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fic: newbsg, Kara/Anders, A Subtle Rip in the Heart, PG
Disclaimer: not mine.
Rating: er... PG? Language
Pairing: Kara Thrace/Sam Anders, ref: Kara Thrace/Lee Adama
genre: angst, etc
Set: during the year on New Caprica, spoilers for Unfinished Business flashbacks.
Notes: *sleepy* (this is not what I was writing on Captain Jack). Title is completely stolen from Tea Party's 'Alarum'
A Subtle Rip in the Heart
by ALC Punk!
Sam was drunk. Hell, he was more than drunk, he was wasted and knew it. He was walking into tents and ropes and falling into the dirt every couple of steps--he would have been falling into mud, but the rain had been holding off for days, leaving some to worry that the crops they'd planted would wilt. Sam didn't care about crops, right then, he was more worried about being slightly clean by the time he got back home.
Finally reaching what seemed to be the right row, Sam made his way down the tents, mentally counting until he was pretty sure he was at the right one. Happy that he hadn't fallen over again, he pulled up the flap and eyed the darkened interior.
The scent of paint caught at the back of his throat, and he nodded. Yup. He was home.
Dropping the flap behind him took away the meagre light from the stars and Sam tripped over something on the floor and banged his knee on the platform before catching himself on the frame of their bed. He cursed a little, even though he couldn't really feel the sting in his leg.
Sam started to climb into the bed when he remembered he was dressed and he was dirty. His brain tried to work out how he was supposed to remedy that while his eyes finally registered that Kara was taking up the entire space of their bed.
Clothing forgotten, Sam crawled on hands and knees on the floor until he was at the middle of the bed and poked Kara's side. "Move."
He wasn't sure how he knew she was awake, or maybe he didn't know and simply hoped poking her would do the trick. Nevertheless, a grunt came from Kara, and she muttered, "No. You stink."
"Played pyramid," Sam explained. He didn't add that he'd played it before he got drunk, or that Tigh and Lee had stood him drink after drink until Barolay chased them both away, or that he hadn't realized Kara was gone until she'd been gone for too long. She knew some of it, after all.
When she didn't reply, Sam figured she was pissed at him. He shrugged, figuring Kara was gonna be pissed at him a lot, and poked her again. "Move. Please." The please was an after-thought.
"You're drunk, and you smell like a latrine. Sleep on the floor."
Sam sniffed at himself, frowning, "I don't smell like a latrine, I smell like dirt," he objected.
"Good for you," Kara snapped.
When she didn't move, Sam poked her again, "Kara, I need some room if I'm going to sleep here."
"You don't get any room, I don't feel like getting puked on."
"I am not that drunk," he objected.
"Yes you are."
While he couldn't deny that he was falling-down drunk, Sam had never been one to puke. He shoved at Kara, trying to climb in again.
She growled and rolled, tucking her legs up and then kicking out. The move sent him sprawling backwards onto the hard-packed dirt of the floor, and he swore as he banged his hand on the platform. "Kara, what the frak--"
"I said, sleep on the floor."
Rolling onto his side, Sam crawled back onto the platform, determined. In his drink-soaked mind, he was going to sleep on his bed, with his wife, or he wasn't going to sleep at all. If he'd been sober, he might have reconsidered. He leaned over Kara. "I'm not sleeping on the floor."
This time, he was ready for her kick, and grabbed her, letting her movement shove him backwards and sideways, he brought her with him.
They landed in a tangle of sheets and legs, with Kara cursing at him in a way that might once have worried him.
"Sam," Kara snapped, as she got free, shoving her hands without care for where she put them. Sam winced as her knee narrowly missed making it impossible to have sex for a while, and grabbed for her waist, to hold her steady.
"Kara--"
She smacked his arms and hands away, "You are such an idiot."
"Yeah?" He caught at the bottom of her tanks, letting his fingers trail against her skin, "But I'm a drunken idiot."
Her closed fist thumped his side, "A stupid drunken idiot."
"Yep."
Making a frustrated noise, Kara heaved herself free of his hands and legs. "I don't know why," she grabbed the sheet and yanked at it, "I frakking--" it came free suddenly and she sat down abruptly on the bed, "--married you."
Sam was quiet while she curled back up, obviously intent on ignoring him. The alcohol slipping through his veins was beginning to dissipate and his head ached, "Neither do I," he told her softly.
There was no more movement from their bed, so Sam figured she was pretending to be asleep. He found that she'd left the blanket on the ground with him and shifted around until he was stretched out on the platform, next to the bed. It wasn't particularly comfortable, but neither was Kara kicking him black and blue. Twice being dumped on the frakking floor was more than enough for him.
