R is for Rapport
Written for Friendship Alphabet Soup and to fill the Silence square on my bingo card.
Meditation isn't kel no reem, but it serves a purpose just the same. Teal'c and Daniel friendship, with references to Crossroads, Meridian, Revelations, and Changeling. ~1,410 words. PG.
R is for Rapport
The first time Daniel Jackson meditated with Teal'c, it was more or less unplanned.
While he was deeply skeptical of Shau'nac's claim, the potential opportunity to suborn the Goa'uld's young to the Jaffa cause - not to mention his unspoken desire to ensure that Shau'nac survived - impelled Teal'c to risk his life. Unsure of the possibilities, Teal'c prudently asked his teammates to keep watch over him when he tried to disprove Shau'nac's claim that it was possible to communicate with a symbiote. Despite the gravity of the situation, he was inwardly amused that O'Neill considered the dangers he might pose to others due to the symbiote's influence, while Daniel Jackson questioned the threat to Teal'c's own life.
No matter. He placed his safety in their hands and turned his thoughts inward, focusing on his own heartbeat and slowing its steady flutter within his chest.
As his state of kel no reem gradually deepened, a small part of his mind was interested to note that his perception of the room began to narrow and fade. Normally, a Jaffa in kel no reem retained a keen awareness of his surroundings, even if outsider eyes might assume he was oblivious; it would be fatal, after all, if kel no reem left the Jaffa helpless and vulnerable to attack. In the first minutes, he was keenly aware of the movements of the others: Major Carter had taken a military stance at the doorway, shoulders squared and eyes alert. He could hear O'Neill's restless footsteps as he paced the small room. He sensed Daniel Jackson's breathing as the man settled on the floor opposite him, unconsciously mirroring Teal'c's own pose as they watched and waited. None of this surprised him. But as he plunged recklessly beyond the normal threshold to achieve a far deeper state of kel no reem than he had ever attempted before, he began to lose the ability to sense his surroundings. His discernment of Major Carter's presence, then O'Neill's, were lost to the rapidly dwindling focus outside his own self. Daniel Jackson's presence lingered a few moments longer, perhaps because he, too, was in a primitive meditative state by now. Even that welcoming reassurance was soon lost as his heartbeat stuttered and slowed, until there was nothing left but a sense of...
(death)
(father!)
Shaken by the unexpected flash of non-memory, Teal'c composed himself to try again.
Days later, with Tanith's betrayal laid bare and the bitter mourning rituals for Shau'nac complete, Daniel Jackson appeared at the door of his quarters late in the evening.
"May I join you when you kel no reem?" he asked.
Teal'c regarded him, puzzled. "Humans cannot kel no reem, Daniel Jackson."
"No," he agreed. "But they can meditate, and they do."
Teal'c tilted his head thoughtfully. "It is not a companionable activity."
"No," Daniel Jackson said again. "But I offer my company, just the same."
"You have seen me kel no reem off-world, in difficult conditions. However, in my own quarters, I prefer to avoid distractions." At Daniel Jackson's somewhat blank expression, Teal'c clarified, "I require silence."
"Aha. So, no talking or twitching or fiddling with things?" Eyebrows rose. "That shouldn't be a problem." Then, a little pointedly, "I'm not Jack."
The corner of Teal'c's mouth twitched. "Your presence will not be unwelcome," he allowed, and stepped back in invitation.
"That's very kind of you," Daniel Jackson said politely. His smile was nearly as understated as Teal'c's own.
He followed Teal'c into the room and assisted him in creating the intricate pattern of candles. Teal'c was surprised at his friend's self-control in refraining from asking too many questions regarding their cultural significance, confining himself only to the occasional inquiry regarding the correct placement of a particular taper. When the pattern was complete and the flames alight, Daniel Jackson settled on the floor, copying Teal'c's cross legged stance. Silence blanketed the room, yet Teal'c did not sense the usual Tau'ri unease of long periods of stillness.
The human did, eventually, fall asleep, for he did not have a Jaffa's stamina or endurance. Yet Teal'c found himself oddly comfortable with Daniel Jackson's presence, and the next time his friend knocked on the door in the late hours, Teal'c allowed him to enter without hesitation.
Their joint sessions of kel no reem and meditation lasted for over a year. There was no set pattern to Daniel Jackson's sporadic visits - they might occur twice in a week, or only once in three months - but Teal'c thought that they took place most frequently after their more distressing missions. He never questioned what drove Daniel Jackson to seek the silence and oddly peaceful atmosphere of his quarters, for he found that he valued these sessions himself. They spoke but little before and afterward, but it was more than enough.
When the disaster on Kelowna struck, Teal'c found it difficult to speak to Daniel Jackson. Their shared silences and close rapport had always served before. But when his friend lay dying, his human body ravaged in a way no Jaffa would ever endure, Teal'c found the courage to voice the sentiments he had always felt were best left unspoken.
"If you are to die, Daniel Jackson, I wish you to know that I believe that the fight against the Goa'uld will have lost one of its greatest warriors... and I will have lost one of my greatest friends."
