duefaith-a

[duefaith-a]

so, I'm going to work on an archive and reboot in order to be able to have more of a fresh start, re-do tags, etc. but I just put on s9 ep1 and I'm 20 seconds in and I'm gonna cry...

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sometimes I go in the tags and remember how much this fandom hates my boy, and, honestly? I still to this day cannot fathom how everyone hates this goodest boy and his heart of gold...

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Sam and Cam might be stuck in the Arctic circle but doesn't mean the wheels aren't spinning....

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SG-1 laying down truth STARGATE SG-1 10.06 “200”

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Your carrd isn't working :(

hey, anon! the one in my pinned post is fine, and really, that's where I'd go for all navigational purposes. I just fixed the one in my theme. however, I'm really not on this blog at the moment; we're looking at an extended hiatus.

[duefaith-a]

One-man hype squad Cameron Mitchell

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doctordonovan​:

 it’s meaner than she meant it to be,    but she will need far more time than she likely has left on earth to learn how to believe how much he seems to care.    he is always so genuine   -    too much so for even her hesitant nature to worry about how true caring should be.    yet still she leans forward,    small smile apologetic even with the way tone hums with playfulness.   ���   maeve in b flat?   I forget how you dislike my little anti-maeve jokes.    they’re a great hit at IOA parties.   ❞     the only thing likely to hit the IOA is her,    should the opportunity even slightly arise again.

 even when his hand drops,    thumb brushes one of few uninjured spots on his arm,    careful still to never apply more than the slightest pressure.    others are likely to leave,   are they not? they almost did before    -    it was as much the threat of the ori as their own bad lucks that tricked them into giving cam time with the team he’d worked so hard to recover for.    what would come next if now,    after all this,   he ends up losing them anyway?

 ❝   do you want me to go?    you must need rest.     I can always come back later,     as we’ve said.    I’m not going anywhere.   ❞     where would she go?    there’s still too much to do here,    too much guilt to be carried.    at least working gives her a purpose    -    and it keeps his presence in her life,    no matter how much worry always seems to follow said presence.     ❝   I’m pretty certain I can steal some of the good jello.    if there’s such a thing,    it’s all squidgy and evil in my books.   ❞    further teasing comes with another little smile,    letting finger lightly brush over his before tapping his knuckles.     ❝   as much as I know you hate doing nothing,    I’d like to remind you that you do indeed look far too much like hell to pull off any claims that it’s not that bad.   ❞

she needs to stop making him laugh,  he thinks dully as her suggestion that he might want her to leave sparks the newest round of dry laughter ( quickly aborted by the pain it shoots through his ribs ).    ❛ you realize that if you leave,  I’m stuck lying here all by my lonesome without a thing to do.  how long do you think I’d last before I did something stupid?  nah,  I think maybe you’d better stay and make sure I behave myself. ❜    it’s for the sake of his sanity,  given how much he can feel with even the slightest movements the truly heinous damage done to his entire body.  he has suffered worse,  has lain still with nothing to occupy his time for far longer.  yet those days are not days he desires any semblance of return to. 

if neither of his options are tenable  ( doing nothing or risking further injury ),  then it must be the third option.

guilt slips in in to his thoughts,  however,  for in keeping her here he keeps her from her work,  from her life,  from any number of things she might prefer to or need to accomplish with her time.  she was here already,  he reminds himself futilely.  it’s not like you walked in and interrupted her in the lab.  still,  he cannot let go of the thought.    ❛ ‘course,  if you need to go...  or,  hell,  if you want to go...  I’m sure you’ve got much better things to do with your time than babysit a man who forgot he’s never done well in hand-to-hand combat. ❜    much less against a half-metal,  replicator-enhanced human.    ❛ I’d say maybe one of these days I’ll learn my lesson,  but then again...  might be gettin’ too old for that,  at this point. ❜ 

[duefaith-a]

[duefaith-a]

@doctordonovan​  |  continued.

