SG-1 fic : Do Not Go Gentle
This came out of a very late night, early morning re-reading of janedavitt 's Ulysses, Bound. Which, by the way, is possibly the most perfect Teal'c voice ever written and is certainly my favourite Teal'c and Jack friendship fic. This could be considered a deeply unworthy, film-negative tribute. Or, you know, a cheap, badly written rip-off. Either. Both. Oddly, it has turned out exactly the same length.
On the other hand, I wrote Teal'c fic! And this after nearly two months of staring blankly at Stargate, giving up, and going back to Flashpoint.
Title : Do Not Go Gentle
Rating : G
Characters : Teal'c, Jack
Wordcount : 400
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on that sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
- Dylan Thomas
"Well, at least we're going out with a bang, huh, T?"
We die well, my brother.
He has said this to O'Neill before, when he truly thought that their deaths were imminent, as indeed they have been far too often in the years of their acquaintance. O'Neill has always replied with yeah, not planning on dying today or jeez, Teal'c, let's not give up on Carter just yet, ok? Even, once, in the vast loneliness of deep space, in the encroaching cold, when O'Neill thought Teal'c could no longer hear him, we coulda done better. O'Neill has never been afraid of death; on the contrary, Teal'c has seen him willing to give his life on many occasions. But he has never been willing to spend it lightly and he has never accepted, at the seemingly inevitable end, that there is no way out, no better plan. No way in which they may escape to continue their fight, and to have life for life's own sake. Thus far, O'Neill has never believed that they have found a death which is worthy of them.
Thus far, he has always been proven correct.
We die well, my brother.
This is the first time O'Neill has been the one to voice the sentiment. The experience is unsettling.
Teal'c thinks of the days when his friend raged against death even as Teal'c tried to face it with honour and dignity. He is not sure how to interpret the fact that he now finds more honour in resistance, except that perhaps there have been too many submissions. Or perhaps the stubbornness of the Tau'ri has been absorbed along with other customs. Neither is he sure what it means that O'Neill is now the one ready to die. It seems, however, that in this odd reversal of roles it is his place to offer defiance and hope.
He thinks of a poem to which Major Carter once referred, of wise and good men for whom death comes too soon, before they have accomplished all they wish in life. He dismisses it almost instantly, despite its aptness - O'Neill rarely has patience with such things. His friend is not a man of words, can be made deeply uncomfortable by overt sentiment.
Teal'c says instead, "Rumours of our demise have been greatly exaggerated in the past, O'Neill," and smiles when he is rewarded with the soft huff of O'Neill's laughter.
On the other hand, I wrote Teal'c fic! And this after nearly two months of staring blankly at Stargate, giving up, and going back to Flashpoint.
Title : Do Not Go Gentle
Rating : G
Characters : Teal'c, Jack
Wordcount : 400
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on that sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
- Dylan Thomas
"Well, at least we're going out with a bang, huh, T?"
We die well, my brother.
He has said this to O'Neill before, when he truly thought that their deaths were imminent, as indeed they have been far too often in the years of their acquaintance. O'Neill has always replied with yeah, not planning on dying today or jeez, Teal'c, let's not give up on Carter just yet, ok? Even, once, in the vast loneliness of deep space, in the encroaching cold, when O'Neill thought Teal'c could no longer hear him, we coulda done better. O'Neill has never been afraid of death; on the contrary, Teal'c has seen him willing to give his life on many occasions. But he has never been willing to spend it lightly and he has never accepted, at the seemingly inevitable end, that there is no way out, no better plan. No way in which they may escape to continue their fight, and to have life for life's own sake. Thus far, O'Neill has never believed that they have found a death which is worthy of them.
Thus far, he has always been proven correct.
We die well, my brother.
This is the first time O'Neill has been the one to voice the sentiment. The experience is unsettling.
Teal'c thinks of the days when his friend raged against death even as Teal'c tried to face it with honour and dignity. He is not sure how to interpret the fact that he now finds more honour in resistance, except that perhaps there have been too many submissions. Or perhaps the stubbornness of the Tau'ri has been absorbed along with other customs. Neither is he sure what it means that O'Neill is now the one ready to die. It seems, however, that in this odd reversal of roles it is his place to offer defiance and hope.
He thinks of a poem to which Major Carter once referred, of wise and good men for whom death comes too soon, before they have accomplished all they wish in life. He dismisses it almost instantly, despite its aptness - O'Neill rarely has patience with such things. His friend is not a man of words, can be made deeply uncomfortable by overt sentiment.
Teal'c says instead, "Rumours of our demise have been greatly exaggerated in the past, O'Neill," and smiles when he is rewarded with the soft huff of O'Neill's laughter.