell on the Jaffa he had had to kill, the ones he would yet have to, but he still mourned what might have been. To die without knowing the freedom you believed in was one thing; to die without even acknowledging or understanding that that freedom existed was a unique tragedy. He burned for all Jaffa to claim that freedom as their own, yet accepted that many never would. And that he might be the one who kept them from getting the chance, by whatever weapon or circumstance. Jaffa blood would be spilled; it was one of the inevitabilities of the galaxy.
“Does it ever bother you?” Daniel Jackson earnestly asked.
Teal’c considered for a moment before answering.
“While I regret the lives that are lost, allowing such feelings to affect me serves no purpose. There will always be Jaffa who will never see the Goa’uld for what they truly are. If we are to free any Jaffa, there are some that will have to be stopped. With death, if necessary.”
“That’s a blunt worldview.”
“It is simply the truth.”
“Yeah, no,” Daniel Jackson sighed. “I’m not disagreeing with you, I just wish it weren’t the case.”
Yes, the deaths of Jaffa would bother Daniel Jackson despite what they had done to him, what they continued to do on countless worlds, willingly or not. Despite what Teal’c himself had done. Teal’c had seem him react the same way to the conflicts of other cultures, including those of the Tau’ri themselves. Daniel Jackson wanted to save everyone in the galaxy, even from themselves, despite the fact that he knew he could not. Teal’c admired and respected that about him, even as he acknowledged the lack of it in himself. He was too pragmatic to even wish for such a thing.
Teal’c looked up at the sky, speckled with unfamiliar stars. He had seen many such skies, had been to numerous planets and moons. And perhaps it would be many years before he would be able to seek rest beneath the stars he knew best, the ones on Chulak. He could find peace with that.
“We can only do what we are able to do, Daniel Jackson. But we must do it, no matter how difficult.”
“I know.”
Daniel Jackson’s voice was weary and resigned. In the flickering light, he suddenly looked much older, and Teal’c contemplated everything he had been through in his short life. Then he took a deep breath and Teal’c could see the fight building back up in him; Daniel Jackson might be resigned to their battle, but he had not given up. And in that moment, the thought occurred to Teal’c that, without the Daniel Jacksons of the galaxy, the fight might not be won at all.
After a few minutes of quiet, Teal’c laid a hand on Daniel Jackson’s shoulder. “I must begin my kel’no’reem for the night.”
“Yes, of course. I have the watch.”
“Goodnight, Daniel Jackson.”
“Goodnight, Teal’c.”
Teal’c rose, but did not walk away. Clasping his hands behind him, he stood still and waited until Daniel Jackson looked up at him. Then he slowly inclined his head, a nod of acknowledgement and gratitude.
“And thank you.”
Daniel Jackson blinked up at him in confusion for the span of a heartbeat, before he nodded in return and gave the barest hint of a smile.
“You’re welcome.”
Teal’c nodded again and moved toward the tent he would be sharing with Major Carter. Before ducking inside, he glanced back at Daniel Jackson. He was sitting in profile, and Teal’c could tell that though he was staring into the fire, his mind was elsewhere. Teal’c left him to it and entered the tent.