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rabid1stMINOTAUR
By Rabid1st
BSG – K/L with some K/A and L/D at the start
Spoilers: To Scar Promo S2.5 AU after that.
Rating: R
Beta Babes: Winter_Queen82, Lilith, Devilbunny and Jei
Summary: Kara feels sickly. Dee has cold feet. Lee is a raving loon. Things transpire.
Disclaimer: I can’t make any money off this…put your wallets away. No…No, really. Not even a tip. See this Ron Moore guy…he is apparently The High King of the Battlestar Galactica universe and he has to sanction, sign-off, collated and stamp in triplicate any scenes with Kara and Lee banging, balling, bouncing or otherwise shocking the British…or the work isn’t what those in the “biz” call “official.”
PART ONE
http://rabid1st.livejournal.com/74418.html#cutid1
PART TWO
Petty Officer Anastasia Dualla dreamed of her father nearly every night. She dreamed of his broad back, crisscrossed with puckered stripes of shiny skin. She dreamed of his booming voice, resonate with conviction and pride. And she dreamed of the prison where he’d lived for most of her young life. In many ways her daily routines mirrored her father’s institutionalized life. Galactica’s windowless hallways, communal dining and small living spaces were so much like the prison. It was easy for her to slip out of her day and travel back in time in her slumber. It was also easy, when awake, to imagine her father was somewhere on the vast ship, waiting in his cell for her to visit.
She woke up to cool sheets against her skin. Groaning a little, she swept the covers aside with an arm. As she pushed up onto an elbow she scanned the cul-de-sac of her barracks, already knowing what she would find. There was no trace of Lee Adama. He hadn’t come and gone. She’d spent the night alone for the third time that week. Combing her hair back with one hand she blew out an impatient breath. If this trend continued she would need to take a more aggressive step to secure him. His duties were giving him a convenient excuse to stay on the Pegasus. He kept shuffling her down his list of priorities. Dee had seen this list. It was long and varied but Kara Thrace was too close to the top for Dee’s peace of mind.
True, Lee had professed himself ‘sick to death’ of Starbuck on more than one occasion. But she was still the Pegasus CAG and as such had a legitimate claim to his time. They met frequently and Dee wasn’t sure she trusted Lee’s passionate denial of their previous bond. Though by all accounts Thrace had moved on to an almost status-free man, a former resistance leader of all things. Dee didn’t pretend to understand that line of thinking. Lee Adama was the ultimate prize, the future leader of the fleet, and yet Kara Thrace hadn’t made a move to secure him. She seemed oblivious to his value.
Dee bit her lip and considered her options. She didn’t want to ask for a transfer. There would be problems with the rank and file if she were under Lee’s command. But if she couldn’t talk him into letting her share his quarters, she might have no other choice. Working for him would keep her always under his eye and on his mind. Absence in Dee’s view made the heart forgetful.
Lee had already balked at the concept of marriage. Naturally, she hadn’t been foolish enough to suggest a union but she’d asked about the baby’s naming ritual. It was a safe and legitimate question. Did he want his name on the paperwork? Sadly, Lee had given her a safe and legitimate answer, ‘We have plenty of time to decide.'
After grabbing a fresh shirt off a shelf, Dee wriggled onto one hip and pivoted, swinging her legs off the bed. Her sock covered soles hit the icy metal floor and she winced. Lee’s sleeping cubicle on the Pegasus was lushly carpeted. He had a private bath and real chairs. Dee took a moment to indulge her fantasies. She imagined stretching out on his bed and ordering some underling to fetch her a cup of tea from the galley. Maybe the CAG, she thought, and felt a warm surge of satisfaction at the idea. It would be a cold day in hell, of course, before Kara Thrace fetched anybody anything but that was the point of a fantasy. Returning to the practical, Dee ducked low as she stood to avoid bumping her head on the bunk above.
Grumbling a little about her bunkmate, Petersen's, snoring, she finished dressing quickly. She’d never gotten comfortable in the racks, despite nearly three years on Galactica. Unlike the majority of recruits, she didn’t mind the claustrophobia. But she hated the complete lack of privacy. There was nowhere quiet to sit and think. People passing by jostled her as she dressed. Her curtains were heavy but not soundproof and the idea of someone hearing her having sex made her slightly frigid.
She couldn’t afford to give Lee the cold shoulder, couldn’t afford to be anything but accommodating at this stage. Lee didn’t seem to mind the other pilots pounding on the door or her less than enthusiastic responses to his careful lovemaking. He focused in an awkward way she found endearing. Dee liked being treated with reverence and her pregnancy was paying dividends. Earlier in the week, Admiral Adama had presented her with a handful of fresh grapes. She was truly happy with her decision to join the Adama clan. Like every choice in her life she had carefully considered this one. Careful consideration had gotten her far.
Life on Sagittaron hadn’t been easy, especially for her family. Dee remembered the morning her father came home for the first time. It had been strange having him in the house. Even though she’d loved him, even though she’d known him as her father, she’d been used to visiting him at the prison. Growing up in the shadow of the big stone building, she’d taken comfort in its gray walls and high fences, the uniforms and the regimental changing of the guards. Once in school she’d told the other children her father must be the king because he lived in a great castle. The children had laughed at her until the teacher had made them stop.
The common people on Sagittaron feared the prison but Dee had felt at home there. Smartly dressed guards always had smiles for her when she skipped through the front gate. She’d loved the guards and their sleek, burly dogs, standing silent vigil. She’d loved the visitation room deep inside the walls. It had long tables where everyone sat together like a large family at dinner, voices rising and falling as everyone chatted. The guards used to give her lollipops; red ones not green because she’d always hated the green ones. Chains and bars had seemed normal to her, then. The claustrophobic walls were comforting. Her mother had explained about her father, how important he was, how the government didn’t think it was safe to let him live with his family.
But then, for a time, it was safe and he came home. At first, Anastasia was shy, hiding behind her mother’s skirts. But her father’s deep voice and kind eyes coaxed her out of hiding. He made her a present of songs and poetry. They wove a garland of flowers and green grasses that she wore like a crown when she sat on his knee. He told her stories just like he’d done when she visited his castle. He called her his beautiful princess.
“But it’s not enough to be beautiful, Dualla,” he’d always added, using her middle name as a sign of his love. “Beauty is a tool but not as sharp a tool as the mind. Use your mind to make your life, to make everyone’s life, brighter and better.”
He was a good man, her father. A wise man. A man of peace and principles from a world whose rulers respected neither. When Sagittaron’s corrupt government drove the poor into rebellion, her father had become a leader of lesser men. He’d supported peaceful resistance. He’d called for reasoned debate and justice. Powerful people in well-protected lairs had a plan to silence his voice. Her father lost his job and his family lost their home. But his voice had remained strong.
Dee remembered the first time she saw her father without his shirt. There were scars on his back and chest, shiny ribbons of puckered flesh. She was nearly six years old then, old enough to know about scars. Ones like these came from deep wounds. But she couldn’t imagine what kind of accident he’d had. What had cut her father so deep and so many times?
She learned to associate the scars with the prison the summer she turned sixteen.
Men came in the night to take her from her bed. She’d screamed and struggled. Lights had come on all along her street. But nobody ventured into the street to help her. All of the doors remained closed. She was taken to a small glass-walled room. They didn’t let her call her mother or her friends. They stripped off her pajamas and bound her hands behind her and forced her to stand under the hard glare of bright lights while they asked endless questions.
Who were her father’s friends? Where did he go? Had she ever seen this man or that woman?
Pictures were tossed on the table in front of her. She recognized a few of the other people in the pictures. She also recognized some of the voices that questioned her. They belonged to men and women she’d known all her life. They didn’t give her lollipops. They gave her nothing but a few sips of water for three days. They didn’t let her sit or sleep. Nor did they give her a moment’s privacy. She stood in her own filth as they questioned her endlessly.
No one beat her. No one raped her. No one came to save her. On the evening of the third day, her knees gave way. They let her go soon after. And she knew enough to know that made her one of the lucky ones. But she didn’t feel lucky. She felt small and helpless and she knew she didn’t want to feel that way ever again. She cried until she ran out of tears and then she started planning her escape. Not just from poverty or Sagittaron but from her father’s legacy.