Laying there, Sam considered her breathing. She wasn't asleep, not yet. And she probably wouldn't be for a while. He also thought about what he could say, and ended up saying the stupidest thing he could think of. Better that than the truth. "You don't know why you married me? I bet Apollo could give you a reason. Maybe even two."
"What the frak is that supposed to mean?"
Surprised at how much he wanted to tell her, Sam was silent.
"Sam." She rolled, her hand finding his face. She smacked his cheek lightly, "Explain that asshole remark."
Don't, he thought at her. At himself. But his mouth opened and the words came spilling out before he could stop them, "The night of the Colonial Day party, you drank me underneath the table. I woke up--gods, I don't even know what I was thinking. Maybe that you'd... That you'd gone off to sleep there--" and that had hurt so much, too. "--you took Apollo to our cabin, Kara. And then you frakked him. Was I just an afterthought the next morning, or was the idea of loving him that frightening?"
The hand on his cheek was snatched back, as though he'd burned her. And maybe he had.
"Gods, Sam, I--"
"It's ok. I knew going in that you weren't in love with me." The raw truth reopened wounds he'd thought healed, and he sucked in a breath at the sudden pain. Shit. He should have taken Tyrol up on his offer and slept on their floor instead of staggering his way home to Kara.
"Sam, that--" Her voice changed, growing harsher, "Why the frak did you marry me, then?"
"Because Lee Adama doesn't have a fakking clue what loving you entails, and I think I do."
"That's so noble of you, Sam. You married me, so, what, Lee wouldn't get hurt? Because I'm a cheating, backstabbing whore, of course." Her words and tone were ugly.
Sam half-laughed, "Yeah, I married you so you wouldn't be a two-timing whore. That's exactly right."
Maybe she caught the sarcasm, maybe she didn't. Her voice was less ugly when she replied again. "That's not an answer."
"I married you because you were fresh from Lee Adama's arms and it wasn't him you wanted to marry, it was me. I said yes because I woke up with a knot in my back and a rock under my ass and you were so incredibly happy to see me--I believed for all of ten seconds that you really wanted me, Kara. And it was really frakking heady." He sat up, "Frak. I married you because I wanted to have sex with you every day, for the rest of my life. It's selfish and I know it, but Lee Adama doesn't deserve you."
He married her because his best friend was dead, his planet was destroyed, and she was a future he might actually be able to touch. Sam closed his eyes and ignored the prick of tears that thoughts of Sue-Shaun sometimes conjured. She'd be the first to kick his ass for being so maudlin.
"Sam..."
"It's all right," he was proud that his voice was almost steady, "I should never have said anything. And I should have said no, that day."
"Shut up." Kara shoved at him before dropping down onto his lap.
A little surprised, Sam fell off the edge of the platform, bringing her with him. "Kara--"
"You weren't paying attention, Sam." She huffed, hand on his shoulder to hold herself steady. "You weren't paying attention at all. I didn't say I loved Lee Adama."
"Kara, I heard--"
"I said," she snapped ruthlessly running over his objection, "'Kara Thrace loves Lee Adama'."
Sam felt his gut clench like it had that night before he'd staggered blindly back to be sick on some bushes and eventually crawl under his table again. "Kara, you don't have to say more, all right? I get it. You don't love me, you never have, and our marriage was a mistake."
"You sure sound sober for a man who smells like a frakking distillery," Kara said. "Although, if you don't shut the frak up, I will punch you, Sam."
"Go ahead," he said, his voice dull.
"You want to know why I married you, Sam?" Kara hissed, anger in her voice. "I woke up that morning, with Lee, and all I could think about was that he wasn't you. Lee has never looked at me like I'm the only thing that matters in his world, Sam. And you have. On Caprica, on Galactica, hell, sometimes here, I'll see that look. And it scares the shit out of me."
"Kara..." Sam was at a loss. His world was turning sideways and upside-down.
"Also, you are such an asshole," Kara snapped, her fist thumping against his shoulder. "And you're wrong."
He caught her hand so she couldn't thump him again, "Wrong?"
"Kara Thrace might love Lee Adama, Sam," Her voice caught, and she was silent for a moment, as though continuing was something she almost didn't want to do. She almost whispered when she did. "But I love you."
Even in his still-drunk state, Sam understood there was a very important distinction there. His mind whirling, he wondered how many facets of herself Kara saw. And how many of them were involved in her declaration. It wasn't something he was entirely sure he wanted to know. He swallowed, "Kara, you don't have to say that."
"Yeah. I do."
"What happens if I say I love you back?" Sam asked, testing the new waters. They were as scary as the old ones, but slightly more painful.
