jenmay

SHOULDER TO CRY ON

2006-12-03T00:19:44Z

Howdy, everybody! My BSG muse came back from Tahiti with a tan, and saw "Unfinished Business" last night. Boy, was she excited! This new fic takes place shortly after Lee and Kara's fight, and contains mild spoilers for seasons 1-3. What is it about? Let's just say that Dee needs shoulder to cry on...too bad Gaeta's not it anymore.

[As usual, I don't own anything BSG, I'm doing this for the love of it!]

Shoulder to Cry On

"I’m losing him, Felix," Dee whispered, almost imperceptibly.

You never had him, thought Gaeta bitterly. You only thought you did. He looked at Dee, staring despondently into her coffee mug, and wondered how a woman so perceptive...so intelligent, could be so blind...so...stupid.

He didn’t really know why he was here in the mess hall, sitting on the cold metal bench opposite of his companion, listening to her moan about what had been obvious to him and the rest of the crew for years now. He’d found her standing in the hallway about an hour after Starbuck and Apollo’s fight, looking shell-shocked. For some reason, he took pity on her and led her to the empty mess hall. He didn’t know why he did it. It wasn’t like they were close anymore. In fact, when he rejoined the fleet and was reassigned to C.I.C., Mrs. Lee Adama barely registered his presence. He figured that, being the former aide to President Baltar, most people on board wouldn’t welcome him back, even after it was revealed he helped the resistance on New Caprica, but Dee’s coldness had stung him the most. And now...she was waiting for a response.

"Uh, what makes you say that."

She looked up at him, her green eyes glaring. "Don’t play dumb with me! You were there. You saw what they were like. They weren’t fighting, they were–" She suddenly pushed away her mug and stood up. "I think I’m going to be sick."

In the past, he would have stood up, held her, tried to comfort her with soothing words...humor her, take away her pain somehow. But then, that was a different Felix Gaeta.

"Look, Dee, you knew this was coming. If it wasn’t in the ring, it would have been in the rec room, the gym, the flight deck...Hell, I wouldn’t have put it past them to duke it out in C.I.C.. They needed to fight. It’s part of who they are!"

"But–"

"Sit down!"

Dee stared at him open-mouthed. She wasn’t expecting that. Good ‘ole Gaeta...always ready for with a shoulder to cry on. His last words had come out sharper than he intended, but he was tired of this bullshit. "Sit down...please." She meekly slipped back into her seat. Gods, she’s changed...

He remembered how in the early days, how much they used to talk, enjoying each other’s company. Falling in love had been easy for him, but he had been smart enough to know that she didn’t see him in the same light, so he contented himself with their friendship. So when she started seeing Billy Keikeya, he’d actually been happy for her. He’d talked to him only a few times, but had been impressed by his heart and his intelligence. A little young for her her, perhaps, but a good man overall. It wasn’t until she set eyes on Lee Adama that she started to change. Billy fell to the wayside–sacrificing his life for her-- and she barely shed a tear. Gods, that could have been me...

"You know, you’re a smart girl, Dee. You always were. It’s just that I find it hard to believe that you had no idea that he had feelings for Starbuck–"

"Of course I knew!", she snapped. "But after the way she treated him...After she took up with Anders he just lost it! And I–"

"You were there to pick up the pieces."

There was a dead silence between them for a moment.

"Dee, don’t think I don’t remember how you used to look at him in C.I.C. You hung on his every word. You even lied to my face when I asked you if you were planning to break him out of the brig–and don’t you say that you don’t know what I mean. You’re a truthful person. You can look at a person and pretty much tell if they’re telling the truth. But right then and there, I knew you were lying, I saw it in your eyes. You were willing to risk landing in the brig yourself for him because you were in love. So it’s really not a surprise that you could fool yourself into believing that he was in love with you."

Dee’s entire body stiffened, her eyes despairing... He could tell that what he was saying was not what she wanted to hear.

"You’ve changed, Felix", she whispered.

He snorted. "Well, I spent the better part of a year dealing with a pathological liar, so I know bullshit when I hear it. Hell, I’m practically an expert now!"

She stood up quickly, almost knocking the bench over. "I don’t need to hear this!"

"Yes, you do, Dee!" He hissed, slowly standing to his full height, his dark eyes piercing into hers. He slowly strode towards her, ready to give her the truth whether she liked it or not. "Your husband has a connection with Kara Thrace. Crazy, frakked up, you name it. They have a bond that few people understand. Whether they end up frakking or not, whether he’ll leave you or not, I don’t know. What I do know is that you have two choices. You either step up and fight for him outright, or stand aside and get on with your life." He stopped in front of her, leaning in close to her face. "To tell you the truth, I don’t think you’re strong enough for the former–"

At that moment, Dee’s hand flew to his cheek.

Gaeta stood there for a moment, rubbed his face, feeling the sting...and then he laughed mirthlessly, shaking his head. "Karma’s a bitch, isn’t it."

FIN

JUST ONE QUESTION (A Half-Life 2 fic)

2006-11-15T07:00:53Z

Howdy!

The bad news is that school has sucked most of my creative energy for the past few months, so my BSG muse decided to take off to Tahiti until Thanksgiving. The good news is I have a new fic, although it's about the game Half-Life 2, which I absolutely love (though my computer won't let me play Episode One--couldn't they have put it on @#?% X-Box!). It's called "Just One Question", about...well, a very stupid question, but one that I believe that many Half Life gamers have asked themselves at least once in passing! I would have posted this to a Half-Life community, but I haven't found any Live Journal ones that have a focus on fiction, so, here it!

(By the way, I don't own anything having to do with Half-Life or Valve. I just do this for the fun of it!)

Can I Ask You A Question?

"Come on! You gotta ask him."

"You ask him."

"No, you ask him."

"Why me?"

"Cause you’re the squirt, Squirt!"

"That’s not fair!"

"Are you chicken?"

"Nah, uh."

"Uh huh. You’re just chicken!"

A chorus of clucking echoed down the hall.

Gordon’s eyes snapped open. At lightning speed, he sat up on the couch, grasping the crowbar with two hands.

"Chicken! Chicken!"

"I’m NOT chicken!"

"Then go ask him!"

Kids. They’re not headcrabs...just kids. He slumped back onto the ancient sofa, dropping the crowbar onto the floor. Just kids. It seemed like just a minute ago that he’d closed his eyes for the first decent shut eye in...what was it...twenty years? He took off his glasses for the moment, placing them on his lap, and rubbed his eyes. He’d forgotten what it was like to be around children...The city seemed devoid of everything except monsters, rubble, and gun-toting combine soldiers, and yet, here they were. He sighed, sliding his thick glasses back on. He heard a knock on the door.

"Uh, Dr. Freeman."

As his eyes refocused, he saw a small, sandy-haired boy in a blue jumper, probably no older than eight, slip tentatively through the partly opened door. "Can I come in?"

Gordon merely shrugged and nodded his head slightly. The boy, emboldened a little by the gesture, approached a little closer, until he stood about five feet away.

"Um, me and the guys out there were wondering..." The Squirt, hesitated for a moment, thrusting his hands in his pockets, shuffling his feet. "Um...Uh... how, uh, do you go to the bathroom in that suit?"

Gordon Freeman, M.I.T. graduate, the Hero of Black Mesa, Defender of the Resistance of City 17, sat there for a moment, blinking, his sleep-deprived mind unable to process the question. Suddenly, a burst of laughter erupted from the cot at other side of the room.

"That’s a good question kid! I don’t think anybody has the answer to that."

Gordon turned his head in Barney’s direction, mustering just enough gumption to glare at him. Undeterred, his comrade continued, laughter unabated.

"You see, *snicker* Gordon’s a man of mystery. Keeps to himself a lot. Hell, I’ve known him for twenty years and *snort* I’m still not sure if he *snicker* goes to the bathroom at all–" Barney began to choke on his own laughter.

Gordon turned his gaze back to his pint-sized ambassador. Leaning forward, he crooked his right index finger, gesturing the boy to come closer until stood at eye level with him. He then said, in a soft, slow voice, "I hold it for a long...long time."

Barney lost it, laughing so hard he could barely breathe, slapping his thigh. "Oh, God, Gordon...aren’t you...glad I never...bought you...that...buh...buh...buh...beer!"

At that moment, a small, matronly woman stepped room. "Nicky! What are you doing? Asking Dr. Freeman such a ridiculous question! Get downstairs! Now!" As the boy shot out of the room, she stuck her head into the hallway. "And that goes for the lot of you! Shoo!" A symphony of stomping feet and laughter faded away. She turned her attention back to her guest. "I’m sorry, Dr. Freeman. I’ll make sure they won’t bother you again. I’ll bring up some food later on." She gazed sympathetically into his eyes. "And, by the way, in case you’re interested, the closest working toilet’s one floor down, second door on the left."

After she left, Gordon sat there for a moment, then, drawing on as much willpower as he could, he stood up. As he slowly strode out of the room, he mumbled, "This is going to take a while."

He could hear the thud of Barney falling out of his cot.

The End

SOMETHING TO BELIEVE IN, PT 6

2006-09-17T18:29:44Z

In the wake of a late-night Cylon raid, Dee has a certain C.A.G. on her mind.

Thanks to LeeMeUpLeeMeDown at Scifi.com's Battlestar BBoard for the pic! (Awww...Aren't they cuuute?)

Something to Believe In, Pt 6

As the mild sunshine warmed her face, Ana closed her eyes, breathing in the cold, clean air. It felt good in her lungs, so refreshing. She loved the smell of the earth after the rain.

"Hey." She opened her eyes, seeing Billy looking down at her, smiling. "Whatcha thinking?"

"Oh, it’s been so long since I’ve breathed in anything but recycled air." She was walking with him, hand in hand. He looked a little out of place in his ill-fitting suit among the other shoppers. Still, he looked happy, just being there with her, strolling between the fruit and vegetable stands, nodding a shy greeting to passers by.

As they got near the main square, a seductive scent caught her attention.

"Billy, roses!" The flower stall was filled with them, of all sizes and colors, all of them so beautiful, so perfect, she almost couldn’t decide.

"Which ones do you want?"

"The red ones! Please!" She wanted them so badly.

"Anything for my lady", he said suavely, pulling her hand to his mouth for a gentle kiss. It sounded a little funny, coming from him, but it was sweet, and she was finally getting her flowers. He began to dig into his pockets for change.Suddenly, the sound of gunfire erupted, she turned...a tall, thin, blond woman in a brown suit was firing a machine gun into the crowd, mowing down everybody she saw. Ana was frozen in place for a moment...she’d seen her before, somewhere--

Billy tackled her to the ground, covering her with his body. "Ana, when she stops firing, we’re gonna run behind that potato cart, okay? One, two...three!" They scrambled away, hearing the pings of masonry shattering around them. They’d almost made it, until they rounded the cart, when Billy fell violently forward. He tried to crawl near her... he opened his mouth to say something, but the pain seemed to render him mute. Using what strength she had, she dragged him the final two yards to safety. She tore off her light cotton jacket, trying to tear it into strips...tried to stop the bleeding as best she could, but he was fading fast, the light dying in his eyes.

Suddenly, she could hear a machine gun firing off almost next to her. Maybe Shelly Godfrey (that’s her name!) was coming to finish the job--

A Colonial Marine was suddenly at her side. "Are you okay?"

"My boyfriend’s been shot!"

She looked into the marine’s eyes–the bluest blue she’d ever seen in her life--blazing into hers with an intensity that she felt from her head to her toes.. For a moment, she’d completely forgot the dying man in her arms...he practically faded out of existence, as if he hadn’t been there at all...

"I’ll get you out of here." He leaned in to take her in his arms...

*****

"ACTION STATIONS! ACTION STATIONS!"

Dee suddenly sat up, mentally giving the cobwebs in her mind a quick shake. Where am I? What am I doing in my bunk? She looked at her watch. 0236. Frakking Cylons.

Sati was on graveyard duty, so they didn’t need her. Still, she knew that she wouldn’t be able to fall back asleep, knowing that the Toasters were pounding at their doorstep yet again. She swung her legs off the bunk and sat up, rubbing the sleep from her face. Damn, that was a weird dream. It had been the Solstice Marketplace all over again, but this time with Billy, the blonde Cylon, and...

Enough of that, she though, as she quickly pulled on her sweats.

Minutes later, she was trotting towards the mess, where the rest of the "extraneous crew" were seated on benches with steaming mugs of coffee, listening to the Comm chatter. These were the crewmembers who, like her, weren’t immediately needed, and were often told to go back to their bunks for the duration of the Cylon raid. That wasn’t strictly enforced, so they kept out of the way by gathering in the mess, where the coffee urns were filled 24/7. These janitors, plumbing techs, injured pilots, mess staff, all of them were, like her, unwilling to wait out the storm alone.

"Hotdog, you’ve got two on your tail!"

"I’m on it, Apollo!" responded Starbuck.

Hot Dog’s panicked voice cracked, "What the frak are you–"

A few seconds of silence. Then..."Woohoo!!! Am I good or what?"

"Yeah!!" burst out Whirly, a Raptor pilot that had broken his arm three weeks ago.

"Jammer owes me two girly mags", declared Swoop, another pilot who was sitting out a mild concussion. "One more Starbuck kill, and I get a fifth of agavia from Hammerhead!"

A chorus of "shush" and "shut the frak up" put a stop to their banter.

Hot Dog’s sigh of relief broke in over the Comm. "Remind me to kiss you later, Sir."

"Remind me to break your jaw, Hot Dog."

The nugget broke out into a chuckle. "Yes, sir!"

Apollo broke the banter, "Okay, people concentrate! We’ve got three more ships trying to make the jump. Hotdog, Kat, Greenback, cover the Hermes..."

As she listened to the C.A.G.’s voice, her mind drifted off a little. Why was he the marine? She’d had a little basic psychology as part of her training, so she shouldn’t have been too surprised at his sudden appearance in her dreams. I’m only human. In fact, he’d been on her mind a lot since the riots on the Astral Queen, even when she was awake.

Sati’s voice interrupted her train of thought. "C.I.C. to Apollo, the last ship has made the jump, come on home!"

"Hey, Apollo! Last one in’s a rotten egg!"

"You wish, Starbuck! Everybody, get back inside!"

The atmosphere in the room suddenly relaxed. Nobody had gotten killed–today. The sudden disorientation of the hyper jump made Dee’s stomach lurch.

*****

Later on in her bunk, she tried to get some sleep. Her body was tired, but her mind was too keyed up on the raid, and Lee Adama.

Think about something else. Think about Billy. Yeah, you know, your boyfriend.

Billy was nice. Billy was sweet. Billy was intelligent and trustworthy.

But Billy was like a kid...a puppy dog that followed her around. He was naive,

Lee Adama was a man.

Frak! He’s your superior officer! He’s off limits, so get a grip! You’ve never let your hormones get in the way before.

Maybe that’s the problem, she thought. Ever since that day at the Solstice Marketplace, she had sworn to remain focused and resolute, to let nothing stand in the way of her attaining her goals–to get off Sagittaron, join the Fleet, to learn all she could so that she could be assigned on a battlestar, to–eventually–rise the ranks and become an officer. Oh, she had friends, briefly had a boyfriend just after Basic (to whom she lost her virginity to–which, sadly enough, was nothing to write home about), even dated on occasion (Gaeta didn’t count), but she had put those aside one too many times because she wanted to climb up the next rung on the ladder. She was lonely. So, she became the girlfriend of Billy Keikeya, Assistant to the President of the Colonies.

It was nice. He was usually busy helping President Roslin run the Colonial government, and she was often tied up with running the Comm and repairing damaged equipment. But on the occasions they did get together, they did simple, enjoyable things, like cuddling on the Observation Deck while watching the Vipers pass by, or having him teach her to how to play chess. He would tell her about the behind-the-scenes aboard Colonial One, and she’d relate the latest gossip from Galactica. And they would kiss. He was a surprisingly good kisser, with soft, gentle lips, and none of the awkward tongue-wrestling that she would have expected of him (He had been good enough to tease some information about the Old Man out of her for Roslin). It had been good enough. Until the Astral Queen.

A few weeks ago, Billy had pulled strings to get her on the detail aboard the prison ship as a representative–she still didn’t know why, except that he had been bemoaning earlier about how they didn’t see each other often enough (Gee, how romantic!). Their goal had been to persuade the inmates on board to mine an icy, inhospitable planet for desperately-needed water in exchange for their freedom. One would have thought that, after being confined for weeks on end, they would have jumped at any opportunity to leave that tomb. But, lo and behold, it was Tom Zarek–the cocky son-of-a-bitch himself–who refused on behalf of his fellow inmates. It had burned her on a personal level, especially when Billy had started spouting nonsense about how he had fought for "her people". She had been on the verge of biting his head off, when the prisoners rioted and threw her and the other Galactica crewmembers into cells of their own.

She hadn’t been too scared at first, though. Her training had prepared for situations like this, so she let her mind go into autopilot, focusing on getting out without getting killed. She’d been more worried that Billy would get killed, or worse. Then a sicko pulled Cally out of her cell at gunpoint and led her away...minutes later, she heard screams, and then a gunshot. That’s when she finally felt panic.

The next hour or so was a blur, but what she could remember was the sight of Apollo, racing past their cell, with Zarek huffing and puffing behind him. Another gunshot rang out, shouting, the pounding of footsteps...and then finally the Colonial Marines appeared. She wasn’t sure what to expect after she was lead out of her cage, but she saw Tom Zarek–her father’s personal god–sitting on the ground, looking pale, defeated. Captain Adama was standing by him, looking every bit his callsign, with a gun still in hand, glaring at the former terrorist. She later found out that he had shot Cally’s would-be rapist, and had Zarek at gunpoint, asking him if he was willing to die. The great Tom Zarek on his knees...that would have been a sight to see.

*****

After a while, she gave up completely on sleep and went to the gym, and did her usual workout routine–pushups, dumbbell rows, situps, and so forth. She didn’t push anywhere as hard as, say, the pilots did, but she did just enough to keep herself in shape. On nights like this, she worked out just a little bit harder, just to tire herself out. A group of half a dozen Viper pilots were already there, burning off their own adrenaline rush. They were always loud and obnoxious after a dogfight, which irritated her a more than little, but she knew that it usually took hours for them to wind down. Better to roughhouse in the gym than land in the brig for doing something stupid. Besides, their conversations were often pretty damn entertaining.

"Hey! Kat!" yelled one of the female pilots sliding a plate onto the bench press bar. "I hear that Apollo’s setting up a self-defense class for us nuggets. Whadda ya think of that?"

Her workout partner let out a hoot. "Oh boy, rolling around with the C.A.G.! I think there’ll be a line out the door just for the chance to pin him down."

"You women!" chimed in a bald guy doing concentration curls on a nearby bench, eyes trained on the dragons tattoos rippling across his arms. "Is that all you think of...putting Apollo into a ...compromising position?"

"Every day, Dragon. Every frakking day I see him in the showers." Kat cupped her hands as if to grab an imaginary pair of toned buns.

A sudden vision of a naked Lee Adama with water slithering over his rear...Dee slammed it out of her mind, concentrating even harder on her crunches.

"Hey, Dee!" called Kat. "You interested?"

"In what?" she puffed out, trying to get in the last painful reps.

"The self-defense class. You’re in shape. You’re disciplined. You could do it. Besides, it’ll be a chance to see the C.A.G. without his shirt."

Frak! "Sure, why not?"

"It starts here at around 1700."

"Perfect, just around the time I get off from C.I.C."

It’s been...four years since basic. It wouldn’t hurt to brush up on hand-to-hand combat... It’s not like I’ll be here to drool over him...I am not going to go goo-goo eyes over him just because he looks good in tanks. She suddenly remembered the sweat gleaming on his bare arms and shoulders, how the muscles looked in the dim light...Damn! I’m going to do this to kill some time. Right?

Ch 1 http://jenmay.livejournal.com/3927.html#cutid1
Ch 2 http://jenmay.livejournal.com/4108.html#cutid1
Ch 3 http://jenmay.livejournal.com/4422.html#cutid1
Ch 4 http://jenmay.livejournal.com/4637.html#cutid1
Ch 5 http://jenmay.livejournal.com/5327.html#cutid1

SOMETHING TO BELIEVE IN, PT 5

2006-09-04T22:17:37Z

After the events of "33", Ana and Felix try to wind down...

SOMETHING TO BELIEVE IN, PT 5

I’ll never sleep again.

It wasn’t just the stims still coursing through her veins. It was everything...

The initial adrenaline shock of the Cylons making a reappearance after so long...

Listening to the cries and pleas of the crewmembers trying to escape the fires in the Port Flight Pod...

Trying to comfort a disconsolate Kimball, whose partner had been sucked out into space...

The constant running and jumping every 33 minutes...

All those pictures of missing loved ones in the corridor...

The fact that nothing would ever be the same again.

She laid there in her bunk, after almost five days of sitting at the Comm, unable to sleep, dreading the images that would appear even after she closed her eyes. All she could do was open and close her pocket knife...her Dad’s pocketknife. The one that she had taken away from him when she was fifteen. He had been in a rare state of intoxication after the death of one of his former comrades in jail, and had threatened to kill himself by slitting his wrist. He hadn’t meant it, or else she wouldn’t have been able to grab it from him so easily. When he had fallen unconscious on the couch, she’d hidden it, told him later on that he must have lost it on the way home from the bar, and promptly forgot about it, until she got into her Electronics class. It definitely came in handy after that, and was her constant companion from then on.

Click. Snick. Click. Snick. Click. Snick.

The sound of her knife opening and closing her pocketknife was soothing in its own way.

An alien thought crept in. Maybe Dad had the right idea...

She immediately sat up and closed her knife. Please, you’re not that weak. If it was her time to go, she thought, she wouldn’t take a coward’s way out.

She heard the hatch open and looked up. Gaeta wearily stepped through and made his way to her. "I couldn’t sleep."

"Me neither."

"Move over."

Normally, this would have thrown her for a loop, but she was too tired to debate anything now.

As she scooted over, she glanced at his appearance. Instead of his crisp blues, he was only attired in his double tanks and a pair of sweats. His eyes were bloodshot, face with a few days of stubble, and a couple of shaving cuts to boot.

"Gaeta–"

"Please, call me Felix. I think we’re allowed a little informality, under the circumstances."

"In that case, call me Ana."

They laid next to each other chastely for a few minutes, just looking up at the bunk ceiling. Felix was the first to speak. "You know, I’ve been training for this for years...for the Cylons to show up again. They gave us simulations, tactics, training exercises...but it didn’t prepare me. Nothing prepared me for this."

"I don’t anything could have. Even my instructors in Specialist Training didn’t think that they would come back at all... I just sat there at the Comm, receiving the reports of systemwide failures from all over the fleet. I knew what was happening, but I couldn’t..."

"Wrap your brain around it?"

"Yeah."

"Ana."

"Yes?"

