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Entry tags:
Fic: Lantis, Head Full of Splinters
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Rating: Kiddie, mostly. Vague innuendo?
Genre: Gen, angst, episode insert.
Spoilers: season 3, not quite to the mid-point.
Notes: This confused![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
familyarchives, but, eh. I refuse to compromise. Did a new thingie, and my prompts were: Vala, Weir, are you now or have you ever been? And then David Bowie's "Heart's Filthy Lesson" was playing. title from Bush's Solutions.
Head Full of Splinters
by ALC Punk!
"I find this fascinating." Vala said.
Elizabeth didn't answer--for an instant, she fancied that she couldn't. But that would be silly. She was sitting on the couch, legs drawn up and arms clasped around them. Almost like a small child, needing comfort. And perhaps she did.
The images on the television continued to move, spilling out violence and chaos.
"Really, humans have such a capacity for violence, and the tau'ri take it to new levels. All of that senseless waste of life." A sigh huffed out from Vala. "And yet you claim to be far more superior to species like the goa'uld--who only kill to ensure their own regimes continue. Which, when you think about it, is very human."
The violence suddenly exploded in a flurry of death and blood. Elizabeth reached for the remote, almost as though she didn't really want to change it.
"Oh, I was watching that."
"No you weren't." Her voice quiet, Elizabeth didn't look at Vala. Her finger on the remote trembled only slightly as she pushed the power off.
Obeying the electronic signal, the television switched off.
"Well, if you didn't like the subject matter, you shouldn't have chosen it. I know. Let's watch a romantic comedy!" Vala clapped.
The television switched back on. Harrison Ford was on-screen, talking to a woman in the street, explaining to her how his life was empty without her. And how Paris had changed him as it had changed her.
"I always hated remakes until this one," noted Elizabeth, her voice soft. A moment later, she says, along with the television, "Once upon a time, on the north shore of Long Island, not far from New York, there was a very very large mansion, almost a castle..."
"I've always liked castles." Sounding bored, Vala continued, "Except for the drafty parts, and, seriously, so many of them have no idea of proper ventilation."
Elizabeth was silent again, watching the credits scroll.
"You could talk to me. That would be the polite thing. And you're all about being polite." There was a petulance to Vala's tone that grated on the nerves. When Elizabeth didn't reply, she snorted and crossed her arms over her chest. "Really. What are we, twelve?"
The credits ended and the television flicked off again. "I suppose I could talk to you."
"Well, of course. As I was saying--"
"But then, you're not really here, are you." Elizabeth said softly, interrupting the other woman without a qualm.
Vala shivered, then stood, "I'm here and I'm real. Look. Lizzie, I can touch you, I can feel you. So I must be here, mustn't I?"
"You don't exist. You can't exist, because there's no such thing as the stargate. No such place as Atlantis. And this is a dream." With utter certainty, Elizabeth stood and moved past Vala. Not quite touching her, but not avoiding her. A small part of her was afraid at the idea that Vala could touch her, but she ignored it.
I don't believe in Vala, I don't believe in the stargate, I don't believe in Colonel Sheppard, Dr. McKay, Teyla Emmagan, or Carson Beckett. The litany drifted through her brain and she knew it was a lie.
"You can't deny that my existence cannot be determined by you," Vala objected, following her into the bathroom.
"I can and I will. I just need..." Knuckles white, Elizabeth stopped to stare at their reflections in the mirror. Vala was wearing standard-issue SGC greens, her black t-shirt showing through the half-buttoned tunic top. And Elizabeth was in her Atlantis uniform, ready to face another day of paperwork, meetings, and plans to build alliances in Pegasus.
"See?" Vala grinned eagerly, moving to the mirror and tilting her head to the side, "At least I'm not a vampire. Daniel will be pleased to know that--though he says I'm as voracious as one, sometimes."
"I'm sure Dr. Jackson was simply being metaphorical." Damnit. Elizabeth squeezed her fingers tighter, digging her nails into her palms. She was talking to a figment of her imagination.
"Well, possibly. Although I've heard them refer to Dr. Lam as one, as well. And she's a perfectly nice woman--a bit bland and ineffectual, but nice." Vala made a noise, "Do you have dental floss? I've got a piece of something stuck--" her next words were garbled.
