Fandom - "Battlestar Galactica"
Title: 'Pretending'
Author: mands_angelfox
Rating: G
Genre : Angst
Pairing: None
Word Count: 1,142
Feedback: Constructive criticism is appreciated
Spoilers: Some for Season 2
Disclaimer: None of these characters are mine, I am merely borrowing them for my own twisted means and I am making no money out of this. Please don't sue me!
Summary: Cally isn't as happy as she makes out to be.
'Pretending'
Whilst most of the ship was sleeping, Specialist Cally was twisting and turning in her bunk. Nights plagued by the dreams that would not leave her alone and memories repressed coming back to surface. Her breathing hitched as its irregular pattern continued to grow and a faint sheen of sweat gathered across her brow. Nightmares had their hold on Cally and looked set to pull her under.
Tears streaked her cheeks as she rocked back and forth, arms cradling her friend who was long dead. His skin burned away until only black remained and all she can smell was burning flesh but she didn't let go. She just kept holding onto him, whispering his name and speaking soft prayers for his soul. For the Gods to take him and to keep him safe.
One memory faded until another took its place, this one just as bad if not worse than before...
Rough hand caressed soft unwilling flesh, whispered words stung her ear as rough stubble grazed across her skin and hot breath burnt a memory of itself onto her neck. Fear seized the girl, froze her momentarily in place and all she was able to do was whimper, a soft weak sound that did nothing to keep her safe. He asked her if she was going to be a good girl as his hand slid lower and lower on her body, revulsion spiked through her as his rough palm found its way across the skin on her abdomen.
Once fingertips grazed the waistband of her regulation uniform slacks, Cally's survival instinct kicked in and she lunged, latching teeth around the nearest appendage which happened to be his ear. His cry of pain still echoes in her ears even to this day but no matter how much he cried, she didn't let go, just kept biting until the sharp agonizing pain of a bullet ripping though flesh forced her off. His blood was around her mouth, in-between the gaps in her teeth, the acrid taste almost caused her to throw up but somehow she held that particular urge back and just sunk back into the bunk.
Her hand clasped at the wound inflicted upon her by her would be rapist and her blood now covered her skin and slid beneath her nails. The sight was horrifying and she couldn't stop thinking about how she never got to say something to someone or how she didn't get a chance to tell people how much they meant to her. She truly believed she was going to die and that the reason for this would be a few more shots fired by the angry man stood not a few feet away from her, gun still held in one hand.
Staggered breathing and turning of body stirred her from one nightmare until she fell right into another one...
She found herself crying again but this time it wasn't a stranger causing her to cry, it's someone she has known for a long time. Someone she never thought would turn a gun on her and yet he has. Cally's seen enough of death, she's had enough of crying but she can't stop. Crashdown ordered her to lead a suicidal assault, she couldn't and she refused. Fear had permanently locked her into place and Crashdown's mental sanity had been pushed way past the line and he lifted a gun and pressed it to the side of her head.
His words still haunt her : "You're going out there, Cally. You're going out there or I'm gonna blow your brains out. Right here, right now"
Even after that threat, she hadn't been able to move and she had just hunched over on herself as once again she found herself on the wrong side of a gun. If it hadn't been for Doctor Baltar, Cally would be dead. Crashdown would have killed her all because she didn't want to follow his crazy half assed plan, all because she used her free will to dictate her actions.
Crashdown was dead, killed by Baltar, killed because of what he was going to do to Cally and that is what continues to replay over and over again in her head until the group is forced to retreat.
One more nightmare lived through again and breathing altered with her skin. Sweat had built and now slid across her body as she turned in her bunk again, this time she found herself in a nightmare of her own making...
The time spent on Kobol had taught her well, she knew how to use a gun and she chose to use this knowledge to kill the Cylon bitch that had caused all of the Chief's problems.
The one known as Boomer.
She had become distanced from her body as she had moved towards Sharon with a single thought, to kill her for everything she put the Chief through, for every lie she had spoken and for every promise she had broken. Arm had lifted, gun raised along with it until a shot was fired off right into the heart of Sharon's chest and the idea that she had killed someone or something had only struck her when she had been hauled to the Brig and tossed inside.
Cally had been haunted by the look on both Sharon and the Chief's face, she was racked with guilt as she lay on that bunk ..eyes staring forward into the wall and as the thirty days ticked past, she became all too aware that she had killed someone. An unarmed combatant, a living breathing organism even if it was a frakking Cylon.
Thirty days had been a very long time to be on your own.
Cally sat bolt upright in her bunk and barely avoided hitting her head on the small ceiling above him, her eyes were wide and she resembled a deer caught in headlights and her hair was in disarray around her face. Her tanks were soaked right through with sweat and her chest heaved in great staggering breaths before her hands grappled with covers to yank them off her bare legs.
She wasn't as quiet as she would have liked to be as she raced out of quarters and barely made it to the head before her legs gave up and her body weight collapsed over a nearby toilet. Heaving sounds accompanied the trembles that overcame her until she had finally thrown up everything that might have lingered in her stomach.
Cally didn't move until she was entirely sure that she had finished throwing up and only then did she push away from the toilet to collapse against the nearby bulkhead.
"Frak me," She groaned briefly as her head pounded and her body continued to tremble. She hoped that in a few hours, she would be back to normal and able to pretend like nothing was wrong.
