applesaucedream | Can't Stand the Distance, Can't Dream Alone [open to all]

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Can't Stand the Distance, Can't Dream Alone [open to all]

The sleeping rifties might have a difficult time realizing they're dreaming this evening, in part because tonight's dreams are atypically vivid, even compared to the rift's usual efforts. Perhaps that is because it's drawing so heavily from the memories of the dreamers, themselves, and using that information to recreate their home worlds in stunning detail. And that is the real reason the dreamers might not be eager to accept the unreality of the situation: the situation is one that many of them have been hoping for for months or even years. In their dreams tonight, the rifties are going home.

Perhaps they arrive in the same moment that they left. Perhaps months have passed at home, or they might even find themselves arriving before their departure point. But those are small details when compared to the overwhelming realization that they're back where they belong.

They're not alone. Many dreamers will find the rift has given them a companion for the return trip. Well, an uncomplicated return home is probably more than anyone could have hoped for, anyway. And for the unwitting visitor, perhaps another universal displacement will be easier to bear with the addition of a local guide.

[ooc: usual dream party rules apply; all are welcome, and dreamers can remember or forget the events of the dream at the players' discretion. Also at the players' discretion: when their character arrives in their 'home universe,' and how many (if any) locals they'd want to run into.]

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Daniel braces himself for the hail of rock and debris that would seal them in their impersonal detrital cairn.

He waits for the ring of a boulder against the base of his neck that will shut off his brain functions all at once.

(Again.)

And the skidding and sliding of rubble is clear and distinct in his head, and he opens his eyes and can see the rocks moving through him and the civilian, the, the - Seth, Seth warns that he can't let go but Daniel's immediate reaction is to tear away, he is intangible, no, no no no no no no this is not good, he -

Seth is moving him. Daniel grips the fabric of his shirt far too tightly; it is his turn to shake, it is his turn to freeze, just for a moment until they can get - the hell - away -

As soon as they're in the clear, Daniel jerks away from other man, hands raised in a half-defensive, half-surrendering gesture.

"What was that?" he asks, his hands trembling, one fist clenching and unclenching to assure himself of his solidity, his heart roaring in his throat, his epinephrine spiking horribly even though he could stay so calm as he murdered dozens in their sealed little hatchway, distantly sickened and fascinated in equal, horrible measure. "What the hell did you do."

He is solid. He is solid. He is solid. He is here and he is solid, he has always been solid except for the times when he hasn't, but those times are not now because he is here and he is solid. He is solid.

Seth doesn't expect Daniel to react the way he does. What with how calm and collected he's been so far, and how he's surely died at least once at this point, you'd think he'd be more okay with weird shit.

But he hadn't reacted all that great the last time Seth had done it to him, had he? The one time he'd been properly conscious for, back in that underwater place. Perhaps it's a thing with him. Not when Seth does it maybe, but when it's done to Daniel.

It's almost more frightening than anything that's happened so far, seeing Daniel so scared. Seeing Daniel so scared of him, even. Jerking away like that. It's painful to see, in a way more painful than the beating he's taken today.

Breathing hard himself, temporarily exhausted by the effort of that, Seth sinks to his knees and sits down, trying to gather himself. Doing it briefly isn't too hard, but having to maintain it for ages while they got clear took its toll on his already worn body.

"I can pass through things. And, um, extend the effect," he explains. That much had been obvious of course, but he's saying it mostly to acknowledge and confirm that he knows what happened, that he did it intentionally.

He watches Daniel worriedly, waiting for Daniel to regain some of his calm, cause Seth has neither the energy nor the knowledge to actually take charge of this situation.

Clearly exerting that heretofore unknown reflex is exhausting on some level, because Seth is breathing heavily and looks like he's about to collapse from sheer weariness. Daniel eyes him with faint suspicion, horribly tempted for a minute to point his weapon. He decides against it. The guy did not react well to weapons fire of any sort, and it wouldn't be necessary.