"Do you have family?"

Ana thought of her mother and Aunt Nadine. "I don’t know if they’re still alive."

"My Mom and Dad are on Canceron. They live in Venisea, this little suburb just outside of Cancera. They moved there after they retired from teaching. Then there’s my older sister, Hestia, and my younger brother Tristan..." He recalled his childhood, sibling rivalries, school pranks, summer holidays at his cousins’ lakeside house, everything he could remember. Ana listened, enraptured by the tales of his almost ideal family life. After a while, he turned his head to her. "I’m rambling..."

"No, it’s great. It beats thinking about the last few days."

He rolled onto his side, looking into her eyes. "I know you told me you’ve got a mother on Sagittaron."

She nodded. "She lives in Naxos with my Aunt Nadine."

"Is your father still alive?"

It took her a few seconds to answer. "He’s dead to me."

"Why?"

"He just is."

"I’m sorry, it’s none of my business. It’s just that you never mentioned him to me. I just assumed that he died a while ago."

Ana sighed. "Remember I took a few weeks off for a family emergency? My Dad had a heart attack, and I thought that, if he died without me saying goodbye to him, I’d regret it for the rest of my life. So, I went..." A flush of bitterness at the memory. "We’ve never gotten along. I should known better."

"Sorry."

"Not your fault."

He laid back again. "Gods! I wish I had a cigarette!"

"I didn’t know you smoked."

"I don’t."

"Oh."

"Just when things get stressful."

"You learn something new every day."

"It’s funny. I’ve lived with all of you for two years. Breathed the same air, laughed at the same jokes, ate in the same mess, and still I barely know anybody very well." He noticed her eyes starting to close. "Getting tired?"

"Yeah."

"Lay back here." He gently pulled her head onto his shoulder, placing his chin on top of her head. Automatically, her arm slipped onto his chest, feeling the warmth from his body soothing her. She felt his breath slowing down as it lulled her to sleep.

She didn’t dream of anything.

jenmay @ 2006-09-02T22:46:00

2006-09-03T05:48:19Z

Thanks to improvedsilence for the new icon! Says it all about our two favorite frakups!

SOMETHING TO BELIEVE IN, PT 4

2006-09-02T02:33:30Z

On the eve of Battlestar Galactica's decommissioning, Dee makes a new friend...

Something to Believe In, Pt 4

About two years later...

Dee entered the head , seeing her friend Specialist Nomi Kimball washing her hands. "Hey."

"Hey there, Dee. What gives?"

"These civvies roaming around all over the place." Dee unzipped her jumpsuit, pulling off the top part. "Colonel Tigh chased a couple of reporters out of C.I.C., so they started griping to the Commander about not being given full access, so they’re being allowed in groups."

Kimball snorted. "Yeah, it’s bad enough that this boat’s being retired... Specialist Mykonos in Engineering already caught a couple visitors wandering around there. I mean, come on! We’re not a museum, yet. Buy a ticket tomorrow!"

As she tied the arms of her suit to her waist and began rinsing off the light sweat around her face and neck, Dee thought about her two years aboard Galactica. When she first arrived, she had been mildly appalled at how antiquated she was, how everything wasn’t networked together, how the hatches kept getting stuck (she had missed a shift one time because she’d been trapped in her bunkroom). The only reasons why she didn’t request a transfer were her sense of duty, and the fact that she was serving under the legendary Commander William Adama. Over time, though, she had grown used to her–Galactica became home. Which was why this invasion was pissing her off even more than she expected.

"So, Kimball, where are you going?"

"I requested a transfer to Picon Command. Desk job."

"You’re kidding!"

"Nope. My Mom’s health is not so great, so I figured that I’ll at least be close to her in case something happens."

Dee thought briefly of her own mother. About six month ago, Sally had sent a message, saying that she had finally divorced her father, and was now living with Aunt Nadine. "I’m going to Virgon. They’re building a new battlestar over there called the Argonaut, so I’m going to have my hands full, learning everything all over again."

"It’s always a process, getting used to a new ship and a new crew. I have to admit though, I’ve been on three other battlestars, but nothing hold a candle to this one."

"I know what you mean."

A mechanic from the Hanger Bay stomped into the head, slamming the hatch behind him. "Motherfrakking tourists!"

Kimball snorted. "What did they do now, Prosna?"

"One motherfrakking idiot almost walked off with our tools! He wanted a souvenier–idiot! He should have broken into the gift shop, gotten a motherfrakking t-shirt or something." He continued mumbling his rant as he went into one of the stalls.

As Dee scrubbed behind her neck, the hatch opened again, but didn’t close it. At the corner of her eye, she saw a tall person, just standing there, gawking. Frak! Another tourist! She felt her ire rise again. I’ve had it! The Commander had warned them to be as courteous as possible, but all she wanted to do was scream for him to get the frak out. She settled for the middle ground.

"In, or out?" she barked sharply.

The figure startled, "Excuse me?"

"Get in, or get out. Shut the hatch!"

"Oh, sorry." The man fumbled with the hatch, pulling it closed behind him.

Dee looked up, glaring at the newcomer. Tall, gawky, wearing a blazer and tie that his mother probably picked out for him. He seemed to be about her age–early twenties–but looked only twelve years old with his clueless expression. He was staring at her, or rather her chest. Not used to seeing a woman in her sports bra are you?...Probably not used to looking at women, period. Ordinarily, having somebody staring at her like that would have been an invitation to bite their head off. But, he was a civvy who didn’t know any better. Better get him out of here before Prosna gives him a black eye. "Where are you trying to be?"

"Uh–" his voice sputtered. "Visitors’ quarters." He dodged a couple of crewmembers coming in. "I’m a visitor", he added quickly.

She started to giggle, trading amused looks with Kimball, watching the man/boy blush. "Huh! Never would have guessed." He was still staring at her. "Never been in a unisex head before?"

"Uh–no, not really."

"Well, there’s not much privacy on a warship. So the first rule is, DON’T STARE." He gave a little jump, pulling his gaze to the floor. "Um, sorry."

She sighed, zipping up her jumpsuit. "C’mon. Let’s get you home."

As she pulled him through the hatch, she saw Kimball shaking her head, stifling a laugh.

*****

"I’m sorry."

"For what?"

"For staring." Dee and Billy Keikeya were walking side by side, almost leisurely. He seemed torn between the urge to ogle her and the need to keep his eyes on the ground. It was kind of cute, in a middle-school sort of way. "I mean, I’ve never been on a battlestar before. It’s...uh...cool."

"So, Mr. Keikeya, what brings you aboard Galactica?"

"Please, call me Billy. I’m the Aide to the Secretary of Education."

She then remembered, she’d spotted him in the corridor earlier, with the P.R. guy in the tacky suit, and an older woman with auburn hair. "How long have you been her aide, Billy?"

"Today’s my first day, actually, so things have been hectic, trying to learn everything on the go."

"I can relate to that. What’s she like?"

"Secretary Roslin? She seems...nice. Kind of reminds me of my mom."

"Really."

"But, I’m just getting to know her. We haven’t really sat down and talked yet. She’s been a little distracted...but I’m sure we’ll hit it off."

"How did you become Aide to the Secretary of Education?"

"Well, I won a Siltzer Prize, and somebody from the Office of the President must have been impressed, I guess. I got a letter about a month later encouraging me to apply."

"Must have been exciting. What was your paper on?"

"Oh, Diplomacy and Leadership Models."

"What about them?"

For the next couple of minutes, Billy went into the intricacies of his thesis, most of which went over her head. But, as he rattled on, she noticed a change in him. Gone was the shy twelve-year old, and in his place was somebody who was dwelling in his element. His posture was straighter, his gestures were more fluid. He actually looked directly into her eye without blushing. From what she could grasp, he seemed to be a man of decisive, strong opinions, with firm ideas about how things should be run...not pie-in-the-sky theories either, like her father (Why am I thinking of him now?). She had to admit, she was a little impressed. He needs to grow up, though.

"I’m sorry, I’m boring you." The awkward man/boy had returned.

"No, not at all. I was just noticing how passionate you were about your ideas."

"Well, yeah, I’ve got my ideas. I want to be able to express them, to influence change for the better. But right now... half the time I feel like a dork."

"Look, when I came aboard Galactica two years ago, I made lots of mistakes, felt like a dork half the time, but after a while I got to settle in, find my place. This is only your first day, Billy. Go easy on yourself. You’ll find your place soon enough."

As they rounded a corner, they heard voices raised in heated debate.

"A computer network would simply make it faster and easier for teachers to be able to teach–"

The Commander cut off Secretary Laura Roslin impatiently. "Let me explain something to you. Many good men and women lost their lives aboard this ship during the Cylon war, because somebody wanted a faster computer to make their lives easier–".

Billy leaned over to Dee, "What’s that about?"

"In the first Cylon war, the Toasters were able to kick our asses at first because they were able to hack into networked computers and turn our own ships and weapons against us. The lack of a network between systems makes hacking a lot harder–doable, but harder."

The Commander suddenly excused himself, leaving Billy’s boss looking bemused.

"Uh, Dee, I’d better..."

"Yeah, it was nice meeting you."

"Bye!" As she made her way back to C.I.C., he waved at her down the corridor, trying to catch a glance of her for as long as he could before Roslin tugged on his sleeve.

*****

It had been a long day. The decommissioning ceremony had gone without a hitch (except for the Commander’s unexpectedly emotional speech about the Cylon War, and how the human race couldn’t just blow off what they created), most of the tourists were gone, and all was quiet. Thank the Gods. She’d taken up this last extra shift, knowing this would be the last time she would be operating this Comm system. In about two hours, she would hit her bunk, get some ‘z’s, pack up her belongings and hop the Raptor transport to Picon Command. After a couple of weeks of specialized training and a little R & R, she would catch a transport to Virgon and the Argonaut. Although she was sad to leave her friends and co-workers, she was eager for a new challenge...

Suddenly, the Comm came alive again. She looked down into the screen and saw the words "PRIORITY ONE". Must be a prank, she thought...She read the entire message...This is definitely a prank...this is a really frakked up prank...She read the message again, and again, and again. This is some practical joke on the Commander, it has to be...

"What’s up, Dee?" Gaeta’s tired face smiled at her over the Comm.

"I...I don’t know what to make of this."

Gaeta noticed that Dee’s coffee-colored skin was turning pale. "Make of what?"

"Read this. I don’t know for sure, but I don’t think this is a joke."

He read the message. Unable to speak at first, he almost whispered, "Gods. Oh, Gods! If this is real–" His quickly overcame his shock and quickly made his way to the phone and pressed a button. "C.I.C. to commanding officer..."

It was so unreal...All she could do was stare at the screen...

ATTENTION ALL COLONIAL UNITS. CYLON ATTACK UNDER WAY. THIS IS NO DRILL.

Ch 1 http://jenmay.livejournal.com/3927.html#cutid1
Ch 2 http://jenmay.livejournal.com/4108.html#cutid1
Ch 3 http://jenmay.livejournal.com/4422.html#cutid1

SOMETHING TO BELIEVE IN, PT 3

2006-08-30T05:52:46Z

Dualla begins her first tour of duty aboard Galactica...

Something to Believe In, Pt 3

"What’s your name, Specialist?"

"Excuse me, Sir?"

"I said, what is your name?"

Three weeks aboard Galactica, and still he doesn’t know my name. It was the third time that day that Colonel Tigh had asked her, and no wonder. She could smell the alcohol on his breath even from where she sat at the Comm.

"It’s Dualla, Sir."

"Right. Send a message to the Styx..."

Lieutenant Gaeta, the Officer of the Watch, quirked a smile behind the Colonel’s back, shaking his head. He’d been on Galactica only a few months longer than she, but was already very familiar with his habits. On her first day at the Comm, she’d been so nervous that made a mistake in directing a supply ship, and got an earful from Tigh. She had just barely managed to hold in her tears as she walked to the head, and bawled her eyes off in one of the stalls. When she came out, Gaeta was there. "Don’t worry about the Colonel. He’s like that when he’s hung over. He won’t remember a thing tomorrow."

"But he’ll–"

"Like I said, he won’t remember a thing."

And he didn’t. He just asked her, yet again, what her name was.

Gaeta’s patience and sense of humor were lifesavers those first weeks. He could be firm and take charge, but still make her laugh with a side glance. She’d briefly flirted with the idea of finding out if he was single, but thought better of it–getting involved with a superior officer would definitely sidetrack the career she’d worked so hard for. Besides, she had the feeling he was gay (though she’d never ask). In any case, he was fast becoming a good friend.

"Damn! What’s your name again?" the Colonel shouted in frustration.

"It’s–"

"I know it begins with a ‘D’...Damien...Durst...Dwayne...Frak it! ‘D’, patch me to the Atlantia!"

After the Colonel stalked out of C.I.C., Lt. Gaeta leaned over the Comm, and whispered, "At least he knows the first letter now. He didn’t even get that before. So, now he’ll be calling you ‘D’ all the time."

"I’ve been called worse."

"Like what?"

"In basic, they called me Purple Eyeshadow."

Gaeta snickered for a second. "Okay ‘D’, check the status of the EVA teams. Shield testing’s in one hour."

"Yes, Sir." Dee...I like that. It’s a good name. Easier to remember than Dualla.

*****

Her life aboard the Battlestar Galactica had a simple rhythm.

At 0500, she woke up, dragged herself out of her bunk, showered, and made her way to the mess for a cup of coffee and muffin. After getting her caffeine fix, she made her way to C.I.C. for her 0600 shift. On the way, she waved ‘hi’ to some of the acquaintances she’d met on her first orientation, picked up some engine reports to take to C.I.C., stepped aside to avoid a group of pilots jogging down the corridor.

"Make a hole!" shouted one of them, a blonde woman named...Thrace, wasn’t it? Kara Thrace. She usually knew her by her callsign–

"Starbuck!" came a rumbling voice behind Dee. "What do you hear?"

"Nothing but the rain!" A big smile lit up Starbuck’s face.

"Then grab your gun and bring in the cat."

"Boom, boom, boom."

As Starbuck ran past her, she wondered how they came up with that routine...it seemed so silly, yet so personal...Gaeta would probably know. And speaking of Commander Adama...

"Good morning, Dualla", he said, "How are you this morning?"

As he began walking with her, she fell into his pace. "Fine, Sir. And you?"

"Okay, thank you."

"I’ve got the latest engineering reports. Chief Specialist Sokoff says that the FTL engines are all right, but the starboard impulse engine needs to be replaced."

"Looks like we came into dock just in time. She’s a sturdy old girl, but she’s seen her share of years."

Tell me about it. When repairing the Comm a week ago, she and another specialist had to make a couple of circuits from scratch because they didn’t make those parts anymore. "Yes, Sir."

When they walked into C.I.C., Lt. Gaeta was waiting, and began briefing the Commander, while she took her seat at the Comm. There she stayed for about four hours, directing ship traffic, relaying messages, sending out status reports to the Picon Orbital Station. She took her break, grabbing a half-sandwich (she was always a light eater), glancing over some reports, fending off advances from a nugget Viper pilot, before making her way back to work. After another four hours or so, she went back to her rack to relax, did situps in the gym, or simply wandered the corridors trying to make sense of her new home before falling asleep.

*****

She and Lt. Gaeta pulled R&R passes for the same two days, so they decided to spend at least one of them in Picon City. They’d both had been through basic training on Picon, but never had the time to actually go out sightseeing, so they, and a couple of other crew members made it a day of renting paddleboats to putter around in–with hilarious results. After drying off, they hit one of the casinos to people-watch at the bar.

While their companions were buying another round of drinks, Dee leaned over to Gaeta. "What do you know about Starbuck?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Well, whenever I see her and the Commander together, they go through this whole ritual–"

"What do you hear?" Gaeta’s imitation of the Commander was flawless.

"Yeah, that."

"Well", he stirred his Caprican Sunrise thoughtfully, "From what I’ve been able to gather, she was once engaged to his son."

"How long ago."

"About a few months before I came aboard Galactica."

"So why didn’t she marry him?"

"He died."

"Oh."

"She’s kind of like a daughter to him ever since, so he pulled strings to get her on his ship."

"That kind of explains things. I’ve only been on board for a month, and she’s already been in the brig four or five times. Yet I haven’t had to transmit any formal grievences to Picon Command."

"Yeah, a father’s indulgence, I guess." He looked at her for a moment. "You don’t like her, do you?"

Dee sipped her drink before answering. Gaeta was a friend, but he was also her boss. "I don’t like that she’s able to bend the rules so much." She’s a spoiled brat, that’s what she is.

"I’ve got news for you. She may not be his blood, but Children of Officers of the Fleet get away with murder all the time. I could tell you a story or two–"

At that moment, their companions returned with their drinks, and Gaeta moved onto another subject.

From the lowliest janitor to the Old Man himself, everybody traded rumors–it was the currency of the realm aboard a battlestar. It was also a way to learn how to avoid any potential minefields in the future. I gotta get the rest later...maybe after he’s had a couple more Caprican Sunrises.

*****

About two weeks later, the overhaul of Galactica was complete, and the old girl was ready to be launched back into the depths of space.

Butterflies ran amok in Dee’s stomach. She had six weeks to integrate herself into the crew, now the real work began. "Sir, Picon Orbital has given us the go."

The Commander nodded. "Mr. Gaeta, initiate the impulse thrusters. Steady as she goes..."

As the Galactica glided out of its berth, Dee could feel the subtle motion of the ship, the hum of activity all around her. She felt excitement. This was her first tour of duty–the first real day of her life.

Ch 1 http://jenmay.livejournal.com/3927.html#cutid1
Ch 2 http://jenmay.livejournal.com/4108.html#cutid1

SOMETHING TO BELIEVE IN, PT 2

2006-08-29T07:49:59Z

As Dee starts basic, she looks back at her life just before enlisting...

Something to Believe In, Pt 2

Eight years later..."Heeeeyah!"

With a loud thud, Ana landed hard on her back, the wind knocked out of her. She laid there on the mat, dazed for a second, feeling yet another bruise forming on her butt. She probably had more elsewhere, but at that point, she couldn’t tell–she was a mass of bruises now.

"Okay, nuggets!" her self-defense instructor barked, pulling her on to her feet. "Remember, when facing an opponent larger than you, use their size to your advantage. Like the old saying goes, the bigger they come, the harder they fall."

"Yeah, unless they squash you like a bug first", quipped one of the other cadets.

"Callisto!"

"Uh, yes, sir!"

"Get over here!"

"Yes, sir!"

"Now, Callisto...you are going to advance on Dualla, and she will attempt to throw you."

"Aw, come on, Sir, she’s just a little girl. I’ll–"

"Now, Callisto!"

"Yes, Sir!"

Armand Callisto was a good head taller than her, and–while not beefy–had greater muscle mass. You can do this, Ana! You can show this cocky son-of-a-bitch what you’re made of! Remember who you are! Remember why you’re here!

When Ana was seventeen, she made up her mind to join the Colonial Fleet after graduation–a no-brainer, really. While most of her childhood friends were in jail or getting knocked up, she was trying to focus all her energies on a future far away from Naxos. She wasn’t the top student of her class by far, but she maintained good grades, kept her nose clean.

She had even found her calling. In her third year, her school sent out a written announcement about the signing up for one of the required "Real Life Skills" courses. She looked down the short list of options, disappointed that her Junior Fleet Reserve classes didn’t count for squat. She had her choice from among the following: Home Economy, Vehicle Repair, Basic Electronics, Office Skills, and Animal Care. Her mother had tried early on to instill in her daughter the fine art of cooking and cleaning, with no success, so she mentally crossed Home Econ off her list. She wasn’t crazy about the idea of being coated with engine grease every morning and being ogled by a bunch of boneheads, so, no Vehicle Repair. She definitely knew that she didn’t want to end up in a dead-end office job like her mother, wasting her life away as an overworked, underpaid secretary–forget Office Skills. As for cleaning cat cages and shoveling dog poo–ew! That only left Electronics. She had no expectations when she walked into Mr. Solustus’ course, finding herself one of only two girls among a bunch of nerdy boys (double ‘ew!’). However, after a couple of weeks, that fact that she was sandwiched between cross-eyed Lyndon Crassus and Charlie "The Smell" Vell in class didn’t matter, she was hooked. She somehow was able to grasp the fundamentals of building simple circuits and repairing electronic equipment, and, by the end of the semester, had built a transistor radio out of a pile of scrap as a final project (which earned her the "eternal adoration" of Lyndon (EW, EW, EW!). Soon, she was even confident enough to repair the tv and the digital music player at home.

She walked into the local Colonial Fleet recruiting office, where she checked out her options. The recruiter, a man only a few years older than herself, said, "From what you’re telling me, your grades may not qualify you for our Electronic Engineering program. Perhaps, with your skills, you’d might be interested in, let’s say, Communications?" That was fine by her.

The next step was to tell her parents.

When Ana informed her mother the next day of her intentions, Sally, with the Sagittarian mistrust of the military, was a little hesitant, but realized that the Fleet would give her daughter the opportunities that she couldn’t give her. Gently holding her daughter’s cheek in her hand, she looked into her eyes. "Ana, honey, I know you’re a smart girl, and I believe that you know what you’re doing, so don’t take this the wrong way."

"What’s that, Momma?"

"I gotta ask you, why are you doing this?"

She could have given the speech that the recruiter gave her–a chance to build her skills, to travel to exotic new places, to build self-respect...But she told her the truth instead. "Momma, I got to get away."

Sally simply nodded her head, the tears starting to flow down her cheeks as she held Ana tight in her arms. "I won’t tell your father yet, until you’re ready."

Good thing, too, because it took her another two months to get the nerve to face him.

"The Colonial Fleet is for emotional cripples and patriotic fools, Annie! When are you going to get that into your head?!"

Look who’s talking, she thought. She kept those words in her head, not because she respected her father–she didn’t-- but because it was better to let him run out of steam than it was to argue him.

"After all I’ve told you! After all you’ve learned! After all that’s happened–the Archeron Riots, martial law in Sixtus Town, the indiscriminate, vicious arrests of law-abiding citizens...You’ve joined the enemy!!"

Her father hadn’t always been this way. Her mother had told her the story of Frank Dualla–a sensitive, intelligent twenty-two year-old man from Naxos, had gone to the University of Saggitaron’s Archeron campus to study law, like his father before him. However, at that time, the University was filled with young people, like himself, who wanted to change the rules, make things better for everyone. They took over the Admin Building and held a hunger-strike, rioted over the closing of a Colonial-funded clinic for the disadvantaged...things like that. He had laid down in front of the marines, organized free-soup kitchens, and had even wrote a speech that Tom Zarek (her father’s eyes became misty at the sound of his name) had used in a press conference. But, all that had changed when things got out of hand, and five Colonial Marines were killed when they tried to stop the masses from entering the Archer Hotel, where the President of the Colonies was having a meeting. That’s when the crackdowns began. Zarek was arrested for acts of terrorism ("It’s a Gods damn conspiracy!"), the soup kitchens were closed, the students went back to just being students, things went back to "normal"...but nothing was the same for Frank. Several of his friends were either arrested or trying to distance themselves from the movement as much as they could. He himself was almost taken in for questioning, but was let go because his father was the friend of the local Chief of Police, on the condition he return to Naxos. He did–he got his teaching credential at the local college, married his high school sweetheart, became a father a few years later. On the outside, everything was okay, but inside, Frank became increasingly bitter, taking every opportunity to criticize, to fight every losing battle, to drag his family down with him. He’d gotten so difficult that he couldn’t even hold a permanent job, so he was only a substitute teacher for the school system.

