FIC : Thy Countenance Fallen (Battlestar Galactica, R)
Title : Thy Countenance Fallen
Fandom : Battlestar Galactica
Characters/Pairing : Helena Cain / Gina Inviere
Rating : R
Warnings : brief description of non-con.
Word Count : 757
Summary : two moments in a relationship.
A/Ns : for teh_gandu at oxoniensis's fall fandom free for all. title taken from the book of genesis.
---
She stirs in the darkness, reaching out blindly for the light.
"Helena." The voice beside her stills her, stopping her hand before it reaches the switch. "Bad dreams again."
"Same as always." She relaxes back onto the pillow, though her spine is still stiff and her jaw set tight. A hand rubs spiraling circles into her back; she's irrationally bothered by it, and shifts away.
Gina doesn't complain or give any sign she even noticed. She rolls onto her stomach, resting her chin on folded arms, and Cain imagines she can pick out the honey gold of her hair against the black of the room.
"I can see how troubled you are." The soft voice is warm and comforting. "You worry too much."
Cain's mouth twists. "I don't worry enough."
"What are you afraid of?" In daylight the question would earn her nothing-- a harsh laugh, a dismissive flip of one strong hand. But now, fresh from the nightmare of her sister's capture and her inability to stop it, she's honest.
Still, her voice is barely audible as she shoves her fingers through her hair and mutters, "Of letting them down. Of-- I don't even know." That's a lie, but she chooses not to tell the truth.
And yet, she should have known better. "You're afraid the hurt you bear will spill over onto them," Gina murmurs, insinuating herself into Cain's space, arms slipping easily around her waist and neck, lips on her ear. "Afraid they'll be dogged by your ghosts-- how am I doing so far?"
"Too well," Cain breathes, pulse quickening in the wake of each feathered brush of fingers over her skin.
"You think you're marked-- how apocryphal," she goes on, and Cain does see the flash of her teeth as Gina rolls on top of her, smirking. "Your arrogance is-- really quite astounding." It's hard to focus on anything but fingers on buttons, baring Gina's skin to her hands; it takes her mind a few seconds to catch up with the slowly murmured words.
With anyone else it would infuriate her, losing even a measure of the control she wears like a second skin. But she gives it up to Gina-- for Gina-- without reserve, never doubting it's all worth it. If that's not loving someone, then Helena Cain doesn't know what love is.
One hand fists tight in Gina's hair, dragging her head back, and Cain's teeth work a bruise into her neck. "Arrogance?" she taunts, swallowing a moan at the way Gina writhes, at the heat she feels against her fingers as they trace the curve of her spine. "It's not arrogance if I'm really as good as I think I am."
Before she even realizes what's happening Cain's hands are pinned to the mattress, the sweet-scented curtain of golden hair falling all around her, Gina's nose an inch from her own.
"You're good, I'll give you that," the other woman murmurs, and Cain closes her eyes against the flood of desire rising in her at the low heat of that voice. "But you're still only human, Helena." She thinks she hears amusement in the words; but the next second Gina's mouth is everywhere, stripping away her memory, her worry, and her fear.
Months later Cain will stand motionless in the corner of a cell as two of her lieutenants hold Gina's arms over a table and a third stands behind her, trousers around his ankles, each thrust dragging a harsh breath from his lips. Gina's eyes will stay fixed on Cain's, her face haggard with malnourishment, fatigue and long weeks of abuse, but she will not make a sound.
Then, Cain will feel victory in having protected her people from the betrayer in their midst (protected them, though she was unable to protect herself). She will feel a spreading calm, will feel the ghosts of her past fading into the walls.
She will meet Gina's eyes with no hint of uncertainty in her face as the lieutenant finishes, buttons up his pants, and switches his place with one of the others holding her arms.
"Make sure you mark her up real good," she will say, voice hard as flint as she recrosses her arms and settles back against the wall.
But tonight, Cain falls asleep with her cheek pillowed on a warm shoulder, light fingers threaded through her hair. The memory of her nails and her teeth is raked into Gina's skin, both their bodies sated and boneless, having worn each other out. Tonight she slides easily back into unconsciousness, into a deep rest untroubled by dreams, too exhausted to notice that Gina barely sleeps at all.
