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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"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)

Seth flinches at the uncomfortably nearby explosions. He knows that whatever answers he gives to those questions are just going to bring up more questions. And he doubts he could answer them all that well in his currently state, in their current situation.

"Look," he says, gesturing a little jerkily with his still raised hands. "The, the.. The gate. Dialing. Whatever. How long does it take, between getting there and uh, getting, um, out of there?"

"Well, we need to get to it first, which is the hard bit." He wants to tug Seth along because they really, really should get moving again but he doesn't think Seth would react too well to that considering Daniel just aimed a gun at his chest. Brilliant deduction there, Jackson. He takes a few steps forward, hoping this will prompt Seth enough to get him walking again.

"I can draw their attention, it's not a big deal." Yes, casually murdering a couple dozen individuals isn't a big deal, clearly. Daniel wonders what kind of awful first impression he's making before realizing that, evidently, this isn't the first impression he's made. Which is confusing. Moving on. "Your job will be to get to the pedestal in front of the gate, looks sorta round and has a bunch of symbols on it. I'll show you the ones you hit to dial Earth."

And here's where it gets complicated. Well. More complicated.

"The important bit: you can't go through right away. You do not go through until I say, understand? I have to input the right code so we don't die the minute we step through." He has to make an effort to slow down to make sure Seth gets all of it and not go at his usual breakneck pace. "Transfer itself takes about oh-point-three seconds, it's just the setup we have to be careful about."

Seth follows automatically once Daniel starts moving, though he still remains focused on the conversation and the plan rather than their surroundings. He doesn't have an awful lot of focus to go around at the moment, and it seems important he remembers what he's being told. He nods at the instructions. Don't go through right away, horrible death, got it.

"But. I can, I mean--" he begins, reaching up to run a hand through his dust-covered hair. Words don't seem to be coming easy at the moment, what with everything he has to absorb, and how he is trying not to have an emotional breakdown regarding what they've been talking about and Daniel's sudden, terrifying distrust. Seth is stranded in a new universe, and the one person he knows and trusts seems to decide shooting him is a viable option, even just for a second. It's not easy to cope with all of this.

"Phasing. I can make us both, you know, so they can't... We can still dial, but they won't be able to attack us," he tries to explain. Badly.

"Oh." He blinks a few times as he considers it. The poor man seems on the verge of complete emotional collapse. "If I do my job right you shouldn't be in any immediate danger, so ideally you won't need to."

Ideally.

Seth really, really is not suited for combat. At all. Daniel mentally kicks himself for ever suggesting he be the one to cause the diversion.

"But," Daniel continues, knowing full well that a worst case scenario is probably imminent, "you'll probably hear me coming back if there's gunfire. In which case, phase yourself out or hide until I can send the GDO and give you the signal to step through. If you're out of phase you'll still make the transfer. You can trust me on that," he adds darkly. "I know that much from experience."

Once upon a time, Seth might have been suited for combat. He certainly fared decently well under dangerous circumstances and could hold his own in a fight. But his ability to keep a clear head in a situation like this seems to have gotten sort of wiped out by four months underground.

Daniel's last comment provides another small glimpse into the source of his problems with phasing, even if it's not overly specific.

"But. Can we get in there, with my power, but without," Seth says, gesturing at the grenades to finish his question. Not being in immediate danger is not currently his concert, it's Daniel he's worried about. And if at all possible, he would like as little bloodshed as they can manage.

Ah.

Daniel smiles thinly, regretful and entirely without humor.

"It's not looking like." He says it as gently as he can. Hopefully Seth will be well away from the center of the conflict, enough that he won't have to see. "If all you have is a few minutes, I'm going to need to buy you as much as I can. And these're all we have for distractions."

He holds the grenades up for a minute, eyebrows drawing into a concentrated, mournful knot before he drops his hand again.

Seth nods quietly, looking away from Daniel and focusing instead of the path ahead of them. He wants to say something comforting, how it's okay, and Daniel is just doing what he has to. But he doesn't think he can manage it.

Perhaps it's a good thing Daniel doesn't know him, because it's painful enough having this conversation. If this Daniel knew Seth as well as the other does (did? will?), it would surely be even harder to discuss.

"We're friends," he says, swallowing and staring at the ground as he walks, clenching his fists a little. "You and me. Where I come from. In an.. alternate universe."

It's nowhere near a complete explanation, and it's not really where he comes from either. Not originally, at least, even if it's where he was last. And where Daniel was last. The other Daniel.

"Are we?" He tilts his head to one side and considers the explanation. The next smile is less forced but just as faint and melancholy. It's oddly touching that Seth's willing to disclose so easily, and Daniel wonders briefly what this other version of him is like. Less terrifying, hopefully. Maybe it's a version of himself he can still stand to look at.

"Well, once we're on Earth we can try to figure out how to send you home," he offers. "Back to, well, back to me, I guess."

The buildings are thinning out. They've made one great loop and are now approaching the bunker from the side, where Daniel estimates most of the nearest weapons facilities are based. He doesn't see any figures on the slight incline of grass that would indicate someone's seen them, and the explosions still sound like they're based more deeply in the city.

Do they have technology to travel between universes like that? Well, if they can jump from planet to planet in the span of a second, Seth supposes there's a chance they might.

He looks up once he notices the grass, looking towards the bunker. He figures this is probably the last chance they have to talk before they're either dead, captured, or back on Earth. Preferably the latter.

"When we get there, don't... don't tell them what I can do. Please," he requests tensely, and there's just a slight hint of desperation. He knows they are basically heading through an enemy base into a friendly base, but it is still a miltary base, and one that has no particular reason to trust him. Or, really, do anything at all for him. But as far as he can tell, it's his only option, and it's where Daniel is going, so that's that.

"I've spent enough of my life being experimented on," he adds darkly, more quiet. At least Daniel doesn't know how Seth came upon this phasing power. If they don't know about that, they might decide he has limited usefulness.

Daniel hesitates, torn. He can't withhold that kind of information from the SGC, at least not from everyone. On the other hand he knows the IOA would be unnervingly eager to take custody of Seth for reasons that would be left 'undisclosed' to the Air Force, and Daniel can't condone that. He can't condone that being done to anyone, regardless of species or potential tactical advantage.

"It'll have to be selective," he says finally. "I'll tell them as much as I need to but there's no reason it should reach the people who have the authority to take you into custody. As long as I'm there I can tell them you're a refugee. It's true, technically, and you won't be deemed a security risk."

It won't be the first time he's abused the bureaucratic loopholes for someone else's sake, after all.

Daniel smiles, taut and fixed.

"Now let's get ourselves back to Earth, hm?"

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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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