Daniel/Vala Fic -- Angst mostly
Title: Insubstantial
Rating: PG
Challenge #17: Flowers
Pairings: Vala/Tomin; Vala/Daniel
Warnings: Spoilers for "The Powers that Be" and "Crusade" Also, it's rather sad.
The first time Tomin gives her flowers she doesn’t know what to do.
He surprises her with them as she dries her hands after cleaning the dishes from their evening meal; producing them from behind his back like some kind of cheep magic trick. She reaches up to let the scarlet and purple petals tickle her hand and tries to remember the last time a gift like this had been given to her. She can’t.
Maybe she’d received some from one of the hundreds (well…dozens) of men she’d swindled into loving her. Or could it be possible that it had been all those lifetimes ago when things like flowers still meant something? Before the Goa’uld. Before the Ori.
That must be it. The life of Vala MalDoran has not lent itself to gifts of thoughtfulness in a very long time. Even if there had been flowers somewhere in that murky past they couldn’t have come out of any mutual devotion. Not that she’d wanted any. Heavens no. In fact she’d gone out of her way to avoid it. And yet, it bothers her that she cannot remember. It is then that the memory comes unbidden. Rising with a gentle heat from the corner of her mind where she tried to lock it away.
It had been dark.
A thick oppressive kind of dark that the meager campfire could do little to subdue. She had been so tired that ever muscle in her body trembled and she could feel the blood pounding in her ears. But there was no sleep to be had. She, Teal’c and Daniel (…oh Daniel…) had been working for hours among the villagers trying desperately to stay one step ahead in a battle they’d already lost. Vachna was dead and even now Mitchell’s life was oozing away, seeping into the ground that had become as cold as the night that dragged on. It was really only a matter of time before they all lay down to join him in the dust. She sat huddled by the fire trying to gather the shreds of her strength as best she could. She could hear the soft cries all around her and she knew she had to be back among them soon. It was, she sighed, the very least she could do. She took a deep breath and began to force herself upwards when a gentle hand on her shoulder stayed her motion.
“Rest a little longer. It’s nearly dawn and we need to be prepared for what the light will bring. I think tomorrow will bring an end, one way or another.” She watched in silence as he lowered himself slowly to sit beside her. Even in the dim firelight she could see how pale his face was. He looked over at her and grinned wearily as he pushed a cup into her hands.
“Here. It’s not coffee, but it will have to do.” Her fingers curled around the warm pottery and she filled her lungs with the steaming fragrance.
“Narit flower,” She breathed. “I’d forgotten how sweet they were.”
“It reminds me of mint tea.” He said as she took a cautious sip of the hot liquid. “Its funny,” he went on “I have so few memories of my family, least of all my grandparents, but I have this one incredibly clear memory of my grandmother making me mint tea. I can’t have been very old, she died when I was three, but I’ve always remembered that tea.”
“I used to drink this brew every evening” she said softly. “Narit flowers are very delicate. You must pick and prepare them in just exactly the right way or the flavor is ruined. It’s more of an art form than anything else. One of the many things I took for granted when I-“ She broke off, the taste of the Narit growing bitter in her mouth. He quietly let his fingers brush against her wrist. For a moment they sat in silence.
“Come on.” He pulled himself to his feet, grasping her hand to bring her with him. “Let’s end this.” And in the moment before their fingers parted she caught a whiff of the delicate flowers. It had never smelled sweeter.
It is only when she tastes salt that she realizes she is crying. Her chest tightens and she looks up into her husband’s face, terrified that he will be able to see into the truth of her heart behind her tears.
She needn’t have worried. He only laughs and brushes them away with his fingers saying that he’d heard about what pregnancy did to women but had never quite believed it. She knows she has nothing to worry about. He thinks she’s just caught in the hysterical throws of hormones. She lets him and takes the flowers from him with shaking hands. Best get them into water quickly she says.
After all, flowers are such insubstantial things.
Rating: PG
Challenge #17: Flowers
Pairings: Vala/Tomin; Vala/Daniel
Warnings: Spoilers for "The Powers that Be" and "Crusade" Also, it's rather sad.
The first time Tomin gives her flowers she doesn’t know what to do.
He surprises her with them as she dries her hands after cleaning the dishes from their evening meal; producing them from behind his back like some kind of cheep magic trick. She reaches up to let the scarlet and purple petals tickle her hand and tries to remember the last time a gift like this had been given to her. She can’t.
Maybe she’d received some from one of the hundreds (well…dozens) of men she’d swindled into loving her. Or could it be possible that it had been all those lifetimes ago when things like flowers still meant something? Before the Goa’uld. Before the Ori.
That must be it. The life of Vala MalDoran has not lent itself to gifts of thoughtfulness in a very long time. Even if there had been flowers somewhere in that murky past they couldn’t have come out of any mutual devotion. Not that she’d wanted any. Heavens no. In fact she’d gone out of her way to avoid it. And yet, it bothers her that she cannot remember. It is then that the memory comes unbidden. Rising with a gentle heat from the corner of her mind where she tried to lock it away.
It had been dark.
A thick oppressive kind of dark that the meager campfire could do little to subdue. She had been so tired that ever muscle in her body trembled and she could feel the blood pounding in her ears. But there was no sleep to be had. She, Teal’c and Daniel (…oh Daniel…) had been working for hours among the villagers trying desperately to stay one step ahead in a battle they’d already lost. Vachna was dead and even now Mitchell’s life was oozing away, seeping into the ground that had become as cold as the night that dragged on. It was really only a matter of time before they all lay down to join him in the dust. She sat huddled by the fire trying to gather the shreds of her strength as best she could. She could hear the soft cries all around her and she knew she had to be back among them soon. It was, she sighed, the very least she could do. She took a deep breath and began to force herself upwards when a gentle hand on her shoulder stayed her motion.
“Rest a little longer. It’s nearly dawn and we need to be prepared for what the light will bring. I think tomorrow will bring an end, one way or another.” She watched in silence as he lowered himself slowly to sit beside her. Even in the dim firelight she could see how pale his face was. He looked over at her and grinned wearily as he pushed a cup into her hands.
“Here. It’s not coffee, but it will have to do.” Her fingers curled around the warm pottery and she filled her lungs with the steaming fragrance.
“Narit flower,” She breathed. “I’d forgotten how sweet they were.”
“It reminds me of mint tea.” He said as she took a cautious sip of the hot liquid. “Its funny,” he went on “I have so few memories of my family, least of all my grandparents, but I have this one incredibly clear memory of my grandmother making me mint tea. I can’t have been very old, she died when I was three, but I’ve always remembered that tea.”
“I used to drink this brew every evening” she said softly. “Narit flowers are very delicate. You must pick and prepare them in just exactly the right way or the flavor is ruined. It’s more of an art form than anything else. One of the many things I took for granted when I-“ She broke off, the taste of the Narit growing bitter in her mouth. He quietly let his fingers brush against her wrist. For a moment they sat in silence.
“Come on.” He pulled himself to his feet, grasping her hand to bring her with him. “Let’s end this.” And in the moment before their fingers parted she caught a whiff of the delicate flowers. It had never smelled sweeter.
It is only when she tastes salt that she realizes she is crying. Her chest tightens and she looks up into her husband’s face, terrified that he will be able to see into the truth of her heart behind her tears.
She needn’t have worried. He only laughs and brushes them away with his fingers saying that he’d heard about what pregnancy did to women but had never quite believed it. She knows she has nothing to worry about. He thinks she’s just caught in the hysterical throws of hormones. She lets him and takes the flowers from him with shaking hands. Best get them into water quickly she says.
After all, flowers are such insubstantial things.