"You're still sleeping on the floor."
"Do I get a blanket?"
"Yeah."
"Ok." Sam carefully wrapped his arms around her, hugging her. "I think I can live with that."
A few minutes later, Kara poked him, "Sam?"
"Hrm?"
"I do not count as a blanket."
-f-
Rating: er... PG? Language
Pairing: Kara Thrace/Sam Anders, ref: Kara Thrace/Lee Adama
genre: angst, etc
Set: during the year on New Caprica, spoilers for Unfinished Business flashbacks.
Notes: *sleepy* (this is not what I was writing on Captain Jack). Title is completely stolen from Tea Party's 'Alarum'
A Subtle Rip in the Heart
by ALC Punk!
Sam was drunk. Hell, he was more than drunk, he was wasted and knew it. He was walking into tents and ropes and falling into the dirt every couple of steps--he would have been falling into mud, but the rain had been holding off for days, leaving some to worry that the crops they'd planted would wilt. Sam didn't care about crops, right then, he was more worried about being slightly clean by the time he got back home.
Finally reaching what seemed to be the right row, Sam made his way down the tents, mentally counting until he was pretty sure he was at the right one. Happy that he hadn't fallen over again, he pulled up the flap and eyed the darkened interior.
The scent of paint caught at the back of his throat, and he nodded. Yup. He was home.
Dropping the flap behind him took away the meagre light from the stars and Sam tripped over something on the floor and banged his knee on the platform before catching himself on the frame of their bed. He cursed a little, even though he couldn't really feel the sting in his leg.
Sam started to climb into the bed when he remembered he was dressed and he was dirty. His brain tried to work out how he was supposed to remedy that while his eyes finally registered that Kara was taking up the entire space of their bed.
Clothing forgotten, Sam crawled on hands and knees on the floor until he was at the middle of the bed and poked Kara's side. "Move."
He wasn't sure how he knew she was awake, or maybe he didn't know and simply hoped poking her would do the trick. Nevertheless, a grunt came from Kara, and she muttered, "No. You stink."
"Played pyramid," Sam explained. He didn't add that he'd played it before he got drunk, or that Tigh and Lee had stood him drink after drink until Barolay chased them both away, or that he hadn't realized Kara was gone until she'd been gone for too long. She knew some of it, after all.
When she didn't reply, Sam figured she was pissed at him. He shrugged, figuring Kara was gonna be pissed at him a lot, and poked her again. "Move. Please." The please was an after-thought.
"You're drunk, and you smell like a latrine. Sleep on the floor."
Sam sniffed at himself, frowning, "I don't smell like a latrine, I smell like dirt," he objected.
"Good for you," Kara snapped.
When she didn't move, Sam poked her again, "Kara, I need some room if I'm going to sleep here."
"You don't get any room, I don't feel like getting puked on."
"I am not that drunk," he objected.
"Yes you are."
While he couldn't deny that he was falling-down drunk, Sam had never been one to puke. He shoved at Kara, trying to climb in again.
She growled and rolled, tucking her legs up and then kicking out. The move sent him sprawling backwards onto the hard-packed dirt of the floor, and he swore as he banged his hand on the platform. "Kara, what the frak--"
"I said, sleep on the floor."
Rolling onto his side, Sam crawled back onto the platform, determined. In his drink-soaked mind, he was going to sleep on his bed, with his wife, or he wasn't going to sleep at all. If he'd been sober, he might have reconsidered. He leaned over Kara. "I'm not sleeping on the floor."
This time, he was ready for her kick, and grabbed her, letting her movement shove him backwards and sideways, he brought her with him.
They landed in a tangle of sheets and legs, with Kara cursing at him in a way that might once have worried him.
"Sam," Kara snapped, as she got free, shoving her hands without care for where she put them. Sam winced as her knee narrowly missed making it impossible to have sex for a while, and grabbed for her waist, to hold her steady.
"Kara--"
She smacked his arms and hands away, "You are such an idiot."
"Yeah?" He caught at the bottom of her tanks, letting his fingers trail against her skin, "But I'm a drunken idiot."
Her closed fist thumped his side, "A stupid drunken idiot."
"Yep."
Making a frustrated noise, Kara heaved herself free of his hands and legs. "I don't know why," she grabbed the sheet and yanked at it, "I frakking--" it came free suddenly and she sat down abruptly on the bed, "--married you."
Sam was quiet while she curled back up, obviously intent on ignoring him. The alcohol slipping through his veins was beginning to dissipate and his head ached, "Neither do I," he told her softly.