Fandom : Battlestar Galactica
Characters/Pairing : Helena Cain / Gina Inviere
Rating : R
Warnings : brief description of non-con.
Word Count : 757
Summary : two moments in a relationship.
A/Ns : for teh_gandu at oxoniensis's fall fandom free for all. title taken from the book of genesis.
---
She stirs in the darkness, reaching out blindly for the light.
"Helena." The voice beside her stills her, stopping her hand before it reaches the switch. "Bad dreams again."
"Same as always." She relaxes back onto the pillow, though her spine is still stiff and her jaw set tight. A hand rubs spiraling circles into her back; she's irrationally bothered by it, and shifts away.
Gina doesn't complain or give any sign she even noticed. She rolls onto her stomach, resting her chin on folded arms, and Cain imagines she can pick out the honey gold of her hair against the black of the room.
"I can see how troubled you are." The soft voice is warm and comforting. "You worry too much."
Cain's mouth twists. "I don't worry enough."
"What are you afraid of?" In daylight the question would earn her nothing-- a harsh laugh, a dismissive flip of one strong hand. But now, fresh from the nightmare of her sister's capture and her inability to stop it, she's honest.
Still, her voice is barely audible as she shoves her fingers through her hair and mutters, "Of letting them down. Of-- I don't even know." That's a lie, but she chooses not to tell the truth.
And yet, she should have known better. "You're afraid the hurt you bear will spill over onto them," Gina murmurs, insinuating herself into Cain's space, arms slipping easily around her waist and neck, lips on her ear. "Afraid they'll be dogged by your ghosts-- how am I doing so far?"
"Too well," Cain breathes, pulse quickening in the wake of each feathered brush of fingers over her skin.
"You think you're marked-- how apocryphal," she goes on, and Cain does see the flash of her teeth as Gina rolls on top of her, smirking. "Your arrogance is-- really quite astounding." It's hard to focus on anything but fingers on buttons, baring Gina's skin to her hands; it takes her mind a few seconds to catch up with the slowly murmured words.
With anyone else it would infuriate her, losing even a measure of the control she wears like a second skin. But she gives it up to Gina-- for Gina-- without reserve, never doubting it's all worth it. If that's not loving someone, then Helena Cain doesn't know what love is.
One hand fists tight in Gina's hair, dragging her head back, and Cain's teeth work a bruise into her neck. "Arrogance?" she taunts, swallowing a moan at the way Gina writhes, at the heat she feels against her fingers as they trace the curve of her spine. "It's not arrogance if I'm really as good as I think I am."
Before she even realizes what's happening Cain's hands are pinned to the mattress, the sweet-scented curtain of golden hair falling all around her, Gina's nose an inch from her own.
"You're good, I'll give you that," the other woman murmurs, and Cain closes her eyes against the flood of desire rising in her at the low heat of that voice. "But you're still only human, Helena." She thinks she hears amusement in the words; but the next second Gina's mouth is everywhere, stripping away her memory, her worry, and her fear.
Months later Cain will stand motionless in the corner of a cell as two of her lieutenants hold Gina's arms over a table and a third stands behind her, trousers around his ankles, each thrust dragging a harsh breath from his lips. Gina's eyes will stay fixed on Cain's, her face haggard with malnourishment, fatigue and long weeks of abuse, but she will not make a sound.
Then, Cain will feel victory in having protected her people from the betrayer in their midst (protected them, though she was unable to protect herself). She will feel a spreading calm, will feel the ghosts of her past fading into the walls.
She will meet Gina's eyes with no hint of uncertainty in her face as the lieutenant finishes, buttons up his pants, and switches his place with one of the others holding her arms.
"Make sure you mark her up real good," she will say, voice hard as flint as she recrosses her arms and settles back against the wall.
But tonight, Cain falls asleep with her cheek pillowed on a warm shoulder, light fingers threaded through her hair. The memory of her nails and her teeth is raked into Gina's skin, both their bodies sated and boneless, having worn each other out. Tonight she slides easily back into unconsciousness, into a deep rest untroubled by dreams, too exhausted to notice that Gina barely sleeps at all.