Fic: "It's Not You, It's Me" (Battlestar Galactica)
Title: It's Not You, It's Me
Author: arenotvalid aka smercy
Rating: PG-13, I think
Fandom: Battlestar Galactica
Characters: Gaius Baltar, Number Six, Saul Tigh
Pairings: Gaius/Six, Tigh/Six
Genre: humor, angst
Spoilers: none
Disclaimer: I don't own "Battlestar Galactica" and I won't own "Battlestar Galactica" and I won't make any money from this.
Warnings: none
Word Count: 1345
Status: one-shot, finished.
Author's Note: wrote this for whyoffry, the love of my life, and she requested a valentine's day ficlet (Six breaking up with Gaius to go be with Tigh? "It's not you, it's me!") a new ficlet every day until the prompts run out!
Summary: Two different ways that Six leaves Gaius Baltar for Saul Tigh.
-
take one
Really, Gauis should have known that something was wrong when she asked him if he had ever considered shaving his head. Although, in his defense, he was being thoroughly distracted at the time. His Six was doing that thing where she slid her fingers just barely under the waistband of his pants and then twisted, so he was to be completely forgiven that her idle comment about his hairstyle was tossed aside as one of her endless God-propaganda comments.
And everything would have been alright if she had just stopped at that, but of course, she hadn't. Next came the incessant comments about how he couldn't hold his liquor, until he finally became too frustrated and sniped, "Well, are you expecting me to be Saul motherfrakking Tigh?" His Six only coyly bit her bottom lip and refused to talk for the rest of the night.
But the final atrocity was when he discovered how she would steer him towards the CIC at every possible opportunity, but her gaze would stick to Colonel Tigh like he had nailed her eyeballs to his chest. Whenever they would walk past the Tighs in the hallway, his Six would stare longingly at the Colonel for much longer than was necessary, seconds longer than his customary look at Ellen.
Well, the final atrocity was actually towards the end of a rather vigorous session of lovemaking, in their customary Caprica apartment, of course; and she closed her eyes in bliss, hair haloing her face and chest bouncing enthusiastically, and then she gasped, "Saul!"
A frakking travesty, really.
Saul motherfrakking Tigh had absolutely nothing on Vice President Gaius Baltar, as he patiently explained her. "But, Gaius," she whined, "He looks a bit like a pirate, don't you think?"
"He had no hair," Gaius explained. "The top of his head is entirely bereft of any sort of follicles, and what pitiful bits he has left are entirely white."
Six twisted alluringly in the bedsheets, but he would not let himself be easily distracted. "It makes him look distinguished," she sighed, "And he is entirely free of Adama's skin ailments."
"Darling," he spluttered, "You absolutely cannot be serious about this!"
Six passively examined her flawless nails, completely unconcerned with his emotional disturbance. He waited long seconds for her response, fighting the urge to forcibly tear out his hair. But Six only murmured, "I wonder if I can persuade Ellen for a threesome..."
It was completely confounding, without reason, and probably one of the most devastatingly terrible days of his life. (And not the reason that Gaius was on his 7th green drink of the night. It was because the tingly fizziness was quite delicious, godsdamnit!)
take two
Caprica slipped from Gaius's bed midway through the night, each night, and always returned before he noticed her absence. It was what a good partner would do, Caprica knew, and she just couldn't stay still. Fidgeting until she woke Gaius was just inappropriate, especially considering how little he slept. Caprica wandered through the ship until she knew each nook intimately, got bored and decided to go outside.
She never walked into town, never outside of the official cylon boundaries. After tasting the air after a terrorist attack, Caprica was reminded so strongly of Caprica-That-Was that she stayed indoors for all the rest of her wanderings. Some crucial part of her was restless, a part that praying and lovemaking could not touch.
Once she wandered inside of the detention center, Caprica never made a nightly journey to anywhere else. The halls were almost calming in their uniformity, and she couldn't help but look curiously at the humans displayed inside. It was like a zoo, except worse. Possibly more like a diorama of the failures of the Cylons, their struggles. Caprica prayed each night for their souls especially, those so rebellious and frightened, that they would find the true peace of God's love. (In all trials, redemption is not immediate.)
She visited the cell of Saul Tigh the most, oftentimes just stopping to look at him, curled up and so small. This was the man that tore apart a Simon with just his teeth and fingernails, the man that was rumored to bleed straight ambrosia, the figurehead for the Resistance. And inside of his cell, he was human and so fragile, distilled down to the tiniest, truest bits. There was no bravado, and Caprica enjoyed that.
Unlike the Cavils, she had no malice or animosity towards him specifically. God loves all of His children, she knew. Caprica looked upon him and saw more than a face to her failure, (that was Gaius himself) but a testament to the strength of humanity. She looked at him and wondered how Laura Roslin would look in a cell, in such a state, once the pride was worn from her. And Gaeta from Gaius's office, and Gaius himself.
