Post by Aleksei Trevelyan on Jul 6, 2007 23:27:11 GMT -5
This is the angstiest fic I have ever written (done about a year ago, so it conflicts with some of the established Valcentica lore). It delves a little bit into the incredibly tangled relationship between Alec and Kitty.
Warning: Contains MASSIVE SPOILERS for the fifth-season Stargate: SG-1 episode "Meridian". You've been warned!
Also: Cheesiest ending EVAR.
Also Warning: EMO KITTY ALERT!
----
She didn't waver when the light switched on. She didn't stir when the familiar clomp, clomp, clomp of booted feet came closer and stopped at her bedside. She didn't even twitch when the man who was occupying the boots sat down next to her and ruffled her hair. All she could do was stare at the picture in her hands and cry.
"My God," she said hoarsely. "He's really gone, isn't he."
"Well, I don't know about that," he said, patting her on the arm awkwardly. "After all, you saw him go up in that energy cloud thing. He's not dead, not really."
"But he's not here." That, at least, was irrefutable.
"He'll be back. That's how these things work, Kitty." Alec sighed, tugging at the sleeve of his BDU. "Episodic TV. Remember, they couldn't keep Spock down for long."
A tear splattered onto the frame's glass, temporarily distorting the image of the archaeologist and the cogne (undercover, of course). When she didn't say anything more, Alec got up to leave. He was almost out the door when he glanced back at the girl who had been his partner for the past five canonical years. A sniffling murmur made him close the door. "What?" he asked, returning to the bed. It wasn't like him to be so understanding, not at all. He suspected in the corner of his mind that it was her mènesse roots becoming active again, but pushed it aside. "What?" he asked again, a little more softly.
"Could have saved him. I could, I mean." She sniffed.
Alec sighed. "No. No, you couldn't have."
"Yes, I could!" she yelled, standing up angrily. "God damn it, Alec, the whole purpose of the Oath is to preserve life!" The picture crashed from her hand, and the glass shattered. "I had the words right here," she hissed, pointing to her head, "Right-goddamn-here, Alec, all the syllables ready and waiting, all lined up in a row! And I didn't say them! I didn't think the last one!"
"It would have killed you."
She glanced at him sideways. "You don't know that."
"No," he confirmed, "I don't. But if it didn't, the SO would for sure. Use your brain, Kitty! You'd be kicked out of the service, exiled to some forgotten canon the Powers only know where, possibly even executed!"
"Madame Guillotine is my preference," she droned, almost longing to "look into the little window and sneeze into the sack".
"I think they'd have you drawn and quartered," he said stubbornly. "He'll be back in a year. We know this."
"It'll be a year too long," Kitty said, leaning down to clean up the remnants of the frame.
Alec slammed his hand down on the empty air in front of him, which he had made solid for effect. "Damn it, Kitty! Stop being melodramatic! It's contagious! Before you know it, I'll be talking like William Shatner and Sam will start watching Days of our Lives!"
Kitty had jumped when Alec had smacked the air. She looked at her hand, wondering at the tiny shards of glass now stuck in it, and reveling at the pain. At least it's something to feel, she thought morosely.
"Oh, God," Alec said. "I'm sorry." He took her hand, and she flinched at his touch, but all he did was remove the small, sharp pieces of glass. He nicked the palm of his hand with the largest shard, by accident or design, and started a healing spell. Kitty tugged her hand out of his grasp before he could finish.
"Dr. Fraiser will see to it," she said quietly.
"None of this nonsense, Kitty," Alec said sharply. "Let me fix it, damn you," he said, grabbing her wrist and yanking her arm forwards. She stayed quiet and compliant while he finished the spell. He dropped what once held the (now slightly-bloodstained) picture and murmured a few words in the Speech. The broken glass melted together and hardened, and the picture became clean.
She sighed, rubbing at her hand where the wounds had been. "You're right...you're right. It's just...it's a lot different seeing it on TV than it is actually being here, you know?" Her voice cracked a little, but she tried to cover it. "Actually seeing it. Being there in the room as he flatlined. Watching...watching Jacob stop the device. Yes, so he ascended. Seeing it doesn't make me feel any better. I feel like the whole base is haunted."
"There's always Auhw-t," Alec said softly.
Kitty smiled despite herself. "Your Ailurin's improved. Yeah. Timeheart. There's always that."
Alec smirked. "I bet you have a whole army of Daniels in your Timeheart."
Kitty shook her head. "No. No. Just the one, that is, if he doesn't mind being there. Too many would make him...not special. You know?"
"Yeah." He nodded. "I know."