It was not quite death, in the end. Indeed, Daniel Jackson achieved that which many of the Jaffa believed to be the ultimate reward. And yet, as he confessed to Major Carter, he would have preferred to have their friend with them, on their own mortal plane.
Teal'c had been compelled to delay the rituals of mourning in order to deal with the crisis with Thor and Osiris. When the time finally came, and he set the candles in the patterns of grief and loss, he thought back to that strange breeze that had teased at Major Carter's hair and caressed his own cheek. He had hurriedly speculated aloud that it was a flaw in the ventilation system, for he knew all too well that his friends met mysticism with skepticism. But he, who had rejected the Goa'uld as gods and longed to believe that the kalach yet endured, could not suppress a frisson of hope.
So he sat on the floor of his quarters, eyes automatically drawn to the spot where Daniel Jackson had sat so many times before, and composed himself - not to kel no reem, but to meditate, and to hope for the acknowledgment of another's presence.
No sign occurred. No breath stirred the room. Hours passed, and Teal'c conceded his defeat and turned to the physical requirement of kel no reem.
Acceptance, after all, was an inevitable part of life.
And then it was not, as he fought and clawed to keep himself and Bra'tac alive in the wake of a massacre. As his body and mind weakened and kel no reem proved impossible to maintain, Teal'c strained simply to keep his heart beating and his lungs expanding.
Help me, he whispered to the stagnant air, broken only by the whine of the insects descending on the dead. Help me.
Thoughts jumbled, twisted, whirled. He saw himself at the SGC, in a hospital, battling the theat of flame on a Tau'ri highway. He groped, fingers trembling, to remove the symbiote from his own pouch and push it deep within Bra'tac's wounded body.
"Hang in there, just a little while longer," a voice murmured in his ear, and he blinked in dazed confusion at the gentle expression on the face of a man he'd lost so many months before.
"You can't leave me like this," he begged, too desperate to be ashamed.
The figure stopped, turned. "I haven't left your side, Teal'c," Daniel Jackson said quietly. "And I'm not going to. That's a promise."
Reality splintered, shattered. He was alive, at least, and back in the SGC, even if his survival remained unclear.
Afterward, he told no one of his visions and dreams, even that last visit in the infirmary, when he was fully lucid and wholly awake. He thought that O'Neill, at least, would believe him, but it was too private, too personal to share.
But he took up meditating again, replacing the demands of kel no reem with the quiet of reflection. Perhaps, some day, there would be another sitting across from him on the floor in his quarters, sharing silence.
Meditation isn't kel no reem, but it serves a purpose just the same. Teal'c and Daniel friendship, with references to Crossroads, Meridian, Revelations, and Changeling. ~1,410 words. PG.
R is for Rapport
The first time Daniel Jackson meditated with Teal'c, it was more or less unplanned.
While he was deeply skeptical of Shau'nac's claim, the potential opportunity to suborn the Goa'uld's young to the Jaffa cause - not to mention his unspoken desire to ensure that Shau'nac survived - impelled Teal'c to risk his life. Unsure of the possibilities, Teal'c prudently asked his teammates to keep watch over him when he tried to disprove Shau'nac's claim that it was possible to communicate with a symbiote. Despite the gravity of the situation, he was inwardly amused that O'Neill considered the dangers he might pose to others due to the symbiote's influence, while Daniel Jackson questioned the threat to Teal'c's own life.
No matter. He placed his safety in their hands and turned his thoughts inward, focusing on his own heartbeat and slowing its steady flutter within his chest.
As his state of kel no reem gradually deepened, a small part of his mind was interested to note that his perception of the room began to narrow and fade. Normally, a Jaffa in kel no reem retained a keen awareness of his surroundings, even if outsider eyes might assume he was oblivious; it would be fatal, after all, if kel no reem left the Jaffa helpless and vulnerable to attack. In the first minutes, he was keenly aware of the movements of the others: Major Carter had taken a military stance at the doorway, shoulders squared and eyes alert. He could hear O'Neill's restless footsteps as he paced the small room. He sensed Daniel Jackson's breathing as the man settled on the floor opposite him, unconsciously mirroring Teal'c's own pose as they watched and waited. None of this surprised him. But as he plunged recklessly beyond the normal threshold to achieve a far deeper state of kel no reem than he had ever attempted before, he began to lose the ability to sense his surroundings. His discernment of Major Carter's presence, then O'Neill's, were lost to the rapidly dwindling focus outside his own self. Daniel Jackson's presence lingered a few moments longer, perhaps because he, too, was in a primitive meditative state by now. Even that welcoming reassurance was soon lost as his heartbeat stuttered and slowed, until there was nothing left but a sense of...
(death)
(father!)
Shaken by the unexpected flash of non-memory, Teal'c composed himself to try again.
Days later, with Tanith's betrayal laid bare and the bitter mourning rituals for Shau'nac complete, Daniel Jackson appeared at the door of his quarters late in the evening.