"And you're from Earth?" he demands dubiously. This guy is an anomaly on every level. Wouldn't this have attracted someone's attention? Shouldn't the SGC know? "And you can do this naturally? No that - that isn't a Tau'ri thing. That isn't an Earth thing, do you realize, do -"

A nearby line of buildings rumbles menacingly, their unstable frames shuddering, and Daniel flinches.

They don't have time for this right now.

"No, I'm," he breathes, shakes himself, stretches out a faintly trembling hand to help the guy to his feet, "I'm sorry. That isn't important, not now, just - just warn me. Before you. You know."

Seth nods in response to the request, and takes Daniel's hand, getting to his feet. He would very much like to lie down and sleep for a week, but that's hardly an option.

"Sorry," he says honestly, giving him an apologetic look. There really wasn't much time for an explanation, and it hadn't yet occurred to him that he might need to give one. Seth wonders if his Daniel is this uncomfortable with it too. Whether it makes him uncomfortable that Seth can do it? He hadn't acted like it the first time - nerdy excitement had probably been the phrase Seth would use to describe his reaction to it.

"It's a long story, I promise I'll tell you later," he adds. He wants to reassure Daniel, and showing he has faith in them getting out of here seems a decent way to do it. Not that he isn't still having trouble coping with everything, but for the moment he seems to have adjusted enough to function for the time being.

"Yeah, okay." 'Long story,' right. He can believe it. At least it was well-timed, Daniel can give him that. The edged anxiety of combat intermingled with the sheer unexpectedness of the thing had simply been so - jarring.

"It's - that whole thing, that - is also long story. Bad experiences with, with phasing," he mutters, but that's about as far as he's willing to take that explanation at the present time.

He's starting to worry that the city itself won't actually be safe due to how eager the rebels apparently are to fire on populated buildings. Yet he can't think of where else they could go. They can't afford to move too far from the gate's current location and whatever passes for a standing government now would be situated here unless it's been dismantled already, and they're completely isolated from Earth. Daniel doesn't have the rest of SG-1 with him on this one. They're on the other side of the silent gate, trying to navigate the red tape to get the military firepower to extract him, or to approach the rebels diplomatically, except Daniel has tried diplomacy and look where that got them.

He pauses for a minute, paralyzed by indecision, then moves in the unerring direction of the city. He simply doesn't have any other ideas.

"Keep behind me," he warns Seth, completely unnecessarily. If they get hit by a close enough explosion, it won't matter where Seth is standing in relation to Daniel unless he's close enough to phase them again. As wary as Daniel is about the thought, it's still the best defense tactic they have.

Seth nods, first to the explanation then the warning. He has no desire to go first, but he keeps very close. Close enough to grab him should it be necessary. Which it very well might be. But at least Daniel seems to realise this too.

Again he seems to focus just as much on simply where he's putting his feet, which are becoming more and more sore. He can't even remember the last time he went barefoot outside, so it's not like they're adjusted to it. At least his anxiety levels are holding steady as a reasonable level. Small mercies, and all that.

"Um... Weird question," he says suddenly, even if he realises this will cause even more confusion and suspicion from Daniel. "What year is it?"

The city, made up of uniform brown-gray buildings, looks vaguely like it belongs in some past era of human industrialism and the streets are almost completely empty. The civilians have all either fled or are in hiding, which has Daniel peripherally worried but he's more concerned about his unexpected charge at the moment.

"Um." He looks at him oddly, but it's hardly the strangest question he's gotten in this line of work. With the variation of planets and different sun cycles, there's bound to be discrepancies. "2004. At least, it is on Earth. I don't know how they record time here."

He pokes a door of one of the innumerable houses open with the nozzle of the P-90 and peers inside, but the place looks deserted. A quick sweep of the floors and walls don't reveal any access to an underground shelter, so Daniel assumes the place is deserted. A faint rumble rattles some unseen cutlery in the drawers but he goes and rummages through some of the cupboards and boxes anyway.

"Here." He exits with a pair of extremely battered looking boots and holds them out to Seth with a mild grimace. "Hope they're your size. Cutting your foot open around here is, well, really not something we wanna have happen." But Daniel imagines Seth's gathered that by now.