And here he was, trying to make her feel like the disgrace.

"GET OUT OF HERE! YOU’RE NO LONGER MY DAUGHTER! GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!"

It should have been a relief, getting away from him, but, for some reason, it hurt all the same.

"You can stay with Auntie Nadine until you graduate", Sally said, folding the last shirt into the suitcase before closing it. "She’s a little ditzy, my sister, but she’ll take care of you. And honey, you’ll always be my daughter."

Aunt Nadine was nice. A little ditzy, like Momma said, but nice. She was the top cosmestics salesperson at the big fancy department store downtown, so she was well off. She even had a beautiful apartment in a nicer part of town she shared with a friend (who was doing a six-month stay at an ashram on Gemenon). Her new bedroom alone was bigger than her old kitchen, bedroom, and living room combined. She sank into the soft bed, crying into the rose-scented pillows. Nadine walked in.

"Aw, honey, don’t worry, everything will be okay...I know things are hard now, but your Momma says you’re really smart, and that you’ve got a plan, so don’t worry it...Say, your poor eyes are all red. They’re so pretty. Big and green, like my Momma’s. I know! I got some new makeup that I was going to test out on myself. Why don’t we try it out together? How about this...’Lilac Dawn’. That’ll be darling on you. Make the green in your eyes come out...

*****

"I’m sorry I gotta do this to you, Dualla, but–Sarge’s orders!" Callisto looked too cocky for his own good, sensing what he thought was an easy victory.

Someone among the other cadets shouted, "Come on Callisto, knock Purple Eyeshadow on her ass!"

Ana’s mouth quirked slightly at hearing her unofficial callsign. She had made the mistake of wearing makeup on the first day of basic, and hadn’t been able to shake the nickname ever since.

The instructor stood at attention. "Ready...Go!"

One second Callisto was lunging at Dualla, and the next he was on his back, stunned that a little thing had laid him low.

Hah! Purple Eyeshadow kicked your ass!

Ch 1 http://jenmay.livejournal.com/3927.html#cutid1

*****

SOMETHING TO BELIEVE IN, PT 1

2006-08-27T06:17:58Z

Okay, I know I bashed Dee in a big way in "Runaway Bridegroom", but that doesn't mean I think that she's a total bitch (a partial bitch, maybe, but not total). She used to be a pretty cool supporting character, until The Powers That BSG turned her into a skank. This fic here is my way to help explain why Dee ended up the way she did. There will be spoilers for both the mini-series and seasons 1-3. Parts one, two, and possibly three, though, will be pre-mini.

Something to Believe In, Pt 1

When Anastasia Dualla was ten years old, she found her destiny. Not many little girls could say that, but it was true.

It was a cool spring afternoon, the sky finally clear of the seasonal rains that had dragged on for slightly longer than usual that year. Upon looking out their bedroom window that Saturday, her mother had decided to take her for a walk down to the Marketplace to pick up ingredients for that night’s supper–beef stew with potatoes and carrots. After practically being shut indoors for the past four months, Ana welcomed the escape from their dingy and oppressively small one-bedroom apartment, skipping almost the entire way, holding her mother’s hand.

Apparently, half the city had the same idea, too. The Equinox Marketplace was bustling with activity, packed to the gills with people haggling over spices and other wares, trading gossip, debating politics at one of many cafes at almost every corner.

While her mother was buying the potatoes and carrots for the stew, she picked out the scent of roses from the nearby flower stand. She loved red roses, so delicate...so pretty. There was nothing pretty about where she lived–it was dark, drab, and smelled like pee. She wanted that rose, badly. She almost asked her mother for a credit to buy one, but Sally Dualla was in the middle of heated bargaining, so she instead reached into her pocket for her leftover allowance. Five cents...twenty...thirty...sixty, eighty...one credit fifty! That was probably enough to get her rose.

She was about to walk over to the stand, when suddenly, the rat-tat-tat of automatic gunfire rang though the air, followed by the screams of people fleeing around them. Her mother threw herself down, covering her daughter’s thin body with her own. Ana couldn’t see anything. She could only hear the sounds of things shattering, of people moaning in pain. She felt herself suffocating under the weight of her protection.

"Ana, sweetie", whispered her mother, " When he turns his back, we’re going to run behind that potato cart over there, okay?"

"Okay, Mommy."

"Be brave for me. On the count of three. One...two...three!" Sally leapt to her feet, dragging Ana at full speed to safety. More bullets rang out, this time in their direction. Just before rounding behind the cart, her mother fell forward, a red stain blossoming on her right shoulder.

"Mommy!" Ana screamed.

Her mother, got up as best she could. "Stay right there!" She was barely able to drag herself behind the heavy cart before another spray of fire came their way.

Without even thinking, Ana tore off her thin overshirt and began ripping it to pieces, surprised at her own strength at that moment. Trying to remember the what she learned in first aid class, she bandaged her mother’s shoulder as best she could, holding back her tears as she saw her mother coffee-colored features slowly turn ashen. "Hold still, Mommy. I’m going to put pressure on your shoulder to stop the bleeding." But her mother couldn’t stop writhing in agony, wouldn’t stay still. She didn’t know what to do.

They were stuck there for what seemed like an eternity, the echoes of bullets and panic ringing around them. When she tried to sneak a look at the madman, her mother–as in much pain as she was--threatened to beat her within an inch of her life if she got killed. She would have thought it was funny, except that it was her mother dying, not her.

Suddenly, more gunfire erupted right next to them. She thought that it was the gunman coming to finish them off. She covered her mother just as she had her earlier, and shut her eyes tight. But instead of gunshots riddling them, she felt someone shaking her arm. She opened her eyes.

A Colonial Marine looked down at her. "Are you okay, little girl?"

She wanted to cry with relief. "My Mommy’s been shot!"

"What’s your name?"

"Ana."

"Okay, Ana, we’re going to get you both out of here." He spoke into the com at his shoulder. "Slingshot! I’ve got two civilians, one wounded! Give me some cover fire!" He turned back to Ana. "We’re going to move real quick, Ana, so stay right next to me, okay."

"Okay."

The soldier slung Sally’s good arm around his shoulder, placing Ana by his left side, away from potential gunfire. "Get ready." His comrade began to return fire. "Go!" They sped as fast as they could, turning the corner to the main thoroughfare, where a team of medics were waiting.

"These people are here to take care of you and your mama, Ana. Be a good girl." He turned away and headed back towards the gunfire, the medics whisking them away before she could even thank him.

She never knew the man’s name or his rank. She couldn't even remember his face clearly. She only knew that he’d saved their lives at the risk of his own, and that he’d been extremely brave. As her mother was being attended to, she looked around at the other soldiers, who seemed to conduct themselves with dignity and pride. It was more than gratitude she felt at that moment. Dignity and pride were things that were alien to her world, but she coveted them, even more than the rose. As young as she was, she realized that those qualities couldn't be bought and sold like flowers... She knew what she wanted to do with her life.

She wanted to be like them.

TBC

RUNAWAY BRIDEGROOM, PT 10

2006-08-24T02:54:29Z

In our last episode, following a tip from Galen Tyrol, Laura finally tracks down the title character, who's livin' in a Love Shack with his beloved pain in the rear. One cigarette and a cup of tea later, he decided to face the music--on his own terms.

And now (*sniffle*), the final chapter of "The Runaway Bridegroom"...

RUNAWAY BRIDE(GROOM): Pt 10

[The aftermath of what should have been Lee & Dee’s wedding day...]

One month later...

"I can’t thank you enough, Laura, for finding my son."

"My pleasure, Bill."

It was like old times. She reclining in her canvas chair (it was much too cold to kick off her shoes, though), her legs stretched out. He standing across from her, pouring himself a steaming cup of coffee. Though they were in a small drafty tent, the light from the propane lantern lent a warm ambiance to her makeshift living room. As he sat down on a small bench, she felt just as comfortable with his company as she had aboard Colonial One. She took a sip from her chipped ceramic mug before speaking again. "It almost frightened me how broken down he was. If we were back home instead of on this mudball, I’d say he was due for a long vacation."

"What can I tell you?" he responded, blowing lightly over his coffee to cool it. "We Adamas are workaholics. We don’t like taking breaks."

"Unless something breaks you first."

He unconciously put his right hand towards his chest, remembering how he was brought down by a bullet from one of the Sharons. "Yeah, well, I guess it’s a matter of time before a wheel falls off."

"So, how much longer is he in the brig?"

"He’s been there for a month, so he has one more to go."

"Has he gone crazy yet?"

"If he’s going to be a pilot again, he needs to build up his strength, so I’ve allowed him an hour in the gym per day. Other than that, I lend him books, he has visitors. I even have breakfast with him in his cell every morning. We actually talk then."

"How’s that going?"

"Better. We sometimes just glare at each other. Other times, though, we’ve been able to at least broach some difficult subjects, like my divorce from his mother, Zak, Cain...I think we’re finally getting somewhere... at least until we frak up." He looked at his watch. "Damn! I got to meet Baltar in twenty minutes. Once I get there, he’ll probably make me wait for an hour." Or make me watch that frakking video.

"I guess this is goodbye, then." she said, the tone of her voice revealing her disappointment.

"Actually, what are you doing this evening?"

"I’ve got a staff meeting at five. Otherwise, nothing else. Why?"

"My shuttle will take off at about 2200, so I was wondering if you’d like to have dinner with me, here. I brought some extra rations , and a bottle of some of that whisky you liked." He stopped, giving her a look that spoke volumes to her. "It’s been too long."

Laura smiled, hearing the plea under the friendly invitation. Luckily for him, there was peach-colored silk peignoir under her bed that was dying to come out and meet him. "I have a better idea. I know the perfect place. It’s classy, warm, dry, and it has a real bed...with real sheets..."

*****

Lee was doing pushups on the floor of his cell when he heard the hatch to the brig swing open, and familiar footsteps approaching. He jumped to his feet, looking at the woman he loved.

"Captain."

"Major."

Kara leaned against the bars. "This looks familiar. What’s the charge this time?"

"Oh, dumping an inferior bitch, abandoning my post, living in sin with a loose woman–ow!"

"I may be loose, but you’re the one behind bars."

He reached through the bars, touching the side of her head. "What happened to your hair?" It was short again, like the way she had it before she resigned her commission. It’s a shame, he thought. He had liked it long, the way it had brushed against his skin as she moved above him. On the other hand, the haircut framed her face better, the glow from her blonde hair making her look like an angel.

"Oh, I got bored last night, since you’re not there to bug me."

"And what brings you here now?"

"I miss you."

"You see me every day."

"No, I mean I miss you...badly."

"Oh."

"I was wondering what the policy is regarding conjugal visits."

"But we’re not married yet."

"One thing at a time, Adama. Get out of here first. You’ve got four more weeks, so...what are we going to do in the meantime?"

He had missed her too–a lot. Because he was usually locked in his cell with somebody watching him at all times, the only occasion he had for release was during his five minute shower, and that was no substitute for the what was standing right in front of him. He leaned forward, his voice lowering to a sexy growl. "Well, Starbuck, you are famous for your out-of-the-box thinking. Think of something."

She gave him a wicked smile as she turned to the guard. "Corporal, you can stay outside for the next hour."

The redheaded marine grinned back at her, giving her a crisp salute before exiting the room. It was worth it to see them happy. Well, almost. Weeks later, and the guys were still ragging on him.

As Trigger stepped out into the corridor, he saw his relief walking towards him. "Hey, Sledge! One month exactly! And they’re doing it through the motherfrakking bars! Pay up, buddy, ‘cause aren’t going to smell pretty anymore!"

*****

"So Dee visited him about a week ago. That, apparently, went better than expected. They’re still not each other’s favorite person, but I guess the whole thing knocked some sense into her head."

Helo paused, looking at Sharon, still sitting on the bunk opposite of him, with her back to the bulkhead, hugging her knees. She still hadn’t said a word-- not since the day after their infant daughter died almost a year ago. After the Admiral deemed that she was no longer a threat to the security of the fleet, he had allowed her a bunk in one of the many empty rooms aboard Galactica. But still, she hadn’t said a word. She did nothing but either sit in her bunk, staring blankly at the walls, or wander aimlessly through the corridors of Galactica. For the most part, the remaining crew ignored her, until she was almost invisible (he didn’t dare bring her to the Pegasus).

There were times after Hera’s death that he wanted to shake her, slap her, yell at her, anything to see life in those eyes again. Instead of finding comfort in each other, she had shut him out completely, making him angry and frustrated at first, and then, after a while...just sad.

"Well, I’ve gotta get back to the Pegasus. A Commander’s work is never done. He stood up. "I don’t know when’s the next time I can visit. My next meeting with the Admiral’s..."

Sharon had put her forehead to her knees, her body shaking. Every once in a while, when she had fallen asleep, she cried, calling out for Hera. He quickly sat next to her. "It’s okay, sweetheart. I’ve got you." But even as he tried to hold her, she pushed him away, and looked up.

"That is so frakked up."

She was laughing. Definitely laughing.Helo was stunned. After so long...Of all the things she could have said..."Uh, what’s so frakked up?"

"What the frak have you been talking to me about the past hour?" Her voice was a little hoarse from disuse, but it was definitely her. "Dee being dumped on her ass! The wedding from hell! Apollo and Starbuck running off! Oh Lords of Kobol!"

"Uh, Sharon–"

"I mean, Dee’s always going for the Gold, if you know what I mean. Before the decommissioning ceremony, Dee was always mooning over Adama. I mean, we’d be lying in our bunks and she’d be yakking about how noble and dignified he was and shit. Gods, she wouldn’t stop! Oh, and one time, when she had too much ambrosia at Gaeta’s birthday party, she told me she had sexual fantasies about him! Ugh! Too much information, if you ask me!"

Helo didn’t know what to say. All he knew was that she had come back to life, talking as if a dam had burst. "So she had a thing for Apollo for a long time–"

"No, stupid! The other Adama! Ugh! He’s old enough to be her father! That’s why I was so shocked when she started dating Billy. He was so...young!"

"Uh, yeah. So...you have been listening to me."

Her laughter died down, her dark eyes fixing on his. "Of course I have."

"All this time?"

"Yeah."

"Then why–"

"Why haven’t I said anything?" She took a deep breath in, wisps of her hair floating up as she exhaled. "I just didn’t feel like it."

"You didn’t feel like it. How do you think I felt?" A note of anger tinged his question.

She took his hand, placing it on her knee, gently brushing her fingers soothingly over it. "I’m not saying that you felt any less. It’s just that I carried Hera inside of me, and to lose her like that, after everything we’ve been through together, I couldn’t..."

He closed the gap between them, holding her in a fierce, yet gentle hug. "It’s okay. You don’t have to explain. I’ve got you. I’ve got you back. I’ve got my Sharon back." He kept repeating it over and over again, as trying to make that moment seem real. He closed his eyes, breathing in her scent, feeling the warmth of her fragile body. I’ve got her back...

Sharon held him just as passionately–because she was scared.

The loss of her child hadn’t been the only reason she’d been quiet. She’d been listening, not with her ears, but with whatever her Cylon nature had given her to sense that something was coming. Something big. As she had wandered through the corridors of Galactica over the months, she was trying to get a clue, a scent, a sign. Anything. The humanistic part of her had wanted to warn them, but the legacy of betrayals and her own grief had killed any incentive she had to speak up. Still, there was time. And there was Helo. Whatever the fates are going to throw at us, there is love.

The End

Ch 1 http://jenmay.livejournal.com/1026.html#cutid1
Ch 2 http://jenmay.livejournal.com/1508.html#cutid1
Ch 3 http://jenmay.livejournal.com/1845.html#cutid1
Ch 4 http://jenmay.livejournal.com/2122.html#cutid1
Ch 5 http://jenmay.livejournal.com/2500.html#cutid1
Ch 6 http://jenmay.livejournal.com/2590.html#cutid1
Ch 7 http://jenmay.livejournal.com/2995.html#cutid1
Ch 8 http://jenmay.livejournal.com/3296.html#cutid1
Ch 9 http://jenmay.livejournal.com/3498.html#cutid1

RUNAWAY BRIDE(GROOM) PT 9

2006-08-22T06:31:12Z

After Bill and Laura secretly mull over the events of the past two weeks, the former President of the Twelve Colonies is putting on her deerstalker cap, and heading out to find the wayward lovers...

RUNAWAY BRIDE(GROOM): Pt 9

[The aftermath of what should have been Lee & Dee’s wedding day...]

A few days later...

The old man skidded his ancient quad bike to a halt at the end of the isolated dirt road. After hopping off, he attentively assisted his attractive female passenger. "There you go! I told you those roads were too muddy for a lady like you to be tromping about."

Laura smiled. "Thank you so much for the ride, Mr. Canellos. I appreciate it."

"Oh, you can call me Ian, Ms. President."

Laura leaned forward. "You might want to be careful what you say out in the open, Ian." Even though, technically, free speech was still a fundamental right among the colonists, rumors were starting to spread of Baltar’s thugs leaning on those speaking against her successor. She’d overheard some of her students talking about their parents taking beatings from those hoods after a peaceful protest a couple of months back.

"Pssh! I didn’t vote for the slimy bastard! I say that they should have let the mistake go and let you stay! Ah well. In my book, you’re still President."

She didn’t correct him, didn’t tell him exactly what dirty dealings she and her allies had to do to get her reelected. Laura really didn’t miss being President. She had hated the weight and responsibility...the choices she had made. There were times during the election she’d look in the mirror, and see somebody whose soul was dying. In spite of that, though, she was glad that she had made such a positive impression on ordinary people, like Ian Canellos.

After promising not to tell anyone of her side trip, Ian drove off to work, while Laura made her way towards a row of green canvas tents near the forest. She took a deep breath in–the air felt clean, with a hint of pine, almost like the area around her aunt’s house at Lake Juno. A far cry from the smoke and stench of New Caprica City. She mentally followed the directions on the piece of paper tucked in the breast pocket of her overcoat and walked around behind the line of tents. Sure enough, the small, corrugated metal shack was there–nobody would have seen it, unless told to look.

*****

It had taken her three days to find them.

Following the intel that Felix Gaeta had graciously provided, she first visited the last person known to have seen Lee and Kara.

"Well, Ms. Roslin", Margaret Edmonson started, "They snuck onto my Raptor and hid in a big crate. Just as I was entering the atmosphere, they popped out and demanded that I continue to take them planet-side."

"Were they armed?"

"No, ah, they definitely weren’t armed...but they threatened to beat me up if I said anything right away. You never saw them fighting with each other, I did. It used to get scary sometimes, so I didn’t want to get on both of their bad sides."

"I see."

"So I continued onto the Delos Landing Strip, and they jumped out at soon as I could open the hatch. That was the last I saw of them."

"Aside from what you told me, was there anything else, any detail that might help?"

"Nothing I can think of."

"Nothing?"

"Nothing, except they were frakking in the back of my ship, and there was nothing I could do about it."

"Anything, besides that?"

"Uh--"

A man entered the tent. He looked like he hadn’t expected Edmonson to have company. "Oh, uh, hi Ms. Roslin."

"Hello. You are?..."

"Brendan Costanza", he shook her hand. "Most people around here call me Hot Dog."

"She’s asking about Starbuck and Apollo."

Costanza whistled. "Good luck finding them. Like finding a needle in a haystack. I can’t say I’m surprised they’ve run off together." He turned to Edmonson. "‘Track, remember when we had the maintenance shift after Colonial Day, how hard he hit her after she frakked–"

"Hot Dog, I don’t think Ms. Roslin’s interested in that."

"I’m just saying, they’re passionate, man. He’s wound up tight, she eggs him on. Something was bound to happen."

"Well, thank you Mr. Costanza, Ms. Edmonson–"

Edmonson jumped up. "Oh! I almost forgot! He left behind his jacket, if you’re interested." She pulled out from a locker a navy blue dress uniform jacket, with commander’s pips on the collar and handed it to Laura. The older woman looked closely at the item of clothing, checking for clues. Dipping her hand into one of the side pockets, she pulled out a pair of men’s briefs. She raised an eyebrow.

The young woman blushed furiously. "Uh, he left those behind, too."

*****

"That poor bastard. After that video aired, there hasn’t been a moment peace where he’s concerned."

Roslin watched the tall, dark-skinned soldier shake his head at the memory of his teammate. She had lucked out when she’d learned that some of the Galactica’s marines had come down to guard supplies being shipped down. "Corporal Kantor, did they find any other traces of the Commander or Kara Thrace?"

"Some of the other men found some blood-stained gloves. Thought that he might have been taken by force. I don’t think so. They didn’t see the look in his eyes–that Look of Doom. He was running away from Lieutenant Dualla as fast as his feet could carry him."

For some reason, that put a smile on her face...

*****

"Laura, you should have seen it!" Ellen Tigh guffawed. "Dualla flashing her tits, screeching at the top of her lungs! That beefy guard running after her! Oh, Gods! Saul and I were just dying!"

Roslin avoided Ellen whenever possible. However, Tigh’s wife had accosted her at the marketplace, fishing for any further news of Lee Adama. Laura, in turn, decided to grit her teeth and do some fishing of her own.

"That must have been a sight. Did Commander Adama give any indication of where he was going."

"No. Nothing that Saul could figure, anyway. Thrace definitely had the right idea to steal him away. Those eyes! Those pecs! Those buns!..."

*****

A more solid lead was, amazingly enough, among the volunteers at the preschool.

"Yes, I saw Lee a couple of days ago," responded Shevon, one of her teachers-in-training. As they watched her daughter Paya playing jump rope with a knot of other little girls in the makeshift playground, she explained her connection to Lee Adama. Before the cylons attacked Virgon, she been a cocktail waitress at one of the major casinos in Tyllium City, struggling to make ends meet after her husband–a security guard--was killed during a robbery. Afterwords, when she and Paya escaped the destruction of their world, she was forced to rely on her assets–her long legs, long blonde hair, and sensual smile–to survive. Eventually, she worked as a prostitute aboard Cloud Nine , which was where she and Lee had formed a ‘business arrangement’. When he had killed her boss, Phelan, he had made sure that she and Paya started a new life elsewhere.

"Where did you see him last?" asked Laura.

