Title: Center
Author:
angelariel65Rating: G, I s’pose
Genre: Gen, ficlet
Character/Pairing: Kara Thrace. Socrata Thrace and Kara’s Father by intimation
Warnings: None
Spoilers: Maelstrom, vaguely
Prompt: Photo #91. A page from Kara’s childhood scrapbook.
Summary: A “missing moment” from Maelstrom. Memories of childhood and the father we never got to know very much about. Pure spec on my part. But I’d like to think Kara had some good moments in her life at that age to compensate a small bit for the bad.
“Hi Princess, what have you got there?”
Amazing how one image can invoke so much of the past. The voice behind them momentarily overwhelming those belonging to the two other phantoms here in a room that only exists in memory now. Giving her an all too temporary reprieve from grief and pain, just as the music he made always settled her. Brought her peace like few things in life ever had. Her center. Her touchstone.
Glancing at the photo of her younger self, she can remember that captured moment and the hours before and after as if it were only yesterday.
The way the winter sunshine filtered through the blinds warming the wood floor beneath her as she lay on her stomach, subconsciously drawing along to the sounds coming from the piano in the next room. The colors bright, the images crude and naturally childlike in comparison to the elegant notes drifting by.
But he’ll tell her it’s beautiful as always, when she shows the finished pictures to him. Tell her she’s beautiful. And that is enough to make her smile as she works away. Peeking around the corner from time to time to watch him, before losing herself completely once more in her own works in progress.
That image of him is always the one foremost in her mind when she thinks of him. Bent over the piano, alternately touching the keys to make those magic sounds and making a notation on the lined pad of paper atop it, always with that same intent look on his face. She was the only thing sure to tear his attention away from creating his music.
When momma wasn’t around anyway.
Momma.
She had been furious when she returned home that day from the base. No more music that afternoon. Just the discordant sound of the two people who were the center of her world arguing just yards away from her closed bedroom door.
She finally came out, cautiously, after it had been quiet long enough for her to know that momma had likely either gone out again or was in her own room where she’d stay the rest of the night with the door closed while daddy slept on the couch. Again.
He’s sitting in the dining room, head down as he stares at the camera in his hands.
“I’m sorry, Daddy.” He looks up at the sound, as small and tentative as her voice is. Raising the camera and committing her image to film as she stands there, pensive and penitent.
“Your drawings were beautiful Kara.” There is a sad smile on his face, his voice kind as he opens his arms to gather her up. “But I don’t think your mother wants you using the walls because the paper wasn’t big enough.”
“When I’m big I can.” The small voice is filled with the confidence he always instills in her by his presence and his smile widens as he adjusts the glasses perched on her tiny nose. “I’ll make a lot of big paintings for you then.”
“I know you will, Princess. You’ll be a great artist.” He inclines his head toward the wall a few feet away. “For now though, we need to clean this work of art up. Don’t worry, I took a picture of it.” He adds with a wink.
“Momma says being an artist is stupid.” She mutters it in an almost perfect imitation of her mother’s tone. “I’m more special than that.” She says the word as if it were a curse and he gives her a look torn between amusement and concern.
“You are special, Kara. But you can be whatever it is you want to be. An artist, a doctor, a teacher. Even President.” He ruffles her hair gently, laughing at the face she makes at that last one.
“Gramma said that too.” Her younger self replies, grinning. “She made me cookies. Told her I didn’t want to be President. Or a soldier like Momma. I made her laugh.”
‘Your Grandmother loves you very much. I’m sorry you don’t get to see her very often, your Mother…” He stops there, helps her clean the crayon from the wall and she never does learn what it was he meant to say.
He and Momma argue more and more after that day.
He’s gone from home for good a week later with a hug, kiss, and promise to see her as much as he can.
A promise broken six months later when his flight goes down over Aerilon’s Emerald Sea on his way to a performance, never to be found. Leaving behind his music, some photos, and all too few memories. The things that she holds to in times when she needs to center herself.
Especially his music.
Something she could escape to and help find herself again, along with her art, when things got to be too much. Momma and her talk of destiny and her myriad ways of “preparing” her for it. Stress over entrance exams for the Academy. Her fears of measuring up once she is accepted and fully into her studies. Losing Zak to her own folly. Having to wear the face of Starbuck around everyone all the time.
It's gone now. Left behind on Caprica like the rest of her old life.
She still has the memories though, she’s realized now at the end. Something that can never be taken from her, destiny or not.
Gods willing she’ll see him waiting on the other side and thank him for those gifts.
And he’ll just smile and say, “Missed you, Princess.”