"May I join you when you kel no reem?" he asked.
Teal'c regarded him, puzzled. "Humans cannot kel no reem, Daniel Jackson."
"No," he agreed. "But they can meditate, and they do."
Teal'c tilted his head thoughtfully. "It is not a companionable activity."
"No," Daniel Jackson said again. "But I offer my company, just the same."
"You have seen me kel no reem off-world, in difficult conditions. However, in my own quarters, I prefer to avoid distractions." At Daniel Jackson's somewhat blank expression, Teal'c clarified, "I require silence."
"Aha. So, no talking or twitching or fiddling with things?" Eyebrows rose. "That shouldn't be a problem." Then, a little pointedly, "I'm not Jack."
The corner of Teal'c's mouth twitched. "Your presence will not be unwelcome," he allowed, and stepped back in invitation.
"That's very kind of you," Daniel Jackson said politely. His smile was nearly as understated as Teal'c's own.
He followed Teal'c into the room and assisted him in creating the intricate pattern of candles. Teal'c was surprised at his friend's self-control in refraining from asking too many questions regarding their cultural significance, confining himself only to the occasional inquiry regarding the correct placement of a particular taper. When the pattern was complete and the flames alight, Daniel Jackson settled on the floor, copying Teal'c's cross legged stance. Silence blanketed the room, yet Teal'c did not sense the usual Tau'ri unease of long periods of stillness.
The human did, eventually, fall asleep, for he did not have a Jaffa's stamina or endurance. Yet Teal'c found himself oddly comfortable with Daniel Jackson's presence, and the next time his friend knocked on the door in the late hours, Teal'c allowed him to enter without hesitation.
Their joint sessions of kel no reem and meditation lasted for over a year. There was no set pattern to Daniel Jackson's sporadic visits - they might occur twice in a week, or only once in three months - but Teal'c thought that they took place most frequently after their more distressing missions. He never questioned what drove Daniel Jackson to seek the silence and oddly peaceful atmosphere of his quarters, for he found that he valued these sessions himself. They spoke but little before and afterward, but it was more than enough.
When the disaster on Kelowna struck, Teal'c found it difficult to speak to Daniel Jackson. Their shared silences and close rapport had always served before. But when his friend lay dying, his human body ravaged in a way no Jaffa would ever endure, Teal'c found the courage to voice the sentiments he had always felt were best left unspoken.
"If you are to die, Daniel Jackson, I wish you to know that I believe that the fight against the Goa'uld will have lost one of its greatest warriors... and I will have lost one of my greatest friends."
It was not quite death, in the end. Indeed, Daniel Jackson achieved that which many of the Jaffa believed to be the ultimate reward. And yet, as he confessed to Major Carter, he would have preferred to have their friend with them, on their own mortal plane.
Teal'c had been compelled to delay the rituals of mourning in order to deal with the crisis with Thor and Osiris. When the time finally came, and he set the candles in the patterns of grief and loss, he thought back to that strange breeze that had teased at Major Carter's hair and caressed his own cheek. He had hurriedly speculated aloud that it was a flaw in the ventilation system, for he knew all too well that his friends met mysticism with skepticism. But he, who had rejected the Goa'uld as gods and longed to believe that the kalach yet endured, could not suppress a frisson of hope.
So he sat on the floor of his quarters, eyes automatically drawn to the spot where Daniel Jackson had sat so many times before, and composed himself - not to kel no reem, but to meditate, and to hope for the acknowledgment of another's presence.
No sign occurred. No breath stirred the room. Hours passed, and Teal'c conceded his defeat and turned to the physical requirement of kel no reem.
Acceptance, after all, was an inevitable part of life.
And then it was not, as he fought and clawed to keep himself and Bra'tac alive in the wake of a massacre. As his body and mind weakened and kel no reem proved impossible to maintain, Teal'c strained simply to keep his heart beating and his lungs expanding.
Help me, he whispered to the stagnant air, broken only by the whine of the insects descending on the dead. Help me.
Thoughts jumbled, twisted, whirled. He saw himself at the SGC, in a hospital, battling the theat of flame on a Tau'ri highway. He groped, fingers trembling, to remove the symbiote from his own pouch and push it deep within Bra'tac's wounded body.
"Hang in there, just a little while longer," a voice murmured in his ear, and he blinked in dazed confusion at the gentle expression on the face of a man he'd lost so many months before.
"You can't leave me like this," he begged, too desperate to be ashamed.
The figure stopped, turned. "I haven't left your side, Teal'c," Daniel Jackson said quietly. "And I'm not going to. That's a promise."
Reality splintered, shattered. He was alive, at least, and back in the SGC, even if his survival remained unclear.
Afterward, he told no one of his visions and dreams, even that last visit in the infirmary, when he was fully lucid and wholly awake. He thought that O'Neill, at least, would believe him, but it was too private, too personal to share.
But he took up meditating again, replacing the demands of kel no reem with the quiet of reflection. Perhaps, some day, there would be another sitting across from him on the floor in his quarters, sharing silence.