One night, he stopped his shivering and woke up. He turned to her, a stained bandage over his face, shaking. He growled, "What the frak do you want?"
Caprica found herself without words, unable to articulate anything. "Well," he barked, "Here to take the other eye?"
"I am sorry about that," she said. The Sixes and Eights had fought with the Cavils for days, but had not prevailed.
He laughed, bitterly. "Drunks don't need depth perception."
"No alcohol in Detention, I'm afraid." She fixed a few probably imaginary flaws in her hair.
"Here to get me to renounce my religion? Give up my cause and my wife and a few other useless body parts?"
"No," Caprica said, firmly, "No. None of that. Just observing."
"Good," he laughed, "So what does a little toaster girl do late at night while observing a suspected terrorist?"
She recoiled a bit at the slur, but caught herself. "I'm different than the other cylons," she found herself saying, "I have a name."
Tigh ran his fingers over the bandage, carefully. "And I guess that means you think you're special, touched by whichever the frak god you pray to."
"The first celebrity," She sighed, "They call me Caprica."
"Because you nuked it," he spat, "You nuked it and broke it and destroyed every little bit of life from it, turned it into an irradiated desolate husk." God grants serenity in times of need.
"It was a mistake," Caprica stressed, "We are trying to make it right, we want to help you!" She fixed her hair again, trying to calm her shaking hands. "I can't get you released from here, but I can get you supervised visitors. Maybe your wife-"
"No," he spat, "You keep Ellen the frak away from here. You keep her away and out of here, or I will take this frakking chair and bash in my own skull, and you can try to get the information from me then." His fingers were clenched into fists, he was hulking like a feral animal. "You touch a hair on her head and my immortal soul will burn each and every one of you alive until you run the frak out of bodies."
Caprica tapped her fingers against the bars, alarmed. "I didn't mean to imply-"
"You are threatening me with my wife? This is your new torture? You cannot frakking convince me, I will not help you!" Caprica had to fight her vicious streak, the temptation to spit at him, lying that his wife was in the cell next to his. God teaches forgiveness, so that is what she did.
"No, Colonel Tigh," she said, "That was not my intent. But now I realize that I cannot help you. So, goodnight." Her footsteps were light and unsure on her walk back, and she prayed fervently for his soul under her breath with each step.
Caprica couldn't stop thinking, sliding into bed with Gaius. Oh, she wanted so desperately to understand the humans; but she just couldn't.
Author: arenotvalid aka smercy
Rating: PG-13, I think
Fandom: Battlestar Galactica
Characters: Gaius Baltar, Number Six, Saul Tigh
Pairings: Gaius/Six, Tigh/Six
Genre: humor, angst
Spoilers: none
Disclaimer: I don't own "Battlestar Galactica" and I won't own "Battlestar Galactica" and I won't make any money from this.
Warnings: none
Word Count: 1345
Status: one-shot, finished.
Author's Note: wrote this for whyoffry, the love of my life, and she requested a valentine's day ficlet (Six breaking up with Gaius to go be with Tigh? "It's not you, it's me!") a new ficlet every day until the prompts run out!
Summary: Two different ways that Six leaves Gaius Baltar for Saul Tigh.
-
take one
Really, Gauis should have known that something was wrong when she asked him if he had ever considered shaving his head. Although, in his defense, he was being thoroughly distracted at the time. His Six was doing that thing where she slid her fingers just barely under the waistband of his pants and then twisted, so he was to be completely forgiven that her idle comment about his hairstyle was tossed aside as one of her endless God-propaganda comments.
And everything would have been alright if she had just stopped at that, but of course, she hadn't. Next came the incessant comments about how he couldn't hold his liquor, until he finally became too frustrated and sniped, "Well, are you expecting me to be Saul motherfrakking Tigh?" His Six only coyly bit her bottom lip and refused to talk for the rest of the night.
But the final atrocity was when he discovered how she would steer him towards the CIC at every possible opportunity, but her gaze would stick to Colonel Tigh like he had nailed her eyeballs to his chest. Whenever they would walk past the Tighs in the hallway, his Six would stare longingly at the Colonel for much longer than was necessary, seconds longer than his customary look at Ellen.
Well, the final atrocity was actually towards the end of a rather vigorous session of lovemaking, in their customary Caprica apartment, of course; and she closed her eyes in bliss, hair haloing her face and chest bouncing enthusiastically, and then she gasped, "Saul!"
A frakking travesty, really.
Saul motherfrakking Tigh had absolutely nothing on Vice President Gaius Baltar, as he patiently explained her. "But, Gaius," she whined, "He looks a bit like a pirate, don't you think?"
"He had no hair," Gaius explained. "The top of his head is entirely bereft of any sort of follicles, and what pitiful bits he has left are entirely white."