Her beauty bought her new false friends and entry to the Colonial embassies. Her charm drew the attention of well-placed officials. She found a man to help her. He helped her change her name, erase the connection to her father, so she could enlist in the military. The authorities weren’t fooled by her identity shuffling but they were pleased and amazed by her conversion. Her father tried his best to discourage her.
“The name…I can understand, Dualla. My name has brought you nothing but pain…but to join the military machine? It is the last refuge for emotional cripples. The leaders of the Colonial Fleet claim to support freedom and yet they stand aside, watching, while our people starve in the streets.” He shook his head. “No, I will not believe this of you. Until the day you are taken from us, I will not believe you have abandoned the way of peaceful resistance. Until that day I will pray for your eyes to be opened.”
But Dee’s eyes were open so he prayed in vain. She still loved her father but she could no longer respect him. She saw what he didn’t, the futility of his fight. There was no honor in being helpless or oppressed. And there was no future in Zarek’s Army of Deliverance. Dee had no intention of ever going back to prison. Power offered hope. And the most powerful people on Sagittaron were serving under the banner of the Twelve Colonies.
Dee mastered the currents of power, flowed with them. She never stepped into the light, never led. Leaders were targets. A leader’s widow went on to marry again.
She had beauty and brains and determination. She had her father’s gift of persuasion. People, she found, loved to be flattered. She knew how to keep a man happy. All she had to do was support his decisions, stroke his ego and make him feel needed. She could steer a man anywhere she wanted him to go by pretending she couldn't bear to lose him. She was good at steering, following a course. Careful navigation led her to the Galactica, one of only two ships to survive the Cylon attack. Some might call that lucky but Dee didn’t believe in luck. She believed in planning.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The plan for the morning was a run along deck D. Sam Anders slipped on a pair of ill-fitting sweats, pocketed his key ring and a few other items, laced up his unmatched but perfectly proportioned running shoes and headed out the door. Kara had already left for the day. Sam jogged easily along, nodding to acquaintances in the crew. They were getting used to seeing him. Several waved. A few saluted. Others hooted encouragement.
He visited the Pegasus often and he’d won over many with his easy going charm. He never missed a chance to run along the sweeping corridors. Kara, he told anyone who asked, had introduced him to the wonders of the smooth deck and the long stretches of unbroken hallway. He’d been sure he would have to give up his morning jogs when he’d first arrived.
“I can’t believe how big this ship is,” he’d remark, brandishing his arm in a wide arc. “Even a topsoil lover like me can see she’s amazing.”
The crew would beam, happy to hear the Beast praised. It was a rare thing these days to hear kind words about their ship. Even their Commander seemed to favor the Bucket. But Anders loved the Pegasus and her crew. He was like an overgrown kid, curious about everything. The Engine Room mechanics shared their home brew with him and regaled him with stories of glorious battles. In return, he reminisced about pyramid games they’d all seen like Troius vs. Dolcius and Delpi vs. Caprica City. In the mess hall after the evening meal, Kara would curl up beside him and add color commentary to his stories. She didn’t mind pointing out his team’s failings. He didn’t mind taking the criticism.
‘You guys were horrible. You had no defense,’ she would say.
‘Defense?’ he would counter, ‘Oh, yeah we sucked at defense. But I think you will back me up, baby, when I say I’ve always been one of the most offensive players in the Big Twelve. And my sense of direction is impeccable.’
The sense of direction line never failed to get a laugh.
‘You got turned around in the finals and scored a goal for the wrong team,’ Kara would remind him. After a pause, she would add, ‘Twice.’
Everyone would joke good-naturedly at his expense. And when the teasing died away he would say, ‘But look how lucky that was for us. I got traded to the Buccaneers right after that game.’
‘And so survived the Cylon Attack,’ Kara always added.
‘And met you,’ he would finish.
His confusion about the nature of battleships, decks, hangers and sealed door became a joking matter among the crew. As well known and generally accepted as his appalling sense of direction. He’d jogged straight through the showers on one memorable occasion and on another nearly died when he entered a low oxygen area, which was, Lee Adama had pointed out, clearly marked No Trespassing.
Commander Lee Adama was the one person Sam Anders hadn’t been able to charm. He still glared. Still grumbled. And still watched Sam’s every move. But his attitude was about to change. Sam was determined to win him over with a friendly game of Pyramid. The Pegasus had a small court going to waste. It was time to put it to good use.
On D-deck Sam Anders stopped for a breather. Checking his pulse, he leaned against the bulkhead a few steps from the Auxiliary Command Station. Kara had been kind enough to tell him which areas were off limits to unauthorized personnel. Her thoughtfulness spared him a lot of bumbling around. A group of female crewmen passed by as Sam took a moment to tighten the loose laces on his right shoe.
As he straightened, he smiled at the ladies, flashing them what his press agent had once called his 'photo-op grin.' One of them giggled and there was an immediate increase in the intensity of their whispers but they hurried on their way. Sam waited until the curve of the corridor hid them from view. Then, he pulled his key chain from his pocket and quickly crossed to the door marked Secure Area No Unauthorized Admittance. He scanned the bronze medallion of Kara Thrace’s dog tag over the lock sensor. The computer acknowledged her authority and the door clicked open. After checking the corridor for witnesses, Sam slipped inside the room.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Lee Adama stepped out of Dr. Irisi’s office directly into the path of a seething Kara Thrace.
“If you would just calm down, sir,” a flustered older nurse was saying as Lee opened the office door.
“Calm down? Calm down? I have the flu or….some alien parasite…food poisoning maybe…but this is just frakked up,” Kara Thrace declared. The last note of her sentence was a breathless squeak as she pivoted into Lee.
He braked and she swerved. They skimmed by one another like they were flying the close-wing formation known as The Viper’s Kiss. As she past, Kara turned to give him a glare she usually reserved for nuggets who’d burned too much pipe. But then, to Lee’s amazement she blushed beet-red. He saw recognition in her eyes and then he saw them go glassy. Her high color drained away and she staggered.
Before it fully dawned on Lee that Kara was about to faint he was there to catch her. His arm shot out to circle her waist and stabilize her. Her knees buckled as he was drawing her closer. She slithered down his body her tanks bunching before his sliding hand. His fingers glided into forbidden territory. Skin brushed skin and a familiar electric tingle lit Lee up inside. Kara's head lolled into his shoulder as he hugged her tight. His mouth was full of her hair. He braced her weight, cradling her against his chest and breathing her sweet, freshly-showered scent.
She was too close. It hurt him. He literally ached with longing. As his heart rate quickened, he could sense his blood being pulled toward Kara and looked around for a place to settle her, a chair or a bed. He wasn’t supposed to touch her. It was one of his rules.
Don’t stand too close. Don’t touch. Don’t stare. Don’t say the first ten things that pop into your head. Wait. Breathe. Don’t speak at all until she speaks to you.
She came around in a matter of seconds. “Oh, Gods above,” she moaned, gripping his upper arm. She squeezed her eyelids tightly closed before suddenly opening them to stare up at him.
Technically, she’d spoken first. Lee raised a curious brow over her reaction. “Good to see you, too, Captain,” he remarked, getting a tiny shiver of déjà vu. He steadied her on her feet, using his hands to square her shoulders. “Are you okay?”
She tried to push him away, but he stayed close, hips nesting into hers. “I’m fine. I’m sick.”
“Which is it? Fine or sick.”
A pretty red-haired girl, one of two nurses on duty, bustled up with a file. She didn’t bother to acknowledge Lee, a lapse in discipline he would have corrected if he hadn’t been staring at Kara. Flipping open the file, the nurse began defending the lab’s integrity.
“I’m sorry Captain Thrace but we’ve already run the test twice. It’s standard practice. There’s no mistake.”
“And your faintness is consistent with the results,” the older nurse added.
“We could do a urinalysis if you like but the blood test is more accurate and…”
With a visible effort, Kara forced her gaze to break from Lee’s. She twisted free of his hold. After stepping back, she took a moment to smooth her uniform and regain her composure before reaching around Lee to take the unfortunate redhead by an elbow.
She pulled the nurse to within an inch of her lips and growled softly, “I don’t care if you’ve run it eighteen times. It’s wrong.”