 his anger is predictable,    yet unpleasant all the same.    there is no doubt he knows her well enough to guess that no matter what she may say,     no matter what she might promise,     were things to somehow happen again they would unfold the same way.     perhaps worse so now she is aware of the damage,    the pain,    her own cam has been put through by own alternate hands.    he can barely tolerate breathing the same air as her,    thumb brushing over engagement ring again,     habit of twisting it around finger as much self punishment as facing any fear.    ❝   it occurred too much might be lost in translation. especially if I have to explain to someone something they will then need to explain onwards.   ❞

 she has none of needed energy to raise to the argument,    nor any of the needed desire.    how can she argue with a man whom she cannot move closer to    -    cannot even walk in too suddenly upon?    it would be as cruel as it would be unfair on them both.    there will be no offering apologies she does not mean,    no pretending that his points might reach through past weeks and make her see path ahead of herself with more kindness.     it is not in her,    has never been in her,    to be gentle with own heart.

 ❝   the information I gave him could offer them real help.   ❞   weaknesses to d'ane’s preferred ships,   the little routines and failings that living in her skin had taught her over time.   information came too late to offer any help to those she cares for her,    begrudging that information to those who have suffered all the more because of faux god.    ❝   I’m unhurt,    am I not?     my ego can stand a few hits,    and I’m hardly made of porcelain.    I can list some of the many times you’ve put yourself endlessly in harm’s way if you’d like.   ❞

it does not so much baffle as frustrate him,  the way she refuses to see the alternatives that might protect her.    ❛ then write it down to be given to him! ❜    he cannot help the outburst,  even knowing how little she likes raised voices,  even as little as he knows the argument will do.  he can only purse his lips as she continues,  resisting the urge to interrupt,  to refuse to let the matter be.

but what’s done is done,  and she is not wrong.  in the end,  it always comes down to this:  they are both too willing by far to place themselves in harm’s way when they believe a cause just.    cameron himself lacks solid ground to stand upon,  not when he will only further dig a hole from which he cannot extricate himself,  his words too hypocritical. 

❛ this isn’t about me,  maeve. ❜    it’s only half a truth,  and his own words serve only to prove him wrong.    ❛ it’s about the fact that I could have stepped back through the stargate to find you dead.  not because of any unpredictable accident,  and not because of some necessary action that could not be avoided,  but because you were careless.  and that would have been... far worse than anything I... experienced,  over there.  you know that I know all too well how strong you are,  but I have seen his world. ❜    he knows the sort of man he must be.  he would not put anything past him.

and he knows the guilt that perhaps will never cease to haunt maeve. 

it’s not about her ego in the end,  however.  it’s not about the fact that she is unhurt.  it’s about what could have been,  about what could be the next time she takes such a course of action.  it’s about the fear those possibilities engender.    ❛ you’re unhurt,  but what if you weren’t? ❜

[duefaith-a]

@doctordonovan​  |  continued​.

 he has her back    -   regardless of anything or everything else: no matter what has happened, and certainly no matter how recent rough patch still plays on her mind when she allows her defences to slip a little too down.    they’ve almost lost each other enough times that the determination they keep showing in finding each other again will never be silenced by a few self indulgent IOA threats.    (  no matter what maeve might believe best for him,    when has cam ever been the type to choose his career over loyalty to those he cares about?  )

 ❝   avoiding her still counts as resisting the urge to argue with her.   ❞     it is not as though he can be blamed for it:    his family,    his childhood,    had very few similarities.    would they work as well as they do if the very sincerity of his nature didn’t still   -   after so many years   -   sometimes catch her by surprise.    his and mary’s differences were hardly the sort of matters that could be fixed,    nor were they issues maeve herself had ever particularly stopped to linger upon.     she had died,    world had moved on.    why would her mother have been any different just because cam’s faith in her had surpassed all possible odds?

 few parts of her life ever really seem to fit together,    to match each other in the slightest.    it has been a lifetime of playing needed roles:   of being what all require from her and hiding from needing to truly figure own core out. cam of all people has met enough versions of her to know how it has gone   -    from dryly amused fake blonde at double date to a shell barely returned from her time with d’ane.    he knows her,     she knows him.    knows the novels that tiny expression changes write,    knows the fact she’ll likely never get an exact translation as to what it all means as his mind finally seems to settle a little more on their discussion.    things are rarely fine,    that much needs no saying, she’s reminded of that basic fact every time even just moving or stretching has near miss upon his spine and bones screaming in an agony he will never fully tell her about.     he is grateful to simply be alive,    to make his way onwards,    who is she to ruin that with her need to always understand?