There was no more movement from their bed, so Sam figured she was pretending to be asleep. He found that she'd left the blanket on the ground with him and shifted around until he was stretched out on the platform, next to the bed. It wasn't particularly comfortable, but neither was Kara kicking him black and blue. Twice being dumped on the frakking floor was more than enough for him.
Laying there, Sam considered her breathing. She wasn't asleep, not yet. And she probably wouldn't be for a while. He also thought about what he could say, and ended up saying the stupidest thing he could think of. Better that than the truth. "You don't know why you married me? I bet Apollo could give you a reason. Maybe even two."
"What the frak is that supposed to mean?"
Surprised at how much he wanted to tell her, Sam was silent.
"Sam." She rolled, her hand finding his face. She smacked his cheek lightly, "Explain that asshole remark."
Don't, he thought at her. At himself. But his mouth opened and the words came spilling out before he could stop them, "The night of the Colonial Day party, you drank me underneath the table. I woke up--gods, I don't even know what I was thinking. Maybe that you'd... That you'd gone off to sleep there--" and that had hurt so much, too. "--you took Apollo to our cabin, Kara. And then you frakked him. Was I just an afterthought the next morning, or was the idea of loving him that frightening?"
The hand on his cheek was snatched back, as though he'd burned her. And maybe he had.
"Gods, Sam, I--"
"It's ok. I knew going in that you weren't in love with me." The raw truth reopened wounds he'd thought healed, and he sucked in a breath at the sudden pain. Shit. He should have taken Tyrol up on his offer and slept on their floor instead of staggering his way home to Kara.
"Sam, that--" Her voice changed, growing harsher, "Why the frak did you marry me, then?"
"Because Lee Adama doesn't have a fakking clue what loving you entails, and I think I do."
"That's so noble of you, Sam. You married me, so, what, Lee wouldn't get hurt? Because I'm a cheating, backstabbing whore, of course." Her words and tone were ugly.
Sam half-laughed, "Yeah, I married you so you wouldn't be a two-timing whore. That's exactly right."
Maybe she caught the sarcasm, maybe she didn't. Her voice was less ugly when she replied again. "That's not an answer."
"I married you because you were fresh from Lee Adama's arms and it wasn't him you wanted to marry, it was me. I said yes because I woke up with a knot in my back and a rock under my ass and you were so incredibly happy to see me--I believed for all of ten seconds that you really wanted me, Kara. And it was really frakking heady." He sat up, "Frak. I married you because I wanted to have sex with you every day, for the rest of my life. It's selfish and I know it, but Lee Adama doesn't deserve you."
He married her because his best friend was dead, his planet was destroyed, and she was a future he might actually be able to touch. Sam closed his eyes and ignored the prick of tears that thoughts of Sue-Shaun sometimes conjured. She'd be the first to kick his ass for being so maudlin.
"Sam..."
"It's all right," he was proud that his voice was almost steady, "I should never have said anything. And I should have said no, that day."
"Shut up." Kara shoved at him before dropping down onto his lap.
A little surprised, Sam fell off the edge of the platform, bringing her with him. "Kara--"
"You weren't paying attention, Sam." She huffed, hand on his shoulder to hold herself steady. "You weren't paying attention at all. I didn't say I loved Lee Adama."
"Kara, I heard--"
"I said," she snapped ruthlessly running over his objection, "'Kara Thrace loves Lee Adama'."
Sam felt his gut clench like it had that night before he'd staggered blindly back to be sick on some bushes and eventually crawl under his table again. "Kara, you don't have to say more, all right? I get it. You don't love me, you never have, and our marriage was a mistake."
"You sure sound sober for a man who smells like a frakking distillery," Kara said. "Although, if you don't shut the frak up, I will punch you, Sam."
"Go ahead," he said, his voice dull.
"You want to know why I married you, Sam?" Kara hissed, anger in her voice. "I woke up that morning, with Lee, and all I could think about was that he wasn't you. Lee has never looked at me like I'm the only thing that matters in his world, Sam. And you have. On Caprica, on Galactica, hell, sometimes here, I'll see that look. And it scares the shit out of me."
"Kara..." Sam was at a loss. His world was turning sideways and upside-down.
"Also, you are such an asshole," Kara snapped, her fist thumping against his shoulder. "And you're wrong."
He caught her hand so she couldn't thump him again, "Wrong?"
"Kara Thrace might love Lee Adama, Sam," Her voice caught, and she was silent for a moment, as though continuing was something she almost didn't want to do. She almost whispered when she did. "But I love you."
Even in his still-drunk state, Sam understood there was a very important distinction there. His mind whirling, he wondered how many facets of herself Kara saw. And how many of them were involved in her declaration. It wasn't something he was entirely sure he wanted to know. He swallowed, "Kara, you don't have to say that."
