Fic: Descant (chapter 6)
Title: Descant (Chapter 6)
Rating: R
Characters: Kara/Leoben, Lee, Helo, Caprica, Boomer, & more
Word Count (this chapter): 3,491
WARNINGS: Non-canon character death. Canon-level violence and themes.
A/N: This is an AU that begins as the Cylons reach New Caprica and before Leoben imprisons Kara, so for those of you whose aversion to Kara/Leoben begins with the canon dollhouse, I hope you'll try this out.
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
A cloud of dust rises into the air as the Raptor lands, and everyone assembled stumbles back. Kara strokes Hera’s hair, hiding the child’s face against her shirt so she doesn’t breathe it in. For more than a month this is the thing Kara’s wanted most, but as the hatch opens and Adama peers out, she wants to run away.
He steps onto the ground, his face contorting for a moment as he looks down at the sand beneath his feet. Then he raises his eyes, surveys the crowd. He sighs slightly in relief when he sees her, but Kara can’t bring herself to do more than nod. There are so many missing from their ranks.
Laura starts moving toward him first, and the Admiral reaches out for her, pulls her into his arms. Kara manages a smile. Then Hera tugs at her hair and Kara looks down, smiling wider, bouncing the baby on her hip until she laughs.
It’s not until she looks up again that she sees Sharon staring at them from the entrance of the Raptor. Raising her free hand, she waves the other woman closer, hugs Hera against her one second longer.
Sharon stops a foot away, eyes wide. “Starbuck?”
Kara nods. “We can get into where she’s been later, but this--this is your daughter.” Sharon starts to cry as she holds out her arms for the child, and Kara’s struck by how this woman is at once the same and completely different from Boomer. She eases Hera into
Sharon’s arms, feeling the chill of the morning as the child’s warmth dissipates.
“I thought you were gone,” Sharon croons. She looks at Kara tearfully. “You saved her. My little girl. Thank you.”
Kara tries to smile, then waves half-heartedly at Hera as her mother carries her quickly back to the Raptor to call Galactica, to call Helo.
An uproar grabs her attention. Adama has his weapon out, is shouting at the sight of Leoben and Caprica moving toward the crowd.
Kara doesn’t hesitate before she’s rushing toward the pair.
“Stop,” she gasps, throwing out her arms in front of the two Cylons as Adama cocks his gun. Kara looks wildly to Roslin, her heart racing as she braces for betrayal.
“Kara?” Adama lowers his weapon, caught between anger and joy that she’s alive.
“They’re on our side,” she says quickly. “I can explain.”
“It’s alright, Bill,” Laura adds. “Kara’s right. They’re on our side now. They freed us.”
His eyes darken. “You can’t just trust these things,” he growls, looking back and forth between the two of them.
“You trust Sharon,” Kara presses back. “You believe that she would never hurt you. It’s hard, I know it is, but even if you don’t trust these people yet, we’re on the same side of the war now. Without them we’d never have been able to call you back.”
*
The next hours are filled with grueling debate; Adama resists a treaty even as Kara argues that there’s no other way. Leoben watches from a distance, taking in the push and pull of power. Caprica is at the edge of the group of leaders, standing with Gaius. They lean on each other, exchanging small touches of support and comfort as the argument wears on, and Leoben smiles in approval: somewhere in the chaos of the last two days they’ve both overcome their guilt. Another Six is part of the group, too, advocating for the treaty, for peace. Caprica’s love is emanating through all of them.
Leoben’s smile fades when he looks to Kara. She’s been worn so thin by loss and pain; Adama’s opposition has her on the verge of breaking. Finally she heads away from the group, toward him, relief lightening her eyes.
“It’s agreed,” she says softly. “There’s a lot left to be worked out, but we’re at peace.”
He laughs, then. He can see all of it for just a moment: the harmony of the worlds, peace spreading out around them through the stars. He’s never loved her so much.
*
They wander through the camp, away from the chaos, and the fear in Kara’s chest eases for the first time in months. Sam is gone, and Tigh, and Tyrol, but Galactica has survived. It’s something.
Leoben’s hand slips into hers as they walk, and she holds on tightly. This is something, too.
A mix of humans and Cylons are already at work on the rubble of the Cylon detention facility; the explosion happened elsewhere, so the cells need only be cleaned and stripped of their heavy iron doors before they can be used as living quarters. Winter will be coming soon, and the Colonials have learned to be practical. Kara smiles at the sight of them. An industrious few are carrying brushes and buckets of paint. She grabs one, smiling at Leoben, and leads him inside.
