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Entry tags:
fic: BSG, crack!AU, Momma Was an Opium Smoker, Kara/Anders
disclaimer: er. well. These versions are mine.
length: 3500+
pairing: Kara Thrace/Sam Anders
genre: AU, crack!fic
rating: PG13, language, adult situations
notes: I blame![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
lucyparavel. Further notes at the end. This is not the first crack!fic I was planning to finish. If ever. Title is Rasputina's.
summary: Dr. Conoy gives couples' therapy to Sam Anders and Kara Thrace...
Momma Was an Opium Smoker
by ALC Punk!
Dr. Benjamin Conoy pushed his glasses up his nose and eyed the two young people sitting across from him, each as closed-in as they could be and yet still look as though they were happy to be there. It was only their second session with him, and he was already wondering how he could pay Dr. Biers back for her recommendation that he would be able to work with them better.
The silence had lasted a good twenty minutes since he'd asked his opening question.
Sam Anders was mostly-relaxed, hands on his legs, knees bent and splayed out a bit. He wasn't quite slouching, but he gave the impression that he could, if given the opportunity. Kara Thrace was fidgeting. It wasn't a lot, but Ben could see the way her fingers were twitching, pattering against her leg in a random fashion.
"One of you care to share your feelings on the matter?" he finally asked, breaking the silence.
The silence had been effective, and they both moved, talking over each other. Thrace won by dint of a glare she tossed Anders' way.
"I don't have one, and I don't want to talk about it, and this is stupid."
"Commendable. But childish."
That assessment made Anders snicker, until Ben turned his gaze on him, the look in his eyes stilling the laughter in an instant. "And you?"
"Well, I just think... it's not really my decision," Anders replied.
"I'm not asking if it's your decision, I'm asking whether you want children or not." The question was rhetorical. Ben had seen the way Anders had shifted, his eyes flickering to the side to gage Thrace's mood when he first asked the question. He would subsume his own wants and desires for her. While seemingly healthy in the short-term, in the long run it would lead to conflict.
There was silence again, then Anders nodded, his voice soft, "Yeah. Yeah, I want kids."
"I'm not some frakking baby-factory, Sam!"
Ben had expected her objection, the way the fear rode her shoulders and her hands clenched on her legs before her fingers smoothed the creases out of her pants. "He isn't saying you would be, Kara. There are many ways for you to have children: adoption, artificial insemination of a surrogate, procreation," Ben steepled his fingers and leaned forward, elbows on his desk. "The question is, why are children such a sore spot, Kara?"
She leaned forward, a vicious twist to her lips, "You're the head-shrinker, you tell me."
"That's not what I'm here for, Kara."
"Yeah? Then what are you here for?" she snarled, jumping up and moving towards the door, obviously agitated. "That's it. I am not doing this anymore. You want kids, Sammy? Get a frakking divorce or go knock up a whore."
When she was gone, the door still vibrating with her slam, Anders sighed and stood up. "She doesn't mean it. And we'll be back next week."
Ben shook his hand, smiling genially. "I'm sure you will be. After all, all of this has happened before--to many married couples," he added, enjoying the slight flinch in the younger man's expression. "Now you take care."
"Thanks."
When he was gone, Ben settled to write notes on their file, adding a notation to make certain the receptionist called to remind them about their appointment for the next week.
-
The diner was packed, people from all over the city jostling for a place. Sam and Kara were in a back table, huddled over their bowls of the best chili money could buy, beers at hand.
Kara hadn't spoken in anything but mono-syllables since they'd left the therapist's office, and Sam wasn't sure how to tease her from her mood. Sure, she was his partner (and wife), but there were some things he couldn't fathom about her. Her touchiness about kids was one of them.
"Hey," he nudged her under the table with his toe, "Think he bought it?"
She looked at him, then smirked a little, "Dunno, Sammy. We still on for next week?"
"Yeah."
"Then he bought it." Like a switch had been thrown, she was suddenly all relaxed and nonchalant Kara Thrace. She leaned back in her chair, still smirking, fingers toying with a fry. "Why'd it have to be frakking kids?"
Sam doesn't know what she wants the answer to be, so he asks a question of his own, "You gonna punch me next week?"
"If you're an asshole, yeah."
He snorted and kicked her boot again. "Your turn to get the tab, baby."
"How you figure that?"
Sam spread his hands, "Well, I had to save your ass two weeks ago."
Her eyebrows drew down, then shot up, "Getting winged by a sniper was saving my ass?"
"Frak, yeah." He grinned, "If I hadn't been there to distract him, you never would have spotted his rooftop and got him."
"Whatever--" rolling her eyes, she stood up and pulled out her wallet. After throwing down more than enough for bill and tip, she nodded her head towards the door, "You coming?"
"Am I still in the doghouse?"