They sat like that for a few minutes, the double-O agent-turned-traitor-turned-cogne and the former mènesse, lost in memories of the sweet archaeologist who had been their friend. "There is something," Alec said suddenly. "It'll make you feel better." Taking a leaf right from the Hauhai'h's book here, specifically the eighth one, but I doubt She'll mind.
"A whole pint of Ben & Jerry's?" Kitty asked, sniffling.
"Well, I bet it would help," Alec conceded, "but no. This is better. This will make you understand."
Kitty stood up, a slight smile tugging at the corners of her mouth, though her eyes were still melancholy. "Sure. I'm game." She turned to him. "Show me."
Alec closed his eyes. The universe went still and silent around them, awaiting orders, leaning in to catch the unwhispered words. The tension was building up around them, so taut that Kitty feared that the wizardry, whichever one he was performing, would backfire (there was little enough ambient wizardry in the SG-1 universe for that to happen, despite the obvious worldgate/Stargate parallel), and the base would explode, adding more death to the nearly-unbearable one she had already gone through today.
And suddenly, with a barely audible pop, they were somewhere else. Kitty smiled as she realized where they were. Abydos...but not Abydos. Not unless everything on Abydos glowed with an inner light, a radiance that would not die. No, nothing died here. No-one died here.
The room was a shambles, but a cozy shambles, the well-lived-in den of a scholar at work. Here were the collected works of Budge, there were reams of Abydonian scrolls. There was even a cup of coffee on a coaster, and a little bit of soft, feminine laughter from the next room. She knew who that was, and noticed the lack of accompanying laughter. She leaned out the window. The sun always shone here, setting the sky ablaze with a benevolent fire. There would never be any sandstorms.
"Come here," Alec said, beckoning her to the side. "Look."
Kitty gravitated over to where he was pointing. In the next room was the Stargate, complete with a DHD, all set up for use. And the gate was open. Kitty looked at him.
"After you, mam'selle."
Kitty stepped through. There on the other side...there was the SGC. Home away from home. This glowed as well, every surface emitting a light that was more felt than seen.
"Notice anything?" The voice in her ear made her jump; it was Alec. He had emerged while she was still gawping at the setup. "Or rather, a lack of something. Or someone."
She nodded slowly, the realization dawning on her. "He's not here."
"Which means..." he prompted.
"Which means he's still out there. Still alive. Somehow."
Alec nodded. "Now do you understand?"
Kitty paused, then shook her head. "No. I don't. But I will in time." She smiled. "And we will see him again, won't we? Before he returns of his own accord, I mean."
"It depends," Alec said, grinning broadly. "Why don't you ask him?"
"What? Alec, don't tease me, it's impolite."
"Try the gate again," he said simply. Kitty turned around, closed her eyes, took a deep breath...and let herself fall into the event horizon.
When she awoke, there was no Stargate. There was nothing. Nothing but her. No Alec. That alone was cause for her to panic - what if something happened here, and he had to do the rest of their long-term mission all by himself? Hammond would assume she'd cracked under the strain and been transferred. The rest of SG-1 would follow his lead, and Alec wouldn't dissuade them. She had always been close to Dr. Jackson, they would say, and she'd gone to find him, wherever he may be. Dead, they would mean, or missing, or sick, or locked away in a psych ward. They wouldn't say that, though. She had become the unofficial mascot for the SGC, good old Kitty, generally useless but fun to mess with, always a good hand at a game of checkers or darts or connect four or backgammon or senet, always with a stub of a pencil behind her ear, writing and sketching nonstop. It would hurt everyone, but not as much as Daniel's loss.
Daniel was Daniel. She was just a loopy cogne who was never supposed to be there anyway. They would forget about her, gradually at first, then in leaps and bounds, until Alec was the only one left who knew. And even then he could "go native" and forget her, too. Then she would be as good as dead. Worse, even. If you were dead, at least you existed. If everyone forgot about you...you may as well have not existed at all.
How long she sat there in this funk, she didn't know - time in Timeheart, or wherever she was now, did not flow like time did in other universes. A light touch on her cheek drew her out of her depression, her morbid thoughts. She raised her eyes from the floor, what felt like marble beneath her hands, to stare up at who had broken the trance. And she stared.
A faintly luminescent Daniel Jackson stood above her, his hand outstretched. She stared.
She would have stared until the metaphorical cows came home if he hadn't said "Well, are you getting up or not?" Still staring, she accepted his hand. It almost burned to touch, but it was a burning that meant no harm. It simply exceeded the human capacity to bear comfortably. It was, she realized belatedly, the force of his essential goodness. It was a fierce goodness, like the one that came from the Michael-Power, called Aaurh the Mighty in feline mythology, a Power that meant too well for any mortal creature to understand. It wanted to change. It wanted to fix things. It wanted to make the universe - all universes - hale and whole, no matter what price.