Lee couldn’t get away from Kara. He followed her as she moved, wondering as he did so if her skin had a Lee-polarized magnetism. She always made him prickle a little, like there was a static charge on his blood, but today he felt a resonate hum in the room. There was something mesmerizing about the way the light danced in her eyes. She looked beautiful, more feminine somehow. Maybe she was wearing her hair differently. The play of emotions on her face entranced him. She seemed to be feeling guilty and yet there was a deeper peace about her.
‘Must be love,’ Lee thought, and grimaced as the icicle of jealousy stabbed into his heart.
His interest peaked, Lee asked, “What test?” Concern lowered the timber of his voice as he touched Kara’s shoulder. “Seriously, Kara, are you sick?”
“Yes,” Kara said, just as the red-haired nurse said, “No.”
“We can schedule an ultrasound for tomorrow, Captain,” the older nurse said and Lee felt such a frisson of surprise he dropped his hand from Kara’s shoulder.
Head cocked, Lee turned a penetrating look on the suddenly backpedaling nurse. She tried to stand tall under his scrutiny but she wavered and cast an apologetic smile toward Kara, apparently realizing belatedly that she’d said too much. Lee mentally ticked down the list: Blood test? Urine? Ultrasound? It was familiar ground to an expectant father.
Kara noticed the tightening of his shoulders. Saw the question forming on his lips. She didn’t want it to be said aloud. Are you pregnant? Is it mine? She gave an impatient snort and pushed him toward the door.
“This isn’t about you,” she told him, firmly.
Lee resisted because, Kara thought, that’s what Lee does. “You’re my CAG. If it impacts your job then….”
“I’ve got the flu. We’ll run a short CAP for a week and I’ll be fine.”
“It doesn’t sound like the flu to me. If you’re…”
Kara stopped pushing him. This was insane. Abortions were illegal. She was going to have enough to deal with without fending off a curious Lee Adama. He’d learn the truth eventually. She turned, snatched her file from the nurse and, with a small flourish, presented it for his inspection.
“Go on, read it,” she prompted when he seemed hesitant to take it from her.
Surprised by the ease of his victory, Lee stared at the open file for a moment but then took it. His hands, he noted absently, were shaking a little. Scanning the paperwork, he saw the positive results for both tests. Kara was pregnant. Before he could marshal his thoughts for a comment, or more likely a question, she stabbed a finger down on a line under vital statistics. Lee read the date she’d filled in under the heading ‘Date of Last Menses.’ He read it again. It said the same thing. Kara’s last cycle had been five weeks ago. Three weeks after they’d had their sexually charged falling out. It wasn’t his baby. She was carrying another man’s child.
The sense of relief Lee’s rational mind was expecting failed to arrive. In its place came an almost blinding rage. He wanted to kill Sam Anders. Shoot him in the gut and let him bleed out slowly. The extreme reaction frightened him, shook him to his core with its all-encompassing scope. Gaius Baltar hadn’t felt this bad. Hell, Zak hadn’t felt this bad. Lee had never had such a murderous impulse.
Coiled anger set him in motion. He was out the door and halfway along the corridor before he realized he was still clutching Kara’s file. He didn’t dare return it to her. They would fight and there was nothing to be gained by saying even one of the dozens of things boiling inside his brain. He paused for a moment to check his compulsions, stopping so suddenly a second lieutenant nearly collided with him. Absently accepting the young man’s apology and salute, Lee gathered his composure.
Obviously, he wasn’t going to hunt down Anders and confront him like some cuckold husband. That would border on psychotic. Lee thought he might be crazy, it was certainly looking that way, but he had more self-control than your average madman. Still, the change in his own attitude was almost enough to send him scurrying back to Dr. Irisi.
“I don’t care about this. I can’t. She’s nothing to me,” he muttered under his breath. “Not my wife. Not my lover. Barely my friend.”
It wasn’t enough. He needed to tell somebody. But who? Not Dee. Not his father. Maybe Anders. He could grab Sam Anders by the collar and bellow it in his face.
So, it’s over? Fine. She’s all yours. I don’t care. I don’t love her. I don’t!
He didn’t. He couldn’t. Not after what had happened between them eight weeks ago. Not after the way they’d lit into each other. She’d been thinking of Anders, obsessing about him. And she’d come to Lee to clear her head. He’d tried to push her away at first. But he’d touched her and she’d kissed him, spilled into his lap. Straddling him, she’d sipped whiskey from his mouth. Which hadn’t been a good reason to take her back to the rack and bar the door but he’d been just drunk enough to take anything she offered.
They’d frakked like chariot dogs fought, growling and giving no quarter. Once the door was barred they’d given in completely. Boots off, pants off, and free of his tanks, he’d yanked her shirts over her head before dropping to his knees to remove her briefs. He’d left her bra in place too intent on getting where he needed to be. His hands had taken her curves smoothly. His fingers had burrowed deep as he’d nuzzled into her musky slickness. But his tongue barely had a taste of her before she was moving away.
Wrenching painfully at his hair, she’d made him yelp as she’d pulled him toward the room’s lone table. Not the floor or the wall. Not one of the racks. But the table, their very own altar to Eros. She’d cleared its surface with an impatient sweep of her arm. Then, hopping up onto it, she’d opened her legs. He’d wanted to say, ‘slow down’ but he hadn’t, because, as he’d told himself later, he’d had too much to drink. They’d given in to their basest desires. He’d seized Kara just above the jut of her hipbones, dragging her to him, piercing her. She’d yielded instantly, allowing him access, taking him into her velvety embrace.
Gods, it had felt so good. Entering Kara for the first time had been like throwing a breaker switch, completing a circuit. Lee’s heart had stopped for a second as the light in the room dimmed for him. A jolt of electricity passing from his skin to Kara’s had jerked her shoulders back, turning her briefly rigid. Then they’d fused together. He’d hammered her on the table and she’d ridden him hard when he’d taken the encounter to the floor.
Her mouth and fingers had explored, finding all his secret, sensitive places even as he’d found hers. Because frakking turned out to be another thing, like fighting and flying that they did in perfect synchronicity. There’d been no awkward fumbling. No biting or banging together that wasn’t part of the flight plan.
Despite the violence of it, despite the impetus for it, Lee had never been happier than in those twenty minutes. When she’d bounced, he’d simply let go. Every bit of tenderness, every spark in him had pulsed into her as she’d quaked around him. For a single long moment, it had seemed wonderous, like love, like something that could linger on the lip of forever. Then, they’d shattered into pieces as they’d breathed each other’s desperate exhalations.
Kara’s wide, fear-filled eyes had stared into his and for the first time Lee had truly felt the pain in her, the rage and despair. He’d heard her stories. He’d winced as she’d spoken of her mother’s cruelty and her father’s abandonment but he’d never experienced her losses so intimately. Seeing them raw in her, unchecked by her sense of the absurd, had been like standing in front of a blast furnace. The heat of it had penetrated him. His walls had melted. His carefully constructed façade, the paper man he was, had turned to ash in an instant and been blown away. He’d been exposed as a love-starved weakling silently pleading with this horrifically wounded little girl.
And he’d finally seen it. What she’d seen all along. They were both too needy. They had nothing to give each other, no comfort to offer. It had been terrifying to have no words. To have only lies on his tongue when the truth was so painfully obvious. He couldn’t promise her forever. All he could think of was the end.
Oh, Kara, I can’t do this. I will leave you one day. Even if I stay, I will die or you will. One day some metal motherfrakker will get lucky and then we’ll have nothing left. One of us will be lost. Empty. Don’t hold onto me. Find someone else to hold onto, someone safe.
Disappointed, she’d pushed away from him. He’d tried to salvage their friendship but she’d been too hurt, too angry. She’d turned on him.
"There’s nothing here. Don’t you get that? Nothing. I just wanted an easy lay."
That’s what he was. All he’d ever be. He’d said something hateful in return and she’d slapped him. Ego bruised, he’d stormed out of there, yanking the bar from the door and throwing it aside. He’d gone straight to Dee. She’d needed him to lie to her and he knew he could do that. He’d been lying to pretty women all his life. They pretended to love him, he pretended he’d stay.
Now Kara had Sam Anders back in her life. She seemed happy with him. And if, ten minutes earlier, anyone had asked Lee if he was okay with that outcome he would have said, yes. He would also have laughed at the possibility of Kara being pregnant. And, Lee supposed, as he turned his steps toward the gym, that was the definition of delusional.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Relax, Captain,” Doc Cottle ordered. “I’ve carved out a special moment in my busy day just for you. The least you could do is pretend to be happy about it.”