"We’ve kept in loose contact for the past few months, so he knew where we were when we came down. He and his girlfriend were waiting in my tent after my shift here–scared the hell out of me. He said that they were hiding, and that they needed my help. How could I say no, after what he did for me?" She paused briefly to warn a little boy not to wander far, before continuing her story. "So I got him some warmer clothes, snuck them some extra food and blankets, and they took off before sunrise."

"Did they mention where they were going?"

"He thought it best if I didn’t know much." She grinned in recollection. "His girl wasn’t thrilled with me helping them, though. She kept looking at me up and down, sizing me up. I guess I don’t blame her, considering our past..."

*****

After running in to several dead ends, she entered the Union Hall to find its president, the former L.S.O. of the Galactica, leaning over a desk, practicing a speech. Mr. Gaeta had suggested that, if anybody knew where the bodies lay, it was him.

"Hello there Ms. Roslin."

"Hello, there Mr. Tyrol. How are you doing?"

"Fine, fine. I’m just practicing a speech for the next meeting. What about you?"

"Oh, keeping busy with the children. We’ve finally got enough volunteers to staff the after-school program, so that’s a relief."

"Good."

"And how’s your wife? I believe she’s expecting, isn’t she?"

"Yeah. The doc says she’s due in twelve weeks."

"That’s lovely. Listen," she said, gently tugging him out of earshot of a couple of workers milling about. "I need to ask a favor of you."

"Sure. What do you need? Has the school generator pooped out on you again?"

"No, it’s working perfectly. I’m actually looking for someone."

"Who?"

"He’s the son of a friend of mine, someone who disappeared a couple of weeks ago. His father is worried about him and would like to know that he’s all right."

Tyrol looked at her directly in the eye, pausing for a moment before answering. "Why are you coming to me?"

"You’re familiar with him, so I thought you might have contacted you."

"Well, unfortunately, I’m not sure I can help you. Have you thought about going through the authorities?"

"This is a personal, unofficial inquiry on behalf of my friend. There’s no need to get anybody else involved. I’d just like to speak with him."

He looked into her eyes, as if deciding whether or not to trust her.

"I’ll see what I can do."

The next day, one of her students gave her a note from Tyrol.

*****

She approached the shack, and knocked gently on the makeshift door.

"Commander Apollo, it’s Laura Roslin." She heard rustling from within. "I apologize for coming this early, but I thought that it would be best if I came at a time when less people would see me. " Inside she heard a "frak", some stumbling, and the noise of clothing being pulled on. She walked to a nearby lawn chair by a small, empty fire pit, and sat, waiting patiently. A couple of minutes later, the door squeaked open and the object of her search walked out.

As Lee slowly made his way towards her, she noticed the change in him. Instead of the severe, blue Colonial Fleet uniform, he was wearing an ancient brown peacoat, which was slightly too big for him, a pair of faded blue jeans, and mud-encrusted hiking boots. No clean cut clean-cut and shaven boy scout there-- his hair was grown out slightly with the promise of soft waves, his jaw shaded by a few days of growth. His blue eyes–once icy and guarded--were softer, more vulnerable. The overall picture of him gave her the impression of a schoolboy found out and facing the inevitable. I keep forgetting he’s so young.

He stopped by an adjacent chair, pulled it near her and sat down wearily.

He sighed, "Hello, Laura."

"Hello, Lee."

"I take it this isn’t a social call."

"Normally, I take walks early in the morning, so I thought that nobody would notice if I disappeared for an hour or so."

He looked at her warily. "You didn’t tell anybody."

"Like I said to Mr. Tyrol, I didn’t want anybody else involved. I just wanted to talk."

"Ever the diplomat."

"I guess being President was good for something, now, wasn’t it?"

In spite of himself, Lee smiled.

Right then, the door to the shack opened again, revealing Kara Thrace, dressed in her old fatigues . She had pulled her long, blonde hair back in a loose ponytail, her eyes hesitant. "Hi."

"Hello, Kara. Come join us."

Kara took a small crate next to the shack, and set it next to Lee. "So, where are the marines?", she asked cheekily as plopped down.

"Probably bored out of their gourd aboard Galactica. From what I heard, Lee’s exodus was the most excitement they’ve had in a while."

"Bummer. I was looking forward to being thrown in the brig again. I kinda miss it."

"You mean having me being thrown in the brig. You’re a civvy now", Lee reminded her.

"Well, hopefully, nobody will need to end up in the brig", said Laura. "You’ll find that your father is a lot more understanding than you think."

"I hate to burst your bubble", Lee snorted, "But somebody’s going to the brig, and it’ll probably me." He pulled out a near-empty pack of cigarettes from his coat pocket(I didn’t know he smoked, Laura thought. Another chink in the image of Lee Adama.) , and fumbled around a little more for a lighter. Kara pulled one out of her pants pocket, holding the flame as he lit up. Laura noticed their postures, their total comfort in each other’s presence. For as long as she could remember, they had always been on their guard with one another. But now, there was no pretense, no hesitation.

Lee continued, "I’m a Commander in the Colonial Fleet. I abandoned my duty, therefore I must pay the price."

"I’m sure that–"

"Laura, you know my father. He’s a man bound by honor and duty. Do you think he would forget that, even though the Cylons are gone?

Laura wanted to say yes, especially in light of her conversation with the Admiral, but she knew better. Bill Adama was a man of honor, who would not let anyone forget what it meant to be in the Fleet, even his own son. "Well, I guess the question now is, what are you going to do next?"

"What do you mean?"

"We both now agree that you will most likely spend time in jail, but what are you going to do afterwords?"

Lee took a long drag from his cigarette (Dammit, he even smokes like his father!). "I don’t know. I haven’t even thought that far ahead."

Laura sat up, leaning in towards him. "Lee, I’ve only known you for less than two years, but I know that you are as much of a man of honor and duty as your father. You wouldn’t have abandoned your duty without good reason."

"I had good reason." Lee slipped his free hand into one of Kara’s.

"Maybe, but there were...other things going on in your life. I’m not saying that your love for each other isn’t real. It’s more than obvious that it is. What I am saying is that stress of command, along with all the other...shit...we’ve been up against these past two years has taken its toll on you. Your father even mentioned that he thought you were merely ‘going through the motions’."

"Gee, I didn’t even think he noticed."

"Well, he did, and it concerned him. He didn’t pursue it further because he didn’t think you would have wanted his interference."

Lee seemed to mull this information over. "We’ve never been that close. We’ve gotten closer, but not close enough."

"Ever your father’s son", Laura shook her head.

"Tell me about it", added Kara. "Both stubborn as mules." Lee gave her an accusatory look. "Oh, come on, Lee! I’ve been telling you both to work out your bullshit for years."

"It’s not that easy."

"No, Lee, it’s not." Kara turned to Laura. "So, what can we do in the meantime?"

"Lee didn’t answer my question. What are you going to do?"

Lee jumped up. "I don’t know!" He stalked away from the firepit, throwing his cigarette on the ground. "I said I haven’t thought that far!"

Laura sat back in her chair, measuring her next words with care. "My father used to say, ‘If you don’t know what you want, ask yourself what you don’t want.’ What don’t you want?"

Lee stopped where he was, his back turned to them.

Kara broke the silence. "Well, I know I don’t want to remain decaffeinated for the rest of this lovely morning. We’ve got sludge that resembles green tea. It’s not coffee, but it keeps us from crawling up the walls. Want some?"

"That would be lovely." As Kara disappeared into the shack, Laura continued to look at Lee’s back.

"I don’t want to live without her", he stated softly.

"Okay, that’s a start. I’m sure that the Admiral wouldn’t mind if Kara rejoined the Fleet, if she wants to. Which now begs the question, do you still want to be in the Fleet?"

Lee turned around, and slowly walked back. "Back during the decommissioning ceremony, I had this...plan...this whole other life I was going to live. I was going to wait another year before I resigned my commission, take the money I’d saved up, and open a bar somewhere. I had an old buddy of mine from War College, who got sick of the whole thing, and ended up running a restaurant on Picon. I was going to look him up, see if he wanted to be partners-- him managing the food aspect, and me being running the actual bar. I even had a place in mind...This abandoned restaurant on the main drag that need a whole lot of remodelling."

"It sounds like it would have been nice."

"Yeah. But then the Cylons came, and I was stuck in the Fleet, with my Dad as C.O., and no way out. No options. Nothing."

"So, you want out of the Fleet? You could resign after your sentence, start your own place here."

"With what? No, that’s not an option anymore. I don’t belong here anymore than I belong on the Pegasus. What I want..."

"Yes."

"If I have to go back, what I want..."

"Go on."

"What I want is to fly again."

Laura steepled her hands under her chin. "You want to be a pilot again."

"I’ve always been a pilot. The worst thing that my father could have done to me was to take away my flight status."

"I heard you were good as Commander of the Pegasus. You had even turned the crew around, brought moral up. For someone who dislikes command, you’re pretty good at at it."

"You don’t understand. I don’t mind being a leader. I enjoy it. I am good at it. But what I want..."

"What he wants is to be C.A.G. again", interrupted Kara, holding three steaming mugs.

Laura took hold of hers. "Is that what you want?"

"Well, there’s not much need for one, considering that most of my former pilots are on the surface."

"He’s dying to be a dipstick again, but with only half the responsibility", Kara jutted a mug in his direction.

"And you want to be a pain in the ass again!"

"You know you want it. And I’ll be a pain in your ass for as long as you need me."

Sensing the light at the end of the tunnel, Laura stood up. "Besides, there’s no guarantee that the Cylons won’t find us again. Who better to keep us prepared than you."

"I’ll drink to that." Kara gave Lee his mug, raising hers in a toast. "Here’s to bright, shiny futures."

As they clinked their mugs together, a rare sight appeared–a ray of sunshine broke through the ever present cloud cover, bathing the campsite in a golden glow.

Laura gazed in wonder, "Now that’s a sign from the Gods if there ever was one."

TBC

Ch 1 http://jenmay.livejournal.com/1026.html#cutid1
Ch 2 http://jenmay.livejournal.com/1508.html#cutid1
Ch 3 http://jenmay.livejournal.com/1845.html#cutid1
Ch 4 http://jenmay.livejournal.com/2122.html#cutid1
Ch 5 http://jenmay.livejournal.com/2500.html#cutid1
Ch 6 http://jenmay.livejournal.com/2590.html#cutid1
Ch 7 http://jenmay.livejournal.com/2995.html#cutid1
Ch 8 http://jenmay.livejournal.com/3296.html#cutid1
Ch 10 http://jenmay.livejournal.com/3618.html#cutid1

RUNAWAY BRIDE(GROOM), PT 8

2006-08-19T06:58:16Z

In our last episode...as Trigger recovers from the wedding nightmare, Lee and Kara decide to join the mile-high club aboard Racetrack's raptor. Meanwhile, the search is on...

(Thanks to sracheg for the icon!)

RUNAWAY BRIDE(GROOM): Pt 8

[The aftermath of what should have been Lee & Dee’s wedding day...]

Two weeks later...

There was calm, almost deathly stillness at night, a sharp contrast to the hustle and grind of the day. As the constant rain pitter-pattered onto the sea of tent roofs, the most of the multitudes who toiled day in and day out to make New Caprica a home were asleep in their beds, exhausted, dreaming of the lives and loved ones they once had. The only people awake and out at that hour were young couples sneaking away for an hour of bliss, thieves scanning for carelessly placed items outside the tents, and the men who might have been called a police force.

The third was what she wanted to avoid the most. Most of them had been Zarek’s fellow inmates aboard the "Astral Queen", who had transferred their allegiances to Baltar when he became president. Although one could occasionally bribe them, there would have been no guarantee they wouldn’t have held her for questioning. She knew for a fact that her successor still kept an eye on her, having grown paranoid of his enemies–both real and imaginary. For now, he was just acting like a corrupt eccentric, hoarding ambrosia and women, ignoring the real problems. The chill in her gut told her, though, that someday, something would tip the balance of his already precarious sanity towards something far worse... She hoped she was wrong, but, so far, her instinct had been correct. Which was why she had taken the precaution of arriving at the rendevous point a few hours ahead of schedule, making sure that she wasn’t followed along the way.

As she sat in the dimly lit cabin of the "Leda’s Dream", Laura Roslin, former President of the Twelve looked at her surroundings. The former space yacht’s luxurious, wood and chrome- paneled interior contrasted greatly with her own shabby little tent a mile away. She sighed as she sat back in the cushy leather chair, stretching her legs out and kicking off her shoes like she used to back on Colonial one. It was reminiscent of the days when she used to walk barefoot around her office after a long day, before settling down on the couch with Billy, who usually had a cup of herbal tea to help her wind down. He’d said that it always helped his mother on the nights when her insomnia plagued her. She suddenly felt a sharp longing such a simple comfort as tea and sympathy. I never` in would have thought a million years I would have considered that place home...And now it’s in the hands of careless madman. She fought the urge to curl up and take a catnap. No time for sleep,

She looked at her watch. It’s almost time. Better get up before I’m permanently glued into this lovely chair. Laura managed to tear herself away and walked towards the front of the yacht. As she entered the cockpit, she noticed that her friend had been thoughtful enough to cover the cockpit windows so as to block out the silvery blue glow of the communication panel from the outside. She sat down in the co-pilot’s chair, checked her watch again, and then flipped a few switches on the communication panel. One minute...She felt a little like a teenage girl, sneaking in a forbidden late night phone call to her boyfriend...

0200...It was time. She entered the frequency (the way her friend had taught her how), and waited for contact. A few seconds later, a warm, gravelly voice came online.

"Is that you Laura?"

"Yes, it is. How are you Bill."

"I’ve been better. And you?"

"I’ve been worse, especially at two o’clock in the morning."

"I’m sorry about that. I didn’t want to chance anybody overhearing us, either up here or down there."

"Mmm. I thought this might be something more than a social call."

"I’ve heard rumors about Baltar’s men monitoring all transmissions around the clock."

"Well, I know for a fact that his wiretap man is busy entertaining a friend tonight."

"And how do you know that?"

"Oh, I have my sources..."

"I bet you do."

Another thing she’d missed about Colonial One–having her late night meetings with Bill Adama. She could see him now, in her mind’s eye, sitting on her couch, his uniform jacket half-way open, talking late into the night about politics and the business of command, poetry, and sometimes about more personal matters. There were times, listening to the rumble of his voice, feeling his solid, warm presence, that she wished that they had gotten more...personal. Sometimes, when he’d looked at her, she had gotten the feeling he felt the same.

"Well, as much as I miss the sound of your voice, Bill, I know you’re not calling because you miss me."

*****

I miss you more than you think.

Lying in his bunk aboard Galactica, the smoke from his unfiltered cigarette curling around him, Bill Adama listened to the low, female voice at the other end of the phone line. When she was President, he used to note that she had different voices for different occasions. She had the soft, but determined one that she used on him, when she, as Secretary of Education, had tried to persuade him to network the computers on Galactica for the benefit of visitors. There was the clear, concise one that she used for political speeches. The hard, resolute tone came out when she made the tough decisions. She had a motherly one when she was talking to Billy. But the voice that he missed the most was the one they used when they had been alone together. He could see her now, reclining on his couch after a long day of arguing with the Gemenese delegation, her shoes and jacket carelessly tossed aside, with a glass of ambrosia that he usually kept in reserve for days like those. He remembered how feminine she looked, with her long legs stretched out, her auburn hair brushed across her shoulders, the her blouse opened just enough to see a sliver of cleavage. Sometimes, he was tempted to just walk over to her and...well, she was the President, so he never went that far, although, there were moments (maybe he had been imagining it) when he had the impression that she wouldn’t have minded. Maybe I should have taken the lead of my own son.

"Actually, I do miss you (Did I say that?), but yes, I’ve got a favor to ask of you. It calls for some discretion, though."

"Go on."

"You might have heard that my son took off with Starbuck just before his wedding..."

He thought he heard a delicate snort on the other end.

"I heard. I’ve even seen a couple of snippets on the public news feed. Baltar, apparently, plays the video over and over again for kicks."

"Son of a --I should have ripped that camera out of D’Anna Biers’ hands when I had the chance, but I had other things on my mind."

"Well, I have to say that the Lords of Kobol have a wonderful sense of karma."

"What’s that?"

"The bride got publicly dumped without so much as a by-your-leave."

The bitterness was still there.

"You still haven’t forgiven her for Billy, have you?"

"No."

"Are you still angry at Lee?"

Silence.

"Yes and no. He was partially responsible for what happened, but I don’t think he meant to hurt him. I don’t know if he even knew they were still dating. Did you?"

"I don’t know. We’ve never discussed that aspect of his life." He took another drag from his cigarette. "You know, in the past year-and-a-half, we’ve been closer than we’ve been in decades, and yet in some ways, we’re light-years apart. We didn’t see each other every day, but when we did, I got the sense he was just going through the motions."

"So you decided to shake things up by inviting Kara Thrace to the wedding?"

"I wouldn’t put it that way."

"I heard that they had a falling out, bad enough so that they didn’t speak to each other for months. And, most certainly, she wouldn’t had wanted her there. So, did you really want to sabotage his wedding?

He was about to say no, but..."Maybe. I don’t know. What I do know is that I love Starbuck like a daughter, and I’ve missed her. Call me a selfish old bastard. I thought the wedding was a perfect excuse for her to see her again."

"But you still knew what could have happened."

Bill sat up, setting his cigarette down, rubbing his forehead, as if trying to collect his thoughts.

"It’s not that I disapproved of Dee herself..."

"Just her relationship with your son."

He paused for a moment, reaching for a thought that had been in the back of his mind since the whole thing started.

"Maybe it was that we pulled her in too close, too soon."

"Excuse me?"

"She used to be sane, someone you could lean on. I felt that from the first moment I met her."

"Are you saying...?"

"What I‘m saying that she became a kind of confidant to me." He pulled the cigarette back towards his lips, thinking of how he could word this. "There were very few people I could talk to. There was really no need before the worlds ended, but afterwords, there were things bottled up that I needed to let out. There was Saul, of course, but there were times that I knew he couldn’t handle it, especially after Ellen came back into his life."

"And he would tell her everything, and she would use it against you somehow."

"So I started talking to Dee. She was a good listener."

"So what did you ‘talk’ to her about."

He didn’t like the sound of that.

"The pressures of command, my hopes, fears...You know, after you and Lee escaped from the brig and fled to Kobol, I was so enraged, I had all but decided to let you guys rot. Dee was the one to persuaded me to put my personal feelings aside and put the fleet back together.

A pause. "Really?"

"You sound surprised."

"It’s just...I never knew about that."

"I never really told anybody before why I changed my mind, so, you’re the first."

"It certainly puts things in a different light."

"Anyways, one thing I used to talk to her a lot was about Lee. I’m thinking that’s how it started."

"So you think that, because she saw Lee’s and your vulnerable sides, she felt she could take liberties with you both? Is that your theory?" Her voice was starting to sound strained.

"I–"

"Look, I’m sorry, Bill. Can we stop talking about her and move onto something more neutral, shall we?"

He wondered if he should have told her what he did. It felt damn uncomfortable, but he felt that it had been the right thing to do, given their bond of trust.

She continued, "You want me to search for your son, and you want me to be discreet about it. What makes you think that I’ll have better luck than you?"

"Like you said, you have your sources."

At that moment, he heard another voice quietly speaking to her, sounding vaguely familiar

"I’m sorry, Bill, but my friend tells me that the wire taps may start up again at any moment, so I have to go now."

"All right. But I want to make one thing clear. When I said that I missed you, I meant it."

"I did too."

He stubbed out his cigarette. "Goodbye, and good hunting."

*****

When the line went dead, Laura turned to her friend.

"Thank you, Mr. Gaeta, for your help. I hope that I don’t get you into trouble for this."

"No worries about that" replied the President’s aide. "Baltar’s too busy rutting about at this time of night to give a shit."

"Good. Could you do me another favor? See if you could dredge up some rumors or other information regarding Lee Adama and Kara Thrace."

"Of course, anytime."

TBC

Ch 1 http://jenmay.livejournal.com/1026.html#cutid1
Ch 2 http://jenmay.livejournal.com/1508.html#cutid1
Ch 3 http://jenmay.livejournal.com/1845.html#cutid1
Ch 4 http://jenmay.livejournal.com/2122.html#cutid1
Ch 5 http://jenmay.livejournal.com/2500.html#cutid1
Ch 6 http://jenmay.livejournal.com/2590.html#cutid1
Ch 7 http://jenmay.livejournal.com/2995.html#cutid1
Ch 9 http://jenmay.livejournal.com/3498.html#cutid1
Ch 10 http://jenmay.livejournal.com/3618.html#cutid1

RUNAWAY BRIDEGROOM, PT 7

2006-08-16T02:47:43Z

When we last left off, the unlucky Trigger brought Helo's message to the Admiral, who in turn,broke the bad news to Dee, who vowed to "strangle the bitch" who stole her man. When the chaos was over, Dee had been sent to her room, Trigger had been flashed, flower displays had been broken, and the invisible Six was literally rolling on the floor laughing. But now, where is our title character and his lovely lady?

RUNAWAY BRIDE(GROOM): Pt 7

[What should have happened on Lee & Dee’s wedding day...]

As the remaining crew aboard the Galactica began the search for the Pegasus’ wayward C.O., a Raptor was silently gliding down towards the upper atmosphere of New Caprica...

"So what do you think?"

"About what?"

"About what? Didn’t you hear?"

Damn, I always miss the good stuff! "No."

"Oh shoot! That’s right, you left just before the alert went out!" Sati was such a gossip, but Margaret Edmonson, a.k.a. Racetrack, former Raptor pilot for the Galactica, missed hearing his banter. They had become friends when the fleet had still been on the run, trading rumors over the wire when the activity in C.I.C. was dead. The torrid tales of love triangles and rivalries among the officers and pilots were welcome distractions to an otherwise boring midnight C.A.P. Nowadays, whenever she made her weekly delivery runs to and from Galactica, she always looked forward to catching up with the latest dirt.

"All right, dammit! Spill it!"

Sati lowered his voice. "The Commander just ditched the bride not a half-hour ago!"

"No!"

"Yes."

"No way!"

"Yes, way!" She could tell from his tone that the details were going to be juicy. " And guess who they say he’s run off with?"

"Hmmm...could it beeeeeee Starbuck?"

"How did you know?"

"Oh, just the fact that they’ve been sniffing and growling around each other like a couple of dogs for as long as I’ve known them"

"That’s right! He was your C.A.G. before he got promoted. You used to tell me about their frak/fights."

Meg shook her head. Even the most casual observer who witnessed the pair’s many brawls could see that there had been a sexual element to each punishing blow.

"Yeah. Besides, I heard the Old Man invited her to the wedding. Boy, that was a recipe for disaster!"

"I wonder if that was an act of sabotage on his part?"

"Maybe." Even the Old Man’s gotta know about those two...