Frankly, it scared Kitty, a little bit.
But there was only Daniel there, not the Power, though there was some of that Power in Daniel, and all life. The desire to change the world for the better. He smiled and tapped his glasses. "Dai stihó."
"Dai," she said, sounding confused. "I didn't know you were..."
"I would have been. If my universe had been a little more receptive." He sounded a little bit sad. "But somewhere out there, there's a wizardly me. Which technically means that I am a wizard."
"What you have now is at the heart of things," Kitty said, bowing her head. Her eyes burned with unshed tears. "It goes beyond wizardry. It goes beyond everything."
"Haven't you ever heard that all you take with you is what you leave behind?" Daniel asked, laughter in his voice. "I'm doing what I can for the universe in my own way, Kitty. I'm sure you understand."
"Like I said," she replied, shaking her head in bemusement, "I don't. But what does it matter? It's your choice. I'm sure we'll meet again."
He nodded. "You can count on it."
Kitty blushed. "Um...I was wondering. You were in no condition before, and since we're here..." She waved a hand around. "Wherever here is...d'you mind...Bright Powers, I feel like an idiot for asking, but...uh...mrr?"
Daniel smiled, seeming to read her thoughts, jumbled as they were, and leaned over to give her a quick peck on the cheek. It burned, but this was a completely different sort of burning. It was, Kitty would later recall as her legs turned to jointed Jell-o, rather affectionate, the sort of kiss given to a close friend.
Once she regained control of her brain and mouth enough to speak, she croaked, "I was actually going to ask you if I could borrow twenty dollars." She grinned crookedly, knowing damn well that she hadn't been about to ask that. From the smile on his face, she knew that he knew, too.
"Go well," he said.
Kitty grinned. "I'll be seeing you around...Dr. Jackson." The world, or what little light Daniel had emitted, started to fade.
The last thing she heard as she was transported away again was Daniel muttering, "Now, why does that sound familiar?"
Kitty opened her eyes. The unassuming grey concrete of Cheyenne Mountain's innards stared back at her, as unremarkable as could be.
"Are you all right?" Alec asked, concern evident in his voice.
"No," Kitty said, her voice raspy. "But I will be." She looked up at Alec, a spark of hope in her eyes.
Far off, almost on the edge of hearing, there was the barely perceptible sound of a smile.
Warning: Contains MASSIVE SPOILERS for the fifth-season Stargate: SG-1 episode "Meridian". You've been warned!
Also: Cheesiest ending EVAR.
Also Warning: EMO KITTY ALERT!
----
She didn't waver when the light switched on. She didn't stir when the familiar clomp, clomp, clomp of booted feet came closer and stopped at her bedside. She didn't even twitch when the man who was occupying the boots sat down next to her and ruffled her hair. All she could do was stare at the picture in her hands and cry.
"My God," she said hoarsely. "He's really gone, isn't he."
"Well, I don't know about that," he said, patting her on the arm awkwardly. "After all, you saw him go up in that energy cloud thing. He's not dead, not really."
"But he's not here." That, at least, was irrefutable.
"He'll be back. That's how these things work, Kitty." Alec sighed, tugging at the sleeve of his BDU. "Episodic TV. Remember, they couldn't keep Spock down for long."
A tear splattered onto the frame's glass, temporarily distorting the image of the archaeologist and the cogne (undercover, of course). When she didn't say anything more, Alec got up to leave. He was almost out the door when he glanced back at the girl who had been his partner for the past five canonical years. A sniffling murmur made him close the door. "What?" he asked, returning to the bed. It wasn't like him to be so understanding, not at all. He suspected in the corner of his mind that it was her mènesse roots becoming active again, but pushed it aside. "What?" he asked again, a little more softly.
"Could have saved him. I could, I mean." She sniffed.
Alec sighed. "No. No, you couldn't have."
"Yes, I could!" she yelled, standing up angrily. "God damn it, Alec, the whole purpose of the Oath is to preserve life!" The picture crashed from her hand, and the glass shattered. "I had the words right here," she hissed, pointing to her head, "Right-goddamn-here, Alec, all the syllables ready and waiting, all lined up in a row! And I didn't say them! I didn't think the last one!"
"It would have killed you."
She glanced at him sideways. "You don't know that."
"No," he confirmed, "I don't. But if it didn't, the SO would for sure. Use your brain, Kitty! You'd be kicked out of the service, exiled to some forgotten canon the Powers only know where, possibly even executed!"