Kara forced a toothy grimace. “Can we just get on with this?”
“Don’t rush me. Can’t wait until tomorrow for the Pegasus medics to do this? You have to fly over here and brighten my day?”
“Maybe I enjoy your bedside manner,” Kara said.
She shifted on the cold metal table, trying to relax as requested. Being naked from the waist down didn’t help. Her tanks were bunched up around her breasts and her midriff was covered in icy pink goop. Nurse Sally Ekhert, who’d once lost a slinky blue dress to Kara in a game of triad, stood idly watching Cottle operate the ultrasound. As far as Kara was concerned the one small saving grace in the humiliation was the blanket draped across her hips. Unlike the flimsy disposable ones she’d had to endure in her Caprican gynecologist’s office, this one was a coarse cotton blend, designed to take multiple washings. It itched a little but it offered some modesty.
“Let’s see what you’re hiding,” Dr. Cottle said.
“I’m not hiding anything. I’m just not…”
“Ah, there he is.”
Kara’s head jerked around. She stared at the screen over the table. There was nothing on it but a hollow bowl full of static lines and what looked like withering fruit.
“I don’t see anything.”
Cottle circled the sensor slowly with one hand and leaned across her to point with the other at a small darkish blob pressed to one side of the bowl. “Right there. See the heart beating?”
Kara could see the rapid flutter but she still held out hope for a miracle. “Are you sure that’s not just a bad shrimp?”
“I’ll admit he’s not much to look at, yet. But he’ll grow on you.”
“Frak,” Kara spat and the picture on the screen jiggled. “I’m pregnant?” She felt sick to her stomach with fear. “I don’t want it growing on me or in me or…” she broke off mid-rant, suddenly ashamed of herself. This was Sam’s child she was carrying. He was going to be so happy. She should be happy, too. They would be a real family.
She wouldn’t be able to fly, of course. Or think. Or live. Or leave Sam…ever.
Cottle was looking at her with an odd expression on his face. “Well, what you want doesn’t matter anymore, does it? Madam President has passed a law protecting the unborn and you and I have no further say in things.” He glanced at his nurse. “Sally, would you get me a prenatal pamphlet from my office? Top drawer left.” As Sally bustled out, Cottle turned back to the screen. “What we need on this ship is someone who knows how to use one of these damned monitors properly.”
“If you don’t know how to use the equipment how can you be sure I’m pregnant?”
“Because I’m a doctor,” Cottle sighed. “I can tell a fetus from an egg. I can tell a femur from an eyeball, too. What I can’t tell is how far along you are without some measurements.” He walked around the bed and began touching the screen and entering data on a small keypad. Kara watched him type in the date. As he worked he lowered his voice to a gruff whisper. “Did you come to me to learn how to get rid of an unwanted child? There are people who know things. They can help, if you’re interested.”
Kara stared at him. Was that why she’d come to Galactica? Had she intended to get rid of the baby and hoped Cottle would help? It made no sense on one level and too much sense on another. She was happy with Sam and this would assure them a future. But if there had been no law against abortion, she surely would have opted out of this pregnancy. The callousness of that worried her. It reminded her of her mother’s heartless behavior. Was she just like her mother, too self-centered to care about anyone else?
Sally came back in with the pamphlet and Cottle finished entering data. He waved the nurse toward Kara without looking up from his study of the machine’s response to his promptings. Kara barely glanced at the pamphlet before tossing it aside. She’d already made up her mind. She’d find Cottle’s knowledgeable people and put an end to this whole problem. She couldn't deal with it right now, couldn't face becoming her mother. Sam loved her. He would understand.
“Eight weeks,” Cottle announced.
“Three,” Kara countered.
Cottle’s bushy brows shot up in surprise. He exchanged a knowing look with Sally and then said, “This isn’t a negotiation, Captain. I wasn’t making you an offer. I was stating a fact. You’re eight weeks pregnant.”
“But…that’s…” she began and then faltered. Her mind scrambled for something else to say besides, 'Lee.' ‘Impossible’ seemed like a good choice but she settled on, “Oh…Gods above.”
END THIS PART
By Rabid1st
BSG – K/L with some K/A and L/D at the start
Spoilers: To Scar Promo S2.5 AU after that.
Rating: R
Beta Babes: Winter_Queen82, Lilith, Devilbunny and Jei
Summary: Kara feels sickly. Dee has cold feet. Lee is a raving loon. Things transpire.
Disclaimer: I can’t make any money off this…put your wallets away. No…No, really. Not even a tip. See this Ron Moore guy…he is apparently The High King of the Battlestar Galactica universe and he has to sanction, sign-off, collated and stamp in triplicate any scenes with Kara and Lee banging, balling, bouncing or otherwise shocking the British…or the work isn’t what those in the “biz” call “official.”
PART ONE
http://rabid1st.livejournal.com/74418.html#cutid1
PART TWO
Petty Officer Anastasia Dualla dreamed of her father nearly every night. She dreamed of his broad back, crisscrossed with puckered stripes of shiny skin. She dreamed of his booming voice, resonate with conviction and pride. And she dreamed of the prison where he’d lived for most of her young life. In many ways her daily routines mirrored her father’s institutionalized life. Galactica’s windowless hallways, communal dining and small living spaces were so much like the prison. It was easy for her to slip out of her day and travel back in time in her slumber. It was also easy, when awake, to imagine her father was somewhere on the vast ship, waiting in his cell for her to visit.
She woke up to cool sheets against her skin. Groaning a little, she swept the covers aside with an arm. As she pushed up onto an elbow she scanned the cul-de-sac of her barracks, already knowing what she would find. There was no trace of Lee Adama. He hadn’t come and gone. She’d spent the night alone for the third time that week. Combing her hair back with one hand she blew out an impatient breath. If this trend continued she would need to take a more aggressive step to secure him. His duties were giving him a convenient excuse to stay on the Pegasus. He kept shuffling her down his list of priorities. Dee had seen this list. It was long and varied but Kara Thrace was too close to the top for Dee’s peace of mind.
True, Lee had professed himself ‘sick to death’ of Starbuck on more than one occasion. But she was still the Pegasus CAG and as such had a legitimate claim to his time. They met frequently and Dee wasn’t sure she trusted Lee’s passionate denial of their previous bond. Though by all accounts Thrace had moved on to an almost status-free man, a former resistance leader of all things. Dee didn’t pretend to understand that line of thinking. Lee Adama was the ultimate prize, the future leader of the fleet, and yet Kara Thrace hadn’t made a move to secure him. She seemed oblivious to his value.
Dee bit her lip and considered her options. She didn’t want to ask for a transfer. There would be problems with the rank and file if she were under Lee’s command. But if she couldn’t talk him into letting her share his quarters, she might have no other choice. Working for him would keep her always under his eye and on his mind. Absence in Dee’s view made the heart forgetful.
Lee had already balked at the concept of marriage. Naturally, she hadn’t been foolish enough to suggest a union but she’d asked about the baby’s naming ritual. It was a safe and legitimate question. Did he want his name on the paperwork? Sadly, Lee had given her a safe and legitimate answer, ‘We have plenty of time to decide.'
After grabbing a fresh shirt off a shelf, Dee wriggled onto one hip and pivoted, swinging her legs off the bed. Her sock covered soles hit the icy metal floor and she winced. Lee’s sleeping cubicle on the Pegasus was lushly carpeted. He had a private bath and real chairs. Dee took a moment to indulge her fantasies. She imagined stretching out on his bed and ordering some underling to fetch her a cup of tea from the galley. Maybe the CAG, she thought, and felt a warm surge of satisfaction at the idea. It would be a cold day in hell, of course, before Kara Thrace fetched anybody anything but that was the point of a fantasy. Returning to the practical, Dee ducked low as she stood to avoid bumping her head on the bunk above.
Grumbling a little about her bunkmate, Petersen's, snoring, she finished dressing quickly. She’d never gotten comfortable in the racks, despite nearly three years on Galactica. Unlike the majority of recruits, she didn’t mind the claustrophobia. But she hated the complete lack of privacy. There was nowhere quiet to sit and think. People passing by jostled her as she dressed. Her curtains were heavy but not soundproof and the idea of someone hearing her having sex made her slightly frigid.
