Daughter
Disclaimer: me, make money on any of 'em? That's a joke, right?
Dear Chloe,
I've written you one of these letters every week for -- at least a decade now. It's hard to keep track of time, in my line of work. Yes, I know, you've never gotten any of them. Someday you will, though. They're all carefully stored for you, to be delivered when the time comes. And I know it's selfish of me, but I only hope it's later rather than sooner. I keep asking if I can send you something, anything, just to let you know I'm thinking of you, but the answer is always the same. Only in the event of my death.
I had hoped that maybe, once you were more mature, my senior officers would let me trust you with my secret. Instead, you had to develop a reputation as a bulldog investigator and reporter with a taste for the bizarre and an unflinching ability to face it. Oh, my child! That the thing I'm most proud of you for, is the thing that makes it even more impossible to contact you and tell you so. If the gods are not crazy, then their sense of humor is somewhere beyond cruel.
But then, I don't believe in gods, and neither do you. You inherited your tenacious nature from me. I should hardly be surprised.
Look at that, I just wrote "tenacious." Jack would give me disbelieving stares for weeks if he ever found out. Daniel would -- never mind.
Every week, I try to come up with a new way to say I'm sorry. I know it will never be enough. Everything I did was a mistake. Taking time off from the career I'd worked so hard for, when I knew I could never give it up. Falling in love with your father. Having you. All mistakes.
I don't regret a single one of them. I wouldn't trade all the General's power for the few years I had with you.
I'm not sure I wouldn't trade the whole team to see you again.
But that would be treason, Chloe. Dereliction of duty. Not just to my job, my oath, but to my team-mates, my friends. I've seen enough of you to know that you understand what that means now. You would never betray your friends. If anything, you're more loyal to those you care about than I am. You get that extra from your dad, I guess. Gabe always was a rock.
I'd give anything to be able to say goodbye to him properly. Someday, I just might. No matter what it costs.
Speaking of friends, how on Earth (heh, inappropriate phrase) did you get mixed up with the Kryptonian?!? (Look at that, I used inappropriate and Earth and Kryptonian in the same sentence. Teal'C is going to -- never mind.) We've been combing the Gates and the galaxy for any survivors of that blasted (oops, not funny) planet, and there one is sitting right next to you! Jack and the General took turns throwing fits. I didn't know whether to roll on the ground laughing or join them.
They almost let me contact you then. After all, if a being like Kal-El can trust you with himself -- and that lonely and frightened boy-creature does trust you, daughter mine, though it's literally impossible for him to come right out and say so, simply because of what he is -- then the General ought to trust you with the secrets of the rest of the aliens, of the terrible things we've found, of the war.
Almost....
Be gentle with him, Chloe. I know you won't get this until it's much too late, but I want you to know, however far down the line, that your inhuman friend is vulnerable in ways that humans aren't even capable of imagining. We're a brawling, vicious, never-give-up, chew-nails-for-breakfast, kick-ass-and-take-names-later species. He's a product of millions of years of introversion, almost incapable of fighting. Yes, yes, I know that under Earth's sun, he can juggle tanks. But mentally, emotionally, the Kryptonians had all the resiliency of cheap glass. Being raised as a human is the only reason he hasn't broken under the weight of his inhuman powers.
And Kal-El -- or Clark, the name suits him somehow -- might be the only one left in the whole galaxy. I don't think even any of us could deal with that.
You could hurt him with a look, a word. I hope you're, no, I trust you to be, smarter than that. To be careful of what you demand of him. If you let him down even once, if your ruin his hard-earned faith in humanity, it will be a terrible tragedy for more worlds than just Earth.
Your friend (I will never get used to thinking that), the alien child with such enormous power, that we need so badly, is a weapon we dare not even prime, much less use, for fear of the backfire if he can't handle it. And you, my daughter, who will probably never see this even when I'm killed in action, are the only reason we know that the final option of a Kryptonian ally even exists. You are also one of his few links to sanity, and the strongest bet we have to help him through his (and your, of course) own crisis years, so that someday he might become one of us.
Look at that, I wrote "backfire." Jonas would -- never mind.
Chloe, my only child, my greatest love -- will you ever forgive me, not just for abandoning you, but for making you a pawn? Are there any gods who would forgive a mother, not for just leaving her child behind, but for turning everything about her over to the most ruthless of government agencies? I'll kill Hammond if he hurts you, but there was no way to keep you out of his surveillance. How can I begin to atone for destroying your innocence and happiness, for putting you at a risk you can't begin to imagine, even in the name of the good of all the galaxy?
I asked, I even begged, to be put on the Kal-El mission. They turned me down, of course. Because of you. Jack at least didn't court-martial me for breaking his arm. He has kids he's not allowed to talk to, either.
Maybe they'll let me drop in for a minute or two, by just to give you a hint. Your inadvertent friend (I bet Daniel didn't even think I knew that word) is as important as any of our other missions, after all. And we can always use the excuse of picking up some of those radioactive fragments of his former planet for our power sources. And just to see you, if only for a few minutes....
- - - - -
The intercom blared, interrupting Sam's attempts to think of anything else to leave to her daughter for posterity. "Major! Call to stations was four minutes ago! On the double!"
"Sorry, sir! On my way!" Samantha Carter grabbed her weapons belt with one hand and her over-armor with the other, leaving the letter to the daughter she most probably would never see again unfinished, unclosed. Not that it mattered.
She wrote pretty much the same thing every week.
