FIC: i've been missing you, part 2 K/L - AU (M)
Title: i've been missing you, part 2
Author: abelard
Rating: M
Spoilers: through end of season 2
Pairing: apollo/starbuck
Disclaimers: not mine
Summary: an au fic, on earth, 2006.
A/N: I really am working on Chasm and Flood, I swear. Really. I really am. Promise.
The chic hotel bar was empty. Lee helped Kara out of her trenchcoat; she folded it, sat down in one barstool and placed the coat on the stool next to her. Lee did the same with his overcoat. He sat beside Kara and took in the sight of her. She was wearing an elegant black wrap dress that clung to her form, every inch of her, perfectly. The cut wasn't immodest, but the way the fabric stretched across the swell of her cleavage, the way the knee-length hem rode up when she sat, revealing more of her legs - Lee's mouth felt dry all of a sudden. Then it began to water. Lee laughed at himself and looked away. Before I start drooling on the bar, he thought ruefully.
"Something funny?" Kara asked, bemused.
Lee shook his head and said, "I just can't get over the change in you. Even when Zak and I took you to that five-star place in Georgetown -"
"Ah," Kara said, remembering. "The day my promotion came through."
"- even then you wore jeans."
"A new pair of very expensive jeans!" Kara defended. "Zak said I looked hot!"
Lee didn't comment about how hot she'd looked. He'd learned long ago not to say aloud any of his thoughts about Kara's appearance, about her body, about her hair or her eyes or her smile, about the way her skin felt when their hands brushed, or when they hugged. All of that, he knew to keep to himself. "You said there was no force on this earth that could get you to wear a dress. What changed?" Lee asked.
The bartender asked for their orders just then. Kara looked at Lee and said, "You do the honors," so Lee ordered two martinis with a top-shelf vodka.
When the bartender turned away from them, Kara cleared her throat and looked - Lee could scarcely believe it, but the great Starbuck looked embarrassed. "I, um, I actually sort of own an art gallery," she said, frowning and smiling and laughing a little, all at once. "I know that sounds insane, but -"
"No, it's not insane. Kara, that's great, that's so great," Lee hurried to reassure her. "You're an amazing painter, it doesn't surprise me one bit that you ended up in the art world."
"Really?" she asked, still smiling. "It surprised the hell out of me. But after Zak...." The smile disappeared. "I couldn't do anything but paint. I rented the tiniest hole in this town I could find and I crawled into it with a bottomless bottle of whiskey, a box of paints and some canvas, and I didn't come out for air till six months later. I painted my heart and guts onto those canvases. I couldn't do anything else."
Kara took a steadying breath. The martinis came, but the mood was too solemn to break with a cheerful toast. Kara sipped from the cold glass and Lee did the same. Then he put his hand on her forearm, where it rested on the bar.
"I ran out of savings, so I took a couple of jobs to pay the rent - bartending at one place, hostessing at another. I showed my bosses my work, and they let me hang a couple of my pieces at the restaurants. I didn't care if I sold them for money, I just wanted someone to like them enough to take them. I had to get rid of them. My apartment was overflowing with these, these images of grief. I went to sleep surrounded by memorials to Zak. I had to get rid of them, for my sanity. I hope you understand," she said, looking at Lee intently.
"Of course," he said. "I wouldn't want you to dwell on your pain forever. No one would."
"Yeah, well..." Kara drifted off. And Lee suddenly thought of Kara's mother, who, from what Kara had told him, would have been pleased to subject Kara to several eternities of suffering.
"So the paintings sold?" Lee prompted.
"Yeah, incredibly, they did. And people - brokers - started coming around and asking for more of them. I gladly got rid of everything I'd painted since moving to New York, and realized I'd made enough cash to keep me alive for a few more months. So I quit my jobs and went back to painting. Believe it or not, my work's gotten some attention here."
"I believe it," Lee said. He remembered being stunned by her work the first time he'd seen it. He'd never expected such artistic power from a woman who was such a fighter jet jock. Just one more way that Starbuck surprised him. And here she was, years later, still doing it.
"So," she continued, "I decided that I might as well settle into this thing, whatever it is, being an artist. And I figured I'd rather show and sell my own stuff, instead of letting other people try to explain what my pictures meant. Some of the fat-cat types from the Upper East side who were collecting my paintings said they'd invest if I was serious about opening a gallery, so I took them up on their offers, got some artist friends to agree to let me show their work, and here I am." Kara looked down at her elegant clothes and laughed. "I feel like a kid playing dress-up. But it's what the job calls for. Rich people wouldn't talk to Starbuck, she of the combat boots and leather aviator jacket. But they like buying pictures from Kara, of the painful stilettos and pricey dresses. These kinds of clothes are my uniform, now - the people I deal with every day expect me to look like this."