2004. So, anywhere between just under two years or almost no time at all before Daniel fell through the Rift, depending what time of year it is now and what it was when Daniel fell through -- will be when... But then, if Seth met Daniel in his past, then Daniel would know Seth, wouldn't he? So maybe this isn't the same Daniel. Or maybe -- who knows? Seth sure doesn't.

He doesn't know what Daniel's looking for, so he keeps a lookout while Daniel rummages around, though he makes sure not to let him completely out of his sight or too far away to reach him in time, should something happen. He suddenly becomes more aware of what he's wearing, and remembers his shirt has been open this entire time, so he reaches up to button it. He fumbles a little, but his hands aren't shaking as much as they were earlier.

When he realises what Daniel was looking for, he is immensely grateful. "Thanks," he says, taking them from him and brushing off his feet a bit before putting them on. They're a little tight, but it's a far cry better than being barefoot. Hopefully now they can move a bit quicker too, and maybe he looks a little bit less like he's just rolled out of bed. Although the dust and dirt that covers them both probably does that well enough.

In this process, he also suddenly realises that he can't feel the weight of the gun anymore. He feels for it, but there's nothing there. He realises he must've lost it before Daniel rammed into him, or he's pretty sure he would've felt landing on it. It probably happened while Daniel was practically dragging him along. Seth hadn't been aware enough to notice then.

"I.. I've lost the gun," he tells Daniel self-consciously. Not that he had any intention on using it, but he feels guilty for losing it.

He keeps a lookout while Seth gets the things on. Daniel wishes he could find him better protection, especially seeing as shrapnel and bullets have been aimed at them both in high capacity.

"I have enough clips to last us a while," Daniel assures him, but he can't fully mask the low twist of disappointment. Now the man really is defenseless. He's hoping his phasing power should keep him safe, providing he gets fair warning to use it. "Couple grenades, though ideally it won't come to that."

The sentence trails off as an idea starts to solidify. A very very supremely bad idea, but they're cut off and alone and up against three warring factions that have no interest in them save for what they mean as a military resource.

"Or maybe it should come to that." He glances at Seth again, chest tightening. He's loathe to ask the man to risk his life, but it might mean their only chance of getting back to Earth. "How, er, how long can you shift phase for? Can you localize it?"

"Uh," Seth answers, frowning up at him in confusion. "Yeah. It, uh, it depends. Longer with smaller areas. Few minutes in total, at most."

He walked through a lot of walls when he escaped from the base, which had left him completely drained, and had mostly been fueled by desperation. But he's not all that great with extended phasing. When he just has to get through something, it only takes a few seconds. If he's stuck in something for longer, like just now with the rubble, it takes a lot more out of him.

"Why?" he asks warily. Something in Daniel's question makes him worried. Not to mention the discussion of grenades.

"Just a plan," he explains cautiously. "Well, the beginnings of one. The seeds of an idea that might hopefully mature into a plan, possibly. We shouldn't stay in one place for too long, come on."

He starts walking in the direction intended to make a sweeping curve that will bring them, eventually, back toward the bunker. They need to draw fire away from the gate. That's the objective, simple, clear-cut. Daniel exhausted his C4 pretty much immediately, Seth is weaponless, leaving them with a soon-to-be useless P-90, a few grenades, and the power to phase through buildings for a highly limited amount of time.

Well, Daniel's worked with less.

"We don't need a whole lot of time," he explains as they go. "Just enough to get into the bunker, dial the gate, and get through to Earth. It's possible the SG - well, uh, it's possible reinforcements will be coming through too, but we can't hinge anything on that since it's not a given."

Seth follows along after him, suddenly very thankful for the existence of footwear. His feet are still sore, but at least now it's not like every step is making it worse (potentially much worse, depending on what he steps on). Now he can actually focus on his surroundings, try his best to be alert. Not that he feels all that alert. There are too many thoughts, and too many things happening, or at least the constant threat of too many things.

He doesn't really understand what 'dialing the gate' means, but presumably he won't need to. That thing he came through? It goes to Earth? Apparently. He's not enthused about going back down there, but neither would he like to stay up here. Seems no matter where he goes on this planet, they're getting shot at. So getting back to Earth sounds pretty appealing, all things considered.