She couldn’t afford to give Lee the cold shoulder, couldn’t afford to be anything but accommodating at this stage. Lee didn’t seem to mind the other pilots pounding on the door or her less than enthusiastic responses to his careful lovemaking. He focused in an awkward way she found endearing. Dee liked being treated with reverence and her pregnancy was paying dividends. Earlier in the week, Admiral Adama had presented her with a handful of fresh grapes. She was truly happy with her decision to join the Adama clan. Like every choice in her life she had carefully considered this one. Careful consideration had gotten her far.
Life on Sagittaron hadn’t been easy, especially for her family. Dee remembered the morning her father came home for the first time. It had been strange having him in the house. Even though she’d loved him, even though she’d known him as her father, she’d been used to visiting him at the prison. Growing up in the shadow of the big stone building, she’d taken comfort in its gray walls and high fences, the uniforms and the regimental changing of the guards. Once in school she’d told the other children her father must be the king because he lived in a great castle. The children had laughed at her until the teacher had made them stop.
The common people on Sagittaron feared the prison but Dee had felt at home there. Smartly dressed guards always had smiles for her when she skipped through the front gate. She’d loved the guards and their sleek, burly dogs, standing silent vigil. She’d loved the visitation room deep inside the walls. It had long tables where everyone sat together like a large family at dinner, voices rising and falling as everyone chatted. The guards used to give her lollipops; red ones not green because she’d always hated the green ones. Chains and bars had seemed normal to her, then. The claustrophobic walls were comforting. Her mother had explained about her father, how important he was, how the government didn’t think it was safe to let him live with his family.
But then, for a time, it was safe and he came home. At first, Anastasia was shy, hiding behind her mother’s skirts. But her father’s deep voice and kind eyes coaxed her out of hiding. He made her a present of songs and poetry. They wove a garland of flowers and green grasses that she wore like a crown when she sat on his knee. He told her stories just like he’d done when she visited his castle. He called her his beautiful princess.
“But it’s not enough to be beautiful, Dualla,” he’d always added, using her middle name as a sign of his love. “Beauty is a tool but not as sharp a tool as the mind. Use your mind to make your life, to make everyone’s life, brighter and better.”
He was a good man, her father. A wise man. A man of peace and principles from a world whose rulers respected neither. When Sagittaron’s corrupt government drove the poor into rebellion, her father had become a leader of lesser men. He’d supported peaceful resistance. He’d called for reasoned debate and justice. Powerful people in well-protected lairs had a plan to silence his voice. Her father lost his job and his family lost their home. But his voice had remained strong.
Dee remembered the first time she saw her father without his shirt. There were scars on his back and chest, shiny ribbons of puckered flesh. She was nearly six years old then, old enough to know about scars. Ones like these came from deep wounds. But she couldn’t imagine what kind of accident he’d had. What had cut her father so deep and so many times?
She learned to associate the scars with the prison the summer she turned sixteen.
Men came in the night to take her from her bed. She’d screamed and struggled. Lights had come on all along her street. But nobody ventured into the street to help her. All of the doors remained closed. She was taken to a small glass-walled room. They didn’t let her call her mother or her friends. They stripped off her pajamas and bound her hands behind her and forced her to stand under the hard glare of bright lights while they asked endless questions.
Who were her father’s friends? Where did he go? Had she ever seen this man or that woman?
Pictures were tossed on the table in front of her. She recognized a few of the other people in the pictures. She also recognized some of the voices that questioned her. They belonged to men and women she’d known all her life. They didn’t give her lollipops. They gave her nothing but a few sips of water for three days. They didn’t let her sit or sleep. Nor did they give her a moment’s privacy. She stood in her own filth as they questioned her endlessly.
No one beat her. No one raped her. No one came to save her. On the evening of the third day, her knees gave way. They let her go soon after. And she knew enough to know that made her one of the lucky ones. But she didn’t feel lucky. She felt small and helpless and she knew she didn’t want to feel that way ever again. She cried until she ran out of tears and then she started planning her escape. Not just from poverty or Sagittaron but from her father’s legacy.
Her beauty bought her new false friends and entry to the Colonial embassies. Her charm drew the attention of well-placed officials. She found a man to help her. He helped her change her name, erase the connection to her father, so she could enlist in the military. The authorities weren’t fooled by her identity shuffling but they were pleased and amazed by her conversion. Her father tried his best to discourage her.
“The name…I can understand, Dualla. My name has brought you nothing but pain…but to join the military machine? It is the last refuge for emotional cripples. The leaders of the Colonial Fleet claim to support freedom and yet they stand aside, watching, while our people starve in the streets.” He shook his head. “No, I will not believe this of you. Until the day you are taken from us, I will not believe you have abandoned the way of peaceful resistance. Until that day I will pray for your eyes to be opened.”
But Dee’s eyes were open so he prayed in vain. She still loved her father but she could no longer respect him. She saw what he didn’t, the futility of his fight. There was no honor in being helpless or oppressed. And there was no future in Zarek’s Army of Deliverance. Dee had no intention of ever going back to prison. Power offered hope. And the most powerful people on Sagittaron were serving under the banner of the Twelve Colonies.
Dee mastered the currents of power, flowed with them. She never stepped into the light, never led. Leaders were targets. A leader’s widow went on to marry again.
She had beauty and brains and determination. She had her father’s gift of persuasion. People, she found, loved to be flattered. She knew how to keep a man happy. All she had to do was support his decisions, stroke his ego and make him feel needed. She could steer a man anywhere she wanted him to go by pretending she couldn't bear to lose him. She was good at steering, following a course. Careful navigation led her to the Galactica, one of only two ships to survive the Cylon attack. Some might call that lucky but Dee didn’t believe in luck. She believed in planning.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The plan for the morning was a run along deck D. Sam Anders slipped on a pair of ill-fitting sweats, pocketed his key ring and a few other items, laced up his unmatched but perfectly proportioned running shoes and headed out the door. Kara had already left for the day. Sam jogged easily along, nodding to acquaintances in the crew. They were getting used to seeing him. Several waved. A few saluted. Others hooted encouragement.
He visited the Pegasus often and he’d won over many with his easy going charm. He never missed a chance to run along the sweeping corridors. Kara, he told anyone who asked, had introduced him to the wonders of the smooth deck and the long stretches of unbroken hallway. He’d been sure he would have to give up his morning jogs when he’d first arrived.
“I can’t believe how big this ship is,” he’d remark, brandishing his arm in a wide arc. “Even a topsoil lover like me can see she’s amazing.”
The crew would beam, happy to hear the Beast praised. It was a rare thing these days to hear kind words about their ship. Even their Commander seemed to favor the Bucket. But Anders loved the Pegasus and her crew. He was like an overgrown kid, curious about everything. The Engine Room mechanics shared their home brew with him and regaled him with stories of glorious battles. In return, he reminisced about pyramid games they’d all seen like Troius vs. Dolcius and Delpi vs. Caprica City. In the mess hall after the evening meal, Kara would curl up beside him and add color commentary to his stories. She didn’t mind pointing out his team’s failings. He didn’t mind taking the criticism.
‘You guys were horrible. You had no defense,’ she would say.
‘Defense?’ he would counter, ‘Oh, yeah we sucked at defense. But I think you will back me up, baby, when I say I’ve always been one of the most offensive players in the Big Twelve. And my sense of direction is impeccable.’
The sense of direction line never failed to get a laugh.
‘You got turned around in the finals and scored a goal for the wrong team,’ Kara would remind him. After a pause, she would add, ‘Twice.’
Everyone would joke good-naturedly at his expense. And when the teasing died away he would say, ‘But look how lucky that was for us. I got traded to the Buccaneers right after that game.’
‘And so survived the Cylon Attack,’ Kara always added.
‘And met you,’ he would finish.
His confusion about the nature of battleships, decks, hangers and sealed door became a joking matter among the crew. As well known and generally accepted as his appalling sense of direction. He’d jogged straight through the showers on one memorable occasion and on another nearly died when he entered a low oxygen area, which was, Lee Adama had pointed out, clearly marked No Trespassing.
Commander Lee Adama was the one person Sam Anders hadn’t been able to charm. He still glared. Still grumbled. And still watched Sam’s every move. But his attitude was about to change. Sam was determined to win him over with a friendly game of Pyramid. The Pegasus had a small court going to waste. It was time to put it to good use.
