![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Entry tags:
fic: BSG, Shuffling Into the Eye of the Storm, PG
disclaimer: not mine (for one thing, there's a woman talking in this)
rating: ...PG?
characters: Kara Thrace, Sam Anders
set: mid-4...14? I don't know. Like season three, the numbering is all fucked to hell. It's the one with the emo-goth title about a disquiet soul or something. (I'm expecting them to have Evanescence in the episodes soon)
length: 1400+
notes: I got nothing. Title is from Something for Kate's 'Reverse Soundtrack'
Shuffling Into the Eye of the Storm
by ALC Punk!
"What was Sam doing on Caprica before he so conveniently met you?"
The words echo in her ears, and she can't quite shake them. She's wondered herself what Sam was doing on Caprica, now that she knows--now that everyone knows--what he is. On top of what she doesn't know about herself, she doesn't know how to deal with what her husband is.
Married to a Cylon. Kara almost wants to laugh; she could ask Helo for advice, but his sort of advice would probably see her pregnant and docile.
Frak that.
Her headache actually feels worse, even though Doc swore the drugs would kick in soon. Ishay had looked over-worked and ready to drop when Kara'd shown up to cadge painkillers off of her. Convincing her that the ringing in her ears was the result of a too-fast acceleration had been easy.
Downing the pills hadn't been enough to make the noodles appetizing.
"Starbuck--"
"Not now--"
Dragon's hand catches her shoulder, and she whirls a little too fast and his other hand keeps her from falling on her ass. "Sir." He glances at Smith, who bounces a little on the balls of his feet and continues to look unhappy. Everyone's looking unhappy these days. "We just--"
Now he stops. When he could have just frakking not begun. Kara stares him down, "Forget how to talk, Lieutenant?"
"We're with you. Sir. If..."
He trails off.
Because what he could suggest isn't exactly something one should be speaking of in an open corridor, and for just a moment, Kara wonders how the frak things spun so out of control that one of her pilots is swearing his loyalty in case of mutiny. Adama should be in charge, should be enough to keep these people in line, and he's not. He's frakking falling down on the job--like Kara is, not that she'll admit it.
Her back straightens a little, headache pounding on either side of her head. "No ifs, Lieutenant." Her eyes shift to Smith, "Both of you remember who's in charge around here, got it?"
"Sir," Smith shakes his head, eyes serious, "I was one of Anders' people on New Caprica. We've got your backs."
"This conversation didn't happen," she snaps, shaken even further and not wanting to admit it. "Get back to your duties. Now."
Dragon actually grins a little before the two men wander off, back towards the rec room, or maybe the deck. Kara doesn't stay to watch. Her feet take her to the bunk room she's been half-sharing with the others. It's more deserted than normal, and she figures out why after shoving the door closed.
He's on his knees, digging into the back of her locker, a half-filled box next to him. She spots half a dozen things she thinks of as his before growling, "What the frak are you doing?"
"Getting my things out of your way," Sam replies, head turning to look at her.
Gods. For just an instant, Kara wants to kick him and then climb in her rack and pull the covers over her head. If she waits long enough, the universe will make some frakking sense again. Except it never works like that, and never will. "Why?"
He just looks at her for a moment, then laughs, once, the sound harsh. "Well, you did complain when we got back from the Demetrius that I'd stolen all your space. Figured you'd be glad to see the back of me."
I like the front of you, too, is something she would have said, once upon a time. But this is different. Like Gaeta said, she's married to a Cylon. And, frak, Kara might not have any frakking idea what she is, but she knows what Sam is. "Fine."
Everything is not fine. Everything is so far from fine it's stopped being painful and edged into funny in a way that makes Kara Thrace want to suddenly tell him.
Burned any bodies lately, Sam?
He turns back to her locker when the silence has stretched too long. Kara moves closer, dropping onto the edge of her rack in time to see the way his hands shake just a little. Blanket over her face, she thinks before turning away from him and picking at the corner of her sheet. She hadn't bothered making anything that morning. And being CAG meant scheduling Sam the other side round, not that he'd been all that familiar a face, what with being on the base ship half the time.
Which brings her back to the quiet room, and the packed rec room she just left. "You noticed people acting weird lately?"
This time, he actually sounds amused when he laughs, and his eyes are smiling a little when he looks up at her, "I don't know, Kara. A lot of people seem to have this issue with me being a Cylon. Not sure I'd call that weird, though."
"You could have told me."
Shit. She isn't going to have this conversation. Not now, when her head still hurts and the universe is spinning out of control.
"And gotten a bullet between my eyes?" He sets some small knick-knack in the box and stands. "That's everything, except for the mixed load of laundry I took down this morning."
"You think that'll actually get done?" the look she gives him is incredulous. "Sam, I'm not sure if you've noticed the lack of discipline lately--"
"I have," quiet, he sits next to her, head bent so he can keep an eye on her. "Something's coming. It's like after a really bad game, when you knew that everyone had played like crap, and coach was stalking into the locker room..."
"Thought that was every game the C-Bucs played."
He grins a little, then shakes his head, "I don't know if the Admiral's tired or if it's too much. But he's not leading."