Their apartment is blackened with soot, the window a gaping hole. But it’s still there.
Kara opens the paint, peers inside. “You like white?” She looks up and finds Leoben staring at her intensely. “What?”
He nods once. “Sure.”
“You don’t want blue?” she mutters, “something streamier?” She can feel him watching her and shivers, then dips her brush and starts in on the closest wall. The concrete soaks up the paint quickly, becoming a bright canvas, a fresh start. Kara smiles at the sight. Back on Caprica she filled an apartment with paintings full of anger and loss and regret. The white is clean and new, everything they need.
Beside her Leoben begins to work as well, his strokes overlapping hers. With a quick glance out of the corner of her eye, Kara paints a bright streak of white down the side of his face.
Leoben startles, laughing, reaches toward her.
Kara darts away with a shriek, but he catches her, his hands dripping white as he pins her wrists to the wall. The mood changes in an instant as Kara rocks against him. Leoben leans in, claims her lips with such intensity that all thought is driven from her mind. His tongue thrusts into her mouth, his body flush against hers as his cock hardens against her stomach. Kara tugs her hands free so she can clutch him closer.
Leoben’s hands slide under her clothes, pulling roughly at buttons and seams. White paint slicks her skin as his calloused fingers caress her breasts, slide down to her ass to urge her to move.
They fall together to the floor as Kara tugs open his pants, needing him inside of her, needing this connection. She’s alive and she finally gets to have a future. Her back arches as Leoben sucks hard at her nipple and she kicks the can of paint over. Kara twists to see, but Leoben swallows her laughter in a kiss. He holds her down, something burning in his eyes that goes beyond this moment.
Kara lets him take control, loses herself to his touch. One of his hands is tangled in her hair, angling her mouth to meet his as his other aligns their bodies, and then he’s inside her and she’s flying, pleasure overwhelming her as Leoben drives into her over and over.
Kara sees stars as orgasm rushes through her, and for just a moment she thinks she glimpses the swirl of colors that have always haunted her dreams.
They lie together for awhile, catching their breath. Leoben’s arm is draped across Kara as he watches the paint on her skin slowly drying, leaving her looking smooth and white as marble.
“This is weird, you know,” Kara says mildly after a while, turning her head to look toward the bedroom. “You made me my apartment?”
Leoben traces a finger through the paint on her arm. “Cylons experience the world differently than humans. We just have to imagine our world in a certain way and it’s as if we’re there.”
“Like the old-fashioned v-world sims?” Kara asks, confused.
He shakes his head. “You carry it with you, the place you want to be. Caprica likes a lake she used to live near, or the woods. Boomer...before Tyrol died, she built a projection of a house, a place she wanted to live with him. A home.” He sees Kara flinch in sympathy, runs his fingers over her hip. “I thought you’d want yours.”
She stares up at him, her face open for just a moment, bewildered, amazed. Then she blinks hard, clearing her expression. “Show me.”
He frowns.
“Well?” Kara prods, impatient.
Leoben takes a deep breath, tightens his grip on her, and summons the projection up around them, building it with his mind like he always has: dim afternoon light from the windows, the soft reds and browns of Kara’s furniture. And paintings, everywhere. He looks down at Kara and she’s staring up at the wall above them, something like horror in her eyes.
“Did you put that there?” she gasps, sitting straight upright, one hand over her mouth as she takes in the riotous swirl of red and blue and yellow.
He sits up beside her. “This is borrowed from a memory of Boomer’s. I didn’t paint that symbol, Kara. You did.”
She squeezes her eyes closed. “Make it go away.”
The projection unravels. He strokes her hair. “There.”
Kara nods, bursts into motion, down the hall and into the bathroom, scrubbing the paint off her skin with the towels he set out when he first brought her here, just a few days ago. He hears her enter the bedroom, search through the wardrobe of Boomer’s spare clothes. He waits for her to come back.
At last she does, standing over him with her hands on her hips, surveying the apartment with its freshly painted wall. “It’s alright,” she says shortly. “Once we finish painting, it’ll look okay.”
Leoben looks from her to the wall, sees the mandala there bleeding through from vision into reality. His mind opens and he sees the mandala, pulsing with meaning, a sign of things to come. Kara will be radiant as she follows it to Earth. Her journey is far from over.