"I have to say, I’m thoroughly unsurprised. The way Dee used to scree–*cough*, ahem! Raptor Four-Twenty, have you had visual contact with Commander Adama or Kara Thrace?"

Meg knew that Sati’s sudden return to professionalism signaled the arrival of the Admiral in C.I.C., so she responded in kind. "That’s a negative, Galactica. I’m not carrying any passengers, just a heap of communication equipment to the Delos landing strip."

"Roger that, Raptor Four-Twenty. Have a safe trip down. Galactica out."

"Thank you, Galactica. Out."

As she was signing off, she heard what she thought might be light scratching coming from the back of the Raptor. Ew! Rats! Of all the other life forms that could have been saved from the Colonies, the only one that had been smart enough to jump onto the fleeing ships was the one that she hated the most . Ugh! Why couldn’t it have been kitty cats or something. Ponies, even...A sudden image of a petite equine clopping daintily down the corridors of Galactica came to mind. Oh, Gods! I must be bored out of my skull. It wasn’t for lack of anything to do. Ever since she and her team had accidentally discovered New Caprica on the way to the Old, she’d been busy surveying, pitching tents, digging ditches, and piloting supply runs like this. I just wish I’d found someplace warmer.The scratching in back had gotten louder, and she thought she heard a sound–the low murmur of a voice. Kids! She’d occasionally find an adventurous munchkin or two in the Raptor who snuck on for a little joyride. "Hey! I can hear you!" The voices–there was more than one–got a little louder, a little–deeper. Uh oh. They don’t sound like kids to me..." Hey! Come on out, right now before I kick your asses!"

She turned her head towards the back, just in time to see the lid of the larger crate fling open, and a familiar blonde head pop up.

"Hiya, ‘Track! I’d like to see you try!"

*****

Back aboard the Galactica, a knot of about twenty marines surrounded the Sergeant. "Squad!"

"YES, SIR!!" they shouted in unison.

"As you might have heard, Commander Adama has gone A.W.O.L. from his wedding–"

A snicker bubbled from the corps. The Sergeant whipped around and faced off the offender.

"Is there something you’d like to share, Dirtbag?"

"No, Sir!"

He got into the soldier’s face. "Do you think it’s funny that your Commanding Officer is missing?!"

"No, Sir."

"I can’t hear you!"

"No, Sir!!!"

The Sergeant glared at Dirtbag for a moment before turning back around to continue their briefing. "It is unknown if he left willingly or under duress. It is also unknown whether or not he is still on board. It is, however, suspected that he may be in the company of one Kara Thrace, the former C.A.G. of this ship. Your mission is to find the Commander, assess the situation, and bring him back to C.I.C. You will pair up and search the ship, starting with the Hanger Bay, and work upwards. Gangway, Butch!"

"Yes, Sir!"

"Start searching the Hanger Bay."

"Yes, Sir!"

"Popgun, Dirtbag!"

"Yes, Sir!"

"Seach the main engineering levels."

"Yes, Sir!"

The hatch to the Hanger Bay slid open, revealing Trigger, his eyes glazed, like he’d traded shells with a fleet of Toasters.

"Trigger! Pair up with Sledgehammer and search the bunk levels."

"Yes, Sir!" Trigger belted automatically.

As the Master Sergeant barked out the rest of his orders, Sledgehammer approached Trigger. "What happened?"

The young soldier kept his eyes locked forward, his mouth into a stoic, thin line. "Did you win that bottle of whisky?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"‘Cause when this is over, I’ll need at least half of that to forget today."

"That bad, huh?"

"That bad."

*****

"‘Buck! What the frak are you doing there?" Racetrack was alternating keeping her eyes on the re-entry, and looking over her shoulder at her unexpected passenger.

"Oh, just hitching a ride. Sorry about the equipment. We had to think fast, so we dumped what we could in the–"

"Wait a minute! ‘We’! You mean the Commander’s with you?!"

"Yeah, he’s-- Ow! Lee! Stop kicking me!"

Another familiar head popped up.

"My leg’s falling asleep! Racetrack, how long ‘til we reach the surface?"

"Uh, it’ll be about twenty minutes before we land in Delos..Do you know that everybody aboard Galactica’s looking for you guys?"

"We heard. Why do you think we hopped onto your Raptor?", quipped Starbuck. "True, we could have caught the shuttle to New Caprica Town, but–"

"That’s where they’ll look first", continued Lee. "And there are a lot more hiding places in Delos."

Racetrack knew that the settlement area known as Delos was near several caves, and a large, primordial forest. She’d also heard that Starbuck had made friends with several of the residents, so they could probably hole up there and nobody would find them.

"That’s my Lee. Ever the tactician."

"‘My Lee’", he murmured, rolling the sound of those two words slowly on his tongue. It was almost like he was tasting something unexpected and wonderful. "‘My Lee’. Mmmm, I like the sound of that." The sound of a light kiss against skin. "It almost sounds nicer than when I made you scream back there."

Whaaat?!

A girlish giggle erupted from the back.

The last time I heard her giggle like that was whenever she was about to frak Anders...Oh crap!

Starbuck’s voice lowered a notch, turning into a husky growl. "Oh, if you thought that sounded good..I know what sounds better." The sound of a zipper echoed off the bulkhead. "Making you scream."

Oh, Gods! Not this! It was just like when she was seventeen, when she and her best friend double-dated one Saturday night. She’d been trying to carry an awkward conversation with her blind date in the front seat of the car, while Cindy was busy trying to lose her virginity in the back. At least their excuse was that they’d been stupid kids...These were–

The ship started to shake–signaling its entry into the ionosphere. Racetrack’s eyes immediately snapped ahead, her hands gripping the controls. Dammit! I need all the concentration I can get!

"Starbuck! Apollo! I’m busy trying to pilot this tub! Could you, hold off until we reach Delos?"

Kara initially seemed to listen. "Uh, Lee, maybe we’d better wait a bit."

A pause.

"Wait a bit? WAIT A BIT!!!!"

"Uh, Lee, it is kinda rude–"

"RUDE?! Rude is not finishing what you started!"

"Lee, control yourself for a sec–"

"Lee says FRAK CONTROL!! Lee’s always having to control himself! Lee is always reigning himself around his father, around his crew, and especially around you! Ohhh, you don’t know just how much Lee has to control himself around you, ever since they day he met you." Over the din of reentry, she heard what she thought sounded like pebbles hitting the bulkhead.

"Shit, Lee! That was my best shir–ohhh!"

"After that simulator run, all Lee wanted to do was rip off your flight suit and frak you senseless in the cockpit."

"Aaaahhh...wouldn’t the nuggets have...oooooh...gotten... a show?"

"It’s not like it’s something they hadn’t just seen. We always frak when we fly, don’t we, Kara."

"Uh, guys?" Dammit! If Racetrack hadn’t been turned on, she would have been furious. "Guys? Excuse me!"

"You’re not the only one dealing with control, Lee...After that simulator run, when you were drinking that beer, all I wanted to do was straddle you and lick the foam off your lips–"

"Sirs?"

"–And ride you like we were doing Hephaestus’ Gorge all over again."

"You like it rough, don’t you?"

"Sirs!!"

"Ever since then, I’ve always wondered what would have happened if we’d skipped the bar and went straight to my place in Delphi.."

"I guarantee, you wouldn’t have been able to walk straight for days–"

"Please, will you two just stop!! Just stop it!!! Just wait for twenty more Gods’ damn-"

"SHUT YOUR HOLE AND FLY, EDMONSON!!" roared Lee. "That’s an order!"

"But I’m no longer in the–"

"And if you don’t, I’ll kick your ass myself!" added Starbuck.

And so, for the next twenty minutes or so, Racetrack was subjected to the moans and groans of her former C.A.G.s going at each other like a feeding frenzy.

Aw crap. Well, at least it’ll make a good story to tell Sati next week...A pair of B.D.U. briefs sailed through the air and landed on top of her head. For a second, before quickly whipping it off, she smelled a hot, sweaty, musky maleness to it. Hmm, I wonder what Hot Dog’s doing tonight...

TBC

Ch 1 http://jenmay.livejournal.com/1026.html#cutid1
Ch 2 http://jenmay.livejournal.com/1508.html#cutid1
Ch 3 http://jenmay.livejournal.com/1845.html#cutid1
Ch 4 http://jenmay.livejournal.com/2122.html#cutid1
Ch 5 http://jenmay.livejournal.com/2500.html#cutid1
Ch 6 http://jenmay.livejournal.com/2590.html#cutid1
Ch 8 http://jenmay.livejournal.com/3296.html#cutid1
Ch 9 http://jenmay.livejournal.com/3498.html#cutid1
Ch 10 http://jenmay.livejournal.com/3618.html#cutid1

THE RUNAWAY BRIDEGROOM, PT 6

2006-08-10T04:44:42Z

RUNAWAY BRIDEGROOM, PT 6!!!

(Thanks to Scout 27 for the pic!)

When we last left off, Lee caught up with Kara just before she left Galactica on a shuttle back to New Craprica for good. With much soul bearing and making out, he finally convinced the woman that he was the just the right crazy motherfrakker to spend the rest of her life with.

Meanwhile, Helo meets up with Trigger and Sledgehammer, who tell him of their encounter with the wayward Commander. Singularly unenthused about bringing the bad news himself to the Admiral and the VERY pissed off bride, he did what any good leader would do--delegate the task to someone else, namely poor Trigger.

And now, the moment you've been waiting for...

RUNAWAY BRIDE(GROOM): Pt 6

[What should have happened on Lee & Dee’s wedding day...]

"I so hate weddings", muttered Gaius Baltar, President of the Colonies. They’re so boring, so hypocritical". He surveyed his surroundings from his first row seat with mild disdain. The Observation Deck–the only room aboard Galactica that had public access to a view of outside space– was festooned with colorful flower displays ( the lilies and roses specially grown in the hydroponics bay), ribbons, drapery, and other assorted matrimonial paraphernalia. "I never understood why two people want to put themselves up like a pair of show ponies, just to prance up and down the aisle for the benefit of people who really only there for the free food and booze." The room was starting to get stuffy, with the two dozen people crammed on either side of the narrow aisle, all breathing the same stale air. "Isn’t there any air conditioning in here? When will this torture end?"

A soft, slender white hand slid onto his right shoulder. "Poor Gaius. A hapless victim of protocol."

Baltar turned his head slightly to see Six standing next to him. She was wearing one of his favorites–a pale, shimmery blue satin number with spaghetti straps that hugged her curves like paint.

"Remember, as much as you despise these occasions, it’s better to keep your friends–"

"--Close and your enemies closer. I know. Diplomacy is a bugger. I don’t know why I even bother. I’m the President, for God’s sake."

"Don’t take His name in vain, Gaius," warned Six. "It’s disrespectful."

"Sorry." He really wasn’t, but unless he wanted everybody in the room to see their President clenching his balls in agony, he’d rather take the high road. "It’s just that this charade should have started–" he looked at his watch, "Twenty minutes ago. I wonder what so important that we have to wait for so long!"

"I wonder..." Six purred, smiling a smile like the cat that ate the canary. She was up to something, but he didn’t ask her what. She’d probably say "It’s God’s plan" or some other drabble, so he settled instead for turning in his seat to look at the other guests. They were mostly higher-ranked crew members from both battlestars. D’Anna Biers was in the back–the lone member of the press allowed into the ceremony–checking her camera for the umpteenth time. The Tighs were in the front row on the side opposite him, with the father of the groom standing by them, chatting with Saul. The Galactica’s X.O. was looking distinctively uncomfortable in his dress uniform and in need of a drink. He probably has ambrosia on him somewhere. He was tempted to demand it from him. Ellen was ignoring the two men, giving him the "come-hither-and-frak-me-in-the-supply-closet" look. Ugh! Used goods! He didn’t see another attractive female in the bunch (none that weren’t in his head, that is). There was a time in his life–before the end of the worlds–when he could solve his wedding ennui problem by persuading a pretty bridesmaid to duck into a toilet stall with him for a quick shag. Hells, he’d even had the bride on a couple of occasions, just minutes before she traipsed down the aisle to her clueless husband. He smiled at the recollection. He considered it his own personal wedding tradition...

"Walking down Memory Lane, Gaius?"

Jolted from his reverie, Baltar sighed. "Well, there’s not much else to do. They should have thought of having some entertainment before the wedding. Would it have hurt them to have had at least a couple of Scorpian belly dancers?"

"Have no fear," whispered Six, sliding onto his lap. "I think the entertainment’s about to begin...

"What? Three Scorpian belly dancers?

"In five...

"What about four Scor–"

"Shhh! (pressing a finger onto his lips)–three, two one."

At that moment, the large door to the Observation Deck slid open. Some unseen hand saw it as a cue to turn on the canned wedding music. All heads turned, expecting to see the handsome Commander Lee Adama walking down the aisle, with the steadfast X.O. of the Pegasus, Major Karl Agathon, behind him. Instead, they were treated to an embarrassed-looking marine, pale skin turning red as his hair under the scrutiny. Knowing his presence didn’t bode well, the stone-faced Admiral waved the soldier to some closer. The murmuring started as the soldier marched towards Adama and whispered into his ear. After a moment, the Admiral’s eyebrows went straight up.

"Are you sure, Soldier?"

"Positive, Sir! Sledgehammer and I saw him walking towards the elevators. Major Agathon thinks he may have been trying to..."

At that moment, the murmuring and the cheesy music got loud enough to block out whatever the soldier was saying.

"What the bloody hell did he say? I didn’t catch that last part! For the sake of the Gods, turn down that awful noise! Did someone die? Did the bride suddenly become ugly?"

"Oh I think you know what’s happened, Gaius." Six wiggled on his lap.

At first, Baltar gave her a pissed off, annoyed look...and then the pieces of information began to click in his mind. A sly grin began to curl the edges of his mouth. "You mean to tell me...that big, brave Commander Adama’s..."

"A runaway bridegroom!" She was holding a hand to her mouth, hiding a charming giggle.

Baltar himself began to chuckle at the thought. Spit-and-polish, tight-assed, do-gooder Lee Adama, son of the legendary Admiral William Adama, Commander of the fleet, fleeing the scene like a scared little girl? Just the thought filled him with wicked glee.

"And it gets better", Six pointed to the door, the music automatically swelling into the Wedding March. "Here comes the bride!"

Like a furious white candle ablaze, Lieutenant Anastasia "Dee" Dualla stomped down the aisle, struggling to tug the red veil away from her face, cursing as she tripped over the hem of her strapless sheath dress (I guess all the decent tailors are planet-side, he thought snidely). As she stalked towards the Admiral, he could see that her coffee-colored features flushed. "Admiral, is there something wrong? What’s this marine doing here? Where’s Lee?" The Admiral, gently, but firmly, put an arm around her shoulders and walked her towards the large bay window filled with twinkling stars, turning their backs to the guests. Baltar could just make out the sound of his gravelly voice as he gave his would-be daughter-in-law the bad news. For a few seconds, she seemed quiet. Baltar was a little disappointed. She actually seemed to be taking it--

"WHAT?! " Dee’s voice ricocheted off the window, causing a few heads to turn in their direction. "WHAT HAPPENED?!" The Admiral mumbled something about keeping her voice down, but she continued. "WHY?!" Her normally doe-like features hardened, "It’s her, isn’t it Admiral! Why did you have to invite her! You knew what she did to him!"

"She’s family–"

"So am I!" Her jade-green eyes flashed him a warning. "You knew", she hissed, her rage ramping up slowly. "You knew this was going to happen! You invited her on purpose so that she could be your daughter!"

"I did no such thing," the Admiral said incredulously.

"You never did like the idea of Lee and I, did you?"

"For the last time, keep your voice–"

Dee ignored him, stomping towards the marine ("Why does she have to tromp around like that?" whispered Baltar to Six, who replied, "Her shoes are a size too big! I guess the decent shoemakers are planet-side, too!"). "Soldier! What is your name?"

In spite of her petite size, the scope of Dualla’s rage made the soldier look distinctly small. "Uh, Corporal Ryan Simmonds, Sir!"

Balter heard one of the Pegasus crew members behind him whisper to his seat-mate, "Hey! Half-box of caramels she throws a punch!"

"Corporal Simmonds, was the Commander acting strangely?"

"Yes, Sir, he–"

"Was he acting out of character?"

"Yes–"

She grabbed onto his vest with both hands. "Then why didn’t you say something?"

"Take it easy, Ana!" The Admiral looked like he was starting to get fed up.

"Well, we–"

She shook him as hard has she could, adrenaline kicking in. "When you saw him walking the wrong way, why didn’t you stop him?!"

"Dee, I said that will be all!" repeated Adama, his voice sterner, his craggy face hardening.

"Sir! He’s the Commanding–"

"–Officer! Which means you have a responsibility to his safety and well being!"

"Unhand that man, Dualla!". The Admiral was reaching the breaking point...

"I’m not done with him yet!" She turned back to the hapless corporal. "WHY DIDN’T YOU STOP HIM!!!"

"I SAID THAT IS ENOUGH, LIEUTENANT!" boomed the Admiral.

Dee instantly froze, her hands still on the soldier. The entire room went silent–with only the stupid canned music to break the tension.

"Take your hands off him right now and get a grip on yourself! And somebody please, TURN THE FRAKKING MUSIC OFF!!!"

As the music went dead, the President waited anxiously for the next circus act. Now, I can finally hear properly!

As her hands slipped off the marine, she turned to the Admiral. "But we don’t know where–"

"We know enough."

"But–"

"Look, in spite of what you think, you’re a good, steady woman, who would have been a solid addition to my family. However, I didn’t expect my son to abandon his duty in this manner. I’m as appalled as you are. However, hollering at the top of your lungs is not helping the situation any."

Dee tried to salvage her dignity, standing up straight. "Admiral, I’m going to lead a search–"

"No you will not."

"SIR! THIS IS MY HUSBAND YOU ARE TALKING ABOUT! I WILL NOT STAND HERE AND LET YOU,OR ANYBODY STOP ME FROM STRANGLING THAT BITCH!!!"

Adama interrupted her in a tone that brooked no insolence.. "Discipline might be more relaxed, now that we’ve ditched the Cylons, but you are still an officer of the Colonial Fleet! Act like one!"

He turned to the soldier. "Corporal!"

"Yes, Sir!"

"Escort Lieutenant Dualla to her quarters."

Dualla’s jaw dropped for a second, before interjected, "But Sir, is that nec–"

The Old Man gave her "The Stare". "It’s either that, or the brig."

Gaius could tell she wanted to say more, but realized that she had finally gone too far. She quickly turned to head for the door, only to have her slightly oversized shoe catch onto the hem of her dress. Wide-eyed, she fell forward, grabbing onto Corporal Simmonds for balance. Unfortunately, the poor man had been taking a step back to make room for her, and lost his equilibrium, falling backwards onto a flower display. Down they went like a pack of dominoes–*thunk, thunk, thunk*! In her struggle to raise herself up, the bodice of her stylish dress slid down, treating the marine to a view that only the Commander and Billy Keikeya had the privilege of seeing (Well, maybe not Billy. He had been such a virgin). At that point, he heard another *thunk*...Six had fallen off his lap and was literally rolling on the ground laughing. Several real human beings were in various stages of trying to control their mirth, with varying success. He, himself, made no bones about how funny the whole thing was–he was holding his sides, feeling the buttons on his oxford shirt shirt getting ready to pop from his own hilarity. Even the Tighs were leaning into each other, with tears coming out of their eyes. And in the middle of it all, the poor, mortified bride could only pull up her dress with as much dignity as she could muster, kick off the offending shoes, and run out as fast as she could, trailed by her beet-red escort.

Adama watched her progress, then focused his attention on back row. "And if you don’t want to end up in the brig yourself, Ms. Biers, I suggest you turn off that camera right now!"

D’Anna grinned smugly as she slung the camera off her shoulder, unrepentant to the last. Bloody hells! She caught the whole thing!! The Old Bugger will probably have that tape destroyed, but what a wedding video! I wonder if I could buy it off of her?

The Admiral then breathed a sigh of relief, muttering something like "He was too soft on her." He straightened his jacket, and then turned to his audience. "Well, as you can see, the ceremony has been...delayed..."

*****

As the search for Lee Adama and Kara Thrace began, the wedding guests milled about the hallways, replaying the scene, glancing around quickly to check if the Admiral was around. Everybody seemed to have an opinion.

"They seemed to be a lovely couple."

"I certainly didn’t see this coming."

"I did!"

"I think he got the right idea by running away! She was always trying to cut of off the Commander’s balls!"

"It’s too bad she ended up like that. She used to be a really sweet, intelligent girl."

"I think he’s a cad!"

"Boy, the Admiral was pissed!"

"Pint of whisky he’s hiding on the Rising Star with Starbuck! With everybody on the planet, there are going to be a lot of empty bedrooms to choose from."

The President took it all in stride. He was in a chipper mood, more so than he had any right to be. He felt his invisible helpmate slide her arm through his, walking in time to his casual pace. "I must say, it’s such a joy to see the High-And-Mighty Adama family knocked down a peg or two. It better than a fleet of Scorpian belly dancers!"

They passed the Tighs, who were each holding up a flask of Gods-knows-what.

"Ellen, I just wanted to say, thank you for not giving me children!"

"Anytime, Saul!" They clinked their flasks together in a toast, and then knocked back the elixer, chuckling to themselves.

In another corner, D’Anna Biers was talking into what seemed to be a voice recorder. Ah, just the woman I’m looking for...

"...And another thing, Four. You’ve got competition again, so get off your ass and get the brat ready, pronto–" As she saw Baltar approaching, she quickly tucked the device away. "Ah, just making some notes. Can I help you, Mr. President?"

"Oh, nothing. I was wondering–"

"Excuse me," D’Anna interrupted, slinging her camera onto her shoulder again. "Before I forget, would you like to give me an official comment on this occasion?"

"Certainly, D’Anna, I would be delighted." He straightened his tie, combed his hair back with his fingers. "Whenever you’re ready."

"Mr President," she began, "What are your feelings regarding this startling turn of events?"

"Well, Ms. Biers, all I have to say is–This is the best bloody wedding I’ve ever been to!"

TBC

Ch 1 http://jenmay.livejournal.com/1026.html#cutid1
Ch 2 http://jenmay.livejournal.com/1508.html#cutid1
Ch 3 http://jenmay.livejournal.com/1845.html#cutid1
Ch 4 http://jenmay.livejournal.com/2122.html#cutid1
Ch 5 http://jenmay.livejournal.com/2500.html#cutid1
Ch 7 http://jenmay.livejournal.com/2995.html#cutid1
Ch 8 http://jenmay.livejournal.com/3296.html#cutid1
Ch 9 http://jenmay.livejournal.com/3498.html#cutid1
Ch 10 http://jenmay.livejournal.com/3618.html#cutid1

RUNAWAY BRIDEGROOM, PT 5

2006-08-07T03:50:02Z

RUNAWAY BRIDEGROOM, PT 5

In the last installment, Kara was heading towards the Hanger Bay, making for a shuttle back to a lonely existence on Caprica, when somebody gets the nerve to grab her arm. She decks the insolent bastard, only to find that the love of her life has found her again...

