Stargate SG-1 Fic: The First Cut Is the Deepest
Because. Yes. Obviously there needed to be fic about the first time Teal'c gets a paper cut.
Thanks to![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
iulia for beta, and not forbidding me to use this title.
Team gen. Season 1. 950 words.
Warning: Graphic depiction of paper cuts.
The Tau'ri's paper was as unexpectedly dangerous as they were themselves. Teal'c raised his eyebrows, impressed.
The First Cut Is the Deepest
Teal'c had been among the Tau'ri for several days before he realized that their assumption that he could read whatever writing they placed in front of him was not a recognition of his stature as a (former, traitor) First Prime. The Tau'ri simply assumed that everyone could read. There were written messages on the walls and doors which were intended for all to read, not secret codes for the benefit of the highest echelon.
Tau'ri egalitarianism was the least of their strange attitudes toward writing. The Goa'uld used various changeable displays for text, and when they wished to make some writing permanent they carved it into gold or stone. The things Daniel Jackson referred to as 'hard copy' were mere sheaves of soft and fragile paper. Teal'c had seen such materials used when Bra'tac wished to communicate with others who shared his views about the false gods; they had valued paper for its destructibility. The Tau'ri seemed to imagine paper was a thing of permanence.
Perhaps Teal'c simply underestimated the sturdiness of the paper. The Tau'ri had advanced technology; there was no reason that they should be using mere flattened plant-pulp for their important communications. Faced with another stack of the ubiquitously plain paper--always white, the text always black, always in the same style and size--Teal'c took up the top sheet and examined it more closely. It was very fine--thinner than the paper Teal'c was familiar with from Chulak, where paper was made of cloth as well as plants. The Tau'ri pages had a very uniform edge, precision-cut. They made a hard sound when one tapped them against the table. All the pages Teal'c had seen were precisely the same size, with the same sharp corners.
Teal'c tested his thumb against one of the corners--it did indeed function as a point of sorts, poking tangibly against his skin. He drew his thumb down the edge of the paper, and then stopped short at the strange sensation.
It wasn't until he saw blood welling up that he felt the pain of the tiny wound--indeed, the Tau'ri's paper was as unexpectedly dangerous as they were themselves. Teal'c raised his eyebrows, impressed.
"Oh, ow," Captain Carter said, and Teal'c looked up. She was grimacing at him from across the table.
Colonel O'Neill, beside him, leaned closer. "Looks like a nasty one, Teal'c. You want to go down to the infirmary for a band-aid?"
Teal'c frowned, tilting his thumb back and forth. The blood was already clotting, and the pain, while irritating in the way of wounds to the hand, was not debilitating or even particularly distracting. "That will not be necessary. My symbiote is healing me already."
"Sure," O'Neill said, "but those things always hurt like a--" O'Neill's gaze flicked sideways to Captain Carter, "a lot. A band-aid will make it feel better."
Teal'c raised his eyebrows. He had already observed that the Tau'ri, reliant on merely human healing, had many strange superstitions about their wounds. "It will feel better when it is healed, and it will be healed soon. It is a very small wound."
"Teal'c," Daniel Jackson said, leaning toward him across the table with the intent expression which always heralded strange questions about the Jaffa. "You've never had a paper cut before, have you?"
Captain Carter's concerned expression shifted to an expression much like Daniel Jackson's, though her curiosity was usually about Goa'uld technology. O'Neill merely raised his eyebrows.
Teal'c nodded shallowly. "I have not."
It made sense that all Tau'ri--or at least all adult Tau'ri--had had paper cuts, if they were surrounded by so much of this paper all the time.
"Kind of a rite of passage," O'Neill remarked, obviously thinking along the same lines.
"Actually, Jack, rite of passage denotes a specific--"
"Daniel--"
Teal'c withdrew his attention from the already-familiar argument, studying the paper again. He had handled it many times without being injured by it; it was only a particular touch which held a threat. He tapped his fingertip against the edge of the page, then tried to replicate the correct pressure and motion.
A sudden three-part wordless cry jerked his attention back to the others. They all had different versions of the same pained expressions on their faces, as though he had cut their fingers instead of his own. Teal'c looked down and saw the skin of his fingertip gape open, then felt the pain as the blood began to flow.
"A most formidable weapon," Teal'c remarked evenly, lest he seem to have injured himself through carelessness rather than as a means of evaluating the material.
"Okay, but please don't do that again," Daniel Jackson said, still wincing.
Captain Carter, Teal'c noted, had curled both her hands into loose fists, as if protecting her own fingertips from assault by paper.
O'Neill said, "Yeah, that's probably enough rite of passage for today, Teal'c. You're one of us now for sure."
Teal'c had to conclude that he was; they had all reacted with instinctive sympathy--the sympathy of mere humans, who had to cope with the slow healing of even minor injuries. Another Jaffa would not have noticed such a thing. They treated him as if he were like themselves, and did not even stop to think of doing otherwise, though the evidence of his difference was printed on his face.
He was, as O'Neill had said, certainly one of them now.
"Indeed," he agreed, and set the page down, noting as he did the faint expressions of relief on the others' faces. It was good to be sure of them. Even if he had not unraveled the mystery of Tau'ri paper, this new certainty of his team was well worth a few drops of blood.
