fic: bsg; sam/galen, putting things together (pulling them apart), pg
putting things together (pulling them apart), pg
bsg, sam/galen, 330
written for gigglemonster
Galen is a brilliant child, a prodigy, skilled with his hands and with his head, the intricacies and mathematics that come with putting things together and pulling them apart.
He comes from simple folk, and it isn't long until his successes mean that he can no longer identify with them, and they too, with him.
But then he finds Sam. And Saul and Ellen, and Tory. And he feels like he has a place. Like he has a family again. But he never quite sheds that feeling that he isn't meant for this, and that the path to resurrection won't come without a price.
He watches Sam crouch low over scattered papers on the floor, like a mad scientist, determined and unrelenting.
Ellen nods, bites the tip of her thumb, a thing she does when they think they're on to something.
It's all Galen can do not to call it quits right there. Too many dead ends, not enough answers, and no guarantee that what they're doing is even right.
Galen drives out to the bone yard that afternoon. It's winter and he forgets his jacket, but there's something about being surrounded by all of these burnt out cars and buses, busted down tractors, worn from years of use and love. Something about being surrounded by all of these broken things gives him hope, a feeling of possibility.
Nothing is ever lost.
Maybe there's a miracle to be found in all this waste.
He walks to the edge, past the last of the cars, stares out to the expanse, and hears footsteps behind him.
In a moment, he's in Sam's arms, leaning his back against his warm frame.
"Knew I'd find you here," Sam says, kisses Galen at the back of the neck.
"Just needed to clear my head," Galen answers, closes his eyes.
"And? Are you all clear?" Sam says, his breath on Galen's neck, his palms warming Galen's arms.
Galen turns, kisses Sam on the lips. "All clear."
-fin
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