Author: mands_angelfox
Rating: G
Genre : Angst
Pairing: None
Word Count: 1,142
Feedback: Constructive criticism is appreciated
Spoilers: Some for Season 2
Disclaimer: None of these characters are mine, I am merely borrowing them for my own twisted means and I am making no money out of this. Please don't sue me!
Summary: Cally isn't as happy as she makes out to be.
'Pretending'
Whilst most of the ship was sleeping, Specialist Cally was twisting and turning in her bunk. Nights plagued by the dreams that would not leave her alone and memories repressed coming back to surface. Her breathing hitched as its irregular pattern continued to grow and a faint sheen of sweat gathered across her brow. Nightmares had their hold on Cally and looked set to pull her under.
Tears streaked her cheeks as she rocked back and forth, arms cradling her friend who was long dead. His skin burned away until only black remained and all she can smell was burning flesh but she didn't let go. She just kept holding onto him, whispering his name and speaking soft prayers for his soul. For the Gods to take him and to keep him safe.
One memory faded until another took its place, this one just as bad if not worse than before...
Rough hand caressed soft unwilling flesh, whispered words stung her ear as rough stubble grazed across her skin and hot breath burnt a memory of itself onto her neck. Fear seized the girl, froze her momentarily in place and all she was able to do was whimper, a soft weak sound that did nothing to keep her safe. He asked her if she was going to be a good girl as his hand slid lower and lower on her body, revulsion spiked through her as his rough palm found its way across the skin on her abdomen.
Once fingertips grazed the waistband of her regulation uniform slacks, Cally's survival instinct kicked in and she lunged, latching teeth around the nearest appendage which happened to be his ear. His cry of pain still echoes in her ears even to this day but no matter how much he cried, she didn't let go, just kept biting until the sharp agonizing pain of a bullet ripping though flesh forced her off. His blood was around her mouth, in-between the gaps in her teeth, the acrid taste almost caused her to throw up but somehow she held that particular urge back and just sunk back into the bunk.
Her hand clasped at the wound inflicted upon her by her would be rapist and her blood now covered her skin and slid beneath her nails. The sight was horrifying and she couldn't stop thinking about how she never got to say something to someone or how she didn't get a chance to tell people how much they meant to her. She truly believed she was going to die and that the reason for this would be a few more shots fired by the angry man stood not a few feet away from her, gun still held in one hand.
Staggered breathing and turning of body stirred her from one nightmare until she fell right into another one...
She found herself crying again but this time it wasn't a stranger causing her to cry, it's someone she has known for a long time. Someone she never thought would turn a gun on her and yet he has. Cally's seen enough of death, she's had enough of crying but she can't stop. Crashdown ordered her to lead a suicidal assault, she couldn't and she refused. Fear had permanently locked her into place and Crashdown's mental sanity had been pushed way past the line and he lifted a gun and pressed it to the side of her head.
His words still haunt her : "You're going out there, Cally. You're going out there or I'm gonna blow your brains out. Right here, right now"
Even after that threat, she hadn't been able to move and she had just hunched over on herself as once again she found herself on the wrong side of a gun. If it hadn't been for Doctor Baltar, Cally would be dead. Crashdown would have killed her all because she didn't want to follow his crazy half assed plan, all because she used her free will to dictate her actions.
Crashdown was dead, killed by Baltar, killed because of what he was going to do to Cally and that is what continues to replay over and over again in her head until the group is forced to retreat.
One more nightmare lived through again and breathing altered with her skin. Sweat had built and now slid across her body as she turned in her bunk again, this time she found herself in a nightmare of her own making...
The time spent on Kobol had taught her well, she knew how to use a gun and she chose to use this knowledge to kill the Cylon bitch that had caused all of the Chief's problems.
The one known as Boomer.
She had become distanced from her body as she had moved towards Sharon with a single thought, to kill her for everything she put the Chief through, for every lie she had spoken and for every promise she had broken. Arm had lifted, gun raised along with it until a shot was fired off right into the heart of Sharon's chest and the idea that she had killed someone or something had only struck her when she had been hauled to the Brig and tossed inside.
Cally had been haunted by the look on both Sharon and the Chief's face, she was racked with guilt as she lay on that bunk ..eyes staring forward into the wall and as the thirty days ticked past, she became all too aware that she had killed someone. An unarmed combatant, a living breathing organism even if it was a frakking Cylon.
Thirty days had been a very long time to be on your own.
Cally sat bolt upright in her bunk and barely avoided hitting her head on the small ceiling above him, her eyes were wide and she resembled a deer caught in headlights and her hair was in disarray around her face. Her tanks were soaked right through with sweat and her chest heaved in great staggering breaths before her hands grappled with covers to yank them off her bare legs.
She wasn't as quiet as she would have liked to be as she raced out of quarters and barely made it to the head before her legs gave up and her body weight collapsed over a nearby toilet. Heaving sounds accompanied the trembles that overcame her until she had finally thrown up everything that might have lingered in her stomach.
Cally didn't move until she was entirely sure that she had finished throwing up and only then did she push away from the toilet to collapse against the nearby bulkhead.
"Frak me," She groaned briefly as her head pounded and her body continued to tremble. She hoped that in a few hours, she would be back to normal and able to pretend like nothing was wrong.