“What is it?” Kara demands.
He clears his face, trying not to seem distressed.
“We’ll have a lot of neighbors,” she’s saying now. “These buildings will be prime real estate until we can get more built.”
Leoben stares at her, chest aching. He’s about to take this away from her, that’s his role. Even if he wants it too. “No,” he tells her.
She stops talking, suddenly tense. “What?”
Leoben rises, reaches for his discarded clothes and begins to wipe at the paint marking his own skin. “You have to find Earth, Kara. You have a destiny.”
Her eyes go wide as if he’s betrayed her. “We made peace here, Leoben. We did what--I did what you said I was supposed to do!”
“You’ve seen it,” he pushes her. “You found Earth on Kobol. It’s still out there.”
“Frak Earth!” Kara protests. “And destiny. We’re here. That’s good enough.”
He closes his eyes against her pain. But he is God’s tool, and he knows there is only one true path. “There’s a reason you’ve suffered, Kara. A reason you had to be prepared, a reason you survived all these years. Some things are already written, and nothing we can do can erase them. You have a higher purpose. And mine is to guide you.”
She shakes her head. “I don’t believe in destiny.”
Leoben smiles knowingly at her. He’s seen her, praying in the back of a closet in her childhood room, dedicating her life to the Gods. “Of course you do. You believe, as I believe, that there is a divine plan for us--and it’s better, isn’t it, believing that all of your pain, all the death we have witnessed and caused is for some purpose?”
“If there is a plan, it’s not about me.” She’s in his space now, her body humming with anger. The mandala is swirling around her, around him too, the closer she gets. “All of this has happened before,” Kara recites. “And all of it will happen again. With or without me.”
Now he grabs her by the shoulders, even as she tries to pull away, fights to keep his voice steady, to make her listen to reason. “There were cycles before, Kara. You kill us, we get reborn. We kill you, your species propagates. What is genocide when nothing ever ends? That’s gone now. There aren’t enough of either of us left for another battle. I have seen how this ends, Kara, I’ve seen your glory. There’s only one path to that moment. God has been showing you for years - you painted that symbol! You’ve seen him at work in your life. We have no choice but to obey.”
Kara pulls back again and this time he lets her go. “There’s always a choice.” She takes the steps two at a time, slams the door behind her.
It locks him in.
*
Kara heads for the building’s entrance as fast as she can, fuming. She should have known better. This is not all that we are. Their first conversation, their first fight. This is all she wants to be. It’s fine, she doesn’t care, she promises herself. He’s a man, just a man. Another one she’ll kill or lose or drive away.
She strides out into the harsh light of day. Humans are milling around, a few dragging broken Centurions from the rubble. Kara takes off before they can call out to her, sprints through the no-man’s-land and past the camp, just running.
A dozen yards from the forlorn little playground at the edge of the settlement, Kara slows, panting and grinning.
It takes Helo a moment to look up and see her; then he covers the remaining distance, swings her off of her feet into a hug. Kara laughs, holding on, trying not to sob: one more person returned to her in spite of the Gods and the worlds and the vacuum in between.
After a long minute, he sets her down, turns back to check that Hera hasn’t disappeared again. She’s still digging in the make-shift sandbox. Helo smiles, then turns back to Kara and reaches out, rubs her head.
“Helo?” She flinches away from him.
“You have paint in your hair.”
“Yeah...” She’s flushing, she knows it.
“Starbuck? Something you’d like to tell the class?” Helo smiles his damned knowing smile.
Kara rolls her eyes and shrugs. And he laughs, and everything else fades away. “You’ve got a pretty awesome kid,” she says softly, watching Hera play.
“Yeah.” His voice nearly breaks with joy, with love.
She swallows hard. “You really loved Sharon?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I do. I love her.”
Kara looks at Hera, avoids his eyes. “I slept with Leoben.”
He doesn’t answer, but when she glances over he’s studying her carefully.
“Helo?” she asks again, and bites her lip.
“He made you nuts, Kara. Got inside your head.”
“You weren’t there.”
“I’ve heard stories.”
“He just--fra--friend!” She glares when Helo laughs. “Like you want me cursing in front of your kid?” Kara sighs. “I hurt him and he made me crazy but he’s here. Even though he knows who I am.”
Helo cocks his head. “Are you mad at us for leaving?”
“No.”
“You can be.”
She puts her hands on her hips. “It was the right tactical decision. I would have made it, too.”