Disclaimer: me, make money on any of 'em? That's a joke, right?
Dear Chloe,
I've written you one of these letters every week for -- at least a decade now. It's hard to keep track of time, in my line of work. Yes, I know, you've never gotten any of them. Someday you will, though. They're all carefully stored for you, to be delivered when the time comes. And I know it's selfish of me, but I only hope it's later rather than sooner. I keep asking if I can send you something, anything, just to let you know I'm thinking of you, but the answer is always the same. Only in the event of my death.
I had hoped that maybe, once you were more mature, my senior officers would let me trust you with my secret. Instead, you had to develop a reputation as a bulldog investigator and reporter with a taste for the bizarre and an unflinching ability to face it. Oh, my child! That the thing I'm most proud of you for, is the thing that makes it even more impossible to contact you and tell you so. If the gods are not crazy, then their sense of humor is somewhere beyond cruel.
But then, I don't believe in gods, and neither do you. You inherited your tenacious nature from me. I should hardly be surprised.
Look at that, I just wrote "tenacious." Jack would give me disbelieving stares for weeks if he ever found out. Daniel would -- never mind.
Every week, I try to come up with a new way to say I'm sorry. I know it will never be enough. Everything I did was a mistake. Taking time off from the career I'd worked so hard for, when I knew I could never give it up. Falling in love with your father. Having you. All mistakes.
I don't regret a single one of them. I wouldn't trade all the General's power for the few years I had with you.
I'm not sure I wouldn't trade the whole team to see you again.
But that would be treason, Chloe. Dereliction of duty. Not just to my job, my oath, but to my team-mates, my friends. I've seen enough of you to know that you understand what that means now. You would never betray your friends. If anything, you're more loyal to those you care about than I am. You get that extra from your dad, I guess. Gabe always was a rock.
I'd give anything to be able to say goodbye to him properly. Someday, I just might. No matter what it costs.
Speaking of friends, how on Earth (heh, inappropriate phrase) did you get mixed up with the Kryptonian?!? (Look at that, I used inappropriate and Earth and Kryptonian in the same sentence. Teal'C is going to -- never mind.) We've been combing the Gates and the galaxy for any survivors of that blasted (oops, not funny) planet, and there one is sitting right next to you! Jack and the General took turns throwing fits. I didn't know whether to roll on the ground laughing or join them.
They almost let me contact you then. After all, if a being like Kal-El can trust you with himself -- and that lonely and frightened boy-creature does trust you, daughter mine, though it's literally impossible for him to come right out and say so, simply because of what he is -- then the General ought to trust you with the secrets of the rest of the aliens, of the terrible things we've found, of the war.
Almost....
Be gentle with him, Chloe. I know you won't get this until it's much too late, but I want you to know, however far down the line, that your inhuman friend is vulnerable in ways that humans aren't even capable of imagining. We're a brawling, vicious, never-give-up, chew-nails-for-breakfast, kick-ass-and-take-names-later species. He's a product of millions of years of introversion, almost incapable of fighting. Yes, yes, I know that under Earth's sun, he can juggle tanks. But mentally, emotionally, the Kryptonians had all the resiliency of cheap glass. Being raised as a human is the only reason he hasn't broken under the weight of his inhuman powers.
And Kal-El -- or Clark, the name suits him somehow -- might be the only one left in the whole galaxy. I don't think even any of us could deal with that.
You could hurt him with a look, a word. I hope you're, no, I trust you to be, smarter than that. To be careful of what you demand of him. If you let him down even once, if your ruin his hard-earned faith in humanity, it will be a terrible tragedy for more worlds than just Earth.
Your friend (I will never get used to thinking that), the alien child with such enormous power, that we need so badly, is a weapon we dare not even prime, much less use, for fear of the backfire if he can't handle it. And you, my daughter, who will probably never see this even when I'm killed in action, are the only reason we know that the final option of a Kryptonian ally even exists. You are also one of his few links to sanity, and the strongest bet we have to help him through his (and your, of course) own crisis years, so that someday he might become one of us.
Look at that, I wrote "backfire." Jonas would -- never mind.
Chloe, my only child, my greatest love -- will you ever forgive me, not just for abandoning you, but for making you a pawn? Are there any gods who would forgive a mother, not for just leaving her child behind, but for turning everything about her over to the most ruthless of government agencies? I'll kill Hammond if he hurts you, but there was no way to keep you out of his surveillance. How can I begin to atone for destroying your innocence and happiness, for putting you at a risk you can't begin to imagine, even in the name of the good of all the galaxy?
I asked, I even begged, to be put on the Kal-El mission. They turned me down, of course. Because of you. Jack at least didn't court-martial me for breaking his arm. He has kids he's not allowed to talk to, either.
Maybe they'll let me drop in for a minute or two, by just to give you a hint. Your inadvertent friend (I bet Daniel didn't even think I knew that word) is as important as any of our other missions, after all. And we can always use the excuse of picking up some of those radioactive fragments of his former planet for our power sources. And just to see you, if only for a few minutes....
- - - - -
The intercom blared, interrupting Sam's attempts to think of anything else to leave to her daughter for posterity. "Major! Call to stations was four minutes ago! On the double!"
"Sorry, sir! On my way!" Samantha Carter grabbed her weapons belt with one hand and her over-armor with the other, leaving the letter to the daughter she most probably would never see again unfinished, unclosed. Not that it mattered.
She wrote pretty much the same thing every week.