Elizabeth opened her eyes, and found Vala with a finger in her mouth, picking at a tooth. "Yeah." She found the white dispenser and handed it over.
"Cinnamon!" Vala grinned madly and pulled a piece off, getting to work straightaway. "I love," the next word was garbled, though Elizabeth translated it as: "cinnamon."
Apparently, those language skills were coming in handy. Trying to retain some semblance of reality, to pretend, for an instant, that she had control, Elizabeth asked, "Why are you here?"
Pulling the floss from her mouth, Vala frowned, "For the same reason you are?"
"And why am I here?"
"Because there is truth in dreams." Beaming, as though she'd said something utterly brilliant, Vala returned to working the floss between her teeth.
"You don't exist."
I don't exist. Not the image in front of her, Dr. Elizabeth Weir, leader of the Atlantis expedition in the Pegasus galaxy. There was no such person, there was no such place. Except in her dreams--in her delusions and fantasies.
"You," said Vala dropping the floss into the trash and twisting this way and that, then tugging at her hair, "must lead a very boring life if you believe that." She grinned at Elizabeth in the mirror, "Maybe you need a little spice. Or to run a con. I've always found running a con makes me happy--though, not lately. For which I blame Daniel, and Samantha says he's a horrible influence on anyone. At least when she's drunk, she does."
"This isn't real," Elizabeth told her, voice firm. "This is a dream. When I wake up, you won't exist, and I will stop going mad."
"Sounds like a plan." With one last twiddle, Vala turned to look at her. "I think I'm ready, don't you?"
Confused suddenly, Elizabeth stepped back. "Ready for what?"
"This dream to end."
-f-
Rating: Kiddie, mostly. Vague innuendo?
Genre: Gen, angst, episode insert.
Spoilers: season 3, not quite to the mid-point.
Notes: This confused
familyarchives, but, eh. I refuse to compromise. Did a new thingie, and my prompts were: Vala, Weir, are you now or have you ever been? And then David Bowie's "Heart's Filthy Lesson" was playing. title from Bush's Solutions.Head Full of Splinters
by ALC Punk!
"I find this fascinating." Vala said.
Elizabeth didn't answer--for an instant, she fancied that she couldn't. But that would be silly. She was sitting on the couch, legs drawn up and arms clasped around them. Almost like a small child, needing comfort. And perhaps she did.
The images on the television continued to move, spilling out violence and chaos.
"Really, humans have such a capacity for violence, and the tau'ri take it to new levels. All of that senseless waste of life." A sigh huffed out from Vala. "And yet you claim to be far more superior to species like the goa'uld--who only kill to ensure their own regimes continue. Which, when you think about it, is very human."
The violence suddenly exploded in a flurry of death and blood. Elizabeth reached for the remote, almost as though she didn't really want to change it.
"Oh, I was watching that."
"No you weren't." Her voice quiet, Elizabeth didn't look at Vala. Her finger on the remote trembled only slightly as she pushed the power off.
Obeying the electronic signal, the television switched off.
"Well, if you didn't like the subject matter, you shouldn't have chosen it. I know. Let's watch a romantic comedy!" Vala clapped.
The television switched back on. Harrison Ford was on-screen, talking to a woman in the street, explaining to her how his life was empty without her. And how Paris had changed him as it had changed her.
"I always hated remakes until this one," noted Elizabeth, her voice soft. A moment later, she says, along with the television, "Once upon a time, on the north shore of Long Island, not far from New York, there was a very very large mansion, almost a castle..."
"I've always liked castles." Sounding bored, Vala continued, "Except for the drafty parts, and, seriously, so many of them have no idea of proper ventilation."
Elizabeth was silent again, watching the credits scroll.
"You could talk to me. That would be the polite thing. And you're all about being polite." There was a petulance to Vala's tone that grated on the nerves. When Elizabeth didn't reply, she snorted and crossed her arms over her chest. "Really. What are we, twelve?"
The credits ended and the television flicked off again. "I suppose I could talk to you."
"Well, of course. As I was saying--"
"But then, you're not really here, are you." Elizabeth said softly, interrupting the other woman without a qualm.