"Madame Guillotine is my preference," she droned, almost longing to "look into the little window and sneeze into the sack".
"I think they'd have you drawn and quartered," he said stubbornly. "He'll be back in a year. We know this."
"It'll be a year too long," Kitty said, leaning down to clean up the remnants of the frame.
Alec slammed his hand down on the empty air in front of him, which he had made solid for effect. "Damn it, Kitty! Stop being melodramatic! It's contagious! Before you know it, I'll be talking like William Shatner and Sam will start watching Days of our Lives!"
Kitty had jumped when Alec had smacked the air. She looked at her hand, wondering at the tiny shards of glass now stuck in it, and reveling at the pain. At least it's something to feel, she thought morosely.
"Oh, God," Alec said. "I'm sorry." He took her hand, and she flinched at his touch, but all he did was remove the small, sharp pieces of glass. He nicked the palm of his hand with the largest shard, by accident or design, and started a healing spell. Kitty tugged her hand out of his grasp before he could finish.
"Dr. Fraiser will see to it," she said quietly.
"None of this nonsense, Kitty," Alec said sharply. "Let me fix it, damn you," he said, grabbing her wrist and yanking her arm forwards. She stayed quiet and compliant while he finished the spell. He dropped what once held the (now slightly-bloodstained) picture and murmured a few words in the Speech. The broken glass melted together and hardened, and the picture became clean.
She sighed, rubbing at her hand where the wounds had been. "You're right...you're right. It's just...it's a lot different seeing it on TV than it is actually being here, you know?" Her voice cracked a little, but she tried to cover it. "Actually seeing it. Being there in the room as he flatlined. Watching...watching Jacob stop the device. Yes, so he ascended. Seeing it doesn't make me feel any better. I feel like the whole base is haunted."
"There's always Auhw-t," Alec said softly.
Kitty smiled despite herself. "Your Ailurin's improved. Yeah. Timeheart. There's always that."
Alec smirked. "I bet you have a whole army of Daniels in your Timeheart."
Kitty shook her head. "No. No. Just the one, that is, if he doesn't mind being there. Too many would make him...not special. You know?"
"Yeah." He nodded. "I know."
They sat like that for a few minutes, the double-O agent-turned-traitor-turned-cogne and the former mènesse, lost in memories of the sweet archaeologist who had been their friend. "There is something," Alec said suddenly. "It'll make you feel better." Taking a leaf right from the Hauhai'h's book here, specifically the eighth one, but I doubt She'll mind.
"A whole pint of Ben & Jerry's?" Kitty asked, sniffling.
"Well, I bet it would help," Alec conceded, "but no. This is better. This will make you understand."
Kitty stood up, a slight smile tugging at the corners of her mouth, though her eyes were still melancholy. "Sure. I'm game." She turned to him. "Show me."
Alec closed his eyes. The universe went still and silent around them, awaiting orders, leaning in to catch the unwhispered words. The tension was building up around them, so taut that Kitty feared that the wizardry, whichever one he was performing, would backfire (there was little enough ambient wizardry in the SG-1 universe for that to happen, despite the obvious worldgate/Stargate parallel), and the base would explode, adding more death to the nearly-unbearable one she had already gone through today.
And suddenly, with a barely audible pop, they were somewhere else. Kitty smiled as she realized where they were. Abydos...but not Abydos. Not unless everything on Abydos glowed with an inner light, a radiance that would not die. No, nothing died here. No-one died here.
The room was a shambles, but a cozy shambles, the well-lived-in den of a scholar at work. Here were the collected works of Budge, there were reams of Abydonian scrolls. There was even a cup of coffee on a coaster, and a little bit of soft, feminine laughter from the next room. She knew who that was, and noticed the lack of accompanying laughter. She leaned out the window. The sun always shone here, setting the sky ablaze with a benevolent fire. There would never be any sandstorms.
"Come here," Alec said, beckoning her to the side. "Look."
Kitty gravitated over to where he was pointing. In the next room was the Stargate, complete with a DHD, all set up for use. And the gate was open. Kitty looked at him.
"After you, mam'selle."
Kitty stepped through. There on the other side...there was the SGC. Home away from home. This glowed as well, every surface emitting a light that was more felt than seen.
"Notice anything?" The voice in her ear made her jump; it was Alec. He had emerged while she was still gawping at the setup. "Or rather, a lack of something. Or someone."
She nodded slowly, the realization dawning on her. "He's not here."
"Which means..." he prompted.
"Which means he's still out there. Still alive. Somehow."
Alec nodded. "Now do you understand?"
Kitty paused, then shook her head. "No. I don't. But I will in time." She smiled. "And we will see him again, won't we? Before he returns of his own accord, I mean."