On D-deck Sam Anders stopped for a breather. Checking his pulse, he leaned against the bulkhead a few steps from the Auxiliary Command Station. Kara had been kind enough to tell him which areas were off limits to unauthorized personnel. Her thoughtfulness spared him a lot of bumbling around. A group of female crewmen passed by as Sam took a moment to tighten the loose laces on his right shoe.
As he straightened, he smiled at the ladies, flashing them what his press agent had once called his 'photo-op grin.' One of them giggled and there was an immediate increase in the intensity of their whispers but they hurried on their way. Sam waited until the curve of the corridor hid them from view. Then, he pulled his key chain from his pocket and quickly crossed to the door marked Secure Area No Unauthorized Admittance. He scanned the bronze medallion of Kara Thrace’s dog tag over the lock sensor. The computer acknowledged her authority and the door clicked open. After checking the corridor for witnesses, Sam slipped inside the room.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Lee Adama stepped out of Dr. Irisi’s office directly into the path of a seething Kara Thrace.
“If you would just calm down, sir,” a flustered older nurse was saying as Lee opened the office door.
“Calm down? Calm down? I have the flu or….some alien parasite…food poisoning maybe…but this is just frakked up,” Kara Thrace declared. The last note of her sentence was a breathless squeak as she pivoted into Lee.
He braked and she swerved. They skimmed by one another like they were flying the close-wing formation known as The Viper’s Kiss. As she past, Kara turned to give him a glare she usually reserved for nuggets who’d burned too much pipe. But then, to Lee’s amazement she blushed beet-red. He saw recognition in her eyes and then he saw them go glassy. Her high color drained away and she staggered.
Before it fully dawned on Lee that Kara was about to faint he was there to catch her. His arm shot out to circle her waist and stabilize her. Her knees buckled as he was drawing her closer. She slithered down his body her tanks bunching before his sliding hand. His fingers glided into forbidden territory. Skin brushed skin and a familiar electric tingle lit Lee up inside. Kara's head lolled into his shoulder as he hugged her tight. His mouth was full of her hair. He braced her weight, cradling her against his chest and breathing her sweet, freshly-showered scent.
She was too close. It hurt him. He literally ached with longing. As his heart rate quickened, he could sense his blood being pulled toward Kara and looked around for a place to settle her, a chair or a bed. He wasn’t supposed to touch her. It was one of his rules.
Don’t stand too close. Don’t touch. Don’t stare. Don’t say the first ten things that pop into your head. Wait. Breathe. Don’t speak at all until she speaks to you.
She came around in a matter of seconds. “Oh, Gods above,” she moaned, gripping his upper arm. She squeezed her eyelids tightly closed before suddenly opening them to stare up at him.
Technically, she’d spoken first. Lee raised a curious brow over her reaction. “Good to see you, too, Captain,” he remarked, getting a tiny shiver of déjà vu. He steadied her on her feet, using his hands to square her shoulders. “Are you okay?”
She tried to push him away, but he stayed close, hips nesting into hers. “I’m fine. I’m sick.”
“Which is it? Fine or sick.”
A pretty red-haired girl, one of two nurses on duty, bustled up with a file. She didn’t bother to acknowledge Lee, a lapse in discipline he would have corrected if he hadn’t been staring at Kara. Flipping open the file, the nurse began defending the lab’s integrity.
“I’m sorry Captain Thrace but we’ve already run the test twice. It’s standard practice. There’s no mistake.”
“And your faintness is consistent with the results,” the older nurse added.
“We could do a urinalysis if you like but the blood test is more accurate and…”
With a visible effort, Kara forced her gaze to break from Lee’s. She twisted free of his hold. After stepping back, she took a moment to smooth her uniform and regain her composure before reaching around Lee to take the unfortunate redhead by an elbow.
She pulled the nurse to within an inch of her lips and growled softly, “I don’t care if you’ve run it eighteen times. It’s wrong.”
Lee couldn’t get away from Kara. He followed her as she moved, wondering as he did so if her skin had a Lee-polarized magnetism. She always made him prickle a little, like there was a static charge on his blood, but today he felt a resonate hum in the room. There was something mesmerizing about the way the light danced in her eyes. She looked beautiful, more feminine somehow. Maybe she was wearing her hair differently. The play of emotions on her face entranced him. She seemed to be feeling guilty and yet there was a deeper peace about her.
‘Must be love,’ Lee thought, and grimaced as the icicle of jealousy stabbed into his heart.
His interest peaked, Lee asked, “What test?” Concern lowered the timber of his voice as he touched Kara’s shoulder. “Seriously, Kara, are you sick?”
“Yes,” Kara said, just as the red-haired nurse said, “No.”
“We can schedule an ultrasound for tomorrow, Captain,” the older nurse said and Lee felt such a frisson of surprise he dropped his hand from Kara’s shoulder.
Head cocked, Lee turned a penetrating look on the suddenly backpedaling nurse. She tried to stand tall under his scrutiny but she wavered and cast an apologetic smile toward Kara, apparently realizing belatedly that she’d said too much. Lee mentally ticked down the list: Blood test? Urine? Ultrasound? It was familiar ground to an expectant father.
Kara noticed the tightening of his shoulders. Saw the question forming on his lips. She didn’t want it to be said aloud. Are you pregnant? Is it mine? She gave an impatient snort and pushed him toward the door.
“This isn’t about you,” she told him, firmly.
Lee resisted because, Kara thought, that’s what Lee does. “You’re my CAG. If it impacts your job then….”
“I’ve got the flu. We’ll run a short CAP for a week and I’ll be fine.”
“It doesn’t sound like the flu to me. If you’re…”
Kara stopped pushing him. This was insane. Abortions were illegal. She was going to have enough to deal with without fending off a curious Lee Adama. He’d learn the truth eventually. She turned, snatched her file from the nurse and, with a small flourish, presented it for his inspection.
“Go on, read it,” she prompted when he seemed hesitant to take it from her.
Surprised by the ease of his victory, Lee stared at the open file for a moment but then took it. His hands, he noted absently, were shaking a little. Scanning the paperwork, he saw the positive results for both tests. Kara was pregnant. Before he could marshal his thoughts for a comment, or more likely a question, she stabbed a finger down on a line under vital statistics. Lee read the date she’d filled in under the heading ‘Date of Last Menses.’ He read it again. It said the same thing. Kara’s last cycle had been five weeks ago. Three weeks after they’d had their sexually charged falling out. It wasn’t his baby. She was carrying another man’s child.
The sense of relief Lee’s rational mind was expecting failed to arrive. In its place came an almost blinding rage. He wanted to kill Sam Anders. Shoot him in the gut and let him bleed out slowly. The extreme reaction frightened him, shook him to his core with its all-encompassing scope. Gaius Baltar hadn’t felt this bad. Hell, Zak hadn’t felt this bad. Lee had never had such a murderous impulse.
Coiled anger set him in motion. He was out the door and halfway along the corridor before he realized he was still clutching Kara’s file. He didn’t dare return it to her. They would fight and there was nothing to be gained by saying even one of the dozens of things boiling inside his brain. He paused for a moment to check his compulsions, stopping so suddenly a second lieutenant nearly collided with him. Absently accepting the young man’s apology and salute, Lee gathered his composure.
Obviously, he wasn’t going to hunt down Anders and confront him like some cuckold husband. That would border on psychotic. Lee thought he might be crazy, it was certainly looking that way, but he had more self-control than your average madman. Still, the change in his own attitude was almost enough to send him scurrying back to Dr. Irisi.
“I don’t care about this. I can’t. She’s nothing to me,” he muttered under his breath. “Not my wife. Not my lover. Barely my friend.”
It wasn’t enough. He needed to tell somebody. But who? Not Dee. Not his father. Maybe Anders. He could grab Sam Anders by the collar and bellow it in his face.
So, it’s over? Fine. She’s all yours. I don’t care. I don’t love her. I don’t!
He didn’t. He couldn’t. Not after what had happened between them eight weeks ago. Not after the way they’d lit into each other. She’d been thinking of Anders, obsessing about him. And she’d come to Lee to clear her head. He’d tried to push her away at first. But he’d touched her and she’d kissed him, spilled into his lap. Straddling him, she’d sipped whiskey from his mouth. Which hadn’t been a good reason to take her back to the rack and bar the door but he’d been just drunk enough to take anything she offered.