“But Leoben was here.”
She shrugs. “And we wouldn’t be at peace now without him.”
Helo raises an eyebrow. “I heard this was all you.”
“From who?”
“Roslin.”
Kara grimaces at the name. “You know about her and Hera?”
He clenches his jaw, watches his daughter. “Not right now,” he says, anger prickling his voice.
She nods. Hera looks up at them, squealing as she throws a rock into the air. They watch her in companionable silence. Kara
rests her head against Helo’s shoulder. After a few minutes she speaks softly. “Do you believe in destiny?”
He answers slowly. “I don’t know. Not for me, but--maybe for her. Someone’s looking after her. And she’s the first child to be born to a human and Cylon family...she’s important.”
“She’s just a kid,” Kara snaps.
He puts his arm around her. “And we’ll let her be.”
“Captain.” A voice interrupts and they turn as one. “Captain!” Kat bursts out, lighting up.
Kara nods to her, smiling but caught off guard at the sight of someone in a flight suit after all this time.
Kat quickly reports to Helo: their initial ground survey shows all the launch keys were destroyed along with the main Cylon encampment. He nods in acknowledgment, dismissing Kat, and collects his daughter, balancing her on his hip. “Come on,” he tells Kara, and strides off toward the Cylon structure where the rest of the Colonial officers are visible even from a distance, directing the civilians.
He fills Kara in on the situation on the Galactica while they walk--and then suddenly she’s not listening anymore because there in front of them, after all this time, is Lee Adama. Kara launches herself toward him.
Lee catches her as she slams into him, holds on reflexively for a moment and then lets go, stepping back stiffly, staring at her with a mix of discomfort and distaste and relief. “Hello, Kara.”
Kara flinches, feeling the rejection like a slap. She forces back a wave of regret she’d forgotten she was supposed to feel. “Hey, Lee.”
He stares at her, his face wavering between emotions. “I’m,” he swallows. “I heard about Sam. I’m sorry.”
She drops her eyes. “Yeah. Thanks.” Peeking back up at him she sees the genuine sympathy in Lee’s face and wants to cry. Leoben should stay the frak away from her.
Stepping in to cover the awkwardness, Helo begins to report. He shakes his head dolefully as he explains that it’ll be a long time before they can get the grounded ships in the air again. The argument that Roslin and Adama and the others have been having about staying or leaving has already been settled.
Kara shrugs. “So we stay here,” she says defensively. “I know you two have been nice and warm up there in your battlestars, but this is our shot at a civilization. A home.”
“Space was starting to get pretty cold,” Lee nods, his eyes searching hers for a moment before he glances back to Helo.
The taller man shakes his head, affable as ever. “I met my daughter today.” He rests a hand on Hera’s head; she’s fallen asleep in his arms. “You and Dee don’t have kids but when you do--I want to give her everything, Lee. I want to give her better than this.” Helo waves his other hand at the dust and rubble. He looks down at Kara. “I remember when you came out of the Tomb of Athena. You were still whispering you were so in awe of it, of how beautiful it was. Earth. That’s where I want to raise my daughter.”
Kara sighs softly, despairingly at the hope in his eyes. “I remember.” She avoids looking at Lee.
A Raptor descending draws all their attention and wakes Hera, who starts to cry. Helo shushes her. “That’s Sharon,” he tells Kara. “Can you bring the baby to her?”
She nods, reaches out and shifts the child into her arms. Already the warm weight is becoming familiar. Kara smiles tightly at the two men for a moment, then heads off.
“What do you think?” Kara murmurs, bouncing Hera as she walks. Little fingers poke at her tattoo, then the girl looks up at her, eyes wide and honest. “Do you want to go to Earth?”
Hera smiles widely and Kara stops short. She’s completely certain that she’s just gotten an answer. She tightens her arms, pulling Hera closer until the sleepy head rests on her shoulder. “Alright,” Kara murmurs, heading toward the Raptor landing pad, “I hope you’re right about this.”
*
Leoben leans out the window, taking a deep breath. The air carries an odor of burnt plastic and metal, but it’s faded since last night. The sunlight warms his face as he watches Kara down below. The stream is rushing onward now, carrying them both forward faster than he can get his bearings. He sees her give in to it: no longer the rock fighting back the current but the leaf above it.
