(no subject)
He had forgiven her. He had; she was sure of it. After her moon walk she had landed the raider and he had sat with her in sickbay. They hadn't discussed it, but the love was there: hers, his. Forgiveness and acceptance and if she was left with the bittersweet ache in her chest that sang 'You don't deserve it' it was more or less easily ignored.
The old man was fairly straightforward as far as Adamas went and she had trusted. It had hurt him when she mustered out, but he had understood. Worse than grounding a pilot, worse than clipping their wings was keeping them up: any movement expelled done so with efficiency, any chance of freedom, glory and speed lost, falling beneath a tide of monotony and the certainty that they were unnecessary and unwanted. The cylons were gone. Their reason for flying went with them. The presence of Galactica and Pegasus over New Caprica should have been comforting, but this constant vigilance alienated those who would prefer to forget and move on. He had stood with her at her wedding, not knowing what she was doing to Lee, happy and proud of her in the drenched morning light. He had forgiven her.
Sprawled on the floor with her hair in her face, it took her a few moments to process his words. He had kicked her out of her chair. He had never raised a hand to her. He may have threatened it, but she had never actually believed he would.
Except for maybe those few seconds after he had found out. After she had told him. But he had forgiven her.
He wasn’t like Lee, who was as likely to deck you back as not.
And then he was speaking, and he was retracting all of the support she was so used to finding in him and he called her a cancer and she wanted to stand and fight back. Now? Now was when he chose to dump her, now when she deserved it probably less than she ever had? But rejection stung and fighting shows you care. So she stood up and walked away.
He wanted a perfect little officer, she could do that. She could be that; she could be anyone. She’d had a lot of practice on New Caprica. He didn’t want Kara, he wanted Starbuck, and the clenching in her gut told her she had just lost the only family she’d never thought she could.
The old man was fairly straightforward as far as Adamas went and she had trusted. It had hurt him when she mustered out, but he had understood. Worse than grounding a pilot, worse than clipping their wings was keeping them up: any movement expelled done so with efficiency, any chance of freedom, glory and speed lost, falling beneath a tide of monotony and the certainty that they were unnecessary and unwanted. The cylons were gone. Their reason for flying went with them. The presence of Galactica and Pegasus over New Caprica should have been comforting, but this constant vigilance alienated those who would prefer to forget and move on. He had stood with her at her wedding, not knowing what she was doing to Lee, happy and proud of her in the drenched morning light. He had forgiven her.
Sprawled on the floor with her hair in her face, it took her a few moments to process his words. He had kicked her out of her chair. He had never raised a hand to her. He may have threatened it, but she had never actually believed he would.
Except for maybe those few seconds after he had found out. After she had told him. But he had forgiven her.
He wasn’t like Lee, who was as likely to deck you back as not.
And then he was speaking, and he was retracting all of the support she was so used to finding in him and he called her a cancer and she wanted to stand and fight back. Now? Now was when he chose to dump her, now when she deserved it probably less than she ever had? But rejection stung and fighting shows you care. So she stood up and walked away.
He wanted a perfect little officer, she could do that. She could be that; she could be anyone. She’d had a lot of practice on New Caprica. He didn’t want Kara, he wanted Starbuck, and the clenching in her gut told her she had just lost the only family she’d never thought she could.