She sauntered around the table, leaning over him, lips brushing his, "Dunno about the doghouse, Sam. But if you're feeling like a dog..."
There was no way he wasn't following her out the door.
-
At five weeks into their therapy sessions, Ben felt he was finally making a break-through, getting Thrace to talk about her mother. She spent the session with hands shaking and head down, looking to the side as though she couldn't face either of the men in the room.
He made note of the horror in Anders' eyes, and wondered how much the man had known about his wife's life before him. Very little, was Ben's guess.
Unfortunately, that much truth set them back a good two months.
Ben actually thought they might never get free of it.
-
"I don't want to talk anymore," Thrace growled, arms crossed over her chest. Anders was in a similar pose, body language shouting that he wanted to be gone from there in an instant.
Ben was so focused on them he actually missed the door to his office opening. "You two are doing really well. This is progress, of a sort," he amended, since back-sliding to not-talking wasn't progress of any sort. Quite the reverse, rather. "Samuel, you just have to accept that there are things--"
"BALL."
All three froze, staring down at the little girl standing in front of Ben's desk as though she'd been conjured. She clapped, giggling at them all before she whirled and threw the ball in her hands to Thrace.
Thrace caught it reflexively, staring at the child as though torn between something she couldn't fathom and hell.
"Ball?"
"Hey," Sam bent forward, touching the child's shoulder, "Where'd you come from?"
Ok. Ben could work with this. Call it a new form of therapy and maybe get a break-through. He kept his mouth shut as Anders climbed off his chair and knelt on the floor, letting the little girl snuggle up against his chest as both looked at Thrace.
"C'mon, Kara, toss the ball back."
"Peas!" the child piped up, obviously having had manners drilled into her.
Thrace cracked a grin and tossed the ball up into the air, then caught it, "Dunno, kid. Sam kinda sucks at catching things. You better be ready to cover for his ass."
With an underhand throw, Thrace started a game of catch, with Anders catching what the little girl couldn't. The three were laughing before long, clearly enjoying themselves. Anders even picked her up, twirling her around and causing her to shriek happily.
"Dr. Conoy?" His secretary bustled in, all business, heading for the little girl, "I apologize, she got away from her mother. Didn't you, Kacey?"
"Ball!" said Kacey, bouncing from Anders' grasp to Foster's.
"We'll discuss this later," Ben told her, and she nodded, exiting the room as efficiently as she'd arrived.
Anders settled back into his seat, eyes intent on Thrace as she dropped back into herse with a huffing sound.
"So," Ben said, looking between them, "You do both like children."
"Yeah," Thrace muttered, hand brushing through her bangs and shoving them back from her face in a nervous gesture he'd seen a thousand times before. "When they're not mine."
"Same time next week?"
-
"What've you got?" Anastasia Dualla asked. Another neighborhood bar and grill, this time a little less crowded. Dee flipped the chair around, dropping into it with a sigh and trying to look like just another twenty-something out for beer and ribs on a Friday night.
"There was a kid," Thrace replied, flipping her straw paper at Anders. "She'd escaped from her mother, but I don't think she had one. At least not there."
"A kid," grabbing Anders' beer, Dee drained half of it, then growled, "Two months, and you've got one kid? From where? For what purpose? Hell, are you sure her mother wasn't there and this is all some pointless waste of the department's money?"
"There's something there, or we wouldn't be assigned this case," Anders growled. "We just... we need more time. I don't think he trusts us, and if we push things too quick, he'll catch us like he did the last two."
Norah and Tucker. Dee winced and nodded, "Point taken. All right. You know the captain's got a lot riding on this. Stay tuned in and I'll contact you in a week."
"And the DA's riding her ass, we know," Thrace replied, rolling her eyes.
Smiling a little more, Dee shrugged, "Gotta admit, Leland ain't always wrong, Thrace."
"That's just 'cause you're frakking him."
"Could be." She swiped a fry, "Later."
-
Ben found the child had been a catalyst to a break-through. Thrace threw more than one spoke into their gears, but eventually, he got her talking. To Anders.
They were as open and honest as two people could be, and Ben patted himself on the back for successfully getting them past one hurdle. And then an opening came that he couldn't resist.
"Yeah? Fine. Kids are nice. And I wouldn't mind them, but--ain't no way in hell I'll actually give birth to one."
Anders grinned, his whole attitude lighter than Ben had seen it since the very beginning, "You don't have to. We've got options, remember?"
"There might be a problem, there," Ben said, knowing he would have to tread carefully, "Given your wife's history, there is a high possibility no adoption agency would approve you. And the same would follow for surrogacy."
"What the frak, doc?" Belligerent, Thrace leaned towards him, "You psych me up to this point, then yank the rug out? Bullshit. There's gotta be a way."