Once upon a time, Kara Thrace would have ripped anyone who doubted William Adama a new one. But she's grown up since being fresh off Caprica, still licking the wounds of Zak's death. A lot of things have changed since then, and every death has taken more of a toll on her. She can't imagine what it must be like for the Admiral. "He's doing his best," she says. But she doesn't believe it, and she remembers the worried look in Specialist Smith's eyes as he and Dragon tried to warn her.
The silence that falls isn't comfortable, but it's something. Kara has no way of understanding why she isn't shouting at him--somehow, she feels like she should be. They used to be unable to stand silences, hands or mouths or something always working to keep the silence at bay. Kara thinks maybe the silence is a little more honest.
"I should finish moving my things," he says eventually.
"Where's the fire?" she quips as he stands.
"Some crazy CAG gave me patrol in five hours. Need my beauty rest before--and then it's another conference with the Cylons--" the word catches a little in his throat and he clears it, "--with D'Anna gone, they're still at a bit of a loss."
Kara licks her lips and looks up at him, uncertain of a lot of things. She can't trust him, she doesn't know what she feels about him other than that she doesn't want him dead (at this moment). "Sam, I, uh, watch your six out there."
The look he gives her echoes her feelings, and then he nods. "You watch yours, too."
And she knows that neither of them are talking about flying.
Sam scoops up the box and heads across from her to the rack that hasn't been occupied since half the wing moved to the base ship for the mission to destroy the hub. He shoves the box in the empty locker and kicks off his boots before climbing in and yanking the curtain closed.
Voices in the corridor spill through the suddenly open hatch, stopping Kara from saying anything else.
He can look after himself, she convinces herself as she follows his example and curls up, her back to the room and curtain closed. She just wishes she wasn't suddenly missing his warm bulk behind her. A curse slips out of her mouth and she yanks the pillow up and claps it over her head.
Maybe she can't make the universe go back to being sane by ignoring it, but she can get rid of her headache by blocking out frakking rowdy pilots.
-f-
rating: ...PG?
characters: Kara Thrace, Sam Anders
set: mid-4...14? I don't know. Like season three, the numbering is all fucked to hell. It's the one with the emo-goth title about a disquiet soul or something. (I'm expecting them to have Evanescence in the episodes soon)
length: 1400+
notes: I got nothing. Title is from Something for Kate's 'Reverse Soundtrack'
Shuffling Into the Eye of the Storm
by ALC Punk!
"What was Sam doing on Caprica before he so conveniently met you?"
The words echo in her ears, and she can't quite shake them. She's wondered herself what Sam was doing on Caprica, now that she knows--now that everyone knows--what he is. On top of what she doesn't know about herself, she doesn't know how to deal with what her husband is.
Married to a Cylon. Kara almost wants to laugh; she could ask Helo for advice, but his sort of advice would probably see her pregnant and docile.
Frak that.
Her headache actually feels worse, even though Doc swore the drugs would kick in soon. Ishay had looked over-worked and ready to drop when Kara'd shown up to cadge painkillers off of her. Convincing her that the ringing in her ears was the result of a too-fast acceleration had been easy.
Downing the pills hadn't been enough to make the noodles appetizing.
"Starbuck--"
"Not now--"
Dragon's hand catches her shoulder, and she whirls a little too fast and his other hand keeps her from falling on her ass. "Sir." He glances at Smith, who bounces a little on the balls of his feet and continues to look unhappy. Everyone's looking unhappy these days. "We just--"
Now he stops. When he could have just frakking not begun. Kara stares him down, "Forget how to talk, Lieutenant?"
"We're with you. Sir. If..."
He trails off.
Because what he could suggest isn't exactly something one should be speaking of in an open corridor, and for just a moment, Kara wonders how the frak things spun so out of control that one of her pilots is swearing his loyalty in case of mutiny. Adama should be in charge, should be enough to keep these people in line, and he's not. He's frakking falling down on the job--like Kara is, not that she'll admit it.
Her back straightens a little, headache pounding on either side of her head. "No ifs, Lieutenant." Her eyes shift to Smith, "Both of you remember who's in charge around here, got it?"
"Sir," Smith shakes his head, eyes serious, "I was one of Anders' people on New Caprica. We've got your backs."
"This conversation didn't happen," she snaps, shaken even further and not wanting to admit it. "Get back to your duties. Now."
Dragon actually grins a little before the two men wander off, back towards the rec room, or maybe the deck. Kara doesn't stay to watch. Her feet take her to the bunk room she's been half-sharing with the others. It's more deserted than normal, and she figures out why after shoving the door closed.
He's on his knees, digging into the back of her locker, a half-filled box next to him. She spots half a dozen things she thinks of as his before growling, "What the frak are you doing?"
"Getting my things out of your way," Sam replies, head turning to look at her.
Gods. For just an instant, Kara wants to kick him and then climb in her rack and pull the covers over her head. If she waits long enough, the universe will make some frakking sense again. Except it never works like that, and never will. "Why?"
He just looks at her for a moment, then laughs, once, the sound harsh. "Well, you did complain when we got back from the Demetrius that I'd stolen all your space. Figured you'd be glad to see the back of me."