Most important question first, though. "What do you need me to do?"

"Look, I -" He pauses, nibbling at his lip. He doesn't want to ask this of Seth - he shouldn't have to ask it of anyone.

"I don't want you to have to do this. I don't."

Neither did he plan on killing anyone when SG-1 made first contact, a simple routine mission. He hadn't wanted that either. He'd had every peaceful intention in mind when he stepped through that gate, again and again, in an attempt to fix a problem he helped create.

"But the fact is, you can - you can move where other people can't. You can, technically, be immune to weapons fire for a short time. Can't you?"

There is a definite building sensation of dread, coldly solidifying somewhere in his stomach as Daniel goes on.

He wants to pretend he doesn't know what Daniel is getting at. Perhaps Daniel is only asking him to put himself in the line of fire. Seth can do that. He doesn't want to do that, but if completely necessary, he is able to do that. Particularly if it means Daniel returning home safe. If he can bring that about, then it's worth it.

"Yeah," he confirms quietly.

He's never actually tested that. Funnily enough, letting people shoot at him to test the limits of his power hasn't seemed tempting. He knows he's been able to phase through other things purely by reflex, but it's one thing to pull your hand out of a fire before it burns you, and quite another to dodge a speeding bullet. But if he anticipates it, if he intentionally makes himself intangible to potential projectiles, however fast they are, then it should work.

He swallows hard, shuts his eyes, and slows his brisk pace for a minute.

"I don't want to have to ask this. Bottom line, no one should be asked to do this, no one short of, I dunno, military personnel who have already signed up for this." The iron tautness in his chest constricts, again. And again. The moral judgment, self-directed and entrenched in guilt as he considers the tactics that are so firmly polarized to what he is.

"And if anyone should do it? It should be me. This, the war, everything, it was - it is - my fault. I should be the one this comes down on, not -"

Not the entire planet. Not the innocent civilian who's been unnaturally, unfairly launched into this. Not the thousands or millions who will die because of failed diplomacy and his own stupidity and humanity's inherent, self-destructive damned curiosity.

Daniel pauses to retrieve two grenades and holds them in his free hand, simply displaying them. He will not offer them. This is not absolute. This is not fixed. There is a choice, and he has to make this abundantly clear.

He has that obligation.

"If we can draw them off," he explains evenly. "And divert them through explosive force, we would have enough time to get back through the gate."

Edited 2014-12-06 01:35 (UTC)

Seth remains quiet. It becomes increasingly difficult to pretend to himself that he doesn't know what Daniel is asking. He wouldn't be making such a big deal of it otherwise. He's already handed Seth a gun, with not nearly the same amount of gravitas. And the fact that weapons fire will be involved means people will be involved.

"You're asking me to kill," Seth clarifies.

He doesn't want to skirt around it, doesn't want to cover it in euphemisms. He wants Daniel to be clear in what he is asking, no matter how reluctantly he's doing it. Presumably the goal would not be death or injury, but it would undoubtably be an inevitable result.

He appreciates it, he does, the way Seth simply cuts through the hesitations and pauses and winces and avoids stating it in any way less than what it is.

"Yes."

Daniel owes it to him to be explicit.

"You'd be targeting the point where the rebels' forces are densest. Now they've - they've already slaughtered millions and they're well on their way to establishing a complete dictatorship, providing this whole world doesn't choke on its own Armageddon first."

But.

But.

"But you're right." The inherent disapproval, the blunt fear, the horrible, stark reluctance to simply engage in that sort of mass killing doesn't need to be worded. Daniel can read it on Seth's face and stance and in the flat way he refuses to play into the temptation of guarding his words in polite genteelisms. Daniel can admire that. He wishes he could emulate it, but that's not allowed of him anymore. He won't allow it for himself. He lost that right years ago.

"You would be attacking potentially defenseless people," Daniel states, measured and unambiguous, leveling upon Seth a fixed, unremitting stare, painful and neutral and locked. "You would be killing and injuring dozens and possibly hundreds if the damage spread. There's no guarantee it would even work. And if anyone should do it, it - I would - I don't want you to have to." The controlled tone fractures, the desperation leaks through, and Daniel's jaw locks.