He made a notation on their file, then glanced at the time. A little early, but he had things to set up. "Why don't we end here, while I do some checking? Same time next week, all right?"
"Sure, doc." Thrace stood and held out a hand to him, "I don't think I know what I want right now, but knowing I have options..."
He shook her hand, then nodded, "Send Foster in on your way out, please."
-
"We're being followed."
"I know."
Kara snorted and tugged on a belt loop, glancing up at Sam under her lashes, "Think Dee will miss us?"
"This week is Billy. We'll have to improvise."
Laughing a little, Kara turned her face upwards, brushing her cold nose against his neck, "I like it when you improvise."
"So I noticed--" Turning, Sam walked them into an alley, leaning back against the wall and staring down at her as they both listened.
Kara pushed up on her toes, kissing him slow and sweet. Like they necked in alleys all the time (which they sort of did), they both lost track of the outside world (sort of). Two sets of footsteps drifted past, both pausing for a significant fraction of a second to spot them and continue on. Normal people might have gawked a little more.
"Mmm." Kara pulled her mouth free and licked her lips, "Think I need to eat if I'm going to deal with your improvisations, baby."
-
Billy hunched into his too-thin jacket, cursing the fact that Diana had stolen his good wool one on her way to work that morning. He ducked into the tavern, eyes sweeping the place casually as he made his way to the bar. At least it was warmer in here, if not exactly better smelling.
Making a face was a little beneath him, so he kept himself bland as he leaned up against the bar.
"Got an order to make, or just passing the time?" the bartender's voice said he clearly was wasting money.
"Beer."
"Comin' up," the man rolled his eyes and moved to pull the order.
Another sweep of the bar didn't give him any better idea where Thrace and Anders were than the first had. He swore a little, wondering if he'd picked the wrong place. The captain was already breathing down everyone's neck (the DA was after her ass, after all); it was making him jumpy and causing him to second-guess himself.
He stepped away from the bar, deciding to go call and make sure. And walked right into the waitress, who cursed him and smacked his chest.
"Asshole!"
She was gone before he could apologize. Damn. He sighed and shifted, then frowned, feeling something shift against the skin of his neck.
Running his finger around his collar, as though he was getting overly-warm, he felt the piece of paper catch the fingertip.
Not the wrong place.
He went back to the bar and sipped the beer that had arrived.
Now, he just had to warm up a little before braving the cold again. And given the fact Thrace and Anders weren't around, it was bound to be one hell of a long night.
-
Ben Conoy was very pleased with himself. According to his people, Thrace and Anders had passed every test with flying colors. Now it just remained to be seen if they would agree to his terms. They were perfect candidates, really. Thrace was beginning to get over her issues, and this would move her forward in a healthy way.
They arrived on time, glowing a little, and Ben wondered exactly how they'd spent their morning. He knew Anders was between seasons and just keeping in practice before things started back up.
Good. Relaxed and post-orgasmic was even better for what he had planned.
"So, doc," he never had been able to break Thrace of her habit. But at least she was no longer insulting his profession, "If we were to agree to a kid--I mean, without the benefits of pregnancy," she made a face, "--how would we get one?"
"You're sure this isn't moving too fast?"
"Well--" Anders stopped, looking at Kara, but this time he wasn't waiting for approval, "Yes and no. I think we're at a point where having a child might be a good idea. But the getting of one..."
"I may have some ideas," Ben began, careful with how he phrased himself. "There are--ways--to go about finding a child to adopt. Ones which are costly, but beneficial, in the end. For you, and the child that you save."
"Save?" Something sad passed through Thrace's eyes.
Bingo. "Indeed, Kara. There are children, desperate, lonely children, who are just looking for a family to love them. Could you take that sort of responsibility?"
The two exchanged a look, then Anders looked at Ben, eyes trusting, "How?"
Ben pressed the intercom button, "Foster, could bring in Kacey, please?"
The little girl didn't wait for more of an invitation, bouncing into the room and climbing up on Thrace's lap, smiling and babbling as though she'd seen them just that morning.
"I don't understand," Anders said, looking between Kacey and Ben.
"This is Kacey. We were going to have her adopted by someone else, but that... didn't happen," undercover operatives were so annoying to dispose of. Ben made a grimace of distaste. "If you would like to foster her, we could begin arrangements for a week."
"What if," Thrace swallowed, "What if we want more than one?"
"It will take a week to arrange."
The two exchanged a look, then Thrace hugged Kacey, burying her face in the little girl's hair.
"All right. A week it is. Same time?"
"Yes."
-
"No beer for us tonight."
"No sex for us tonight."
Kara twisted to look at Sam as she kept one eye on Kacey, industriously smashing bits of plastic against other bits of plastic, "I know which one I miss more."