They’d frakked like chariot dogs fought, growling and giving no quarter. Once the door was barred they’d given in completely. Boots off, pants off, and free of his tanks, he’d yanked her shirts over her head before dropping to his knees to remove her briefs. He’d left her bra in place too intent on getting where he needed to be. His hands had taken her curves smoothly. His fingers had burrowed deep as he’d nuzzled into her musky slickness. But his tongue barely had a taste of her before she was moving away.
Wrenching painfully at his hair, she’d made him yelp as she’d pulled him toward the room’s lone table. Not the floor or the wall. Not one of the racks. But the table, their very own altar to Eros. She’d cleared its surface with an impatient sweep of her arm. Then, hopping up onto it, she’d opened her legs. He’d wanted to say, ‘slow down’ but he hadn’t, because, as he’d told himself later, he’d had too much to drink. They’d given in to their basest desires. He’d seized Kara just above the jut of her hipbones, dragging her to him, piercing her. She’d yielded instantly, allowing him access, taking him into her velvety embrace.
Gods, it had felt so good. Entering Kara for the first time had been like throwing a breaker switch, completing a circuit. Lee’s heart had stopped for a second as the light in the room dimmed for him. A jolt of electricity passing from his skin to Kara’s had jerked her shoulders back, turning her briefly rigid. Then they’d fused together. He’d hammered her on the table and she’d ridden him hard when he’d taken the encounter to the floor.
Her mouth and fingers had explored, finding all his secret, sensitive places even as he’d found hers. Because frakking turned out to be another thing, like fighting and flying that they did in perfect synchronicity. There’d been no awkward fumbling. No biting or banging together that wasn’t part of the flight plan.
Despite the violence of it, despite the impetus for it, Lee had never been happier than in those twenty minutes. When she’d bounced, he’d simply let go. Every bit of tenderness, every spark in him had pulsed into her as she’d quaked around him. For a single long moment, it had seemed wonderous, like love, like something that could linger on the lip of forever. Then, they’d shattered into pieces as they’d breathed each other’s desperate exhalations.
Kara’s wide, fear-filled eyes had stared into his and for the first time Lee had truly felt the pain in her, the rage and despair. He’d heard her stories. He’d winced as she’d spoken of her mother’s cruelty and her father’s abandonment but he’d never experienced her losses so intimately. Seeing them raw in her, unchecked by her sense of the absurd, had been like standing in front of a blast furnace. The heat of it had penetrated him. His walls had melted. His carefully constructed façade, the paper man he was, had turned to ash in an instant and been blown away. He’d been exposed as a love-starved weakling silently pleading with this horrifically wounded little girl.
And he’d finally seen it. What she’d seen all along. They were both too needy. They had nothing to give each other, no comfort to offer. It had been terrifying to have no words. To have only lies on his tongue when the truth was so painfully obvious. He couldn’t promise her forever. All he could think of was the end.
Oh, Kara, I can’t do this. I will leave you one day. Even if I stay, I will die or you will. One day some metal motherfrakker will get lucky and then we’ll have nothing left. One of us will be lost. Empty. Don’t hold onto me. Find someone else to hold onto, someone safe.
Disappointed, she’d pushed away from him. He’d tried to salvage their friendship but she’d been too hurt, too angry. She’d turned on him.
"There’s nothing here. Don’t you get that? Nothing. I just wanted an easy lay."
That’s what he was. All he’d ever be. He’d said something hateful in return and she’d slapped him. Ego bruised, he’d stormed out of there, yanking the bar from the door and throwing it aside. He’d gone straight to Dee. She’d needed him to lie to her and he knew he could do that. He’d been lying to pretty women all his life. They pretended to love him, he pretended he’d stay.
Now Kara had Sam Anders back in her life. She seemed happy with him. And if, ten minutes earlier, anyone had asked Lee if he was okay with that outcome he would have said, yes. He would also have laughed at the possibility of Kara being pregnant. And, Lee supposed, as he turned his steps toward the gym, that was the definition of delusional.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Relax, Captain,” Doc Cottle ordered. “I’ve carved out a special moment in my busy day just for you. The least you could do is pretend to be happy about it.”
Kara forced a toothy grimace. “Can we just get on with this?”
“Don’t rush me. Can’t wait until tomorrow for the Pegasus medics to do this? You have to fly over here and brighten my day?”
“Maybe I enjoy your bedside manner,” Kara said.
She shifted on the cold metal table, trying to relax as requested. Being naked from the waist down didn’t help. Her tanks were bunched up around her breasts and her midriff was covered in icy pink goop. Nurse Sally Ekhert, who’d once lost a slinky blue dress to Kara in a game of triad, stood idly watching Cottle operate the ultrasound. As far as Kara was concerned the one small saving grace in the humiliation was the blanket draped across her hips. Unlike the flimsy disposable ones she’d had to endure in her Caprican gynecologist’s office, this one was a coarse cotton blend, designed to take multiple washings. It itched a little but it offered some modesty.
“Let’s see what you’re hiding,” Dr. Cottle said.
“I’m not hiding anything. I’m just not…”
“Ah, there he is.”
Kara’s head jerked around. She stared at the screen over the table. There was nothing on it but a hollow bowl full of static lines and what looked like withering fruit.
“I don’t see anything.”
Cottle circled the sensor slowly with one hand and leaned across her to point with the other at a small darkish blob pressed to one side of the bowl. “Right there. See the heart beating?”
Kara could see the rapid flutter but she still held out hope for a miracle. “Are you sure that’s not just a bad shrimp?”
“I’ll admit he’s not much to look at, yet. But he’ll grow on you.”
“Frak,” Kara spat and the picture on the screen jiggled. “I’m pregnant?” She felt sick to her stomach with fear. “I don’t want it growing on me or in me or…” she broke off mid-rant, suddenly ashamed of herself. This was Sam’s child she was carrying. He was going to be so happy. She should be happy, too. They would be a real family.
She wouldn’t be able to fly, of course. Or think. Or live. Or leave Sam…ever.
Cottle was looking at her with an odd expression on his face. “Well, what you want doesn’t matter anymore, does it? Madam President has passed a law protecting the unborn and you and I have no further say in things.” He glanced at his nurse. “Sally, would you get me a prenatal pamphlet from my office? Top drawer left.” As Sally bustled out, Cottle turned back to the screen. “What we need on this ship is someone who knows how to use one of these damned monitors properly.”
“If you don’t know how to use the equipment how can you be sure I’m pregnant?”
“Because I’m a doctor,” Cottle sighed. “I can tell a fetus from an egg. I can tell a femur from an eyeball, too. What I can’t tell is how far along you are without some measurements.” He walked around the bed and began touching the screen and entering data on a small keypad. Kara watched him type in the date. As he worked he lowered his voice to a gruff whisper. “Did you come to me to learn how to get rid of an unwanted child? There are people who know things. They can help, if you’re interested.”
Kara stared at him. Was that why she’d come to Galactica? Had she intended to get rid of the baby and hoped Cottle would help? It made no sense on one level and too much sense on another. She was happy with Sam and this would assure them a future. But if there had been no law against abortion, she surely would have opted out of this pregnancy. The callousness of that worried her. It reminded her of her mother’s heartless behavior. Was she just like her mother, too self-centered to care about anyone else?
Sally came back in with the pamphlet and Cottle finished entering data. He waved the nurse toward Kara without looking up from his study of the machine’s response to his promptings. Kara barely glanced at the pamphlet before tossing it aside. She’d already made up her mind. She’d find Cottle’s knowledgeable people and put an end to this whole problem. She couldn't deal with it right now, couldn't face becoming her mother. Sam loved her. He would understand.
“Eight weeks,” Cottle announced.
“Three,” Kara countered.
Cottle’s bushy brows shot up in surprise. He exchanged a knowing look with Sally and then said, “This isn’t a negotiation, Captain. I wasn’t making you an offer. I was stating a fact. You’re eight weeks pregnant.”
“But…that’s…” she began and then faltered. Her mind scrambled for something else to say besides, 'Lee.' ‘Impossible’ seemed like a good choice but she settled on, “Oh…Gods above.”
END THIS PART
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2006-03-03 05:15 am (UTC)OH....threats to an innocent actress
Date: 2006-03-03 05:20 am (UTC)Thanks for the love. Back at you, J.