Vala shivered, then stood, "I'm here and I'm real. Look. Lizzie, I can touch you, I can feel you. So I must be here, mustn't I?"
"You don't exist. You can't exist, because there's no such thing as the stargate. No such place as Atlantis. And this is a dream." With utter certainty, Elizabeth stood and moved past Vala. Not quite touching her, but not avoiding her. A small part of her was afraid at the idea that Vala could touch her, but she ignored it.
I don't believe in Vala, I don't believe in the stargate, I don't believe in Colonel Sheppard, Dr. McKay, Teyla Emmagan, or Carson Beckett. The litany drifted through her brain and she knew it was a lie.
"You can't deny that my existence cannot be determined by you," Vala objected, following her into the bathroom.
"I can and I will. I just need..." Knuckles white, Elizabeth stopped to stare at their reflections in the mirror. Vala was wearing standard-issue SGC greens, her black t-shirt showing through the half-buttoned tunic top. And Elizabeth was in her Atlantis uniform, ready to face another day of paperwork, meetings, and plans to build alliances in Pegasus.
"See?" Vala grinned eagerly, moving to the mirror and tilting her head to the side, "At least I'm not a vampire. Daniel will be pleased to know that--though he says I'm as voracious as one, sometimes."
"I'm sure Dr. Jackson was simply being metaphorical." Damnit. Elizabeth squeezed her fingers tighter, digging her nails into her palms. She was talking to a figment of her imagination.
"Well, possibly. Although I've heard them refer to Dr. Lam as one, as well. And she's a perfectly nice woman--a bit bland and ineffectual, but nice." Vala made a noise, "Do you have dental floss? I've got a piece of something stuck--" her next words were garbled.
Elizabeth opened her eyes, and found Vala with a finger in her mouth, picking at a tooth. "Yeah." She found the white dispenser and handed it over.
"Cinnamon!" Vala grinned madly and pulled a piece off, getting to work straightaway. "I love," the next word was garbled, though Elizabeth translated it as: "cinnamon."
Apparently, those language skills were coming in handy. Trying to retain some semblance of reality, to pretend, for an instant, that she had control, Elizabeth asked, "Why are you here?"
Pulling the floss from her mouth, Vala frowned, "For the same reason you are?"
"And why am I here?"
"Because there is truth in dreams." Beaming, as though she'd said something utterly brilliant, Vala returned to working the floss between her teeth.
"You don't exist."
I don't exist. Not the image in front of her, Dr. Elizabeth Weir, leader of the Atlantis expedition in the Pegasus galaxy. There was no such person, there was no such place. Except in her dreams--in her delusions and fantasies.
"You," said Vala dropping the floss into the trash and twisting this way and that, then tugging at her hair, "must lead a very boring life if you believe that." She grinned at Elizabeth in the mirror, "Maybe you need a little spice. Or to run a con. I've always found running a con makes me happy--though, not lately. For which I blame Daniel, and Samantha says he's a horrible influence on anyone. At least when she's drunk, she does."
"This isn't real," Elizabeth told her, voice firm. "This is a dream. When I wake up, you won't exist, and I will stop going mad."
"Sounds like a plan." With one last twiddle, Vala turned to look at her. "I think I'm ready, don't you?"
Confused suddenly, Elizabeth stepped back. "Ready for what?"
"This dream to end."
-f-
no subject
Just what I needed -
"At least I'm not a vampire. Daniel will be pleased to know that--though he says I'm as voracious as one, sometimes."
Sporffed coffee across the keyboard
and the concept fo Vala running a con is scary... but OTOH it would make sense given some cons. Whistles innocently
no subject
Poor keyboard. *offers towels*
*laughs* I actually meant the con artist type, but that would, ah, be scary. Very scary. ;)
no subject
Also, this line "This is a dream. When I wake up, you won't exist, and I will stop going mad." seems to me to be very much how Elizabeth thinks sometimes. Or maybe that's just me.
Your Vala is adorable, BTW.
no subject
Elizabeth needs to say that. A lot. Because sometimes, it's so true.
Thank you =) (My Vala preens and says, of COURSE she's adorable! Teal'c said so just the other day.)