RUNAWAY BRIDE(GROOM): Pt 5

[What should have happened on Lee & Dee’s wedding day...]

Kara froze where she stood, her jaw agape, like an idiot. She could only stare in disbelief as Lee slowly licked the blood off his lip.

"I see you haven’t lost your touch, Starbuck."

A million things she wanted to say-- like "What are you doing here?" and "You’re the damn most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen"--they were stuck in her throat like a log jam. The only thing she was able to say was "Uh..."

It was a damn rare thing, to see Kara at a loss for words. That’s good. That’s very good. A sexy, wolf-like smile crept onto his face. "But it seems you’ve lost your tongue." He closed the distance between them, grabbed onto her face with both hands and pulled her into rough but gentle kiss

She didn’t respond for a moment, but little by little, as the shock wore off, he felt her body melt into his, her mouth softening with each dizzying brush of his lips. Oh Gods! So good! He heard her breath quicken as he found her errant tongue, joining it with his own. When he felt her hands slipping down his back and onto his rear, hot blood rushed from head to toe, washing away the ice water that had been stagnating in his veins. Oh my Gods! An eternity seemed to pass before the need for air forced him to pull away. When Kara’s eyes finally fluttered open, her first coherent words were, "What happened to you?", touching the large bump on his forehead.

"Ow! I’ve been banging my head against the sink, trying to get you off my mind."

"Did it work?", she asked softly, with just a small hint of her trademark smirk on her face.

"No, damn you! It just made it clear that you’re stuck in there permanently!"

"Oh Lee, I’m so–"

"No! No more ‘sorrys!’" He tugged impatiently at the tips of his blood-stained left glove with his teeth, before yanking it off and tossing it aside. "I’m sick of ‘sorrys’!" He whipped off the other glove. "You know what sick of even more? Living without you. I’m constantly pissed off at you when I’m with you, but I’m dead inside without." His ceremonial sash joined his gloves on the deck. "I’m the Commander of the Pegasus, with a thousand men and women under my command who have no absolutely no idea just how frakking insane their C.O. is right now, because he’s trying to regain a piece of his heart." The familiar look of wanting to run away was flickering in Kara’s eyes, but he could tell she was willing herself to really listen to him, to not–for once– hide from what they felt. Lee knew that it was taking all her strength to do that for him, so he quietly slipped one hand into hers, while the other cupped her chin. "Why did you come back, Kara? Was it really to wish me well? Did you really want me to be happy with somebody I didn’t love?"

Kara stood for a moment, closing her eyes, willing herself to say the things she wanted to say. When she opened them, she gazed directly into him, squeezing his hand. "When I got the invitation from your dad, I thought that maybe, you might have forgiven me a little."

"Actually, he went over my head. I had no idea until Ana told me."

"Figures. So I came, knowing I couldn’t bear to watch you give yourself to her–"

"I know the feeling."

Kara faltered for a second at that comment, but continued, "So I only planned to stop by and see you beforehand. I didn’t mean to break down like that. Just seeing you reminded me of how much I loved you, and how much I frakked up our friendship, and our chance at becoming something more. I didn’t come intending to get a second–" She gave a soft snort. "–A hundredth chance..."

His hand slid from her chin to her other hand. "Well, you’ve got it."

The smile she gave him was one that he’d never seen before. Not a Starbuck smile. Not the cocky "I win!" triad smile, or the hard one she gave him when she was biting her tongue. It was...different, hard to describe. Loved? Open-hearted? That’s it. Open-hearted..."I want to make one thing clear though, Kara." He pulled her hands to his lips and kissed them. "If you take off on me again...if you even dare try to hide from me, I swear I will hunt you down myself and strangle you with my bare hands."

The Starbuck smile made it’s reappearance. "I’d like to see you try, Sir."

"Oh? Are you going to start calling me that again? ‘Cause it sounds good coming from you."

"As if!"

"I can think of ways of making you say ‘Sir’..." His lips made a trail down her neck.

"Dream on.", she riposted, but was only half into it, as he was starting to hit the sweet spot. Ooooh, he remembered...

"Say ‘Yes, Sir.’" His breath was lingering there, making her nipples start to stand on end.

"You wish."

"Say it." The sensation of a gentle bite caused her knees to buckle.

"Nice try–Oh!"

"Say it." Alternating a brush of his clever tongue with a ghostly kiss.

"Gods!"

"Say it!" Another not so gentle bite. A tremor shooting straight down to her pelvic region.

"Oh, Gods!".

"Say it!"

"OOOOOOHHHH LEE!!!!"

"Nice, but not what I ordered! Say it now, Captain!"

Her mind and mouth couldn’t connect for a second, as she was experiencing one of the most intense orgasms of her life.

"UH! OH! OH! Ooohhhhh...Mmmmm...Yessss, Sssir."

He held her close as she came down from her high, feeling that missing piece of his heart had, finally, clicked back into place. He was also feeling something else–a tightness in his groin.

Kara took notice. She wanted to return the favor, to make him scream as loudly as she had, but something was bugging her. She had to ask, if only to seal the deal.

"Lee, I know you’ve made your feelings, ah, very clear, but before we take this further, I gotta ask. Do you really want to do this to Dee?"

His lovely, intense blue eyes bore into hers for a moment, until he huskily spoke the three words she most wanted to hear.

"Frak the bitch!"

*****

At that very moment, Sledgehammer was relating to Trigger how he was going to impress Specialist Tregonis on their next date ("She loves Sylvian Skies. Thanks, buddy."), when Major Agathon strode towards them. They saluted sharply before Helo got to point and turned to Trigger. "Have you seen Commander Adama, Soldier?"

"Yes, Sir! He came by about fifteen minutes ago to use the head. Stayed in there for a while, and then left."

"Did you see where he went?"

"He went in the direction of the elevators, Sir."

Shit! "Did he seem...odd?"

"Now that you mentioned it, Sir, he was muttering something to himself as he was leaving."

"What was it?"

"Uh, something about getting what he wanted."

"It was ‘Focus on what you want", Sir", Sledgehammer contributed.

Oh, Gods, no! Apollo may have been ready to walk down the aisle with Dee, but he knew all too well that what he really wanted was a certain blonde pilot, who was most likely waiting for a shuttle in the Hanger Bay.

"You!" he pointed to Sledgehammer. "Come with me to the Hanger Bay. You!", directing his attention at Trigger, "You’ll relay a message from me to the Admiral in the Observation Deck."

Sledgehammer mentally shook his head at Trigger. The poor bastard.

TBC

Ch 1 http://jenmay.livejournal.com/1026.html#cutid1
Ch 2 http://jenmay.livejournal.com/1508.html#cutid1
Ch 3 http://jenmay.livejournal.com/1845.html#cutid1
Ch 4 http://jenmay.livejournal.com/2122.html#cutid1
Ch 6 http://jenmay.livejournal.com/2590.html#cutid1
Ch 7 http://jenmay.livejournal.com/2995.html#cutid1
Ch 8 http://jenmay.livejournal.com/3296.html#cutid1
Ch 9 http://jenmay.livejournal.com/3498.html#cutid1
Ch 10 http://jenmay.livejournal.com/3618.html#cutid1

RUNAWAY BRIDE(GROOM), PT 4

2006-08-06T07:10:04Z

Here's the chapter that focuses on Kara, and what happened to wreck their friendship between LDYB I & II.

RUNAWAY BRIDE(GROOM): Pt 4

[What should have happened on Lee & Dee’s wedding day...]

When Kara was a little girl, her father used to call her his "Little Hurricane", because she always seemed to be in constant motion, usually leaving a mess her wake–school books, crayon drawings, broken pencils, jackets, hair ribbons, the occasional broken vase. Often times, when her father sketched her, she would be bouncing in her seat, and would be puzzled when she saw the result. "Daddy, why does my picture look so blurry?" "Because", he would reply, gently stroking her cheek, "I can’t keep up with you. You’re going too fast, even when you’re sitting down."

When Kara Thrace became a grown woman, she was still like a hurricane, still constantly in motion. Flying, frakking, fighting, whatever she could do to keep her demons at bay. But now the messes she left behind were more devastating...

Gods, why? Why do I always do this? Why do I always act without thinking? If Tyrol hadn’t already left Galactica with Cally, she would have raided his still in the tool room and drunk herself to oblivion. She had to settle instead for kneeling in a deserted side corridor near the Hanger Bay, crying her eyes out, with no alcohol to dull the sickening pain in her heart. Dark, cramped spaces that weren’t Viper cockpits or pilot bunks were generally unappealing (Mom used to lock her up in the hallway closet after breaking her fingers), but she hadn’t been able to hold the tears any longer. The relative blackness soothed her as did the cold metal deck under her knees. When she had calmed down enough, she leaned her back against the wall, sprawling her legs in front of her, listening to the steady hum of the ship (I forgot how much I miss that sound). For the first time in...Gods know how long...she had sat down long enough to think clearly. There were the three people, the Adama men, who had come close to making her slow down enough to think. Warm, fun-loving Zak, who took it upon himself to break down her defenses and open her heart to something more than a one night stand. Next, came the Admiral, who, in spite of being her commanding officer, took the time to draw her out of her "Starbuck" facade, becoming a surrogate father to her in the process. And then there was Lee...

Lee was the scariest one, because he was the one...the only one that could completely crumble her defenses with just one look, one touch. It took Zak almost a year to break her down–it took Lee only a second, the moment she first met him at the Academy, from the moment he had unsmilingly shook her hand at their first simulator battle together. She had expected to wipe the floor with him, but was pleasantly shocked at how well-matched they were in battle. When it was done, they’d crawled out of their respective cockpits, drenched with sweat and shook each other’s hand, grinning from ear to ear. At that moment, the air between them had heated up with a sexual tension like nothing either had known before. However, as strong as their mutual attraction was, they both had been emotionally unprepared for it, and ended up joking it away. Lee had suggested they grab a beer at the campus pub, and she agreed. The rest was history...

Bad history, actually. True, there were lots of good times-- the two of them hanging around Zak, their misadventures in the local bar scene, jogging with him down Galactica’s corridors, nailing him with the spray from a garden hose on Cloud Nine came to mind. However, over time, when he had begun to reach out to her as more than a friend, that’s when things had started to go wrong. Unable to cope with the feelings he stirred, Hurricane Kara began to whip out again, throwing debris in his path. Whoosh! I killed your brother. Slap! I slept with Baltar instead of you. Ding! I became obsessed with a rebel leader. Pow! I shot you. Blam! I tried to frak you in the bunkroom, and was thinking of another man. Whap! I made with out Sam in front of you. And then came the killing blow.

It was about three nights before her wedding day, when the remaining female pilots aboard Galactica had burst into her office and demanded she come with them to the rec room, where her surprise bachelorette party was underway. At the start, it was a hoot, with lots of drinking (compliments of the Chief, who had brewed a special batch of bootleg for the occasion), stupid party games ("Find a male specialist in the mess hall and ask him to give you his skivvies"), and dancing. They had even stuck an impromptu red veil on her head, complete with plastic flowers and miniature replicas of the male anatomy pinned up and down the material. After a few hours, though, the fun had begun to wear off, and an edge of panic had started to creep in, though she hid it for a while with her customary Starbuck brashness. It got worse as the other women teased her about her "Last Night of Freedom", and about how her husband-to-be was a hunk, almost as handsome as the former C.A.G. ("Come to think of it, they kind of look alike!"). Finally, it had gotten to the point where she was so tense she felt ready to punch someone in the face, but the appearance of Hot Dog and a squadron of male party-crashers provided enough of a distraction for her to slip away. Somehow, she had stumbled her way to the guest quarters where she pounded on a hatch door, until a half-asleep Lee–who had stayed on board after a meeting and a late dinner with his father-- opened it up. Because their friendship had been strained after her engagement, she almost didn’t think he would let her in, but the sight of Kara Thrace in a cheesy red veil with penises all over had him holding his sides laughing (he had so little to laugh about these days), and soon, she with him. All that tension between them had, for the moment had vanished, and they were friends again. He cracked a couple of jokes at her expense, before inviting her in for a nightcap.

She had entered that room intending to just to talk to him, to tell him how scared she really was at the prospect of spending the rest of her life with Sam, to admit to him that she missed him–Lee–and their friendship. But, as the old saying went, "The road to Tartarus is paved with good intentions..." One moment, they were talking about the good old days, and the next they were tearing each other’s clothes off, showering each other with passionate, bruising kisses. At one point, Lee had stopped what he was doing, poised on top of her, and looked into her eyes. "Kara, if we do this, you’re mine. I love you, and I can’t share you with anybody else anymore. If you walk out that door and back to him, I’ll never speak to you again. Understand?" She must have said yes, because the rest of that night he had set out to prove how much he had wanted her. The sensations of that aborted frak months before were nothing compared to the inferno that had enveloped them both.

The next day, Hurricane Kara left the bunkroom...and nothing was ever the same between them. She’d been torn between her love for her best friend and her guilt over Sam. Guilt had won.

And now she was divorced, alone, and living on a miserable craphole of a rock with nothing to do but survive another day. She needed something else to live for, something to keep from falling into the pit of despair. She sniffled a bit, wiping her nose on her sleeve, and started thinking of her options. A week ago, Roslin had found out about her talent as an artist, and had offered her a position as an art teacher. She knew that showing rug-rats how to finger-paint wouldn’t be a permanent solution, but it would be a start. Still, there would be the cold, lonely nights, when all she would have for company would be her heartache, and the memories of those she had hurt. She wouldn’t think much about Sam, though. He’s surviving quite nicely with his pregnant girlfriend. After all they had been through, after the sacrifices she had made–breaking with Lee, dropping her career as a pilot to live with him on New Caprica–she still hadn’t been enough for him. So when she’d found her husband in bed with an adoring pyramid groupie, it had been too much for her. Her aggressive demands for a divorce weren’t driven by his infidelity, but by the fact that her feelings of guilt over him had costed her everything she held dear.

She sighed. I gotta get back home. Well, it wasn’t really home, but neither was Galactica anymore. It had been a mistake to come back...to try to reach out to Lee. As usual, she’d said too much, and he had just stood there, cold as ice, not saying a word. She’d ran out of the wardroom and past Helo like a bat out of hell, unable to breathe, choking on her tears.

Enough of this crap! On your feet, soldier! She slowly stood up and looked at her watch. Shuttle should be leaving in a couple of minutes. She began to walk towards the light the end of the corridor, feeling numbed to the bone.

She was only a few meters away from the door to the Hanger Bay, when someone grabbed her left arm and forcefully yanked her back. Acting on instinct, she threw a right hook at her assailant, feeling a jolt up her arm as her fist made contact.

The man in dress uniform rubbed his jaw, grinning, a drop of blood beading on the side of his mouth.

"That’s my girl."

TBC

Ch 1 http://jenmay.livejournal.com/1026.html#cutid1
Ch 2 http://jenmay.livejournal.com/1508.html#cutid1
Ch 3 http://jenmay.livejournal.com/1845.html#cutid1
Ch 5http://jenmay.livejournal.com/2500.html#cutid1
Ch 6 http://jenmay.livejournal.com/2590.html#cutid1
Ch 7 http://jenmay.livejournal.com/2995.html#cutid1
Ch 8 http://jenmay.livejournal.com/3296.html#cutid1
Ch 9 http://jenmay.livejournal.com/3498.html#cutid1
Ch 10 http://jenmay.livejournal.com/3618.html#cutid1

RUNAWAY BRIDEGROOM, PT 3

2006-08-03T15:15:29Z

Here's the next installment of the Runaway Bride(groom)! As usual, I don't own anything and anybody in BSG, and I don't profit from them (except from the joy of seeing Lee's towel almost drop...) Enjoy!

When we last saw our hero, Lee had gotten his head together, and was walking towards what he thought was his destiny. He was, though, walking the wrong way...

RUNAWAY BRIDE(GROOM): pt 3

[What should have happened on Lee & Dee’s wedding day...]

Focus on what you want! Focus on what you want!

Back at the Academy, Starbuck (damn the bitch!) used to tease him about how he would repeat things to himself, especially during mock missions. He didn’t remember how he got into the habit (his father claimed he did it even as a little boy), but he found that it helped him to concentrate. If his nerves started to get the best of him during an attack run, or when a problem in War College was starting to frustrate him, running a mantra through his head cleared it of all the unwanted junk, and focused it on the goal. Right now his goal was to make it through the wedding with his dignity intact.

Focus on what you want! Focus on what you want! Focus on what you want! His eye caught the nearest hatch number. Strange, I’m a long way from the observation deck...That’s when he realized that he was going the wrong way.

He could have sworn that he’d turned left instead of right. Must be nerves. Focus on what you want! He didn’t want to be here, he wanted to get the ceremony over with so he could get on with his life. Focus on what you want! He tried to picture the wedding in his head. He was walking down the aisle, perfectly composed (in spite of the bruise. I’ll just say I ran into the hatch and banged my head–nerves again!). A few moments later, she would glide towards him dressed in a traditional wedding outfit–a white dress with a knee-length, flaming-red veil-- looking soft and demure. His father would say a few words of wisdom before asking them to repeat after him. He would say his vows without stumbling, and so would she. He would place the ring on her finger, and she would place one on his. He would then lift the fiery veil off her face, brush a wisp of blond hair from cheek, look into her green eyes and kiss her soft, luscious lips...

Gods! Kara again! This is not good! Focus on what you want!

Unfortunately, what he wanted was Kara. In spite of everything, his mind, body and soul were screaming for Kara. Hells! While his mind wanted to do right by Ana, his own traitorous feet were taking him towards the elevators, which led to the lower levels of Galactica, which in turn led to the Hanger Bay.

"Wait a minute!" He stopped in his tracks, trying to turn around and walk the other way, but his legs felt like lead, as if the Lorey Gravity Field had been turned up a few notches. You are not going to run after Kara! Let her go back to that hole they call New Caprica. She deserves to be alone after what she’s done to you! She given you nothing but pain...constant, lingering, soul-sucking... delicious pain...He moaned and covered his face with his hands. Gods! I’m such a sick puppy. Unable to move forward or back, started to feel panicky. All he wanted to do was sit in the middle of the floor and pull his knees to his chest, like he used to as a kid when his parents fought like cats and dogs.

That does it! I’m an adult, and an officer of the Colonial Fleet to boot, not an eight year-old child! I’ve made tougher decisions under worse circumstances. I’ve been dealing with Cylons, washout pilots, prison riots, terrorists, homicidal and corrupt commanding officers, getting shot at, seeing my father getting shot at, deciding who lives or dies in a fight–I can do this! I can choose Ana. It’s not hard. Tactically, it’s the best choice. A stable, honest, loyal...not afraid to speak up her mind...even if it’s in front of everybody in CIC...even when you lose face...

A couple of months ago, he had been going over details of supply requisitions to and from New Caprica with his father, Tigh and the other remaining officers of the Pegasus and Galactica, when Dee expressed concerns about loaning vital communication equipment to the settlers. It would have been fine, if he had said "I appreciate your input, Dualla", and if she had accepted it. However she became insistent, yammering over and over again that the remaining fleet needed that equipment more than subsistence farmers and ex-pyramid players (I wonder why she mentioned pyramid players?). It wasn’t what she said that made him cringe, it was the way she said it, almost like she was a schoolteacher lecturing a particularly dense student. He had said something to placate her, which made everybody at the table give each other glances. I didn’t put her in her place there and then because I wanted to do it in private. Unfortunately, he’d put off the discussion that night when they’d had an argument over something else, and she had burst out in tears. After that, it seemed she felt at liberty to take digs at him, here and there. First over requisitions and other assorted business, and then over to more personal, such as "Ensign So-and So didn’t get the report done because she dislikes me" and "Why don’t you respect my opinions!". All he had wanted to do was to have a smooth-sailing, functional relationship with someone, so he tried to please her more, like spending more time with her instead of at the gym (no more sexy sparring, that’s for sure). Little by little, he felt dragged down by the tediousness of his existence. When had proposed to her, she had accepted with such unexpected enthusiasm (and energetic sex) that it had caught him off guard, because he had assumed she was as bored with him as he was with her.

All the fire, all the spice of life was gone. They had all gone out when Kara Thrace got married and ran away. And then she came back. Dad had invited her to the wedding without his knowing it ("I had assumed..."), so when Ana started nagging him about how Kara’s presence would ruin their special day, he hadn’t known what to think. One part of him was still filled with vile, black anger at the thought of her being there, as if nothing had happened; and the other was filled with breathless anticipation. Then, when Kara walked into the wardroom, he felt as if the fire was relit from within him. Outwardly, though, he’d been cool and polite, even managing a bit of small talk. She had said that, being her longtime friend, she’d only come to wish him good luck in person before leaving on the next shuttle back ("I don’t think your fiancé would appreciate me being there."). For the next ten minutes or so, everything went fine, until he made the mistake of asking the question. "So, how’s your husband?" From then on, things went downhill, as she told him the short version how "Starbuck frakked it up again", how the passion of their courtship hadn’t translated well into the day-to-day effort of marriage–resulting in an acrimonious divorce, which had been finalized in the recent weeks. Her words were calm and collected, but her eyes told of her desperation, her longing to have him back in her life again. He’d been so stunned by her announcement he had just stared at her, unable to say anything. She’d taken his silence as rejection, so she tearfully wished him and Ana a good life and ran out the hatch, almost taking out a surprised-looking Helo along the way.

He opened he eyes, seeing that he was only a few meters away from the elevators.

Although a good student, he’d never had his father’s love of poetry. But the one phrase that had stuck in his head through the years was a line from "The Fall of Icarus":

"It is useless to dissuade me, Father,

For I long for Phoebus’ eternal Kiss.

If I burn, I will burn with all my heart and soul.

What do the cold-hearted know of such passion?"

As if on cue, the nearest elevator door opened. He walked in.

Time to burn...

TBC

Ch 1 http://jenmay.livejournal.com/1026.html#cutid1
Ch 2 http://jenmay.livejournal.com/1508.html#cutid1
Ch 4 http://jenmay.livejournal.com/2122.html#cutid1
Ch 5http://jenmay.livejournal.com/2500.html#cutid1
Ch 6 http://jenmay.livejournal.com/2590.html#cutid1
Ch 7 http://jenmay.livejournal.com/2995.html#cutid1
Ch 8 http://jenmay.livejournal.com/3296.html#cutid1
Ch 9 http://jenmay.livejournal.com/3498.html#cutid1
Ch 10 http://jenmay.livejournal.com/3618.html#cutid1

jenmay @ 2006-08-02T22:08:00

2006-08-03T05:10:17Z

Thanks to Charlotte-j for the awesome pic of Kara! LOVEITLOVEITLOVEIT!