Six twisted alluringly in the bedsheets, but he would not let himself be easily distracted. "It makes him look distinguished," she sighed, "And he is entirely free of Adama's skin ailments."
"Darling," he spluttered, "You absolutely cannot be serious about this!"
Six passively examined her flawless nails, completely unconcerned with his emotional disturbance. He waited long seconds for her response, fighting the urge to forcibly tear out his hair. But Six only murmured, "I wonder if I can persuade Ellen for a threesome..."
It was completely confounding, without reason, and probably one of the most devastatingly terrible days of his life. (And not the reason that Gaius was on his 7th green drink of the night. It was because the tingly fizziness was quite delicious, godsdamnit!)
take two
Caprica slipped from Gaius's bed midway through the night, each night, and always returned before he noticed her absence. It was what a good partner would do, Caprica knew, and she just couldn't stay still. Fidgeting until she woke Gaius was just inappropriate, especially considering how little he slept. Caprica wandered through the ship until she knew each nook intimately, got bored and decided to go outside.
She never walked into town, never outside of the official cylon boundaries. After tasting the air after a terrorist attack, Caprica was reminded so strongly of Caprica-That-Was that she stayed indoors for all the rest of her wanderings. Some crucial part of her was restless, a part that praying and lovemaking could not touch.
Once she wandered inside of the detention center, Caprica never made a nightly journey to anywhere else. The halls were almost calming in their uniformity, and she couldn't help but look curiously at the humans displayed inside. It was like a zoo, except worse. Possibly more like a diorama of the failures of the Cylons, their struggles. Caprica prayed each night for their souls especially, those so rebellious and frightened, that they would find the true peace of God's love. (In all trials, redemption is not immediate.)
She visited the cell of Saul Tigh the most, oftentimes just stopping to look at him, curled up and so small. This was the man that tore apart a Simon with just his teeth and fingernails, the man that was rumored to bleed straight ambrosia, the figurehead for the Resistance. And inside of his cell, he was human and so fragile, distilled down to the tiniest, truest bits. There was no bravado, and Caprica enjoyed that.
Unlike the Cavils, she had no malice or animosity towards him specifically. God loves all of His children, she knew. Caprica looked upon him and saw more than a face to her failure, (that was Gaius himself) but a testament to the strength of humanity. She looked at him and wondered how Laura Roslin would look in a cell, in such a state, once the pride was worn from her. And Gaeta from Gaius's office, and Gaius himself.
One night, he stopped his shivering and woke up. He turned to her, a stained bandage over his face, shaking. He growled, "What the frak do you want?"
Caprica found herself without words, unable to articulate anything. "Well," he barked, "Here to take the other eye?"
"I am sorry about that," she said. The Sixes and Eights had fought with the Cavils for days, but had not prevailed.
He laughed, bitterly. "Drunks don't need depth perception."
"No alcohol in Detention, I'm afraid." She fixed a few probably imaginary flaws in her hair.
"Here to get me to renounce my religion? Give up my cause and my wife and a few other useless body parts?"
"No," Caprica said, firmly, "No. None of that. Just observing."
"Good," he laughed, "So what does a little toaster girl do late at night while observing a suspected terrorist?"
She recoiled a bit at the slur, but caught herself. "I'm different than the other cylons," she found herself saying, "I have a name."
Tigh ran his fingers over the bandage, carefully. "And I guess that means you think you're special, touched by whichever the frak god you pray to."
"The first celebrity," She sighed, "They call me Caprica."
"Because you nuked it," he spat, "You nuked it and broke it and destroyed every little bit of life from it, turned it into an irradiated desolate husk." God grants serenity in times of need.
"It was a mistake," Caprica stressed, "We are trying to make it right, we want to help you!" She fixed her hair again, trying to calm her shaking hands. "I can't get you released from here, but I can get you supervised visitors. Maybe your wife-"
"No," he spat, "You keep Ellen the frak away from here. You keep her away and out of here, or I will take this frakking chair and bash in my own skull, and you can try to get the information from me then." His fingers were clenched into fists, he was hulking like a feral animal. "You touch a hair on her head and my immortal soul will burn each and every one of you alive until you run the frak out of bodies."
Caprica tapped her fingers against the bars, alarmed. "I didn't mean to imply-"
"You are threatening me with my wife? This is your new torture? You cannot frakking convince me, I will not help you!" Caprica had to fight her vicious streak, the temptation to spit at him, lying that his wife was in the cell next to his. God teaches forgiveness, so that is what she did.
"No, Colonel Tigh," she said, "That was not my intent. But now I realize that I cannot help you. So, goodnight." Her footsteps were light and unsure on her walk back, and she prayed fervently for his soul under her breath with each step.
Caprica couldn't stop thinking, sliding into bed with Gaius. Oh, she wanted so desperately to understand the humans; but she just couldn't.