He sighed and went to make them all dinner. He did, too, and it wasn't the beer.
-
A week with a small child was the closest thing to hell Kara Thrace had ever suffered. It beat that time in Moscow when she and Sam had spent a day in the sewers, tracking a serial killer only to find Agathon had bagged the bastard an hour after they'd gone down there. Frakker had just wanted to see how long they'd last in the stinking air.
Kara had decided to see how much he'd like to swim in the fountain in front of the airport.
Without Sam there, she was pretty sure either she or Kacey would have been dead after three days. After seven, they were both ready to kill someone.
Hopefully not each other.
Sam had managed to run into Dee in the grocery store the day after they'd picked Kacey up, and he'd spent several aisles talking turkey and stuffing with the pretty young thing who flirted outrageously and then smacked his ass when she abandoned him for the tofu section.
They packed Kacey into the car and headed for the office of Dr. Conoy. Hopefully for the last session they would ever have to suffer with him.
-
Making a notation in a file, Ben absently ignored the phone when it rang. A few minutes later, Foster stuck her head in, "Anders and Thrace are here, sir."
He'd known; Kacey was making a racket out in the lobby. "Send them in, please."
Kacey shot ahead of them, and Ben assessed Thrace first, taking in the slight spring in her step and the bags under her eyes. Anders looked a little better, but it cheered Ben to see how they reacted to Kacey's glee at seeing Ben again: with indulgence.
"So things are going well, then?"
"We think so, yes."
"Good, good." Ben leaned back in his chair as they took their seats, Kacey climbing up into Thrace's lap and cuddling into her. "And you're both certain that this will work out?"
"There have been ups and downs," Anders acknowledged, "Adjustments." He grinned a little.
Good. Ben disliked repeating himself, but it cheered him to see them so completely ready for the next step. He straightened, "We have another child, if you would be willing to give it a shot? A little boy, this time."
"We could," Thrace said, sounding surprised at her own admission. "Where is he?"
Ben reached for the intercom, then stopped, frowning a little, "Do you hear something?"
A moment later, the siren stopped being at a sub-human level and sounded even closer. Thrace's posture shifted and she let out a breath, "Actually, I do now." She stood, setting Kacey on the floor and came around the desk, steps business-like, "Dr. Benjamin Conoy, I'm placing you under arrest for the trafficking of children and the murders of Tucker and Norah Clellan."
Frowning, Ben tried to figure out where she'd gotten the handcuffs and the police badge she flashed. "I don't understand..."
His face impacted the desk, and his vision went jagged.
"Whoops. Resisting arrest," Thrace muttered.
-
"Good job, you two." Captain Laura Roslin gave her two best undercover operatives an appreciative nod, then looked around, watching as her well-trained team took apart Dr. Conoy's office. The man himself had been led away hours before, sporting a broken nose and a confused look. "It's taken us over a year to get here, but we finally got the bastard."
"Frak, yeah."
Thrace didn't sound all that thrilled.
"Operatives in Hungary and Thailand tracked his little railroad to its source. We've got both ends of it and this time, the frakking pipeline shuts down for good." With that, Laura moved off to help Billy and his team of technicians close down the office.
Kara stared after her a moment, then looked up at Sam, "Let's get the frak out of here."
-
It was on the news. Not that the detectives were named or pictured, and Laura Roslin gave a very convincing performance as a captain who had done all the leg work. Neither of them minded, they'd never been in it for the glory, after all. Kara shut off the tv in the middle of the question and answer section and headed for the bedroom, shedding her clothing on the way.
Sam took the hint, making sure the door was locked and the lights were out before joining her.
They didn't sleep for a while.
Kara didn't sleep at all.
She lay in the dark, listening to Sam's breathing even out as he slipped into dreams. Shifting, she tried to get comfortable. But it was all too... anti-climactic. Too much had been said, too little had been said. Frak.
Climbing out of bed, she fished one of Sam's shirts out of a pile of laundry and wandered out into the living room, staring out at the starlight for a while, letting her mind go numb.
Eventually, cold, she moved to the couch, pulling her knees up to her chest.
That was where Sam found her a little while later.
"Kara?" His hand was almost too-warm when he touched her shoulder. "Shit, you're freezing."
She shifted so he could slide behind her, pulling her back against his chest and rubbing his hands up and down her arms.
"This one was different."
"I know." His head leaned against hers, hands stilling. "I'm sorry."
"You didn't know."
"Doesn't make it any easier. Kara--"
"Shh." She turned, hand reaching back to put a finger over his lips. "Don't, Sam. Not yet."
He moved, snagging the blanket from the back of the couch and draping it over her. "All right." His arms settled around her, warmer than before.
Kara leaned back against his bulk and closed her eyes.