"Yeah. I do."
"What happens if I say I love you back?" Sam asked, testing the new waters. They were as scary as the old ones, but slightly more painful.
"You're still sleeping on the floor."
"Do I get a blanket?"
"Yeah."
"Ok." Sam carefully wrapped his arms around her, hugging her. "I think I can live with that."
A few minutes later, Kara poked him, "Sam?"
"Hrm?"
"I do not count as a blanket."
-f-
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Absolutely lovely, and I think you did a great job of demonstrating how fragmented Kara's sense of self is, and how that affects her decisions and thoughts. I wonder sometimes how she sees herself.
I think a big part of why she loves Sam is because of who she is and who she can be with him. There's a level of trust between the two that's definitely not there with Lee, which isn't surprising because Lee's a bitch.
Great job!
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And, yes. I don't remember who it was, but someone once said that Kara knows herself very very well, she just doesn't let on, usually. And there's lots of different bits and pieces of her that she uses to hide behind.
*goes all fangirly for a moment* YES.
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I'm gonna go be all fangirly in the corner. Wait, when am I NOT fangirly?
Heh.
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nicely angsty. But now they need "I love you" make-up sex. Yes. *nods*
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Oddly enough, right now, I'm vacillating between the idea that NewCap was all ups and downs for them--sometimes blissfully happy, other times bitterly not so happy. With Kara sleeping her way through the population--and with it being somewhat less hokey and a bit more realistic with her considering cheating on him, but never actually doing so beyond flirting/kissing. And not to make him jealous. Just to remind herself that there was danger in life (that was one of the bits I thought was good in the eoj raptor scene: Kara saying she likes if crazy. Well, that, and my roommate pointing out that Lee is making Sam pissy because, in Sam's words, "dude, you can borrow her, but you can't keep her." But that's another thing entirely, and now you have made me ramble. *shakes fist*)
Well, of course. Or maybe they could annoy Jeff with kissing, or something.
Thank you =)
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I still hate the whole Kara-as-whore-of-New Caprica thing (thank you very much, RON). Obviouisly in fic I'll buy just about anything, but it's certainly not my preferred characterization. It's not like I can't buy the danger idea, especially paired with her giving up flight, but... I guess I'm attached to the idea that Kara made a choice and she tried her best to carry through with it. Anyhoo,that has really nothing to do with your fic.
I feel nudged. *g* currently Hot Dog is being very cute, and I'm trying to decide whether Sam and Kara are gonna have sexin' in their quarters.
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Oh, god. I hate it, too. But I can fanwank it, and my canon is fluid (I'm from comicbook fandom, of COURSE my canon is fluid). So, anything goes, depending on how much ANGST I need. But I'm totally of the opinion that Kara made a choice to be with Sam because she wanted to be happy. Just because Leoben took it all away and made life suck doesn't change that fact. *shuts up* Dammit. Why am I not applying this energy to fic?
*wisely* Flip a coin. (and, seriously, don't worry about it)
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"It's ok. I knew going in that you weren't in love with me." *wibbles* Ow ow ow. Poor dear.
"Because Lee Adama doesn't have a fakking clue what loving you entails, and I think I do." God, that-- that right there is why I love him, and it's why I ship these two.
I married you because I wanted to have sex with you every day, for the rest of my life. That is so Sam. It's such a simple answer, but it's true, and even if it sounds like something shallow, it's SO not.
"What happens if I say I love you back?" ... "You're still sleeping on the floor."
I especially love angst when it magically begins to heal itself in the end. Lovely work, dear. :)
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Thank you =)
Anyone trying to tell me that Sam didn't at least figure out that Kara had frakked someone the night before she proposed is giving Kara way too much forethought. Unless she went and grabbed a really good shower with lots of soap.
*falls over, laughing* My angst is mostly magical self-healing angst. Sigh. It helps that Sam and Kara tend to be far more honest with each other than a lot of on-screen couples (John and Aeryn are the only one that springs to mind that is more honest). Sam, especially seems to have very few illusions about himself and Kara. He's pretty much got an idea of what she's willing to give, and he's ok with that. Mostly. But--I think you said that to someone else, about Sam being water--Sam doesn't dwell on it. He lives in the moment (you said that, too, and now I'm going to headdesk and stop repeating your words back to you).
Kara lives in the moment, too--and I think she always has. The few times she lets herself dwell on the past of the future, things get bad.
Bah. My original point was, though, that the show is certainly going to smash my hopes (except when Ron steals my unfinished fic ideas), and be angsty as heck with no hope, so I tend to be a bit more hopeful.