RUNAWAY BRIDEGROOM, PT 2

2006-08-03T01:35:10Z

RUNAWAY BRIDEGROOM, PT 2

When we last saw Lee, he was running out of the wardroom towards the head to make a last minute "pit stop" (and Helo was getting the sinking feeling that, as the best man, he would have some explaining to do...).

As usual, I don't own anything or profit from BSG! This is just good clean/dirty fun!

RUNAWAY BRIDE(GROOM): Pt 2

[What should have happened on Lee & Dee’s wedding day...]

The two marine guards in the hallway saluted Commander Adama, receiving only a brief nod of acknowledgment before he quickly entered the head.

"Uh oh," muttered the tall, dark-skinned one, nicknamed "Sledgehammer".

Without turning his head or changing his expression, the shorter, stockier redhead with the callsign "Trigger" responded, "‘Uh oh’ what?".

"He’s got The Look."

"What look?"

"The Look of Doom. You know, The Look."

Trigger grinned slightly. "Cold feet?"

"Yep. I’ve seen that look one too many times."

"Too bad. Dualla is mighty fine."

"Well, I heard that she’s got an attitude now that she’s marrying up."

"Wasn’t she two-timing the President’s aide for a while there? Keiko, Keikeeya, something like that?"

"Something like that." Sledgehammer glanced at the head, and then scanned the halls quickly. "I just might win that bottle of Picon whisky after all."

"What? You had a pool running on the Commander?"

"Yep."

"How come I didn’t know about it?"

"You were too busy trying to sweet-talk Showboat into giving you a lap dance."

Trigger’s jaw twitched. She didn’t hit as hard as Starbuck, but she had done her best.

The edges of Sledgehammer’s mouth tilted up slightly. "Hey, ‘tell you what. I’ll bet a couple of Caprican Blend stogies that the Commander turns right instead of left when he leaves the head. Whatcha got?"

"A bottle of Sylvian Skies aftershave."

"Nice. I’m gonna smell pretty."

"I just don’t see–"

At that moment, they heard a series of thumps emanating from the head.

*****

That feels better.

Lee was banging his head against the metal sink, trying to knock some sense into his brain. He had tried splashing water on his face, but that wasn’t working. Pain seemed to be the best thing for what ailed him at the moment.

What the frak am I thinking? This is the same bitch that keeps breaking your heart over and over and over again! Look how she rubbed Anders in your face, practically humping him in front of you! And don’t even mention the fact that she crawled into your rack when she got the wedding jitters. And then she laughed it off, denied it and married the motherfrakker anyways. She’s always breaking the pieces, expecting everything to be okay. And when things are okay, she breaks them again! Frakfrakfrakfrak!Finally, he stopped the head-thumping and looked into the mirror, noticing the large bruise forming. Boy, that gonna be attractive. He snickered at first, then a burst of uncontrollable laughter erupted from him. He suddenly had the image of walking down the aisle–Dee’s knight in shining armor-- with an egg the size of a pyramid ball on his forehead. The look on Ana’s face when she sees me...She’ll be horrified!

That last thought sobered him. Gods, get a grip! He stood up straight, staring directly into his own eyes in the mirror. You don’t want to hurt her. She’s good for you. She’s loyal, smart, attentive in bed, everything you want in a woman. She won’t run around on you or break your heart. She’ll never hurt or disappoint you, and she’ll always be there for you, and she’ll always watch your back. He re-buttoned his jacket (noticing that it was fitting a little more snugly than usual), adjusted his ceremonial sash, and combed a few stray hairs back with his fingers before slipping his gloves back on. You can do this! Focus! Focus on what you want! He took a deep breath in and turned towards the hatch.

*****

Sledgehammer and Trigger stood at attention as the Commander paused in the doorway of the hatch. Even though their eyes were straight ahead, they heard him mumbling something repeatedly–something that sounded like "Focus on what you want". He then he turned walked down the corridor –to his right. Not to his left, where the wedding festivities were in full swing, but to the right...towards the elevators. When he had gone, the marines turned their eyes towards each other, Sledgehammer smiling broadly

"I’m gonna smell pretty."

TBC

Ch 1 http://jenmay.livejournal.com/1026.html#cutid1
Ch 3 http://jenmay.livejournal.com/1845.html#cutid1
Ch 4 http://jenmay.livejournal.com/2122.html#cutid1
Ch 5 http://jenmay.livejournal.com/2500.html#cutid1
Ch 6 http://jenmay.livejournal.com/2590.html#cutid1
Ch 7 http://jenmay.livejournal.com/2995.html#cutid1
Ch 8 http://jenmay.livejournal.com/3296.html#cutid1
Ch 9 http://jenmay.livejournal.com/3498.html#cutid1
Ch 10 http://jenmay.livejournal.com/3618.html#cutid1

THE RUNAWAY BRIDEGROOM, CH 1

2006-08-02T05:51:52Z

THE RUNAWAY BRIDEGROOM, CHAPTER 1

Howdy!

I know that the K & L Shippers are SO over the Lee/Dee thing, so I'm writing "The Runaway Bride(groom)" for all of you! It's about what should have happened on Lee & Dee's wedding day .The first three chapters will be rated PG, but the rest may vary (hee, hee!). As usual, a) I don't own anybody or anything in the BSG universe, b) I'm not making any money (I wish! School's coming up...), and c) feedback is welcome!

RUNAWAY BRIDE(GROOM):

A BSG FIC

[What should have happened on Lee & Dee’s wedding day...]

Helo shot a worried look at his commanding officer. He seemed dazed and confused–not a good sign. "Are you okay, Sir?"

She said she’s not married anymore...

"I’m fine!" Lee responded sharply, then contritely added, "Sorry, Helo. Must be pre-wedding jitters.

She said she’s not married to Sam anymore...Gods! Their timing was nothing, if not consistent–always rotten.

"We’ve got about ten minutes, so let’s go through the checklist."

She said she cared for me, even though I belonged to someone else...

"Ring," Helo hold up the gold band, the one that had once belonged to Lee’s mother when she had been married to the Admiral. "Check."

I don’t belong to anybody else...I belong to her...

"Clean uniform, check."

I should have said that..."I belong to you..." But no, I’m Lee. Good old responsible Lee...

"Wedding vow cheat-sheet, check"

Who was too scared tell his brother he loved his fiancee, and had since the first day he met her...

"Shined shoes, check.

Who was too full of guilt to pursue her after Zak’s death..

."Uniform gloves, check."

Who was too much of a coward prevent Baltar from cutting in during their Colonial Day dance...

"Fly zipped, check."

And who called her a slut afterword...

Helo continued to rattle off, Lee hardly listening at all.

Gods, I shouldn’t have done that. Shouldn’t have hit her back. Then, she wouldn’t have gone back to Caprica, and would have never met Samuel frakking Anders...

"Sir?"

Lee realized Helo had been talking directly to him for the past two minutes, with no response from him.

"Sir, are you sure you’re okay?"

Lee looked at him–through him. Then, suddenly, he burst out "I’ve gotta go to the head. I’ll be back." He quickly strode out of the room, pursued by his personal demons.

Helo sighed. I had a feeling this would happen. He had stepped out of the wardroom for about fifteen minutes to check up on the ceremonial preparations in the observation deck, and was delayed by a nervous Dee. He had assured her that Lee was fine, that his recent coldness was just nerves, and that she only had to wait a few more minutes before he claimed her as his bride. Looking back, her womanly instincts must have been kicking in at that moment, because when he returned to the wardroom, Kara had almost knocked him over running out the hatch, leaving the shell-shocked Commander in her wake.

Maybe I should have followed him. I should check up on him right now. Helo didn’t relish the idea of interrupting what would be the man’s last peaceful moment of the day. Maybe I’ll give him five minutes.But deep inside, his instincts pricked at him. Crap! What was he going to tell the Admiral? The Admiral would understand. He always does when it comes Apollo and Kara. It was the talk with Dee that he didn’t look forward to–he could see an ugly scene brewing between him and the irate would-be bride. To nobody in particular, he muttered, "Heliopolis, we have a problem..."

TBC

Ch 2 http://jenmay.livejournal.com/1508.html
Ch 3 http://jenmay.livejournal.com/1845.html#cutid1
Ch 4 http://jenmay.livejournal.com/2122.html#cutid1
Ch 5 http://jenmay.livejournal.com/2500.html#cutid1
Ch 6 http://jenmay.livejournal.com/2590.html#cutid1
Ch 7 http://jenmay.livejournal.com/2995.html#cutid1
Ch 8 http://jenmay.livejournal.com/3296.html#cutid1
Ch 9 http://jenmay.livejournal.com/3498.html#cutid1
Ch 10 http://jenmay.livejournal.com/3618.html#cutid1

jenmay @ 2006-07-27T18:48:00

2006-07-28T02:19:06Z

REFLECTION OF THE GODS, pt 2

Howdy again!
Here's part deux--a more Karacentric entry than the last.
Just a few thing: First, I don't own anything or anyone in the BSG universe, I just play in it! Secondly, the rating's about PG. Thirdly, it takes place pre-mini, so there aren't any spoilers for the series. Lastly any comments appreciated.

Have fun!

REFLECTION OF THE GODS: PART 2

For the next two weeks, Apollo was in a foul mood, locking himself in his room for most of the time. When he did come out, his bloodshot eyes, unshaven beard, and bad temper that had even the Drunk avoiding him.

That’s when Zeus called his daughter Artemis over for a chat.

"Hey Dad, what’s up?," She arrived like she always did, bounding into his den like a graceful deer, breathless and flushed.

He looked up from his scroll and smiled. "So how’s my little hurricane?"He gave her a hug and a peck on the cheek before she sat down in his favorite, most comfortable chair (Anybody else but his little girl sitting there would have gotten a thunderbolt between the eyes, including his wife).

"Fine. What’s up with you?"

"I’m okay. It’s your brother I’m worried about."

"Is he sulking over that Adama boy again?"

"You’ve heard?"

"Yeah, Dionysus told me about him. You know how Apollo gets when he has a crush. He’s like a girl, he gets too emotional. Maybe he got rejected, in which case he probably got his panties in a twist."

"This is different, somehow. This mood is darker, angrier. It’s making people nervous. Could you talk to him? He always listens to you."

"Not always, but I’ll try."

"Good. And when you do, tell him to throw the Pythias a bone. They’re so desperate for a vision that they’re ready to eat their snakes."

"Ew! Will do!"

She first checked Apollo’s room. His normally neat-as-a-pin bachelor pad was a mess, with the linens thrown off the bed, assorted broken crockery lying untouched by the east wall, and his favorite lyre–his pride and joy–smashed to pieces in the fireplace. Oookay. This does not look good. She ran outside towards the forest, thinking that he might have sought solitude. It didn’t take long for her to find him, as a frightened satyr with a black eye pointed her towards the river. There, she saw her brother on the flat rocks, lying on his back, hands behind his head, and eyes looking blankly into space.

He looks like shit, she thought, noticing his shaggy appearance with worry. He never looks like shit. He’s too much of a perfectionist to look that awful. Her heart sank, not knowing how to even begin to deal with this. So she did what she always did when he got sulky–annoyed the crap out of him.

"Hiya, ‘Pollo! Wonderful day, isn’t it? Full of sunshine, bunny rabbits, and...Whoo! What reeks?" She put her nose to her armpit and inhaled. "Hmm...not too bad. I took a bath this morning. Hmmm..." This time she sniffed the air, turning around slowly as if to hone in on the offensive odor. "Uh huh! It seems to be coming from your direction–wait a minute! It IS you!"

No response, as if he hadn’t even heard her.

"You’ve been a bundle of laughs lately. What’s up with you, anyways? Punching out satyrs, using your lyre to hammer down loose nails, scaring the daylights out of Dionysus with your wild mountain-man look. And speaking of scary, did Dad mention that the Pythias are going to start eating their snakes because of you?" The mention of their father earned her a blue-eyed glare. Now we’re getting somewhere. "So, why are you being a frakhead? Did somebody criticize your poetry?"

"Go away, Artemis."

"Or did somebody leave a fingerprint on your gym equipment?"

"Just leave me alone."

"Hey, I know! Some junior snot-nosed priest didn’t kiss your ass to your satisfaction!"

Apollo sat up, his face starting to redden, hissing through his teeth "I said ...leave me alone. I’m warning you!"

"Or perhaps you’ve failed to impress yet another reluctant mortal. Heavens, you’d think that when a girl away from you and turns into a tree, that’s a hint to–"

"JUST SHUT THE FRAK UP! JUST SHUT UP AND LEAVE ME ALONE! I DON’T NEED YOU! I DON’T NEED ANYBODY! I JUST WANT TO BE LEFT IN FRAKING PEACE WITHOUT YOU YAMMERING IN MY EAR! GET THE FRAK OUT!"

Artemis was riveted where she stood, shocked and hurt by her brother’s words, feeling the tears starting to form in her eyes. She wanted to scream, punch him in the face until he bled, tell him to go to Tartarus. But instead, after almost an eternity of silence, she quietly said, "Fine," and suddenly turned and ran off towards the deepest part of the forest.

As his sister’s footsteps faded away, Apollo immediately felt like shit. He hadn’t wanted to hurt her, he just wanted her to shut up for a minute. He jumped up to his feet and jogged towards the direction that she took off, cupping his hands over his mouth as he ran.

"Artemis! Artemis! I’m sorry!"

After a few minutes, he stopped and listened, only hearing birds chirping.

"I didn’t mean to say those things!"

Still not a peep.

"I was being a frakhead!"

Not a whisper.

"I don’t really want to be alone! I need you! Come back!"

Nothing.

A second later, a fist-sized rock flew through the air, striking him in the back of the head with deadly aim, knocking him face-down onto the leafy forest floor. Groaning, he lifted his head, Artemis’ sandaled feet in front of his face.

"Say please."

"Ugh. Please," he rubbed the lump developing on his noggin. "Did you have to hit so hard?"

"Yep. Besides, somebody’s gotta knock you off your pity pedestal." She reached out her hand for him to grab.

"You’re definitely gifted at that."

When she’d pulled him to his feet, she sighed, "So, why are you being a frakhead?"

He took his sister by the hand, led her back to the flat rocks and sat them down. He told her everything, about the boy, the arrogance of his father and their own, how he himself felt. Normally she was all sass and mouth, but at times like these, she could be a good listener. He found comfort in her attentive silence, finding the strength to admit to himself things he had denied for eons. When he was done, he felt freer that he had since...he didn't know when.

"Wow. And I thought this was the whole Daphne thing all over again. You usually go cuckoo like this over somebody you’re infatuated with. I had no idea you had this whole Dad- resentment churning inside."

"I didn’t know either until I saw this kid. He’s beautiful, intelligent...he’s so much more than his father can see."

"Show me."

*****

A classroom appeared before them, with the late morning sun shining though the ancient window panes. All thirty or so desks were occupied by adolescents with their heads bowed down in concentration, with their pencils scribbling and erasing. They are marking sheets of paper with bubbles marked "A", "B", "C", and "D". It was the CSAT–Colonial Standard Achievement Test–the means by which any school-aged child with an ambition to attend an institution of higher education gauged his future. Ah yes, Lee had been studying for this for weeks. That’s what that history book was for. And there he was, in the spot front and center, wracking his brain over a trigonometry problem involving a viper and a battlestar.

*****

"Wow! Brains and good looks. No wonder you’re flustered."

"I told you, it’s not like that."

"I know. He’s got the whole future ahead of him, right."

"Right."

"And the girls and boys are going to go gaga over him."

"If he’ll let them."

"Ah yes, another late developer."

"What can I say? He’s a thinker."

"More like an over-thinker."

"Call it what you may."

"And he’s an ungrateful whiner..."

"What?! After what I told you? This kid has no future of his own! He’s at the mercy of–"

"Just shut up for a moment and let me show you something."

*****

Artemis takes her brother back in time, roughly three hours before the previous scene, to a park on the edge of Caprica City– when the sky at the eastern horizon was turning from a dusky blue to a bright orange in anticipation of the dawn. As the sun struggled to rise over the low hill, they could see about a dozen or so youths slumbering on and around two park benches by the small lake. They were obviously sleeping off whatever was in the bottles littering the ground (This looks familiar, thought Apollo, with a chuckle), and probably would until noon or until an irate gardener called the cops. They were clumped in groups of two and three for warmth (the heat wave from earlier had dissipated), looking at the moment like innocent children–dreadlocked, mohawked children, with nose rings and spiked jewelry...

*****

"Are you trying to say that life for Lee could have been worse? That he could have ended up a loser, drinking his sorrows away by the reservoir?"

"Shut up for a moment and I’ll get to the point. Just check out the park bench on the right."

*****

The "point" seemed to be the sleeping girl on top of the said bench.

She was lying on her back next to a boy (whose arm was draped over her, his hand on her left breast), with her head turned to the side, her pink lips parted slightly to allow an unlady-like snore. Ripped jeans, faded brown leather jacket, black t-shirt emblazoned with a hand forming a rude gesture, blonde hair streaked with neon blue–the polar opposite of those clean-cut students in the classroom.

The first ray of sunlight finally hit her square in the face.

"Ugh, frak me! Turn off the light!" she croaked, shielding her eyes from the glare. At that moment, she also sees the offending hand. "Beak! Get your fraking hand off me!."

Her companion (who must have gotten his unfortunate nickname from his prominent nose), raised his spiky head. "Oh, sorry, heh," as he slid his arm away, "I must have passed out that like that."

"Yeah, right." She sat up slowly, rubbing her eyes. "Gods, what the frak happened? And where the hell am I.?"

"The "where" is Braxton Reservior. The ‘what...’--well, you called me ‘cause your old lady kicked you out of the house again and you seemed pretty crushed. I thought you might need some cheering up, and Dusty mentioned he was getting together here with the crew, so, we came."

"I feel sick."

"Yeah, you were pounding those Pacer Golds like there was no tomorrow. Hey, Kara, I know it’s none of my business, but what was it you and your mom were arguing about?"

Kara closed her eyes, holding her arms around her stomach, looking like she hadn’t heard a word that Beak said. Suddenly, her eyes snapped open.

"Shit! The test!"

"Huh?"

"The test! The frakking CSAT!"

"That’s today?"

"What time is it?" She looked at her wristwatch. "Frak! It’s after six! The test starts at eight-thirty!"

"Where is it?"

"Parthenon Heights Acadamy."

"Dude, I don’t think you can make it over there in time. I don’t even think the buses run there on the weekends."

"I have to!"

"Why do you ‘have to’?"

"I just gotta."

"Kara, why bother. You don’t need to take a stinkin’ CSAT to have a life. Dude, I’ve seen you play on the pyramid team, and you, my friend, have got some serious balls."

"So?"

"So, didn’t your coach say that you had the talent to go pro?"

"Yeah, so?"

"Dude!" Beak jumped up and stands on the table, waving his arms. "That’s the ticket out, man! Earn tons of money, party all time, get your picture taken, everybody wantin’ your autograph and shit!"

"Yeah, but I’m not sure that’s what I want."

"How can you not! We’ll travel the worlds–"

"We?"

"Uh, only if you want. And, you can tell everybody, including your mom, to frak off!"

Kara looked up at her friend, "I don’t know..."

"Whaaat! It would be the bomb!"

"I was thinking...nah."

"Go on. What’s more important that having the world at your feet?"

"Well, don’t tell anybody, but I was thinking of joining the Fleet–"

"Whaaat! Kara Thrace–rebel pyramid goddess--in the Colonial Fleet! Say it isn’t so!"

"Yeah, well, if I want to get into the Fleet Acadamy, I need to take the CSAT."

"But why?!"

"I want to fly."

"After playing a year or two, you could buy your own plane!"

"No, I want to fly a viper."

"Oooh, she wants to be Top Gun."

"Yeah." It was the first time she’d ever admitted it out loud.

Beak squatted down and pointed a finger towards the top of her chest, "You do not belong in some "Academy" with a bunch of tightwads with sticks up their asses." He poked her.

"You are not a thinker."

Kara’s green eyes narrowed. "What did you just say?"

"I said you," poke, "are not", poke, "a thinker. You," poke, "are", poke, "a doer. A juggernaut!"

"So you’re saying that I’m good for nothing but being a jock?"

"Heh! Well, you’re a smart girl, Kara, but you’re not really book smart."

"And so I should just, oh, don’t even bother with the options? Not even think about doing something else other than ramming my head into other dumb jocks?"

"I’m just seeing," poke, "what everybody," poke, "else", poke, "sees."

A couple of seconds later, Beak was rolling on the table cradling his broken finger, while Kara stumbled over a couple of inert bodies, making her way towards her destiny.

6:10am She stopped to throw up in the bushes. Good...get this shit out of my system.

6:12am After taking a good whiff of herself, she deemed it wise to break into the nearest restroom and clean herself up a bit. She looked in the mirror. I think death warmed over is a little generous...

6:31am Found a bus stop. Prayed to the gods that the fraking bus would come.

7:05am One did–finally! She plopped down onto a seat in the back. When a perv seated nearby started to ogle her, she flashed him her t-shirt.

7:35am Score! The bus had let her off at the Riverwalk, where the Farmer’s Market was in full swing. Casually perusing the stands, she swiped free samples along the way. An piece of nectarine here, a slice of homemade potato bread there...a shot of wheatgrass juice–which she promptly spat out...

7:55am Sufficiently fed, Kara started to feel human again. She made her way to a nearby Spee-Dee Quik Market and bought a large cup of coffee and a bottle of water (she also swiped a packet of aspirin when the clerk’s back was turned).

8:21am Frak! Frak! Frak! After riding the next bus and walking six blocks, she discovered she was lost. Was the school on Parthenon Heights and Gaia Way or Parthenon Heights and Regina Street?

8:25am A nice little old lady (who was probably too blind to see how scary she looked) gave her directions–three blocks down, turn right onto Schoolhouse Road. Parthenon Heights Acadamy is nowhere near Parthenon Heights!

8:29am The bitch at the door looked her up and down and almost didn’t let her in. Kara bit her tongue and made a lame excuse about the water heater at her house being out (which was usually the truth, anyways) and being unable to take a shower or wash her clothes.

8:46am She sat in back of the classroom, tapping her fingers in a nervous tattoo, when she noticed that everybody had two #2 pencils in front of them. Crap! I knew I forgot something! She decided to take a chance and tapped the shoulder of the guy in front of her. As he turned around, she realized that he looked awful familiar.

"Hey, Kara! I didn’t see you walk in."

Frak, what’s his name?"I like to go stealth, you know. Hey, you wouldn’t happen to have an extra pencil now, would you?"

Sandy brown hair, sleepy brown eyes, nice smile...

"You’re a lifesaver, uh..."

"Karl."

"Sorry! Thanks, Karl."

"You’re welcome."

"I think the last time I saw you was at Nick’s birthday party." She might have even made out with him that time–her memory of that night was a little fuzzy. What she did remember, though, was that he was just a nice, laid-back guy who was easy to talk to.