-f-
Silk Stalkings has a lot to answer for. 's all I'm sayin'.
length: 3500+
pairing: Kara Thrace/Sam Anders
genre: AU, crack!fic
rating: PG13, language, adult situations
notes: I blame
lucyparavel. Further notes at the end. This is not the first crack!fic I was planning to finish. If ever. Title is Rasputina's.summary: Dr. Conoy gives couples' therapy to Sam Anders and Kara Thrace...
Momma Was an Opium Smoker
by ALC Punk!
Dr. Benjamin Conoy pushed his glasses up his nose and eyed the two young people sitting across from him, each as closed-in as they could be and yet still look as though they were happy to be there. It was only their second session with him, and he was already wondering how he could pay Dr. Biers back for her recommendation that he would be able to work with them better.
The silence had lasted a good twenty minutes since he'd asked his opening question.
Sam Anders was mostly-relaxed, hands on his legs, knees bent and splayed out a bit. He wasn't quite slouching, but he gave the impression that he could, if given the opportunity. Kara Thrace was fidgeting. It wasn't a lot, but Ben could see the way her fingers were twitching, pattering against her leg in a random fashion.
"One of you care to share your feelings on the matter?" he finally asked, breaking the silence.
The silence had been effective, and they both moved, talking over each other. Thrace won by dint of a glare she tossed Anders' way.
"I don't have one, and I don't want to talk about it, and this is stupid."
"Commendable. But childish."
That assessment made Anders snicker, until Ben turned his gaze on him, the look in his eyes stilling the laughter in an instant. "And you?"
"Well, I just think... it's not really my decision," Anders replied.
"I'm not asking if it's your decision, I'm asking whether you want children or not." The question was rhetorical. Ben had seen the way Anders had shifted, his eyes flickering to the side to gage Thrace's mood when he first asked the question. He would subsume his own wants and desires for her. While seemingly healthy in the short-term, in the long run it would lead to conflict.
There was silence again, then Anders nodded, his voice soft, "Yeah. Yeah, I want kids."
"I'm not some frakking baby-factory, Sam!"
Ben had expected her objection, the way the fear rode her shoulders and her hands clenched on her legs before her fingers smoothed the creases out of her pants. "He isn't saying you would be, Kara. There are many ways for you to have children: adoption, artificial insemination of a surrogate, procreation," Ben steepled his fingers and leaned forward, elbows on his desk. "The question is, why are children such a sore spot, Kara?"
She leaned forward, a vicious twist to her lips, "You're the head-shrinker, you tell me."
"That's not what I'm here for, Kara."
"Yeah? Then what are you here for?" she snarled, jumping up and moving towards the door, obviously agitated. "That's it. I am not doing this anymore. You want kids, Sammy? Get a frakking divorce or go knock up a whore."
When she was gone, the door still vibrating with her slam, Anders sighed and stood up. "She doesn't mean it. And we'll be back next week."
Ben shook his hand, smiling genially. "I'm sure you will be. After all, all of this has happened before--to many married couples," he added, enjoying the slight flinch in the younger man's expression. "Now you take care."
"Thanks."
When he was gone, Ben settled to write notes on their file, adding a notation to make certain the receptionist called to remind them about their appointment for the next week.
-
The diner was packed, people from all over the city jostling for a place. Sam and Kara were in a back table, huddled over their bowls of the best chili money could buy, beers at hand.
Kara hadn't spoken in anything but mono-syllables since they'd left the therapist's office, and Sam wasn't sure how to tease her from her mood. Sure, she was his partner (and wife), but there were some things he couldn't fathom about her. Her touchiness about kids was one of them.
"Hey," he nudged her under the table with his toe, "Think he bought it?"
She looked at him, then smirked a little, "Dunno, Sammy. We still on for next week?"
"Yeah."
"Then he bought it." Like a switch had been thrown, she was suddenly all relaxed and nonchalant Kara Thrace. She leaned back in her chair, still smirking, fingers toying with a fry. "Why'd it have to be frakking kids?"
Sam doesn't know what she wants the answer to be, so he asks a question of his own, "You gonna punch me next week?"
"If you're an asshole, yeah."
He snorted and kicked her boot again. "Your turn to get the tab, baby."
"How you figure that?"
Sam spread his hands, "Well, I had to save your ass two weeks ago."
Her eyebrows drew down, then shot up, "Getting winged by a sniper was saving my ass?"
"Frak, yeah." He grinned, "If I hadn't been there to distract him, you never would have spotted his rooftop and got him."
"Whatever--" rolling her eyes, she stood up and pulled out her wallet. After throwing down more than enough for bill and tip, she nodded her head towards the door, "You coming?"
"Am I still in the doghouse?"
She sauntered around the table, leaning over him, lips brushing his, "Dunno about the doghouse, Sam. But if you're feeling like a dog..."