 it’s not as though she mentions her headaches either.   ❝   you’re very welcome.   ❞    when has she ever protested at easily returned little kiss?    fingers moving to lightly squeeze his hands again.    ❝   you know I’m here,    right?    even if I’m not always the most practical help.    I do have a way of angering the military,    it’s a gift.   ❞

he finds himself grateful she doesn’t ask,  that he doesn’t have to explain that which is,  somehow,  so hard to put into words.  he can scarcely hope to explain,  after all,  the way she settles him,  grounds him against frustration,  against fear.  she knows anyway,  he thinks,  he hopes.  there is only forwards to go,  impossible though it may seem,  and neither despair nor anger can reveal another path,  a different option. 

❛ I’ll keep it in mind as a last-ditch option. ❜    joking aside,  cam would never willingly let her risk her life and career by truly angering the military ( not beyond the distrust that has yet to fade and that they might always harbor toward her ).  no revenge for the position they have placed him in could ever be worth that.  

yet he does know that she is there,  would have known it even if she hadn’t just proven it to him,  even if he hadn’t derailed her own obligations in his desperate need for her to set things right,  to put his head back on straight and shift the perspective he knew had twisted.    ❛ though,  if I keep you from your work much longer,  you might accidentally anger landry right off the bat. ❜    or perhaps it’s cam who will bear the brunt of that anger for distracting the scientist from her responsibilities even as he neglects his own.    a sigh escapes cam’s lips,  fatigue settling into the emptiness left by former emotions.    ❛ I should let you go back. ❜    

as if that doesn’t mean letting go of his lifeline,  trusting himself to stand firm upon his own two feet.  the thought sparks a return of anxieties he is quick to squash down.  instead,  he justifies stealing a little more time by applying it practically.    ❛ maeve,  you know these people better than me...  don’t suppose you have any recommendations. ❜

[duefaith-a]

CAM MITCHELL IN EVERY EPISODE

Stargate SG-1 9.07 “Ex Deus Machina” 

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doctordonovan​:

 it does him an injustice to be surprised    -    both by the fact he is here, solid and true,    and the simple fact that he so clearly cares even as they try to hide too much in familiar humour.     he has always been a home to her:     a safe place.     but all beacons must go out eventually and despite how very real his touch is    -    the gaps between them all feel as though any one of them has the potential to accidentally slip    &&    slide into an eternity.    (   minutes and hours no longer mean what they used to,     not when she spent so very long unable to even breathe,     bricked up within a corner of herself.    )     it is hardly the first time someone has come into her life and torn all that she was to shreds…     but what violence could compare to the things past years have held?

 ❝   like you’re going to use the free pass for more than nagging me into a meal or something?   ❞     it’s too easy to joke back, to allow his presence to be the one thing she recognises in a world maeve has no place being.     anyone who once cared for her    -    friends,    acquaintances,    once mentors    -    they have all buried her    &&    that’s surely a different kind of mercy.

 he’d be better off with her buried.    yet instead here he sits,    with zombie of woman he once loved    cared for sat beside him.     ❝   but if trouble’s what you seek,    who am I to stop you?     I’d hate to be back five minutes and already prove myself to be such a killjoy.   ❞     killer of planets,     of civilisations,    sure.    but a killjoy not quite yet.    ❝    I already ruined your plans by turning up like this.    ❞

despite how little it seems like an appropriate evening for a serious conversation,  and despite how much he has attempted to ignore it,  to overlook it,  she has circled back too many times to that same remark:  I’m ruining your plans.  he can no longer bear to overlook it,  not when half of him wants to laugh and the other to frown in worry.