Thanks to
iulia for beta, and not forbidding me to use this title.Team gen. Season 1. 950 words.
Warning: Graphic depiction of paper cuts.
The Tau'ri's paper was as unexpectedly dangerous as they were themselves. Teal'c raised his eyebrows, impressed.
The First Cut Is the Deepest
Teal'c had been among the Tau'ri for several days before he realized that their assumption that he could read whatever writing they placed in front of him was not a recognition of his stature as a (former, traitor) First Prime. The Tau'ri simply assumed that everyone could read. There were written messages on the walls and doors which were intended for all to read, not secret codes for the benefit of the highest echelon.
Tau'ri egalitarianism was the least of their strange attitudes toward writing. The Goa'uld used various changeable displays for text, and when they wished to make some writing permanent they carved it into gold or stone. The things Daniel Jackson referred to as 'hard copy' were mere sheaves of soft and fragile paper. Teal'c had seen such materials used when Bra'tac wished to communicate with others who shared his views about the false gods; they had valued paper for its destructibility. The Tau'ri seemed to imagine paper was a thing of permanence.
Perhaps Teal'c simply underestimated the sturdiness of the paper. The Tau'ri had advanced technology; there was no reason that they should be using mere flattened plant-pulp for their important communications. Faced with another stack of the ubiquitously plain paper--always white, the text always black, always in the same style and size--Teal'c took up the top sheet and examined it more closely. It was very fine--thinner than the paper Teal'c was familiar with from Chulak, where paper was made of cloth as well as plants. The Tau'ri pages had a very uniform edge, precision-cut. They made a hard sound when one tapped them against the table. All the pages Teal'c had seen were precisely the same size, with the same sharp corners.
Teal'c tested his thumb against one of the corners--it did indeed function as a point of sorts, poking tangibly against his skin. He drew his thumb down the edge of the paper, and then stopped short at the strange sensation.
It wasn't until he saw blood welling up that he felt the pain of the tiny wound--indeed, the Tau'ri's paper was as unexpectedly dangerous as they were themselves. Teal'c raised his eyebrows, impressed.
"Oh, ow," Captain Carter said, and Teal'c looked up. She was grimacing at him from across the table.
Colonel O'Neill, beside him, leaned closer. "Looks like a nasty one, Teal'c. You want to go down to the infirmary for a band-aid?"
Teal'c frowned, tilting his thumb back and forth. The blood was already clotting, and the pain, while irritating in the way of wounds to the hand, was not debilitating or even particularly distracting. "That will not be necessary. My symbiote is healing me already."
"Sure," O'Neill said, "but those things always hurt like a--" O'Neill's gaze flicked sideways to Captain Carter, "a lot. A band-aid will make it feel better."
Teal'c raised his eyebrows. He had already observed that the Tau'ri, reliant on merely human healing, had many strange superstitions about their wounds. "It will feel better when it is healed, and it will be healed soon. It is a very small wound."
"Teal'c," Daniel Jackson said, leaning toward him across the table with the intent expression which always heralded strange questions about the Jaffa. "You've never had a paper cut before, have you?"
Captain Carter's concerned expression shifted to an expression much like Daniel Jackson's, though her curiosity was usually about Goa'uld technology. O'Neill merely raised his eyebrows.
Teal'c nodded shallowly. "I have not."
It made sense that all Tau'ri--or at least all adult Tau'ri--had had paper cuts, if they were surrounded by so much of this paper all the time.
"Kind of a rite of passage," O'Neill remarked, obviously thinking along the same lines.
"Actually, Jack, rite of passage denotes a specific--"
"Daniel--"
Teal'c withdrew his attention from the already-familiar argument, studying the paper again. He had handled it many times without being injured by it; it was only a particular touch which held a threat. He tapped his fingertip against the edge of the page, then tried to replicate the correct pressure and motion.
A sudden three-part wordless cry jerked his attention back to the others. They all had different versions of the same pained expressions on their faces, as though he had cut their fingers instead of his own. Teal'c looked down and saw the skin of his fingertip gape open, then felt the pain as the blood began to flow.
"A most formidable weapon," Teal'c remarked evenly, lest he seem to have injured himself through carelessness rather than as a means of evaluating the material.
"Okay, but please don't do that again," Daniel Jackson said, still wincing.
Captain Carter, Teal'c noted, had curled both her hands into loose fists, as if protecting her own fingertips from assault by paper.
O'Neill said, "Yeah, that's probably enough rite of passage for today, Teal'c. You're one of us now for sure."
Teal'c had to conclude that he was; they had all reacted with instinctive sympathy--the sympathy of mere humans, who had to cope with the slow healing of even minor injuries. Another Jaffa would not have noticed such a thing. They treated him as if he were like themselves, and did not even stop to think of doing otherwise, though the evidence of his difference was printed on his face.
He was, as O'Neill had said, certainly one of them now.
"Indeed," he agreed, and set the page down, noting as he did the faint expressions of relief on the others' faces. It was good to be sure of them. Even if he had not unraveled the mystery of Tau'ri paper, this new certainty of his team was well worth a few drops of blood.
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