There was no way he wasn't following her out the door.
-
At five weeks into their therapy sessions, Ben felt he was finally making a break-through, getting Thrace to talk about her mother. She spent the session with hands shaking and head down, looking to the side as though she couldn't face either of the men in the room.
He made note of the horror in Anders' eyes, and wondered how much the man had known about his wife's life before him. Very little, was Ben's guess.
Unfortunately, that much truth set them back a good two months.
Ben actually thought they might never get free of it.
-
"I don't want to talk anymore," Thrace growled, arms crossed over her chest. Anders was in a similar pose, body language shouting that he wanted to be gone from there in an instant.
Ben was so focused on them he actually missed the door to his office opening. "You two are doing really well. This is progress, of a sort," he amended, since back-sliding to not-talking wasn't progress of any sort. Quite the reverse, rather. "Samuel, you just have to accept that there are things--"
"BALL."
All three froze, staring down at the little girl standing in front of Ben's desk as though she'd been conjured. She clapped, giggling at them all before she whirled and threw the ball in her hands to Thrace.
Thrace caught it reflexively, staring at the child as though torn between something she couldn't fathom and hell.
"Ball?"
"Hey," Sam bent forward, touching the child's shoulder, "Where'd you come from?"
Ok. Ben could work with this. Call it a new form of therapy and maybe get a break-through. He kept his mouth shut as Anders climbed off his chair and knelt on the floor, letting the little girl snuggle up against his chest as both looked at Thrace.
"C'mon, Kara, toss the ball back."
"Peas!" the child piped up, obviously having had manners drilled into her.
Thrace cracked a grin and tossed the ball up into the air, then caught it, "Dunno, kid. Sam kinda sucks at catching things. You better be ready to cover for his ass."
With an underhand throw, Thrace started a game of catch, with Anders catching what the little girl couldn't. The three were laughing before long, clearly enjoying themselves. Anders even picked her up, twirling her around and causing her to shriek happily.
"Dr. Conoy?" His secretary bustled in, all business, heading for the little girl, "I apologize, she got away from her mother. Didn't you, Kacey?"
"Ball!" said Kacey, bouncing from Anders' grasp to Foster's.
"We'll discuss this later," Ben told her, and she nodded, exiting the room as efficiently as she'd arrived.
Anders settled back into his seat, eyes intent on Thrace as she dropped back into herse with a huffing sound.
"So," Ben said, looking between them, "You do both like children."
"Yeah," Thrace muttered, hand brushing through her bangs and shoving them back from her face in a nervous gesture he'd seen a thousand times before. "When they're not mine."
"Same time next week?"
-
"What've you got?" Anastasia Dualla asked. Another neighborhood bar and grill, this time a little less crowded. Dee flipped the chair around, dropping into it with a sigh and trying to look like just another twenty-something out for beer and ribs on a Friday night.
"There was a kid," Thrace replied, flipping her straw paper at Anders. "She'd escaped from her mother, but I don't think she had one. At least not there."
"A kid," grabbing Anders' beer, Dee drained half of it, then growled, "Two months, and you've got one kid? From where? For what purpose? Hell, are you sure her mother wasn't there and this is all some pointless waste of the department's money?"
"There's something there, or we wouldn't be assigned this case," Anders growled. "We just... we need more time. I don't think he trusts us, and if we push things too quick, he'll catch us like he did the last two."
Norah and Tucker. Dee winced and nodded, "Point taken. All right. You know the captain's got a lot riding on this. Stay tuned in and I'll contact you in a week."
"And the DA's riding her ass, we know," Thrace replied, rolling her eyes.
Smiling a little more, Dee shrugged, "Gotta admit, Leland ain't always wrong, Thrace."
"That's just 'cause you're frakking him."
"Could be." She swiped a fry, "Later."
-
Ben found the child had been a catalyst to a break-through. Thrace threw more than one spoke into their gears, but eventually, he got her talking. To Anders.
They were as open and honest as two people could be, and Ben patted himself on the back for successfully getting them past one hurdle. And then an opening came that he couldn't resist.
"Yeah? Fine. Kids are nice. And I wouldn't mind them, but--ain't no way in hell I'll actually give birth to one."
Anders grinned, his whole attitude lighter than Ben had seen it since the very beginning, "You don't have to. We've got options, remember?"
"There might be a problem, there," Ben said, knowing he would have to tread carefully, "Given your wife's history, there is a high possibility no adoption agency would approve you. And the same would follow for surrogacy."
"What the frak, doc?" Belligerent, Thrace leaned towards him, "You psych me up to this point, then yank the rug out? Bullshit. There's gotta be a way."
He made a notation on their file, then glanced at the time. A little early, but he had things to set up. "Why don't we end here, while I do some checking? Same time next week, all right?"