He turns back into the room. Eight forks, eight spoons. Six chairs, though two are damaged now. The rug bears the imprint of their presence in white paint: here he braced his hand on the floor, there Kara’s hair fell like a halo. For a moment he submerges himself in the sensation of her body, of her love; the memory is more intense than any vision. If he had a choice he wouldn’t leave, either.
He crosses the room, ascends the stairs, wrenches open the door. For another moment he looks down at their home, then he leaves it behind.
Chapter 7
Rating: R
Characters: Kara/Leoben, Lee, Helo, Caprica, Boomer, & more
Word Count (this chapter): 3,491
WARNINGS: Non-canon character death. Canon-level violence and themes.
A/N: This is an AU that begins as the Cylons reach New Caprica and before Leoben imprisons Kara, so for those of you whose aversion to Kara/Leoben begins with the canon dollhouse, I hope you'll try this out.
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
A cloud of dust rises into the air as the Raptor lands, and everyone assembled stumbles back. Kara strokes Hera’s hair, hiding the child’s face against her shirt so she doesn’t breathe it in. For more than a month this is the thing Kara’s wanted most, but as the hatch opens and Adama peers out, she wants to run away.
He steps onto the ground, his face contorting for a moment as he looks down at the sand beneath his feet. Then he raises his eyes, surveys the crowd. He sighs slightly in relief when he sees her, but Kara can’t bring herself to do more than nod. There are so many missing from their ranks.
Laura starts moving toward him first, and the Admiral reaches out for her, pulls her into his arms. Kara manages a smile. Then Hera tugs at her hair and Kara looks down, smiling wider, bouncing the baby on her hip until she laughs.
It’s not until she looks up again that she sees Sharon staring at them from the entrance of the Raptor. Raising her free hand, she waves the other woman closer, hugs Hera against her one second longer.
Sharon stops a foot away, eyes wide. “Starbuck?”
Kara nods. “We can get into where she’s been later, but this--this is your daughter.” Sharon starts to cry as she holds out her arms for the child, and Kara’s struck by how this woman is at once the same and completely different from Boomer. She eases Hera into
Sharon’s arms, feeling the chill of the morning as the child’s warmth dissipates.
“I thought you were gone,” Sharon croons. She looks at Kara tearfully. “You saved her. My little girl. Thank you.”
Kara tries to smile, then waves half-heartedly at Hera as her mother carries her quickly back to the Raptor to call Galactica, to call Helo.
An uproar grabs her attention. Adama has his weapon out, is shouting at the sight of Leoben and Caprica moving toward the crowd.
Kara doesn’t hesitate before she’s rushing toward the pair.
“Stop,” she gasps, throwing out her arms in front of the two Cylons as Adama cocks his gun. Kara looks wildly to Roslin, her heart racing as she braces for betrayal.
“Kara?” Adama lowers his weapon, caught between anger and joy that she’s alive.
“They’re on our side,” she says quickly. “I can explain.”
“It’s alright, Bill,” Laura adds. “Kara’s right. They’re on our side now. They freed us.”
His eyes darken. “You can’t just trust these things,” he growls, looking back and forth between the two of them.
“You trust Sharon,” Kara presses back. “You believe that she would never hurt you. It’s hard, I know it is, but even if you don’t trust these people yet, we’re on the same side of the war now. Without them we’d never have been able to call you back.”
*
The next hours are filled with grueling debate; Adama resists a treaty even as Kara argues that there’s no other way. Leoben watches from a distance, taking in the push and pull of power. Caprica is at the edge of the group of leaders, standing with Gaius. They lean on each other, exchanging small touches of support and comfort as the argument wears on, and Leoben smiles in approval: somewhere in the chaos of the last two days they’ve both overcome their guilt. Another Six is part of the group, too, advocating for the treaty, for peace. Caprica’s love is emanating through all of them.
Leoben’s smile fades when he looks to Kara. She’s been worn so thin by loss and pain; Adama’s opposition has her on the verge of breaking. Finally she heads away from the group, toward him, relief lightening her eyes.
“It’s agreed,” she says softly. “There’s a lot left to be worked out, but we’re at peace.”
He laughs, then. He can see all of it for just a moment: the harmony of the worlds, peace spreading out around them through the stars. He’s never loved her so much.
*
They wander through the camp, away from the chaos, and the fear in Kara’s chest eases for the first time in months. Sam is gone, and Tigh, and Tyrol, but Galactica has survived. It’s something.