and perhaps he should laugh it off,  couch it in a joke about how she knows him well enough to know he can’t make and stick to a plan if his life depends on it.  worry wins out,  no matter how little he wishes to drag them down a grim path ( especially knowing that horrible experiences aplenty must lie in the past year and half of emptiness ).    ❛ maeve,  just what plans do you think you’re ruining?  hell,  put aside the fact that it wouldn’t matter what plans I had,  I’d happily throw them all away.  what plans do you think I had in the first place? ❜    he’s been worse about it,  perhaps,  in recent years.  the short gaps between tours overseas kept in greater solitude than has ever been his custom.  he did not have it in him to hang out amongst jovial friends,  to laugh and joke and play as if all were right with the world,  as if she were not missing.

overseas was different,  but only slightly.  there was only so much space for gravity amongst the workings of war ( declared or under the radar ).  they all found ways to lighten the mood,  to connect with friends whom they never knew if they would see again.  but here,  amongst what had been normal life...    ❛ you’re not interrupting,  intruding,  ruining or in any other way shape or form being a burden. ❜    he’s lost track of the words she’s used,  though he’s sure those were three of them.  they stand out too prominently,  too memorably:  a direct contradiction to the reality. 

[duefaith-a]

@doctordonovan​  |  continued.

 it’s almost hard to remember    -    the conversation he brings up,     the moments that these days seem to belong to a maeve that no longer exists.    years have not been kind to her    -    barely aged and yet centuries older all in the same breaths.     ❝   one day you’ll admit there’s a pinch of sentimentality to you.   ❞    they’re not who they were back then.     he lost her,    far more than he might ever realise,    and some quiet part of her guilt wonders how she can ever apologise for the fact he’s received all that she is now as a poor version of recompense.    ❝   I doubt she thought about me much. I was just…     a familiar someone who faded from her life for a little bit.   ❞

 she does that a lot    -    or at least she did.    before cam,    before he gave her somewhere to return to that mattered more than any fear could outweigh.    ❝   maybe the plants and the chinchillas are just so I can feel useful.   ❞     it’s nothing new,    is it?    her need to have a purpose,    and recent events have left her with enough guilt,    enough need to make up for things,    that she knows the importance of clinging to the few things left that feel safe.    things and people that she loves.    ❝   it’s just me being a terrible influence as always.    you know what I’m like.   ❞

she never gives herself enough credit,  and though cam may not have had as much cause to witness it as he will by the time another decade has passed,  he still knows well enough.    ❛ now,  I’d have to ask casey about just how much chinchilla’s are self-aware,  but I don’t believe for a moment you’re not more than a familiar someone to her.  and I’d bet more than maybe I should that she properly missed you. ❜    he could be wrong.  it could be doing no more than projecting his own sentiments onto the little critter,  the way she would seem to search a room,  or to sniff at his hand only to scamper off as if he was not whom she had been looking for.

he does know what she’s like,  and he knows she’s nothing even remotely resembling a terrible influence.  he shakes his head,  gently,  not sure whether he should smile or frown.    ❛ I’ll make you a deal:  I’ll admit to sentimentality the day you admit that you don’t need to be useful. ❜ 

[duefaith-a]

Stargate SG-1: Collateral Damage

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sohelish​:

‘Tells me that somebody knows you. Knows you well.’ There is an odd reverence to her tone. Is there a pinch of jealousy mixed in? ‘Which, in turn, makes me assume that you’re are a team player if in part. Otherwise, there’d be a— uh— replicated toy. Spitefully introduced instead of, say, this.’ She waves the tricorder device around with the confidence of never potentially dropping it. A smirk stretches further as she tactically chooses what she needs for an initial setup and what she can afford to carry later.

‘It’s funny you’d mention rapidly changing weather. I was on one of the moons of Shion not two months ago. Ran into that, but here—’ She falls pensive. ‘The vegetation is ample. Vast. And it grows in the open. There’d be little, everything else destroyed by the unpredictable brutality.’ The moon she referred to was almost barren. ‘Unless, of course, nature adapted. But the likelihood of it?’ It would need seasons of calm to adjust. The realisation that she is treading on the edge of prediction sobers Hel up.