"Sure, doc." Thrace stood and held out a hand to him, "I don't think I know what I want right now, but knowing I have options..."
He shook her hand, then nodded, "Send Foster in on your way out, please."
-
"We're being followed."
"I know."
Kara snorted and tugged on a belt loop, glancing up at Sam under her lashes, "Think Dee will miss us?"
"This week is Billy. We'll have to improvise."
Laughing a little, Kara turned her face upwards, brushing her cold nose against his neck, "I like it when you improvise."
"So I noticed--" Turning, Sam walked them into an alley, leaning back against the wall and staring down at her as they both listened.
Kara pushed up on her toes, kissing him slow and sweet. Like they necked in alleys all the time (which they sort of did), they both lost track of the outside world (sort of). Two sets of footsteps drifted past, both pausing for a significant fraction of a second to spot them and continue on. Normal people might have gawked a little more.
"Mmm." Kara pulled her mouth free and licked her lips, "Think I need to eat if I'm going to deal with your improvisations, baby."
-
Billy hunched into his too-thin jacket, cursing the fact that Diana had stolen his good wool one on her way to work that morning. He ducked into the tavern, eyes sweeping the place casually as he made his way to the bar. At least it was warmer in here, if not exactly better smelling.
Making a face was a little beneath him, so he kept himself bland as he leaned up against the bar.
"Got an order to make, or just passing the time?" the bartender's voice said he clearly was wasting money.
"Beer."
"Comin' up," the man rolled his eyes and moved to pull the order.
Another sweep of the bar didn't give him any better idea where Thrace and Anders were than the first had. He swore a little, wondering if he'd picked the wrong place. The captain was already breathing down everyone's neck (the DA was after her ass, after all); it was making him jumpy and causing him to second-guess himself.
He stepped away from the bar, deciding to go call and make sure. And walked right into the waitress, who cursed him and smacked his chest.
"Asshole!"
She was gone before he could apologize. Damn. He sighed and shifted, then frowned, feeling something shift against the skin of his neck.
Running his finger around his collar, as though he was getting overly-warm, he felt the piece of paper catch the fingertip.
Not the wrong place.
He went back to the bar and sipped the beer that had arrived.
Now, he just had to warm up a little before braving the cold again. And given the fact Thrace and Anders weren't around, it was bound to be one hell of a long night.
-
Ben Conoy was very pleased with himself. According to his people, Thrace and Anders had passed every test with flying colors. Now it just remained to be seen if they would agree to his terms. They were perfect candidates, really. Thrace was beginning to get over her issues, and this would move her forward in a healthy way.
They arrived on time, glowing a little, and Ben wondered exactly how they'd spent their morning. He knew Anders was between seasons and just keeping in practice before things started back up.
Good. Relaxed and post-orgasmic was even better for what he had planned.
"So, doc," he never had been able to break Thrace of her habit. But at least she was no longer insulting his profession, "If we were to agree to a kid--I mean, without the benefits of pregnancy," she made a face, "--how would we get one?"
"You're sure this isn't moving too fast?"
"Well--" Anders stopped, looking at Kara, but this time he wasn't waiting for approval, "Yes and no. I think we're at a point where having a child might be a good idea. But the getting of one..."
"I may have some ideas," Ben began, careful with how he phrased himself. "There are--ways--to go about finding a child to adopt. Ones which are costly, but beneficial, in the end. For you, and the child that you save."
"Save?" Something sad passed through Thrace's eyes.
Bingo. "Indeed, Kara. There are children, desperate, lonely children, who are just looking for a family to love them. Could you take that sort of responsibility?"
The two exchanged a look, then Anders looked at Ben, eyes trusting, "How?"
Ben pressed the intercom button, "Foster, could bring in Kacey, please?"
The little girl didn't wait for more of an invitation, bouncing into the room and climbing up on Thrace's lap, smiling and babbling as though she'd seen them just that morning.
"I don't understand," Anders said, looking between Kacey and Ben.
"This is Kacey. We were going to have her adopted by someone else, but that... didn't happen," undercover operatives were so annoying to dispose of. Ben made a grimace of distaste. "If you would like to foster her, we could begin arrangements for a week."
"What if," Thrace swallowed, "What if we want more than one?"
"It will take a week to arrange."
The two exchanged a look, then Thrace hugged Kacey, burying her face in the little girl's hair.
"All right. A week it is. Same time?"
"Yes."
-
"No beer for us tonight."
"No sex for us tonight."
Kara twisted to look at Sam as she kept one eye on Kacey, industriously smashing bits of plastic against other bits of plastic, "I know which one I miss more."
He sighed and went to make them all dinner. He did, too, and it wasn't the beer.