Lee once again noted how the V at the front of Kara's dress dipped low between her breasts, and couldn't be happier that she'd traded in her old uniform for this new one. But he couldn't imagine Starbuck being happy about it. "Do you miss flying?" he asked abruptly.
"Do you?" she countered.
"You know I do," he answered. The first thing they'd realized they had in common when they met was how much they both loved Zak. The second thing was how they were never happier than when they were in their T-38 Talons, shooting through the sky faster than anything else that moved. All the top speed records had the callsigns "Apollo" or "Starbuck" next to them, even now. Lee checked, every once in a while. They'd never met at the Academy and had served on different carriers except for their last few months in the Air Force, right before Zak's accident, when they'd both served under William Adama. But in the record books, it looked as if they'd flown side by side all their lives, Starbuck and Apollo, the best of the best.
"Yeah, well, you know I do, too," Kara said. They both took sips from their martinis. Another bout of thunder from the storm outside cracked the silence between them. Suddenly, Lee's face fell.
"My flight! Shit, I forgot to cancel it and book a ticket for tomorrow. And Dee...." Lee stopped short when he saw Kara's eyes widen.
"Dee? You're dating Dualla?! No way," she said, laughing.
Lee didn't know whether to be offended. "What? What's so funny?"
Kara settled down enough to say, "I don't know, Lee, it's just that....Oh, hell, I guess it's only natural you'd want to be with another crew member. Someone who gets what you've been through. I just...I always thought you were the kind of person who'd look for new experiences after leaving the military. I thought you'd be more, I don't know, adventurous."
"Like you?" Lee asked, mean-spiritedly. How dare she compare their choices, and look down on him for his. But a part of him acknowledged that he was with Dee because, well, because Dee had been right there, interested in him and open about that. She'd been...convenient. And after leaving the Air Force and Kara leaving him - leaving them, both him and his father - Lee had wanted, needed, someone to care.
Kara's eyes darkened and her mouth turned down. "I may have gone a little too far away from what I knew. Sam...he's an adventure, all right."
Lee wondered again about her marriage, but Kara said nothing more. "Let me make a couple of calls. I'll be right back," he said. Kara's cell phone rang and she pulled it out of her trenchcoat.
"Sounds good, I have to take this anyway," she said. They stood and went to separate dark corners of the still-empty bar.
"Dee?" said Lee into his cell.
"Sam?" Kara said into hers. Lee was listening to her conversation as best he could while carrying on his.
Author: abelard
Rating: M
Spoilers: through end of season 2
Pairing: apollo/starbuck
Disclaimers: not mine
Summary: an au fic, on earth, 2006.
A/N: I really am working on Chasm and Flood, I swear. Really. I really am. Promise.
The chic hotel bar was empty. Lee helped Kara out of her trenchcoat; she folded it, sat down in one barstool and placed the coat on the stool next to her. Lee did the same with his overcoat. He sat beside Kara and took in the sight of her. She was wearing an elegant black wrap dress that clung to her form, every inch of her, perfectly. The cut wasn't immodest, but the way the fabric stretched across the swell of her cleavage, the way the knee-length hem rode up when she sat, revealing more of her legs - Lee's mouth felt dry all of a sudden. Then it began to water. Lee laughed at himself and looked away. Before I start drooling on the bar, he thought ruefully.
"Something funny?" Kara asked, bemused.
Lee shook his head and said, "I just can't get over the change in you. Even when Zak and I took you to that five-star place in Georgetown -"
"Ah," Kara said, remembering. "The day my promotion came through."
"- even then you wore jeans."
"A new pair of very expensive jeans!" Kara defended. "Zak said I looked hot!"
Lee didn't comment about how hot she'd looked. He'd learned long ago not to say aloud any of his thoughts about Kara's appearance, about her body, about her hair or her eyes or her smile, about the way her skin felt when their hands brushed, or when they hugged. All of that, he knew to keep to himself. "You said there was no force on this earth that could get you to wear a dress. What changed?" Lee asked.
The bartender asked for their orders just then. Kara looked at Lee and said, "You do the honors," so Lee ordered two martinis with a top-shelf vodka.
When the bartender turned away from them, Kara cleared her throat and looked - Lee could scarcely believe it, but the great Starbuck looked embarrassed. "I, um, I actually sort of own an art gallery," she said, frowning and smiling and laughing a little, all at once. "I know that sounds insane, but -"
"No, it's not insane. Kara, that's great, that's so great," Lee hurried to reassure her. "You're an amazing painter, it doesn't surprise me one bit that you ended up in the art world."
"Really?" she asked, still smiling. "It surprised the hell out of me. But after Zak...." The smile disappeared. "I couldn't do anything but paint. I rented the tiniest hole in this town I could find and I crawled into it with a bottomless bottle of whiskey, a box of paints and some canvas, and I didn't come out for air till six months later. I painted my heart and guts onto those canvases. I couldn't do anything else."
