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incomingalbatross · 2 years

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SG-1 Fic: De Profundis

(1911 words; gen, no warnings; Jack, Bra’tac and some Teal’c. Probably somewhere in season 7? I don’t know.)

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“Do you ever get... mad at us?” Jack asked thoughtfully.

Bra’tac looked surprised. “’Mad’?”

“I mean...” Jack shrugged, his movements slightly constricted. “We waltz into the galaxy, antagonize every Goa’uld around, push you guys into rebellion and generally upset everybody’s apple carts. We’ve caused a lot of chaos, is what I’m saying. Before we came along, you were, what? Retired?”

The old Jaffa smiled. “I understand you were also retired, O’Neill.”

“Sure, sure, but I wasn’t doing anything.” He attempted to wave a hand. “And I still go home at the end of the day... mostly. But you—you’re in the middle of a whole new war you can’t back out of, your people are constantly on the run from their old bosses, and, well...” Jack looked around. “You are currently captured and scheduled for a slow, painful death.”

Bra’tac looked around their little cell as well, with the windowless metal walls, door with no handle, and of course the unyielding restraints pinning them both to opposite sides of the room. There was a dark burn mark on his side that had clearly penetrated through the armor, and a half-healed gash on his head—nice matches for the throbbing in Jack’s own head, ribs, and knees.

“This is all true,” he agreed.

“So.” Jack looked inquiringly at him. “I mean, I’m not saying it’s not all worth it, obviously, but don’t you ever get a little bitter at us Tau’ri punks?”

Bra’tac chuckled.

Jack raised his eyebrows. “Unexpected response.”

He smiled and shook his head. “O’Neill...”

And he fell silent for a moment, his expression softening and growing distant.

“There was a boy I knew,” he said slowly. “He was brave, and strong, and impetuous. He had a keen mind and an eager heart, and burned with passion to achieve what he thought was right. That passion was directed in devotion to his fellow Jaffa, and to his gods... but also, in a measure, against the gods, for one of them had murdered his father whom he had loved first and strongest. And for all these reasons, O’Neill, when I had seen this boy’s strength, I chose him as my pupil.

“He grew stronger, and wiser, and more skilled in the arts of war. He grew stronger in doubt, as well, for I pushed him ever toward the truth of the Goa’uld—that, seeing them as I did, he might protect his fellow Jaffa as best he could, and perhaps soften the evils of a false god’s pride, from time to time. As I tried to, in my career as a First Prime. As I planned for him to do after me.”

He exhaled. “Ah, O’Neill, I was proud of my pupil as he grew! He succeeded, as the years passed, in every goal I had set for him. He was able to rise in power, and I was able to protect him until he had lived long enough to see the Goa’uld with clear eyes. He became all that I had asked of him, all that I had taught him to be...” Bra’tac shook his head. “And in exchange for this success, year by year and decade after decade, I stood by and watched the darkness take an ever-stronger hold upon him.”

The old man’s eyes were wide and bleak, now, still staring at some vision Jack couldn’t share. “That darkness... it smothered the boy I had known. The passion I had first seen still raged within him, without ceasing, but it was a choked flame now—one that fed upon his heart and ravaged it to no purpose. Every crime committed in Apophis’s name, every time he knelt to the false god and bowed his head, every unjust death borne upon his shoulders—each day, they added another wall around his spirit and weighed it down further into the depths. It killed him, piece by piece: his humor, his joy, his affection, his repose, all were subsumed beneath that burden. His strength itself became lifeless, as the very convictions that once fueled it were relentlessly buried. He walked in darkness and despair, like a statue given motion; and I stood by him, with the knowledge that this was the best fate I could envision for him.”

Jack watched in silence as Bra’tac’s head dipped down... and then lifted again, a knowing smile suddenly touching that old face.

“And then my boy became shol’va.”

A glint had appeared in his eyes once more. “Understand, O’Neill,” he continued, “I did not approve of what he had done, when I heard of it—I thought it would merely destroy him more speedily, and involve others of our people in that destruction.

“But I could not be surprised, either, and once I had seen him with your people I could not condemn it. I could not deny, then, that he had made the decision of his own accord and with clear eyes, as I had taught him to do; and how can an old man object, when his student follows his teachings?” He chuckled again, briefly.

Then he settled himself against the wall, face growing contemplative. “Even then, though,” he said softly, “I myself did not see. I joined him in his cause, but I did not predict...

“Piece by piece, O’Neill, day by day and year by year, I have seen that boy-that-was come alive again.

“I have seen him become the man he should have been, had he not been raised in darkness; his humor, his gentleness, his tranquility, his hope, all returned from oblivion, surfaced from the depths I thought had drowned and strangled them.

“He smiles now, O’Neill. He had not smiled for decades, I think, save when Rya’c was present. He is able to show his temper as he could not before, but he also shows kindness without thought or fear. He pursues pastimes which please him, and makes jests simply for amusement’s sake. He loves, without concealment or constraint; and he lives for those he loves, with no shackles upon his will.”