-
A week with a small child was the closest thing to hell Kara Thrace had ever suffered. It beat that time in Moscow when she and Sam had spent a day in the sewers, tracking a serial killer only to find Agathon had bagged the bastard an hour after they'd gone down there. Frakker had just wanted to see how long they'd last in the stinking air.
Kara had decided to see how much he'd like to swim in the fountain in front of the airport.
Without Sam there, she was pretty sure either she or Kacey would have been dead after three days. After seven, they were both ready to kill someone.
Hopefully not each other.
Sam had managed to run into Dee in the grocery store the day after they'd picked Kacey up, and he'd spent several aisles talking turkey and stuffing with the pretty young thing who flirted outrageously and then smacked his ass when she abandoned him for the tofu section.
They packed Kacey into the car and headed for the office of Dr. Conoy. Hopefully for the last session they would ever have to suffer with him.
-
Making a notation in a file, Ben absently ignored the phone when it rang. A few minutes later, Foster stuck her head in, "Anders and Thrace are here, sir."
He'd known; Kacey was making a racket out in the lobby. "Send them in, please."
Kacey shot ahead of them, and Ben assessed Thrace first, taking in the slight spring in her step and the bags under her eyes. Anders looked a little better, but it cheered Ben to see how they reacted to Kacey's glee at seeing Ben again: with indulgence.
"So things are going well, then?"
"We think so, yes."
"Good, good." Ben leaned back in his chair as they took their seats, Kacey climbing up into Thrace's lap and cuddling into her. "And you're both certain that this will work out?"
"There have been ups and downs," Anders acknowledged, "Adjustments." He grinned a little.
Good. Ben disliked repeating himself, but it cheered him to see them so completely ready for the next step. He straightened, "We have another child, if you would be willing to give it a shot? A little boy, this time."
"We could," Thrace said, sounding surprised at her own admission. "Where is he?"
Ben reached for the intercom, then stopped, frowning a little, "Do you hear something?"
A moment later, the siren stopped being at a sub-human level and sounded even closer. Thrace's posture shifted and she let out a breath, "Actually, I do now." She stood, setting Kacey on the floor and came around the desk, steps business-like, "Dr. Benjamin Conoy, I'm placing you under arrest for the trafficking of children and the murders of Tucker and Norah Clellan."
Frowning, Ben tried to figure out where she'd gotten the handcuffs and the police badge she flashed. "I don't understand..."
His face impacted the desk, and his vision went jagged.
"Whoops. Resisting arrest," Thrace muttered.
-
"Good job, you two." Captain Laura Roslin gave her two best undercover operatives an appreciative nod, then looked around, watching as her well-trained team took apart Dr. Conoy's office. The man himself had been led away hours before, sporting a broken nose and a confused look. "It's taken us over a year to get here, but we finally got the bastard."
"Frak, yeah."
Thrace didn't sound all that thrilled.
"Operatives in Hungary and Thailand tracked his little railroad to its source. We've got both ends of it and this time, the frakking pipeline shuts down for good." With that, Laura moved off to help Billy and his team of technicians close down the office.
Kara stared after her a moment, then looked up at Sam, "Let's get the frak out of here."
-
It was on the news. Not that the detectives were named or pictured, and Laura Roslin gave a very convincing performance as a captain who had done all the leg work. Neither of them minded, they'd never been in it for the glory, after all. Kara shut off the tv in the middle of the question and answer section and headed for the bedroom, shedding her clothing on the way.
Sam took the hint, making sure the door was locked and the lights were out before joining her.
They didn't sleep for a while.
Kara didn't sleep at all.
She lay in the dark, listening to Sam's breathing even out as he slipped into dreams. Shifting, she tried to get comfortable. But it was all too... anti-climactic. Too much had been said, too little had been said. Frak.
Climbing out of bed, she fished one of Sam's shirts out of a pile of laundry and wandered out into the living room, staring out at the starlight for a while, letting her mind go numb.
Eventually, cold, she moved to the couch, pulling her knees up to her chest.
That was where Sam found her a little while later.
"Kara?" His hand was almost too-warm when he touched her shoulder. "Shit, you're freezing."
She shifted so he could slide behind her, pulling her back against his chest and rubbing his hands up and down her arms.
"This one was different."
"I know." His head leaned against hers, hands stilling. "I'm sorry."
"You didn't know."
"Doesn't make it any easier. Kara--"
"Shh." She turned, hand reaching back to put a finger over his lips. "Don't, Sam. Not yet."
He moved, snagging the blanket from the back of the couch and draping it over her. "All right." His arms settled around her, warmer than before.
Kara leaned back against his bulk and closed her eyes.
-f-
Silk Stalkings has a lot to answer for. 's all I'm sayin'.
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*bounces up and down*
What a weird, weird idea. I like it!
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make this be a show
Re: make this be a show