My shadow's the only one that walks beside me | My shallow heart's the only thing that's beating
It took awhile to hail a cab, and by the time she hopped into one, she was already halfway back to her apartment. Kara would have just walked the rest of the way if not for her barking dogs and the Admiral waiting on her message she was home and locked in tight. Between her interrupted date and the reason for it, she had plenty to think about, and she hadn’t stopped mulling over the problem of the computer the boss kept referring to as a “she” by the time she’d sent off a quick text to Admiral Calavicci, apprising him of her whereabouts.
She kept thinking about the bad news or the man who’d borne it to her through one more drink, a past-midnight snack of leftover Greek, and her shower. There was no way to get the image of a tall, lissome blonde out of her head when imagining Beckett’s “offspring,” and the thought haunted long after she crawled into her rumpled bed. It was a particular woman’s face she saw, one she’d once seen in duplicate all over the settlement on New Caprica. Though the woman wasn’t as vicious as some of her counterparts (notably, the one who so closely resembled an older Albert Calavicci), she was a Cylon all the same, and she fought like a tigress. The reasonable parts of Kara told her it was simply a coincidence and that she was overreacting, and that had gotten her through the rest of the evening passed with the boss, but once she was alone in her apartment? The mental image of the Cylon who called himself Cavil with a number Six model in an impractical red dress practically dripping from him clung insistently to Kara’s mind.
Closing her eyes and succumbing to an exhausted, non-restive sleep worsened matters. Through half-waking dreams, she relived the nightmare of four months spent in Leoben’s cloister, waking up in a hospital room with multiple stitches in her abdomen, falling through nothingness and landing alone on a barren moon as her flight suit vented oxygen, being pulled out of hack and told the Colonies had been destroyed, watching Zak’s bird plummet out of the bright blue sky, her mother calling her name in that slightly mocking tone that meant she was in deep shit for some crime or another. When she woke in the pre-dawn, Kara was drenched in sweat, and her eyes were puffy and raw. Even though she was still tired and aching from a night of battling invisible enemies in her sleep, she stood, dragged on sweats and a tank, muscled her hair into a ponytail, and set out to run.
Kara did her usual circuit of the quieter streets and alleys, still managing to smile and wave at the same joggers and dog-walkers she saw almost every morning, but she pushed herself to keep going, running almost blindly toward nothing. When she finally stopped, panting and legs trembling, she was hardly surprised to see she’d turned up in front of Al’s building. She slumped on the stoop, wicking sweat off her face and neck, looking up at the now-bright sky. Foot traffic in these parts wasn’t as heavy as downtown, but rush hour was on, and if she planned on making it to the office at any reasonable hour, she’d need to set off toward her flat immediately. But her feet had brought her there, and she knew it wasn’t just a stupid coincidence - not this time.
Once she’d collected herself somewhat, she buzzed the Admiral’s apartment. A moment later, she was greeted by a growl. “Sheila moved, buddy. I’m sorry she didn’t leave a forwarding, but you gotta stop doing this every morning!”
Any other day, she would have laughed, but all Kara could manage was a wan smile. “Boss, it’s me. Wanna get some coffee?”
She kept thinking about the bad news or the man who’d borne it to her through one more drink, a past-midnight snack of leftover Greek, and her shower. There was no way to get the image of a tall, lissome blonde out of her head when imagining Beckett’s “offspring,” and the thought haunted long after she crawled into her rumpled bed. It was a particular woman’s face she saw, one she’d once seen in duplicate all over the settlement on New Caprica. Though the woman wasn’t as vicious as some of her counterparts (notably, the one who so closely resembled an older Albert Calavicci), she was a Cylon all the same, and she fought like a tigress. The reasonable parts of Kara told her it was simply a coincidence and that she was overreacting, and that had gotten her through the rest of the evening passed with the boss, but once she was alone in her apartment? The mental image of the Cylon who called himself Cavil with a number Six model in an impractical red dress practically dripping from him clung insistently to Kara’s mind.
Closing her eyes and succumbing to an exhausted, non-restive sleep worsened matters. Through half-waking dreams, she relived the nightmare of four months spent in Leoben’s cloister, waking up in a hospital room with multiple stitches in her abdomen, falling through nothingness and landing alone on a barren moon as her flight suit vented oxygen, being pulled out of hack and told the Colonies had been destroyed, watching Zak’s bird plummet out of the bright blue sky, her mother calling her name in that slightly mocking tone that meant she was in deep shit for some crime or another. When she woke in the pre-dawn, Kara was drenched in sweat, and her eyes were puffy and raw. Even though she was still tired and aching from a night of battling invisible enemies in her sleep, she stood, dragged on sweats and a tank, muscled her hair into a ponytail, and set out to run.
Kara did her usual circuit of the quieter streets and alleys, still managing to smile and wave at the same joggers and dog-walkers she saw almost every morning, but she pushed herself to keep going, running almost blindly toward nothing. When she finally stopped, panting and legs trembling, she was hardly surprised to see she’d turned up in front of Al’s building. She slumped on the stoop, wicking sweat off her face and neck, looking up at the now-bright sky. Foot traffic in these parts wasn’t as heavy as downtown, but rush hour was on, and if she planned on making it to the office at any reasonable hour, she’d need to set off toward her flat immediately. But her feet had brought her there, and she knew it wasn’t just a stupid coincidence - not this time.
Once she’d collected herself somewhat, she buzzed the Admiral’s apartment. A moment later, she was greeted by a growl. “Sheila moved, buddy. I’m sorry she didn’t leave a forwarding, but you gotta stop doing this every morning!”
Any other day, she would have laughed, but all Kara could manage was a wan smile. “Boss, it’s me. Wanna get some coffee?”