Bra’tac looked directly at Jack for the first time, and there was a glimmer of moisture in his eyes, even as he smiled. “You took my son who was dead, O’Neill, and restored his life to him. How could I ever resent you and your people, when you have pulled his spirit from the dark and made it free?”

Jack’s throat had grown tight, and his own eyes were hot and stinging. He thought of Charlie, and those hours of agony in the hospital—of knowing whose weapon, whose example, had put him there.

He thought, too, in a sudden flash, of Teal’c as he had been when they had first known each other; and he thought what it must be like to sit and watch for years, not hours, as your child was consumed not by pain, but by evil.

He thought of how it felt to pray for a miracle. And how it felt to get one that you hadn’t dared to hope for.

“I think... I might know what you mean,” he managed to say, staring at the floor.

“You are a good man, O’Neill,” Bra’tac said gravely. “I would not have spoken, if I had not believed you would understand.”

Before Jack could say anything to that, there was a pop outside, and a fountain of sparks from the door as it slid open.

“Master Bra’tac!” Teal’c greeted them, sliding in the gap. “O’Neill.” He glanced between them, eyes narrowing. “How severe are your injuries?”

“Eh,” Jack said, waving a hand as best he could.

“We will both survive,” Bra’tac said with a smile. “It is good that you arrived so quickly, old friend.”

Teal’c smiled back at him, giving that satisfied, self-controlled little bow of the head that he used when he was pleased with himself. “We endeavored to make haste,” he said, moving to unfasten Bra’tac’s restraints. “Captain Carter is currently reconfiguring this ship’s engines so that we will not be pursued when we leave. Daniel Jackson is in a separate ship, holding our enemies’ attention by impersonating an unknown System Lord—however, he has suggested his deception will not last long.” He moved to Jack’s restraints, working efficiently. “We should hurry.”

Jack gave a loud sigh of relief as his restraints came undone, finally able to drop his arms. He stretched, grimacing. “Copy that, T,” he said, gratefully accepting the zat Teal’c offered. “Lead the way.”

Then he paused. There had been a glint of something in Teal’c’s eye, just now...

“By the way,” he added. “Who is this System Lord Daniel’s impersonating?”

The glint grew strong and devious. “I believe,” Teal’c said, “he identified himself as the Great and Powerful Oz.”

Jack whipped around and stared at Teal’c. Teal’c met his gaze.

“Really?” Jack breathed, his eyes wide in pure, completely unfeigned delight.

Teal’c smirked. “Indeed.”

And then, once more demonstrating his incredible mastery of delivery, he added, “I received the impression Daniel Jackson has employed this... identity before, on at least one occasion.”

“Teal’c,” Jack said gravely, putting a hand on his arm, “this is the greatest news I’ve had in a month.”

Teal’c bowed his head, equally gravely. “I suspected you would think so, O’Neill.”

“Perhaps, old friend,” Bra’tac interrupted dryly, “you and O’Neill might explain the significance of this as we escape?”

“Good plan,” Jack said, pointing at him and turning to go. “...We can’t keep the Wizard waiting, after all.”

He heard Teal’c sigh, just before the big guy stepped up to take the lead. “It is a well-known Tau’ri children’s story, Master Bra’tac,” he said. “One of Colonel O’Neill’s favorites. We have endured the replaying of its recording many times.”

“Endured?”

“If you return to Earth with us for any length of time, O’Neill may well attempt to show it to you as well,” Teal’c continued, unfazed, with a glance over his shoulder. Then he stopped, turning fully.

“Master Bra’tac,” he said. “Your injury is more serious than I realized.”

Jack looked over and saw that, for once, Bra’tac was in fact lagging slightly behind them. In the brighter (though still annoyingly ineffectual) light of the ship’s corridor, he seemed pale and drawn.

Even so, he waved off their concern and just stepped up his pace, though with a visible effort. “I told you, Teal’c, I will live,” he said. “Once we are safe, I can heal—”

“And until then, you will be in pain,” Teal’c interrupted. His face softened. “I cannot heal you, old friend, but I can support you. Lean on me.”

Bra’tac opened his mouth in what was clearly going to be disagreement, and Teal’c quietly added, “Please.”

After another moment, Bra’tac shook his head in resignation and accepted Teal’c’s arm around his shoulders. “You burden yourself with an old man,” he murmured. “But I know you better than to waste time in this argument.”

“As you should,” Teal’c returned, his eyes on the corridor and his head held high.

Jack, keeping pace with them, watching carefully for hostiles, thought, Yeah, Bra’tac. I see what you mean.

And he thought, a little, about crystal entities and time loops and sarcophagi and higher planes of existence... and about a moment in a room full of trapped people, and the choice taken to ask for help, and the choice taken to listen.

Really, when he looked at it closely, that might be the “resurrection” that looked most like a miracle.

Huh.

#one of those 'write it in one day or don't write it at all' things #this is mostly about teal'c honestly #stargate sg-1 #teal'c #bra'tac #jack o'neill #my fic

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