"It depends," Alec said, grinning broadly. "Why don't you ask him?"
"What? Alec, don't tease me, it's impolite."
"Try the gate again," he said simply. Kitty turned around, closed her eyes, took a deep breath...and let herself fall into the event horizon.
When she awoke, there was no Stargate. There was nothing. Nothing but her. No Alec. That alone was cause for her to panic - what if something happened here, and he had to do the rest of their long-term mission all by himself? Hammond would assume she'd cracked under the strain and been transferred. The rest of SG-1 would follow his lead, and Alec wouldn't dissuade them. She had always been close to Dr. Jackson, they would say, and she'd gone to find him, wherever he may be. Dead, they would mean, or missing, or sick, or locked away in a psych ward. They wouldn't say that, though. She had become the unofficial mascot for the SGC, good old Kitty, generally useless but fun to mess with, always a good hand at a game of checkers or darts or connect four or backgammon or senet, always with a stub of a pencil behind her ear, writing and sketching nonstop. It would hurt everyone, but not as much as Daniel's loss.
Daniel was Daniel. She was just a loopy cogne who was never supposed to be there anyway. They would forget about her, gradually at first, then in leaps and bounds, until Alec was the only one left who knew. And even then he could "go native" and forget her, too. Then she would be as good as dead. Worse, even. If you were dead, at least you existed. If everyone forgot about you...you may as well have not existed at all.
How long she sat there in this funk, she didn't know - time in Timeheart, or wherever she was now, did not flow like time did in other universes. A light touch on her cheek drew her out of her depression, her morbid thoughts. She raised her eyes from the floor, what felt like marble beneath her hands, to stare up at who had broken the trance. And she stared.
A faintly luminescent Daniel Jackson stood above her, his hand outstretched. She stared.
She would have stared until the metaphorical cows came home if he hadn't said "Well, are you getting up or not?" Still staring, she accepted his hand. It almost burned to touch, but it was a burning that meant no harm. It simply exceeded the human capacity to bear comfortably. It was, she realized belatedly, the force of his essential goodness. It was a fierce goodness, like the one that came from the Michael-Power, called Aaurh the Mighty in feline mythology, a Power that meant too well for any mortal creature to understand. It wanted to change. It wanted to fix things. It wanted to make the universe - all universes - hale and whole, no matter what price.
Frankly, it scared Kitty, a little bit.
But there was only Daniel there, not the Power, though there was some of that Power in Daniel, and all life. The desire to change the world for the better. He smiled and tapped his glasses. "Dai stihó."
"Dai," she said, sounding confused. "I didn't know you were..."
"I would have been. If my universe had been a little more receptive." He sounded a little bit sad. "But somewhere out there, there's a wizardly me. Which technically means that I am a wizard."
"What you have now is at the heart of things," Kitty said, bowing her head. Her eyes burned with unshed tears. "It goes beyond wizardry. It goes beyond everything."
"Haven't you ever heard that all you take with you is what you leave behind?" Daniel asked, laughter in his voice. "I'm doing what I can for the universe in my own way, Kitty. I'm sure you understand."
"Like I said," she replied, shaking her head in bemusement, "I don't. But what does it matter? It's your choice. I'm sure we'll meet again."
He nodded. "You can count on it."
Kitty blushed. "Um...I was wondering. You were in no condition before, and since we're here..." She waved a hand around. "Wherever here is...d'you mind...Bright Powers, I feel like an idiot for asking, but...uh...mrr?"
Daniel smiled, seeming to read her thoughts, jumbled as they were, and leaned over to give her a quick peck on the cheek. It burned, but this was a completely different sort of burning. It was, Kitty would later recall as her legs turned to jointed Jell-o, rather affectionate, the sort of kiss given to a close friend.
Once she regained control of her brain and mouth enough to speak, she croaked, "I was actually going to ask you if I could borrow twenty dollars." She grinned crookedly, knowing damn well that she hadn't been about to ask that. From the smile on his face, she knew that he knew, too.
"Go well," he said.
Kitty grinned. "I'll be seeing you around...Dr. Jackson." The world, or what little light Daniel had emitted, started to fade.
The last thing she heard as she was transported away again was Daniel muttering, "Now, why does that sound familiar?"
Kitty opened her eyes. The unassuming grey concrete of Cheyenne Mountain's innards stared back at her, as unremarkable as could be.
"Are you all right?" Alec asked, concern evident in his voice.
"No," Kitty said, her voice raspy. "But I will be." She looked up at Alec, a spark of hope in her eyes.
Far off, almost on the edge of hearing, there was the barely perceptible sound of a smile.
