Stargate SG1: Where the Hell Were You? (1/5)
All disclaimers, notes, warnings and summary are in the Master post: Where the Hell Were You?
Prologue
Thoughts and impressions floated in and out of his mind, remembered and forgotten and remembered again. Thunder, lightning, fire falling from the sky... explosions, destruction, pain, and then darkness. He hovered there for a time, marveling at the wonder and horror and terrible beauty of it all. He knew with a strange and disconnected sort of certainty that this was the 'Meaning of Life Stuff' that he'd talked about in the past without truly understanding. But he understood it all now. As he floated above the memories and sank into them, breathing his fill of the light with reckless abandon while feeling himself drowning in the dark, he knew he understood.
This wasn't 'Stuff' but it was the Meaning of Life.
The All, the Nothing, and the Everything In Between. Life, Death, War, Peace, Love, Hate - each had a name and a face of its own, and he recognized them all now. They were all breathtakingly beautiful and horrendously ugly. They lived and they breathed and they worshipped at the feet of their one true master.
Pain.
The Everything came forth from the Pain, and in turn the Pain came forth from the Everything. It was a constant circle of gain and loss, breath and suffocation, birth and death and resurrection just to die again. It all happened right in front of them, but no one saw it. They could have touched it if they just reached out their hands, but instead they pulled them back. They did not love the Pain as they should. They did not worship it, or pray for it, or crave it. Instead, they feared it. They pulled back from it, avoided it, pushed it down and dulled it.
And they never understood.
But he did.
He felt it within him - a bright white flame that burned in his chest and seared his veins. The Pain was telling him that something was wrong, something was missing, something beautiful needed to be reborn. He listened, and he understood. The Pain was a physical thing and an ethereal thing - horrible and terrible and peaceful and beautiful. And when he opened his heart to it, and let it flow through him, it showed him the Truth.
Perfection lay on the other side of Pain. A connection, a love, a soul-melding of epic proportion that could be achieved only by embracing the Pain and doing battle with it. The strength required was something few possessed, to forge ever forward in the face of immeasurable torment, but knowing that the reward for his courage would mend his torn soul would bolster his reserves. He knew he would persevere.
He knew he had to.
And so he started the climb out of the darkness and light, knowing that the Pain would be waiting for him when he reached the top but relishing the chance to defeat it. The Pain of the physical made a nuisance of itself, pulling at his chest and taunting him without words. It told him that he was safer where he was, that to stay beneath it was the wise thing to do. It told him that there was nothing for him at the top of that climb but more of itself; that the Pain that waited was more terrible than that which he climbed past to reach it.
He laughed in its face as his fingers gripped the edge and he pulled himself out.
Two familiar, beautiful, radiant faces greeted him - one masked behind a stoicism that belied deep concern, one wide-open and emanating near-panic, and both expressing the beautiful, horrible, terrible, amazing Truth that was Pain.
He blinked slowly as his eyes moved from one face to the other, convinced that he had to be wrong. There were three. There were always three. There had to be three.
There were only two.
Blinking again as distant memories of recent visions faded and escaped him, he looked into their faces and gave voice to his own Pain.
"Where's Daniel?"
Prologue
Thoughts and impressions floated in and out of his mind, remembered and forgotten and remembered again. Thunder, lightning, fire falling from the sky... explosions, destruction, pain, and then darkness. He hovered there for a time, marveling at the wonder and horror and terrible beauty of it all. He knew with a strange and disconnected sort of certainty that this was the 'Meaning of Life Stuff' that he'd talked about in the past without truly understanding. But he understood it all now. As he floated above the memories and sank into them, breathing his fill of the light with reckless abandon while feeling himself drowning in the dark, he knew he understood.
This wasn't 'Stuff' but it was the Meaning of Life.
The All, the Nothing, and the Everything In Between. Life, Death, War, Peace, Love, Hate - each had a name and a face of its own, and he recognized them all now. They were all breathtakingly beautiful and horrendously ugly. They lived and they breathed and they worshipped at the feet of their one true master.
Pain.
The Everything came forth from the Pain, and in turn the Pain came forth from the Everything. It was a constant circle of gain and loss, breath and suffocation, birth and death and resurrection just to die again. It all happened right in front of them, but no one saw it. They could have touched it if they just reached out their hands, but instead they pulled them back. They did not love the Pain as they should. They did not worship it, or pray for it, or crave it. Instead, they feared it. They pulled back from it, avoided it, pushed it down and dulled it.
And they never understood.
But he did.
He felt it within him - a bright white flame that burned in his chest and seared his veins. The Pain was telling him that something was wrong, something was missing, something beautiful needed to be reborn. He listened, and he understood. The Pain was a physical thing and an ethereal thing - horrible and terrible and peaceful and beautiful. And when he opened his heart to it, and let it flow through him, it showed him the Truth.
Perfection lay on the other side of Pain. A connection, a love, a soul-melding of epic proportion that could be achieved only by embracing the Pain and doing battle with it. The strength required was something few possessed, to forge ever forward in the face of immeasurable torment, but knowing that the reward for his courage would mend his torn soul would bolster his reserves. He knew he would persevere.
He knew he had to.
And so he started the climb out of the darkness and light, knowing that the Pain would be waiting for him when he reached the top but relishing the chance to defeat it. The Pain of the physical made a nuisance of itself, pulling at his chest and taunting him without words. It told him that he was safer where he was, that to stay beneath it was the wise thing to do. It told him that there was nothing for him at the top of that climb but more of itself; that the Pain that waited was more terrible than that which he climbed past to reach it.
He laughed in its face as his fingers gripped the edge and he pulled himself out.
Two familiar, beautiful, radiant faces greeted him - one masked behind a stoicism that belied deep concern, one wide-open and emanating near-panic, and both expressing the beautiful, horrible, terrible, amazing Truth that was Pain.
He blinked slowly as his eyes moved from one face to the other, convinced that he had to be wrong. There were three. There were always three. There had to be three.
There were only two.
Blinking again as distant memories of recent visions faded and escaped him, he looked into their faces and gave voice to his own Pain.
"Where's Daniel?"