Edited 2014-12-06 02:20 (UTC)

Seth thinks he's going to be sick again.

To be asked to do this is bad enough. That it's Daniel doing the asking - but not really Daniel, is it? Not the one Seth knows, anyway. Would he still have asked this of Seth, if it was? If he knew the things about Seth, if he knew what he's been through.

But then, what's the alternative? I don't want you to have to. It's right there. He has to. Daniel wouldn't ask this lightly. And the alternative, presumably, is that they both end up dead. Potentially worse consequences, with Daniel gone and unable to do whatever if is he needs to about this war. If it's supposedly his fault, surely he could be key to solving it as well.

Is Seth's life worth more than dozens of unknowns? Definitely not. Is Daniel's? Not an as easy question to answer.

And Seth has already killed before. He can't pretend to be innocent. The circumstances had been different, of course. He's not sure those zombies he had bashed to death actually counts as people, but even if not, it had been his fault they had become that way in the first place. Sure, it hadn't been intentional or knowing. Shannon, though, there's no way he can explain that away. Necessary, perhaps. Self-defense, maybe. But he still has trouble classifying it as anything but murder.

And this? Is this necessary? They've slaughtered millions, apparently, not the people involved directly, but the group they're part of. Perhaps on some level it would still be justifiable. As much as you could ever justify mass murder. Which is, well, barely at all. This is why he doesn't trust the military. People who have to make decisions like this, and frequently do decide to do the unthinkable.

He knows he doesn't have an awful lot of time to make up his mind, but he doesn't answer yet.

The other man's silence is worrying. It's understandable, but worrying.

(How is it that Daniel is the one who's able to cheat death so regularly, apparently untouchable, walking away again and again from the impossible and absurd, when he is the one who least deserves it. He knows who he was and how it compares to who he is and it's the most horrible feeling in the world, the fact that he would not be able to live with himself for coming up with that idea years ago but years later here he is actively advocating for it.)

"I'm sorry," says Daniel, dropping his stare and his hands and moving onward. "I wish there was something, anything else."

But he has no other ideas. The supposedly inventive, creative, peaceful, brilliant diplomat can think of no better solution save the extermination of scores of unarmed people. He knows no part of this snake is truly evil, perhaps not even its ruthless head, simply misguided and placing too much belief in false genocidal deities.

"Look, I'll be clear." His tone is flat, hiding nothing. "This is not justified. This is not forgivable. The fact that I'm asking this of you, is - it's despicable. I am asking you to place this on your conscience and I'm doing it because I do not see any other options."

He keeps walking, weapons in both hands. "I'm asking you because I know you can live through it. But that doesn't mean I can't. In fact, I." He halts, brow furrowing darkly. That's his talent, isn't it, the man who keeps dying but won't stay dead. What's one more death out of - he's lost count, he lost count years ago. "I don't even know why I - this is on me. It should be me. It will be."

Daniel's already committed enough atrocities. He won't mind coloring his soul a little darker to spare Seth's.

Seth comes to a stop as well, as Daniel suddenly changes his mind. He suddenly gets the irrational and inappropriate desire to give Daniel a hug - for his own sake or for Daniel's, he's not sure. He just wants to do something to make it better, but his options are severly limited.

Daniel might have cheated death more than once, but that doesn't mean he should throw his life away so casually. If Daniel dies, it's not like Seth will know how to get back home. And even if he did, he's not sure he could live with that.

But he doesn't think he could live with blowing up a whole bunch of people either. Regardless, he's not going to let Daniel run off on a suicide mission just for the chance of getting Seth out of here.

"Daniel, don't be a moron," he says, surprising himself with how gentle it comes out sounding. Like he's chiding him for some small, inconsequential thing, exasparated but mild.

Some weight clenched in Daniel's chest grows horribly still at the same time that he stiffens, turning to face the other man sharply.