‘Well. If we’re hit, we’re probably done for anyway. Can’t control the clouds. But do you know what really bugs me?’ The woman deadpans. ‘Bugs. Their absence.’ As in: with all that greenery, she hadn’t necessarily spotted any yet, and the notion stuck with her. She is definitely serious about that observation.

a team player,  if in part.  cameron could almost laugh.    ❛ I make no promises there isn’t a replicated toy somewhere in there.  just wait.  I’m sure they’d all think it a great practical joke. ❜    but in the end,  they’re his friends,  and he relies upon and trusts them implicitly,  knowing that ( justified or not ) that trust is returned.  they might pull pranks on him,  but they’d never leave him to be stranded somewhere without the resources he’d need to survive.    ❛ I wouldn’t be much of anything,  without them. ❜    he affords himself only a brief moment for the sobering thought,  for acknowledging the dull ache that settles into his chest whenever he considers where they might be,  while he is here.

at hel’s observation,  however,  cam glances around.  she’s not wrong:  he’s pretty sure he hasn’t seen any bugs either,  but as far as he’s concerned,  that can only be a good thing.    ❛ what’s wrong with no bugs? ❜    he can almost hear sam’s voice in his head pointing out that,  scientifically,  many bugs are important for ecosystems,  for pollination of plants,  if nothing else.  but in countless ecosystems across an infinite universe of possibilities,  cameron refuses to believe that plants could find other ways to propagate.    ❛ seems like one fewer thing to bother us. ❜    he nearly has to suppress a shudder at the thought of the alternative — a bug-rife zone of things crawling across their skin and biting into them. 

[duefaith-a]

this is just to say that people should let me play with continuum based things.  alternate reality where they separate cam from his friends.  or living in the past in our reality so that another version of him can have the full life he was meant to. 

[duefaith-a]

her question upon his return stalls him a moment, as his brain struggles to catch up with a truly seemingly unrelated topic. yet he doesn't bother to ask what's prompted the question, nor does he stop to point out that you could scarcely live in the united states of america without having heard of the internet in this day and age, even for those who hadn't grown up with it as a staple of their daily lives.

❛ who let you on the internet? ❜ cam can only hope they also supervised the incident, though somehow he suspects vala to be more than capable of evading such supervision, after a time.

but at least she has not argued further, perhaps recognizing that there'll be no stopping him, no confining him here. at least unless doctor lam were to arrive at an inconvenient moment. he wastes no more time, refusing to tempt fate that just such an event might happen. only after he's through the infirmary door and two corridors over that he slows his brisk pace, feeling fatigue of his illness settling into his muscles. he lacks the energy, the stamina, to which he's accustomed. walking more slowly now, he has enough breath to ask her, ❛ what's so good about the internet? ❜ oh, he has answers aplenty himself, but he's curious about what would compel vala mal doran, of all people.

❛ What did I just say? Ass! Bed!! Now!!! ❜ These humans! Vala had tricked empires, stolen from kings and manipulated gods with a flick of her wrist — and that was before she was a goddess herself, but it seemed they were immune to all her powers, she was constantly chasing them, unable to get them to do the right thing.

AKA: listen to her at all times.

One of these days, while they were standing on a pile of their wrong actions, her words would come back to haunt them, and she’d be laughing her ass off as far away from here as possible, of that she could be certain.

❛ You have a reason to lie in bed all day long and you’re wasting it? You are an idiot, Cameron Mitchell. ❜ Vala called out as he was changing, all the while hiding the documents she had nicked underneath one of the mattresses. Disagreeing with his choices doesn’t mean she is going to waste an opportunity to get herself out of trouble.

When he returns, back in that drab uniform of his, she is once again sitting on the chair, a bored look on her face. ❛ Have you heard of the internet, Mitchell? It’s this fabulous little human invention. Your people are boring and prudish, but I’m not above admitting they did something good. Fine, let’s go find the team and they can tell you that everything is fine and that you should rest. ❜

Any flicker of pain, of hurt, which may have gripped her chest at his words is hidden. Vala learned long ago how to manipulate people into believing she is incapable of feelings; she is not going to start trying to convince people otherwise now. No matter how much she would like to.