"And speaking of parties, looks like you had a late one."

"Not one of my smarter moves. I tried to clean up, I swear! Am I that bad?"

"Let’s just say we’re lucky the temperature’s gone down, or else they’d be calling the paramedics halfway through the test."

She was about to defend her hygiene, when a series of sharp taps from the blackboard signaled for them to turn their attention to the front of the room.

*****

"Just look at her, Apollo. She’s a dirty kid from the wrong side of town, whose mother hates her and whose father who abandoned her when she needed him most. The alcohol, the pointless partying, the useless friends–and still, all she wants is something better. You and that boy are a lot alike. You both gripe about what you don’t have, when you should thank the Fates for what you do.

"Yeah, it sucked not having Dad around much when we were growing up, but we had the coolest Mom, who loved us and raised us both. And even though he wasn’t there day in and day out, Dad always looked out for us, protected us from the Wicked Stepmom, and gave us a home."

"He did that because he had to."

"No, he didn’t! As for him railroading you into a career as a god–don’t you tell me that you don’t enjoy it! For example, I saw your face last month, when the All-Aquarian Children’s Choir sang that hymn they wrote themselves. You positively glowed!"

"I didn’t glow!"

"Did too!"

"They were extraordinarily talented. The harmony of their voices–"

"Was all for you. See, you got to inspire the rug-rats and get love in return. By the way, didn’t they win that competition?"

"By a landslide."

"With a little help."

"No...well, maybe a little."

"See, you love it! Now, see how your pet’s going to do."

He closed his eyes and concentrated. Unlike the unbidden prophecy from two weeks ago, this vision came upon him smoothly, like a daydream.

"He’ll be a pilot, just like his father–actually, better than his father. First the Fleet Academy, then War College, and then a Battlestar."

"And he’ll be loving every minute of it."

"Well, not every minute of it, but flying will be his life’s blood." He peered into the vision even closer. It has nothing to do with his father–flying is in his blood. He’ll love the freedom, the power, pushing his abilities to the limit with Starbuck at his side...hey, wait a minute....Apollo slipped back to reality, a smile playing on the edges of his mouth. It figures. My interests and Artemis’ always seem to intermesh. He peered into the water at his sister’s dirty-faced angel, a burst of laughter threatening to come forth–he had an idea...

"You see, Apollo," Artemis continued, oblivious to her brother’s excitement, "Kara’s just as talented as Lee. She’s strong, quick, she thinks on her feet–a real fighter–but at the same time, she’s so fragile. From the moment she was born, her mother pounded into her that she’s no good for anything, so she’s always half-believing that she doesn’t deserve the best out of life. I know she’s going to fail this test, and she knows it too, but she’s here, fighting for her own self-worth. She deserves at least a chance."

Apollo smiles, "Okay."

"Okay, what?"

"I mean ‘okay’." He’s grinning like a madman, a sparkle returning to his eye.

"You say okay, but what...waait a minute. You don’t mean–"

"Uh huh."

"Really? You’re serious?"

"Yep."

"Cripes! The Fates are going to have a fit!"

"Let them. Besides, I’m a god!" He puffed out his chest, as if to emphasize the point.

Artemis squealed and clapped her hands like a child who finds out that Saturnalia’s come early. Apollo rolled up his sleeves and rubbed his hands together."

"So, where do we start?"

*****

At that moment, Kara trying to analyze the same trig problem that had Lee faced earlier, except she was also struggling to keep her eyes open. The only two things that were keeping her conscious were the importance of the CSAT to the rest of her life, and the pounding headache that the aspirin hadn’t even made a dent in. "A viper jet is launched from a battlestar from a launch tube with the aid of its own engines and an automated catapult. The thrust of it’s engines is 2.3 x 10(5) N. In being launched from rest, it moves through a distance of 87 m and has a kinetic energy of blah, blah blah..." My head hurts just reading this! Was I awake when Mr. Freeman went over this in math class? Was I ever awake in math class?

Suddenly, out of the blue, the answer came to her. Whew! That actually was easier than I thought. Where did that come from? Movin’ on. A few minutes later, it happened again with another difficult problem, and again after a few minutes more. Wow! The caffeine must really be kicking in. During the history and culture section, the language section, same thing–it was like her brain had woken up from a 15 year nap and was doing a full gym workout. Geez, at this rate, I might even pass. The thought of telling her mom and the assholes at the park that she kicked ass on the CSAT filled her with a hope that she previously hadn’t dared to dream of. Lords of Kobol, hear my prayer. Thank you for getting me here, in spite of my faults. Thank you for giving me hope for getting into the Fleet Academy. And thank you, thankyouthankyouthankyou Apollo, God of Learning, for taking pity on my poor brain."

*****

"You’re welcome." Apollo grinned as he takes in her words. "You called her dirty and unloved...You never mentioned devout as well."

"Just tell me if she passes."

Apollo closed his eyes once more.

"She’ll get a 1049 out of 1600. Not stellar, but more than enough to ensure that she’ll have that fighting chance."

Artemis gave her brother a big hug and peck on the lips. "You’re the best brother a goddess could have."

"Anything for you, Sis."

"Hey, let’s celebrate! Dionysus’ got a new brew he’s breaking out today. He says it’ll knock you sandals off. But first, we gotta do something about your fuzz."

As he starts to stand, he rubs his chin, feeling just how far he let himself go. Hmm, gotta stop by my room for a shave. I don’t think I bent all my razors. He felt light on his feet. Heck, he was in such a good mood that the prospect of spending time with the Drunk didn’t even bother him at all. Besides, life was good.

And Lee gets a 1520, without any help from me.

*****

A few hours later, Lee was alone, sitting under a large oak tree. All around him, he saw groups of the traumatized, comparing notes and bemoaning their prospects. Him...he liked the quiet. He closed his eyes, feeling himself decompress from the stress of six weeks of almost constant study. Content to let his mind drift, he had no thoughts of his future, just the feel of the rough bark on his back and the dampness of the grass underneath him (it was probably going to soak his jeans, but no matter).

His bliss was interrupted--much to his annoyance--by two loud voices.

"Gods, I think I might have pulled this one out of my ass! I mean, I can hardly believe that I was able to figure out what the frakking metaphor was for ‘Hercules Rising’." The girl was jumping up and down, gesturing wildly as if she'd pounded in the winning goal of a championship pyramid game.

The guy playfully waves a hand in front of his nose. "Speaking of asses, you smell like one. Why don’t you come over to my house, take a shower, and throw those stinking clothes in the wash?"

"Are you trying to get into my pants, Karl?"

"No, I just want to spare the lives of anybody taking public transportation with you."

"Frak off!" She turned around to punch Karl in the arm, when she spotted the boy under the tree.

Lee opened his eyes, and was transfixed. He didn’t see the blue hair, the lack of hygiene, or even her companion. All he could see was that she had the most vivacious hazel-green eyes, and a smile that would have bowled him over, if he already hadn’t been sitting down.

Though still walking slowly backwards, Kara’s attention was on the bluest pair of eyes she’d ever seen. And the rest of him doesn’t look bad either. He looked like a square, but he was giving her a look that sent a pleasant flutter down her stomach, making her want to mess up his perfect hair...

Suddenly, the magic was broken when the sound of a car horn and a woman’s voice intruded. Lee had only turned away for a few seconds to wave at his mother. When he looked back, the bewitching, green-eyed girl was gone.

First Fic!

2006-07-25T18:25:20Z

RELFECTION OF THE GODS, pt 1

Howdy all!

I don't know who's going to read this, but welcome to my first attempt at fan fic!
This story primarily deals with the hijinks of the gods, but also delves a little into the pre-mini history of Lee, Papa Adama, Zak, and Kara.

Details:
-This first part is PG-13 for language and adult/lewd suggestions.
-Part 1 is Adama-centric, Part 2 will focus more on Kara.
-There are a few references to the mini-series and season 1, but nothing spoilerish.
-Also, BSG belongs to Mr. Moore & Co. I don't own it, and not benefiting from it (except to exercise my already overactive imagination). Enjoy! (Feedback welcome!).

Imagine, what were the Gods thinking when they first saw our heroes...

REFLECTION OF THE GODS:
A BSG FIC: Pt. 1
Dammit, I knew I should have stayed home!

Apollo sighed heavily, resigned to the fact that he couldn’t avoid this encounter. Earlier, he had thought that a quiet walk by the river would be the perfect way to clear his head and collect his thoughts in private. Unfortunately, with the distractions of late, he’d forgotten that today was Friday, and that meant party-time for the Drunk. Well, any day of the week was party-time for the Drunk, but Friday was “Picnic Day, when all of his friends gathered by water from sunrise to sunset, armed with mountains of picnic goodies, music, laughter and–of course–plenty of wine. He’d almost managed to quietly tip-toe away, when he was accosted by a group of loud, rambunctious satyrs, who dragged him to the large flat rock by the riverbank, shouting, “Hey! Look who’s finally pulling the stick out of his ass!”

Seeing his brother hoisted onto the rock, the Drunk, who was reclining on a cushion close to the water’s edge, enthusiastically waved at him. “Hey! Bro! Come over here! There’s a beeeUtiful piece of ass that’s dying for your attention!” He pointed to the small crowd gathered by the edge of the water. “Peel me another grape, baby,” he murmured to one of the willowy nymphs the usually surrounded him. With an airheaded giggle, she popped one into his generous mouth.

“Dionysus, I’m not in the mood.”

“Come on, Apollo, you’re never in the mood! Don’t be a spoilsport I swear, this kid is dynamite!”

“Oooh! He is a cutie!” simpered one scantly-clad nyad, already three sheets to the wind. “Those eyes alone are to die for!”

“So blue! They could pierce your heart!” exclaimed another, her cleavage threatening to fall out of her dress as she leaned into the river for a better look.

“That’s not what I’d want to pierce!” added a satyr next to her.

The Drunk responded by spitting out his wine guffawing, slapping a hand on his meaty thigh. “George, George! You are sooooo naughty! Hey, I bet Aphrodite’s gotta a hand in this kid. He looks like her handiwork!” He leaned towards his half-brother, with a leering grin, “Well, god-made or not, he’s definitely gonna make somebody veeery happy someday!”.

“No thanks. I’ve got to send out the latest prophesies. I’ve been working on my music for the past couple of weeks, so the Pythias are getting antsy...” He really wasn’t in the mood to communicate with delirious, chamalla-chewing seers, but, being as he was the God of Prophesy, duty called.

“Aw, come on, Apollo! When was the last time you got a taste of something like this?”

“Uh, no thanks!”

“You won’t regret it!”

“I said, NO THANKS!”

“Just a peek...”

“For the last time, Dionysus, I can’t! I’ve got these prophesies–“

”Frak prophesies! Get your toned ass over here and check it out!”

Apollo shook his head. If he didn’t take at least one look at the kid, the Drunk would whine and moan for weeks, and probably bring it up during family dinners, which were uncomfortable enough...the thought alone of Hera getting into his business was thoroughly unappealing.

“Okay, let’s get this over with.”

“Like I said, you won’t regret it.”
“Whatever.” He slowly walked over to the edge of the rock, while the other party-goers scooted over to make room. He leaned over, momentarily seeing his reflection, his own blue eyes glaring back at him. After a few seconds, the sunlight began to dance around his image, obliterating it, blinding him–until another, more coherent picture appeared.

*****

It was a hot summer day, the sun blazing over the race track. Bleachers empty, grass in the center browning, the air almost too hot to breathe. Not a soul in sight, except for one.

The tall, gangly boy was all concentration, his body tensed and focused, his eyes--blue as the sky above-- straight ahead as he pushed himself to complete one more lap. Sweat dripped off of him, plastering his short, wavy brown hair to his skull, and drenching his gray Caprica City High t-shirt to his torso. The muscles in his long legs pumped with the effort, moving with the grace of a natural athlete, in spite of his exhaustion. So intense, for one so young, Apollo thought. How old was he? Fifteen? It was the middle of summer break, when all the other children his age were flirting with each other at the beach or hanging out in air-conditioned shopping malls. This one ran. In the heat. Alone.

And was gorgeous.

He could tell that the boy’s deceptively thin frame that belied a wiry strength--both physical and mental–and an iron will. On or off the track, he was definitely not someone to be underestimated. Apollo could imagine what he would be like in the future, imagining that his body would eventually fill out with lean muscle, growing from a beautiful boy into a strikingly handsome man. Yes, he will definitely make somebody happy someday...

*****

“So, whadda you think!, Bro? Something you’d like to sink your teeth into?”

Apollo was so wrapped up with the scene that the sound of Dionysus’ brash voice startled him. “He’s...interesting.”

He was only half-listening to the Drunk’s commentary, focusing most of his attention on the water. Another boy had appeared on the track, and began shouting.

*****
“Hey, Lee!”

This younger boy was shorter, darker complexion, stockier, dressed in a C-Bucks jersey, long shorts and sports sandals. His black hair was jammed underneath a ball cap, his dark eyes squinting at the running figure. Puberty was only just touching this one–he still looked like an overgrown puppy, half-tripping over his feet, his high voice starting to crack.

“Lee! Mom says to come home!”

Lee ran past, ignoring his little brother.

“Come on, man! Dad’ll be here any minute!”

Another lap, Lee passed by.

“Stop being an asshole, Lee!” The darker boy knew that if he didn’t do something, his brother was going to keep on ignoring him, so he started jogging after him. “You know we won’t have another chance to see him again for three months!”

“He can wait,” said Lee, without missing a beat, a trace of bitterness penetrating his voice. “We always wait for him. Mom waits for him, you wait for him, and I’m sick of waiting!”

“He said that he’d be here around three o’clock, and it’s two-fifteen now....Lee! Slow the frak down! I’m dying here!” The darker boy, with nowhere near the endurance of his brother, began to lose ground. “LEE!”
Lee heard his brother gasping for breath behind him. I shouldn’t punish Zak for Dad’s mistakes. Slowing down to a walk, he allowed him to catch up.

“Look,” Zak gasped, “I know...you...and Dad don’t get along...but he’s still our Dad...and I...want us together....” He grabs onto Lee’s t-shirt, pulling him to a stop. “Please. For me?”

Lee looked into his little brother’s pleading eyes, silent for a moment. “Okay, Zak, only for you.”

“Thanks, man.”

“Race you!”

“You gotta be kidding!”

“Yeah, I am.”

“You douche bag!”

“Hey! What kind of language is that, squirt?”

The last thing that Apollo saw before the image fades was Lee putting Zak in a head lock, giving him a nougie, while Zak laughingly protested how much his brother literally stank.

*****

As the Drunk spouted out his suggestions about how to “make Lee a man”to the entire company, the servants arrived, rolling yet another oversized cask of wine onto the nearby grass–a hearty cheer erupting from the crowd. Seeing that Dionysus and his retinue would be distracted by the new arrival, Apollo quickly made his excuses hopped off the rock, making his way back up to the palace. Now, I can concentrate in peace!

But he couldn’t. He sat at his desk, twirling his pen in his hand, with a blank piece of parchment glaring back at him. The only thing that consistently popped into his mind was the boy. No, he couldn’t forget about Lee, and not for the obvious reasons. True, he had his share of male lovers, some not much older than this boy, and he was no prude (for all his sister’s teasing). No, as beautiful as this child was, something else was drawing him back that night to the water’s edge for one more look...

*****

The blast furnace of the day had given way to a balmy night, much to Lee’s relief. He was sitting at his desk by the open bedroom window, a worn copy of Arthur Pericles’ “History of the Twelve Colonies” opened before him. He’d been trying to cram in the details of the Picon Salt Rebellion when eyeballs began to ache, and a kink in his back forced him to sit up in his chair and stretch. Raising his arms lazily above his head, he glanced at the digital clock to his right. I think I deserve a five-minute break. After his earlier marathon run, the awkward attempt at dinnertime conversation, and all this studying, he was finally feeling exhaustion creeping into his muscles. He leaned back in his chair, stretching out his long legs, and closed his eyes. At times like these, when his brain was crammed with two much information, he loved to simply let go–to allow his other senses to come into play. Sometimes he imagined he was at his favorite swimming hole in Laurel Creek, floating on his back, feeling the cold against his skin. Tonight, though, the good smells and sounds of summer in his neighborhood were seducing him. The greasy smoke from a neighbor’s barbecue, the scent of jasmine from the garden, and a faint trace of his mother’s lemon chicken were in the air, floating in with the cool breeze caressing his cheeks. He could hear the sound of running water and the clank of dishes from the kitchen, the bark of a dog in the distance, old Mrs. Tilden from next door chuckling at her favorite t.v. program. He also picked up on the deep, gentle rumble of a man’s voice, punctuated by the small squeaks emanating from the porch swing. Ah yes, telling the old war stories to Zak, the way he used to with Lee, before he stopped listening. He focused in, not admitting to himself that, of all the sounds of summer, the one he missed the most was this.

“Son...”

Here it comes.

“...A man isn’t a man until he wears the wings of a Viper pilot.”

Is that why you left us, Dad? That we weren’t “man” enough to keep you here?

“Dad, when can I start flying lessons? My birthday’s in three months!”

“Hey, hey! Slow down, son. You’re only twelve–“

”I’m going to be thirteen!”

“You’re only thirteen years old, and the minimum age is sixteen. Come to think of it, Lee’ll probably be old enough next year...”

Lee snorted. As if! I’ll never learn to fly, and I will definitely not be a Viper pilot.

At that moment, he hears his mother’s voice.

“Zak, it’s almost ten. Go inside and brush your teeth.”

“But Mom...”

“Now.” She speaks gently, but with a firmness that couldn’t be brooked. “You can say goodbye to your father when you’re done.”

The thumping of Zak’s footsteps faded as the porch door clicked shut

“I wish I had you aboard the Scylla. You’d whip my squadron into shape in no time.”

“Are your pilots teenagers?”

“No, but I sometimes feel like I’m dealing with children.”

A pause.

“It’s getting late. I’d better get back to base soon.”

“Of course. Bill?”

“Hm?”

“We need to talk about our son...”

“They’re just stories, Caroline, nothing more. He gets a kick out of them.”

“I’m not talking about Zak. It’s Lee.”

Lee’s ears perked up. What about Lee?

“What about him?”

“He’s.. well, he’s still the same Lee. Thoughtful, smart, and sweet...but he’s
becoming more distant.”

“Hell, he’s fifteen years old. Most kids his age become ‘distant’.”

“It’s not that, Bill. It started a year ago, when you were gone for those six months.”

“It told you that I tried to come home, but they recalled me for another mission.”

“Ah yes, the sudden, all-important mission.”

“Don’t you get started with that again.”

“Bill, you can tell Anne your hardship stories, but you can’t bullshit me. We found out you were on base the week between missions.”

Slowly, Dad growls, “How did you know that?”

“Lee and I were at Zak’s pyramid meet when I ran into Major Fosse. You see, his son’s on Zak’s team, so we started chatting. He said that Zak was playing so well that it was a shame that they couldn’t have delayed your departure a few days--”

Yeah, try to explain that, Dad. Lee remembered how he felt at that moment, how he felt his heart breaking, all the while trying to fool the Major into thinking that they knew his father had only been a thirty-minute shuttle ride away just four days before.

“What was I supposed to say to him? That you hadn’t even bothered to call and say hello?”

“There wasn’t even time to leave the base. I had to use every spare moment to–“

”Major Fosse didn’t have time either to watch his son’s game, but he was still there! He could only stay until the end of the game, but you could tell that it meant the world to Danny.

“Like he said, I shipped out days before the game–“

”JUST LISTEN TO ME FOR ONCE!” He could tell that his Mom was trying to keep her anger in control, but it was always hard with Dad. “It’s not just about the missed games or the missions. It’s about taking the time to get to know your children, to let them know that they mean something to you...that they’re worth coming home to. If you really wanted to you could have pulled some strings or made some sort of excuse to see them. You’re good at that. Hell, if your time was so precious, they would have come to you if you’d arranged it!”

The only sound made for the next minute was the sound of his Dad’s feet shuffling. Usually his father was good under pressure–that’s what made him (according to his father’s friends) a good leader. However, when it came to his family, he seemed to be at a loss for words, particularly when he was caught in a lie.

“Do you even have any idea how much this has affected Lee? Affected Zak?”
“Zak seems fine.”

“Zak’s better at hiding his pain. And besides, we never told him.”

Zak’s still a kid. Kids should have some illusions...

“I’m your ex-wife for a reason, Bill. I still care about you–I even still love you. But you pushed me aside one too many times and I had my limits. You can’t do that to your children.”

“What--?”

“If there is any time to listen to me, listen to me now, just this once. You’ve got to reach out to them now, while they’re still young enough to care. If you don’t, there will come a day when you’re old and alone, and you reach out to them, they won’t be there.
”
His father’s response was interrupted by Zak’s entrance. Caroline called out, “Lee, your father’s leaving. Come say good-bye.”

Lee dragged himself out of his chair and slowly made his way to the door. It’s always good-bye, Dad. Even when you say hello.

*****

As the image in the water fades, Apollo sits back on the rock, unable to even move or breathe–from anger. Okay, you’ve got father issues, too, so you’re just relating a little too closely to this mortal. He’s not you, and that thoughtless jackass of a father is not Zeus. But he couldn’t help but think of his own childhood–how his own father had abandoned Leto and left her alone to raise their twins on the island of Delos. On the rare occasions that Zeus did sneak onto Delos, it was to hide from the wrath of Hera (he usually told Mother that he’d fallen back in love with her, but took off again once things had cleared up–business of being a god, you know). While he was there, he’d take Apollo aside, rattle on about his deeds, and told him about the responsibilities he would have when he obtained his own godhood. He would always listen patiently, and even got a kick out of the tales he spun. As he got older, though, he began to dream of a something else–a different life. He’d thought about being a musician wandering the countryside; or a teacher, inspiring young minds; or even a bartender–listening to other people’s problems but not having to do anything about them. When he tried to tell him that he didn’t want to be a god, Father would just brush it off and rattle on some more.

Sure, “Bill” didn’t say it out loud, but he, too, fully expected his sons to follow in his footsteps, not even thinking for a moment that they might want to be something else...

Suddenly, a familiar ache from behind his eyeballs flared up–

Fire...sirens blaring...a corpse being pulled out of the smoldering wreckage...Caroline fainting by the phone...a grown-up Lee in uniform standing by the casket, throwing hateful glances at his stoic father...You killed him! You killed him!!

The vision vanished as quickly as it came, leaving Apollo breathless and
sobbing.

TBC

First Posting

2006-07-21T06:46:42Z

Howdy to all!

This is my first crack at Live Journal, so bear with me.

Okay, I'm one of those people who hates instruction manuals, and would rather pound the noggin' against the wall rather than read "do a, b, and c". I desperately want to post my fic, but I can already tell, I've gotta invest in some aspirin. Ah well, life is full of discoveries.