"How'd you know my name?" he asks quietly, rigidly, edging away. One hand rests on the P-90 in unspoken, glaring menace but he does not raise the weapon to fire.

And it's spoken with the air of, of familiarity, like they know each other beyond this shared situational misfortune. The extensive, horrible possibilities run circuits in Daniel's head, distressingly clear. A za'tarc, an assassin, a hallucination, oh god how much of this is real, there are far too many explanations and Daniel has no idea which one could -

Seth.

Daniel shuts his eyes. He is so stupid sometimes, truly. Seth. Common enough a Tau'ri name, probably some sort of private joke. He thought they'd killed that system lord, but evidently that would be too easy. Any one of his followers or another system lord could have found him and brought him to the sarcophagus for any number of reasons. It was here in plain sight and he didn't even see it.

"Setesh," Daniel hisses, and now he snaps the P-90 up to level it at the host's chest. "Isn't it. Where'd you get the host?"

Seth realises his mistake just before Daniel asks. Crap. Well, Daniel probably has a right to know, or at least it might make it easier to see where the other one is coming from. But he probably would've eased into, approached it from a different angle.

And then Daniel points his gun at Seth, who jerks back as if struck, raising his hands defensively.

This definitely was not the way he wanted to test the phasing through bullets theory. The viciousness and sudden hostility aimed at him does a good job of knocking down most of the emotional stability he's built up as they've made their way through the city, all in one single moment.

"No," he answers, not even sure what he's objecting to, he just knows that whatever conclusion Daniel's drawn, it's wrong. He swallows, suddenly terrified, his entire body stiff. "Whatever that-- I don't--"

Words seem to fail him at this point.

That reaction evokes some hesitation. That is - very un-Goa'uld like. They don't express fear, not even when faced with certain death, just that sheer overpowering arrogance. And now, abruptly, that conclusion doesn't seem quite so solid as Daniel assumed. He gave Seth a gun, even, and the man was too choked up to use it and then promptly dropped it somewhere in the mad scramble. He's so obviously unsuited to combat of any sort. None of it factors in under system lord.

So. Just another one of Daniel's wonderful intuitive leaps, as usual. With a faint, self-disgusted sigh Daniel drops the gun away from Seth's chest.

"Damnit." He wishes he had a free hand to run it over his eyes but the other hand is still bearing the grenades, and his stomach twists sickeningly at the thought. "Damn. I - I'm sorry, there's no excuse for - I thought you were, well. Doesn't matter."

He wishes he could sit and breathe and just think all of this through but with the half-razed city and the threat of bombs, missiles, rebels possibly coming pouring out of the woodwork at any minute, he knows they can't afford to.

"Fuck," says Daniel, and that's a word that doesn't often get injected into his lexicon.

Seth doesn't calm down just by the gun being pointed elsewhere and getting an apology. The adrenaline is still surging through him, making his heart beat with an uncomfortable intensity, and saying he feels shaky would be a severe understatement.

Weirdly enough, Daniel swearing seems to snap some of his mental faculities back into place, and there's a certain perplexedness mixed in with the way Seth is looking at him now. (Not that the terror has quite left him yet.)

"That's - That's the first time I've heard you swear like that," he comments blankly. Not sure exactly why this is important to note right now.

"Well, yeah." Daniel looks at him, frowning fiercely, torn between wariness and confusion. "You just met me. And on that subject, how do you know my name?"

The guy shows up out of the blue - the literal blue, mind, straight from the stargate without even realizing it - allegedly from Earth, and he can inexplicably shift phase and knows Daniel's name and is clearly familiar with him in some way. That's too many strange variables lining up under Seth's name. Daniel's definitely going to need an explanation.

This'll have to be later, it seems like, because a fresh barrage of explosions rips through a strip of buildings that's little more than a few blocks away, and Daniel is forcibly reminded that they are in fact standing in the middle of an intraplanetary civil war.

Edited 2014-12-06 05:01 (UTC)

tw: mild panic

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tw: messed up moral dilemmas??

the moral dilemma fun is going to continue so tw for fucked up decisions, moral debate, and murder

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tw: everything is moral grayness and death, some suicide ideation

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