Leoben’s hand slips into hers as they walk, and she holds on tightly. This is something, too.
A mix of humans and Cylons are already at work on the rubble of the Cylon detention facility; the explosion happened elsewhere, so the cells need only be cleaned and stripped of their heavy iron doors before they can be used as living quarters. Winter will be coming soon, and the Colonials have learned to be practical. Kara smiles at the sight of them. An industrious few are carrying brushes and buckets of paint. She grabs one, smiling at Leoben, and leads him inside.
Their apartment is blackened with soot, the window a gaping hole. But it’s still there.
Kara opens the paint, peers inside. “You like white?” She looks up and finds Leoben staring at her intensely. “What?”
He nods once. “Sure.”
“You don’t want blue?” she mutters, “something streamier?” She can feel him watching her and shivers, then dips her brush and starts in on the closest wall. The concrete soaks up the paint quickly, becoming a bright canvas, a fresh start. Kara smiles at the sight. Back on Caprica she filled an apartment with paintings full of anger and loss and regret. The white is clean and new, everything they need.
Beside her Leoben begins to work as well, his strokes overlapping hers. With a quick glance out of the corner of her eye, Kara paints a bright streak of white down the side of his face.
Leoben startles, laughing, reaches toward her.
Kara darts away with a shriek, but he catches her, his hands dripping white as he pins her wrists to the wall. The mood changes in an instant as Kara rocks against him. Leoben leans in, claims her lips with such intensity that all thought is driven from her mind. His tongue thrusts into her mouth, his body flush against hers as his cock hardens against her stomach. Kara tugs her hands free so she can clutch him closer.
Leoben’s hands slide under her clothes, pulling roughly at buttons and seams. White paint slicks her skin as his calloused fingers caress her breasts, slide down to her ass to urge her to move.
They fall together to the floor as Kara tugs open his pants, needing him inside of her, needing this connection. She’s alive and she finally gets to have a future. Her back arches as Leoben sucks hard at her nipple and she kicks the can of paint over. Kara twists to see, but Leoben swallows her laughter in a kiss. He holds her down, something burning in his eyes that goes beyond this moment.
Kara lets him take control, loses herself to his touch. One of his hands is tangled in her hair, angling her mouth to meet his as his other aligns their bodies, and then he’s inside her and she’s flying, pleasure overwhelming her as Leoben drives into her over and over.
Kara sees stars as orgasm rushes through her, and for just a moment she thinks she glimpses the swirl of colors that have always haunted her dreams.
They lie together for awhile, catching their breath. Leoben’s arm is draped across Kara as he watches the paint on her skin slowly drying, leaving her looking smooth and white as marble.
“This is weird, you know,” Kara says mildly after a while, turning her head to look toward the bedroom. “You made me my apartment?”
Leoben traces a finger through the paint on her arm. “Cylons experience the world differently than humans. We just have to imagine our world in a certain way and it’s as if we’re there.”
“Like the old-fashioned v-world sims?” Kara asks, confused.
He shakes his head. “You carry it with you, the place you want to be. Caprica likes a lake she used to live near, or the woods. Boomer...before Tyrol died, she built a projection of a house, a place she wanted to live with him. A home.” He sees Kara flinch in sympathy, runs his fingers over her hip. “I thought you’d want yours.”
She stares up at him, her face open for just a moment, bewildered, amazed. Then she blinks hard, clearing her expression. “Show me.”
He frowns.
“Well?” Kara prods, impatient.
Leoben takes a deep breath, tightens his grip on her, and summons the projection up around them, building it with his mind like he always has: dim afternoon light from the windows, the soft reds and browns of Kara’s furniture. And paintings, everywhere. He looks down at Kara and she’s staring up at the wall above them, something like horror in her eyes.
“Did you put that there?” she gasps, sitting straight upright, one hand over her mouth as she takes in the riotous swirl of red and blue and yellow.
He sits up beside her. “This is borrowed from a memory of Boomer’s. I didn’t paint that symbol, Kara. You did.”
She squeezes her eyes closed. “Make it go away.”
The projection unravels. He strokes her hair. “There.”
Kara nods, bursts into motion, down the hall and into the bathroom, scrubbing the paint off her skin with the towels he set out when he first brought her here, just a few days ago. He hears her enter the bedroom, search through the wardrobe of Boomer’s spare clothes. He waits for her to come back.