Kara took a steadying breath. The martinis came, but the mood was too solemn to break with a cheerful toast. Kara sipped from the cold glass and Lee did the same. Then he put his hand on her forearm, where it rested on the bar.
"I ran out of savings, so I took a couple of jobs to pay the rent - bartending at one place, hostessing at another. I showed my bosses my work, and they let me hang a couple of my pieces at the restaurants. I didn't care if I sold them for money, I just wanted someone to like them enough to take them. I had to get rid of them. My apartment was overflowing with these, these images of grief. I went to sleep surrounded by memorials to Zak. I had to get rid of them, for my sanity. I hope you understand," she said, looking at Lee intently.
"Of course," he said. "I wouldn't want you to dwell on your pain forever. No one would."
"Yeah, well..." Kara drifted off. And Lee suddenly thought of Kara's mother, who, from what Kara had told him, would have been pleased to subject Kara to several eternities of suffering.
"So the paintings sold?" Lee prompted.
"Yeah, incredibly, they did. And people - brokers - started coming around and asking for more of them. I gladly got rid of everything I'd painted since moving to New York, and realized I'd made enough cash to keep me alive for a few more months. So I quit my jobs and went back to painting. Believe it or not, my work's gotten some attention here."
"I believe it," Lee said. He remembered being stunned by her work the first time he'd seen it. He'd never expected such artistic power from a woman who was such a fighter jet jock. Just one more way that Starbuck surprised him. And here she was, years later, still doing it.
"So," she continued, "I decided that I might as well settle into this thing, whatever it is, being an artist. And I figured I'd rather show and sell my own stuff, instead of letting other people try to explain what my pictures meant. Some of the fat-cat types from the Upper East side who were collecting my paintings said they'd invest if I was serious about opening a gallery, so I took them up on their offers, got some artist friends to agree to let me show their work, and here I am." Kara looked down at her elegant clothes and laughed. "I feel like a kid playing dress-up. But it's what the job calls for. Rich people wouldn't talk to Starbuck, she of the combat boots and leather aviator jacket. But they like buying pictures from Kara, of the painful stilettos and pricey dresses. These kinds of clothes are my uniform, now - the people I deal with every day expect me to look like this."
Lee once again noted how the V at the front of Kara's dress dipped low between her breasts, and couldn't be happier that she'd traded in her old uniform for this new one. But he couldn't imagine Starbuck being happy about it. "Do you miss flying?" he asked abruptly.
"Do you?" she countered.
"You know I do," he answered. The first thing they'd realized they had in common when they met was how much they both loved Zak. The second thing was how they were never happier than when they were in their T-38 Talons, shooting through the sky faster than anything else that moved. All the top speed records had the callsigns "Apollo" or "Starbuck" next to them, even now. Lee checked, every once in a while. They'd never met at the Academy and had served on different carriers except for their last few months in the Air Force, right before Zak's accident, when they'd both served under William Adama. But in the record books, it looked as if they'd flown side by side all their lives, Starbuck and Apollo, the best of the best.
"Yeah, well, you know I do, too," Kara said. They both took sips from their martinis. Another bout of thunder from the storm outside cracked the silence between them. Suddenly, Lee's face fell.
"My flight! Shit, I forgot to cancel it and book a ticket for tomorrow. And Dee...." Lee stopped short when he saw Kara's eyes widen.
"Dee? You're dating Dualla?! No way," she said, laughing.
Lee didn't know whether to be offended. "What? What's so funny?"
Kara settled down enough to say, "I don't know, Lee, it's just that....Oh, hell, I guess it's only natural you'd want to be with another crew member. Someone who gets what you've been through. I just...I always thought you were the kind of person who'd look for new experiences after leaving the military. I thought you'd be more, I don't know, adventurous."
"Like you?" Lee asked, mean-spiritedly. How dare she compare their choices, and look down on him for his. But a part of him acknowledged that he was with Dee because, well, because Dee had been right there, interested in him and open about that. She'd been...convenient. And after leaving the Air Force and Kara leaving him - leaving them, both him and his father - Lee had wanted, needed, someone to care.
Kara's eyes darkened and her mouth turned down. "I may have gone a little too far away from what I knew. Sam...he's an adventure, all right."
Lee wondered again about her marriage, but Kara said nothing more. "Let me make a couple of calls. I'll be right back," he said. Kara's cell phone rang and she pulled it out of her trenchcoat.
"Sounds good, I have to take this anyway," she said. They stood and went to separate dark corners of the still-empty bar.
"Dee?" said Lee into his cell.
"Sam?" Kara said into hers. Lee was listening to her conversation as best he could while carrying on his.