Rae
(no subject)
Date: 2006-03-03 05:21 am (UTC)hee...hee...HEE...
Date: 2006-03-03 05:29 am (UTC)Rae
(no subject)
Date: 2006-03-03 05:33 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-03-03 05:51 am (UTC)Partly b/c my heart friggin' stopped beating while reading that chapter and it wasn't really in the mood to start up again just yet so....
:)
:)
:) <--- happy happy fic reader
>:( <--- except, sad and mad that it ended right where it did!!!!!!
-gail
I do not believe I got that memo
Date: 2006-03-03 08:07 am (UTC)Receipt for Starbuck's Caramel Latte. Bill. Bill. Late Bill. Unfilled prescription for vital medication. Receipt for Starbuck's Pumpkin Spice Latte with soy milk, decaf, half-pumps, no foam.
Nope, no memo.
Thank you for the happy and sad faces...in a 3 to 1 ratio...you make my day.
:-D <<<---See? Big, Wide Grin Face.
Rae
(no subject)
Date: 2006-03-03 09:00 am (UTC)I can't wait to see where you go with this story! I'll definitely be reading :). Your writing is very thorough and easy to read. Thank you for sharing!
(no subject)
Date: 2006-03-03 03:06 pm (UTC)Poor Kandys lol!
Re: I do not believe I got that memo
Date: 2006-03-03 04:58 pm (UTC)But anyway, enough with you spending time reading the gushy, begg-y comments left on your lj. Time for you to go and do some writing, miss thing!!!
-gail (already starting the fic prodding) (but with luv)
(no subject)
Date: 2006-03-03 05:10 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-03-03 08:31 pm (UTC)Hoping this counts as coherant...
Date: 2006-03-03 08:32 pm (UTC)Obviously I love the way you write Lee and Kara and the interaction or lack there of was good. I loved the Lee!rage and Kara's complete denial. Cottle rocks hard core and I definetly think he's under used on the show. I like how you don't just use him as a stand in to say something. He's actually contributing to the plot and saying things that only he can get away with. Cheers. I won't ask for it not be too long for the next part because I'll read whenever you post but I'd really love the next part as soon as it's ready. ;)
Finally, what the frak is Anders up to?
Awww....you miss the Swan...
Date: 2006-03-03 10:34 pm (UTC)Thank you for the fine feedback, especially the comments about Dee's backstory. It was a hard sell to two of my beta babes but eventually almost everyone bought it. Like you I hate to write a character with no redeeming side to them because they weigh the story down and become too much of a cartoon. Here, while we may not like or sympathize with Dee we can understand her need to control what happens. She doesn't want to ever be powerless, nor does she want to be a target...so she picks men who will give her power and protection. And she finds that some of those men...including Lee...need to feel like they are protecting her.
I want to explore that idea that Lee doesn't feel Kara needs him and that all she's interested in is this hot chemical reaction they have. I think one thing the show doesn't do enough of is let Lee experience how fragile Kara is...so I wanted to delve into that...make Kara more obviously feminine so Lee could experience naturally some of the feelings Dee is manipulating out of him.
Rae
Nice to hear from you...and thanks....
Date: 2006-03-03 10:37 pm (UTC)Meanwhile...yes...the plot...and that Anders...what is he up to? :-D
Thank you for taking the time to feedback. I very much appreciate hearing that my fics excite you.
Rae
Re: Nice to hear from you...and thanks....
Date: 2006-03-04 12:14 am (UTC)elle
Whoa! I never got it...and sure...
Date: 2006-03-04 02:10 am (UTC)Currently, if you want to have influence...a two day turn around is best...after I tweak for a couple of days the draft can be a lot different. I like to get the chapters posted between episodes so the episode chatter doesn't overwhelm them. I will probably go back to my chapter a week pattern over the hiatus. So then there will be a week for turn around and I won't tweak as much (in theory) because I will be working on the next chapter.
Thanks for doing this for me...beta babes are pearls of great price.
Rae
(no subject)
Date: 2006-03-04 05:19 am (UTC)Announcing....the official stalking for Chapter 3 of this fic shall now commence.
(bell chimes)
So, is chapter 3 done yet? How 'bout now? Now? Now? Some if it? Any of it? Is there more hot pilot!sex in Chapter 3? Did you put some in just for me? How 'bout now? Now?
(bell chimes)
The next round of fic stalking shall commence shortly. Thank you for your attention.
(no subject)
Date: 2006-03-05 01:04 pm (UTC)The spin on Dee is genius. If you look at all her interactions on the show, she is quite manipulative with a smile or a pout on her face. Like the ep at the start of season two when the Cylons boarded Galactica. She tried to pull funny power play games with Billy (the whole scene made me cringe it was that bad) and I'm not even going to talk about her low ways with Billy and Lee recently. But I guess at least you tried to give her an excuse or reason for her obvious power climb from President's aide to Admiral's son.
Now to Anders. What the frak is going on with him? What sneaky thing is he up to?
Lee and his fear of touching Kara and wondering if her skin is Lee-polarized was so wonderful. Trust Lee to have such an irrational fear. And yes her skin is Lee-polarized because Lee should be the only one touching it. :)
I LOVE, LOVE Lee's reaction to finding out she's pregnant and his sickening realisation that it wasn't his. It's like that was just one line too far that Sam had crossed. The guy can frak Kara but he can't have a piece of her. Lee definitely feels that Kara's womb is his territory and his blinding rage is proof solid that he took it as a betrayal.
I wonder if he gives any thought about how Kara feels about Dee carrying his child. Actually, are you going to give us Kara's feelings on Dee having Lee's baby?
The altered reflection on the events of Scar was brilliant. You took the whole scene and twisted it just enough to express heat and passion and possessiveness, while also exposing weaknesses and vulnerabilities. Excellent piece of writing. I was really swept up with everything they were feeling. Plus it was as sexy as hell and broke my heart at the end *wibbles*
BEST part is Kara realising that it is Lee's baby. And I can see so many painful and angsty situations that you could possibly go in that I think I'll be reading your next chapter with a glass of Kahlua and a block of chocolate. :)
I'm loving this story and part three better be on it's way soon *smiles hopefully*
PS, because you wrote about Lee and Kara's panties, I must use the icon :)
(no subject)
Date: 2006-03-05 09:27 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-03-06 12:48 am (UTC)Thanks for the panty-shot ;-D
Date: 2006-03-06 04:47 pm (UTC)Yes...you are dead on with the reading of Lee's reaction to the pregnancy. It is just that suddenly he thought of it as permanent. She would always be tied to Sam and Lee can't stand that...because in Lee's mind...one day they were still going to be together. It wasn't rational of him since he is tied to Dee. He just has this double standard which he never fully addressed before learning Kara was pregnant. He assumed...she wouldn't get pregnant. Which she assumed, too.
Yes...the whole...it's Lee's baby thing...is going to make Kara unravel. It's just too much stress. So...good times ahead. ;-D
Thank you again...so much for taking a chance with my WIP...I know it was a risky thing for you to do...but then...you do have your own WIP to keep you busy while I write mine. We can do chapter trade offs. Because I can hardly wait for your next chapter.
Rae
I'm glad you are loving Dee and Anders
Date: 2006-03-06 04:49 pm (UTC)Thank you for always re-reading the finished product...that makes you double the fun as a beta.
Rae
Re: OH....threats to an innocent actress
Date: 2006-03-06 05:56 pm (UTC)Your Dee is so...calculating. I can safely hate. Is it a Billy baby? I'm glad it isn't Lee's, that would make things a little too interesting for my taste. Me likey ^_^ *relurks*
(no subject)
Date: 2006-03-14 10:35 pm (UTC)I loved the reference in there to burning the pipe. And the whole Kara fainting scene was so well written. You conveyed the intensity very well. :)
Glad you liked the chapter
Date: 2006-03-14 11:11 pm (UTC)Thank you so much for the compliment on the fainting scene. It was very hard to write actually...because of the logistics of her being both irritated with everyone and suddenly helpless. But I think it turned out okay.
Thank you for always taking the time to feedback, makes me want to snuggle you.
Rae
Re: Glad you liked the chapter
Date: 2006-03-14 11:52 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-03-15 02:07 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-04-05 06:41 pm (UTC)still lovin' it.