I like the front of you, too, is something she would have said, once upon a time. But this is different. Like Gaeta said, she's married to a Cylon. And, frak, Kara might not have any frakking idea what she is, but she knows what Sam is. "Fine."
Everything is not fine. Everything is so far from fine it's stopped being painful and edged into funny in a way that makes Kara Thrace want to suddenly tell him.
Burned any bodies lately, Sam?
He turns back to her locker when the silence has stretched too long. Kara moves closer, dropping onto the edge of her rack in time to see the way his hands shake just a little. Blanket over her face, she thinks before turning away from him and picking at the corner of her sheet. She hadn't bothered making anything that morning. And being CAG meant scheduling Sam the other side round, not that he'd been all that familiar a face, what with being on the base ship half the time.
Which brings her back to the quiet room, and the packed rec room she just left. "You noticed people acting weird lately?"
This time, he actually sounds amused when he laughs, and his eyes are smiling a little when he looks up at her, "I don't know, Kara. A lot of people seem to have this issue with me being a Cylon. Not sure I'd call that weird, though."
"You could have told me."
Shit. She isn't going to have this conversation. Not now, when her head still hurts and the universe is spinning out of control.
"And gotten a bullet between my eyes?" He sets some small knick-knack in the box and stands. "That's everything, except for the mixed load of laundry I took down this morning."
"You think that'll actually get done?" the look she gives him is incredulous. "Sam, I'm not sure if you've noticed the lack of discipline lately--"
"I have," quiet, he sits next to her, head bent so he can keep an eye on her. "Something's coming. It's like after a really bad game, when you knew that everyone had played like crap, and coach was stalking into the locker room..."
"Thought that was every game the C-Bucs played."
He grins a little, then shakes his head, "I don't know if the Admiral's tired or if it's too much. But he's not leading."
Once upon a time, Kara Thrace would have ripped anyone who doubted William Adama a new one. But she's grown up since being fresh off Caprica, still licking the wounds of Zak's death. A lot of things have changed since then, and every death has taken more of a toll on her. She can't imagine what it must be like for the Admiral. "He's doing his best," she says. But she doesn't believe it, and she remembers the worried look in Specialist Smith's eyes as he and Dragon tried to warn her.
The silence that falls isn't comfortable, but it's something. Kara has no way of understanding why she isn't shouting at him--somehow, she feels like she should be. They used to be unable to stand silences, hands or mouths or something always working to keep the silence at bay. Kara thinks maybe the silence is a little more honest.
"I should finish moving my things," he says eventually.
"Where's the fire?" she quips as he stands.
"Some crazy CAG gave me patrol in five hours. Need my beauty rest before--and then it's another conference with the Cylons--" the word catches a little in his throat and he clears it, "--with D'Anna gone, they're still at a bit of a loss."
Kara licks her lips and looks up at him, uncertain of a lot of things. She can't trust him, she doesn't know what she feels about him other than that she doesn't want him dead (at this moment). "Sam, I, uh, watch your six out there."
The look he gives her echoes her feelings, and then he nods. "You watch yours, too."
And she knows that neither of them are talking about flying.
Sam scoops up the box and heads across from her to the rack that hasn't been occupied since half the wing moved to the base ship for the mission to destroy the hub. He shoves the box in the empty locker and kicks off his boots before climbing in and yanking the curtain closed.
Voices in the corridor spill through the suddenly open hatch, stopping Kara from saying anything else.
He can look after himself, she convinces herself as she follows his example and curls up, her back to the room and curtain closed. She just wishes she wasn't suddenly missing his warm bulk behind her. A curse slips out of her mouth and she yanks the pillow up and claps it over her head.
Maybe she can't make the universe go back to being sane by ignoring it, but she can get rid of her headache by blocking out frakking rowdy pilots.
-f-
no subject
I want to give them hugs! I promise I won't even grope them...
no subject
nicely done!
no subject
Thank you =)
no subject
no subject
Thank you =)
no subject
They used to be unable to stand silences, hands or mouths or something always working to keep the silence at bay. Kara thinks maybe the silence is a little more honest.
It all feels very in character, but especially here for me.
Very nice!
no subject
(I just wish we could have had this scene in canon. Or even some acknowledgment of their problems outside of Gaeta's sniping)
no subject
I just stumbled into starbuck_anders since the show has yet to address them post-Revelations. I feel it needs to happen before the end of the show, but I'm wary that they just don't have the time with all of the mysteries yet unraveled.
And this is just perfect... it's fitting that for once these two are not fraking/fighting/being destructive... not that it wouldn't be in character for them to do so (and I strongly suspect the show will choose to go that way) but they have enough of that coming at them from other angles. I love how you've shown that they've grown in some way, even if they're still not sure about themselves, nevermind how they fit together.
Now to shuffle off and read more of your fic...
no subject
I am really hoping that we get something like this scene. Something where they talk. But I'm not holding my breath.
I love how you've shown that they've grown in some way, even if they're still not sure about themselves, nevermind how they fit together.
Thank you for this, too. I like to think they're not stuck in a rut, but canon isn't really helping me there.