At last she does, standing over him with her hands on her hips, surveying the apartment with its freshly painted wall. “It’s alright,” she says shortly. “Once we finish painting, it’ll look okay.”
Leoben looks from her to the wall, sees the mandala there bleeding through from vision into reality. His mind opens and he sees the mandala, pulsing with meaning, a sign of things to come. Kara will be radiant as she follows it to Earth. Her journey is far from over.
“What is it?” Kara demands.
He clears his face, trying not to seem distressed.
“We’ll have a lot of neighbors,” she’s saying now. “These buildings will be prime real estate until we can get more built.”
Leoben stares at her, chest aching. He’s about to take this away from her, that’s his role. Even if he wants it too. “No,” he tells her.
She stops talking, suddenly tense. “What?”
Leoben rises, reaches for his discarded clothes and begins to wipe at the paint marking his own skin. “You have to find Earth, Kara. You have a destiny.”
Her eyes go wide as if he’s betrayed her. “We made peace here, Leoben. We did what--I did what you said I was supposed to do!”
“You’ve seen it,” he pushes her. “You found Earth on Kobol. It’s still out there.”
“Frak Earth!” Kara protests. “And destiny. We’re here. That’s good enough.”
He closes his eyes against her pain. But he is God’s tool, and he knows there is only one true path. “There’s a reason you’ve suffered, Kara. A reason you had to be prepared, a reason you survived all these years. Some things are already written, and nothing we can do can erase them. You have a higher purpose. And mine is to guide you.”
She shakes her head. “I don’t believe in destiny.”
Leoben smiles knowingly at her. He’s seen her, praying in the back of a closet in her childhood room, dedicating her life to the Gods. “Of course you do. You believe, as I believe, that there is a divine plan for us--and it’s better, isn’t it, believing that all of your pain, all the death we have witnessed and caused is for some purpose?”
“If there is a plan, it’s not about me.” She’s in his space now, her body humming with anger. The mandala is swirling around her, around him too, the closer she gets. “All of this has happened before,” Kara recites. “And all of it will happen again. With or without me.”
Now he grabs her by the shoulders, even as she tries to pull away, fights to keep his voice steady, to make her listen to reason. “There were cycles before, Kara. You kill us, we get reborn. We kill you, your species propagates. What is genocide when nothing ever ends? That’s gone now. There aren’t enough of either of us left for another battle. I have seen how this ends, Kara, I’ve seen your glory. There’s only one path to that moment. God has been showing you for years - you painted that symbol! You’ve seen him at work in your life. We have no choice but to obey.”
Kara pulls back again and this time he lets her go. “There’s always a choice.” She takes the steps two at a time, slams the door behind her.
It locks him in.
*
Kara heads for the building’s entrance as fast as she can, fuming. She should have known better. This is not all that we are. Their first conversation, their first fight. This is all she wants to be. It’s fine, she doesn’t care, she promises herself. He’s a man, just a man. Another one she’ll kill or lose or drive away.
She strides out into the harsh light of day. Humans are milling around, a few dragging broken Centurions from the rubble. Kara takes off before they can call out to her, sprints through the no-man’s-land and past the camp, just running.
A dozen yards from the forlorn little playground at the edge of the settlement, Kara slows, panting and grinning.
It takes Helo a moment to look up and see her; then he covers the remaining distance, swings her off of her feet into a hug. Kara laughs, holding on, trying not to sob: one more person returned to her in spite of the Gods and the worlds and the vacuum in between.
After a long minute, he sets her down, turns back to check that Hera hasn’t disappeared again. She’s still digging in the make-shift sandbox. Helo smiles, then turns back to Kara and reaches out, rubs her head.
“Helo?” She flinches away from him.
“You have paint in your hair.”
“Yeah...” She’s flushing, she knows it.
“Starbuck? Something you’d like to tell the class?” Helo smiles his damned knowing smile.
Kara rolls her eyes and shrugs. And he laughs, and everything else fades away. “You’ve got a pretty awesome kid,” she says softly, watching Hera play.
“Yeah.” His voice nearly breaks with joy, with love.
She swallows hard. “You really loved Sharon?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I do. I love her.”
Kara looks at Hera, avoids his eyes. “I slept with Leoben.”
He doesn’t answer, but when she glances over he’s studying her carefully.
“Helo?” she asks again, and bites her lip.
“He made you nuts, Kara. Got inside your head.”
“You weren’t there.”
“I’ve heard stories.”
“He just--fra--friend!” She glares when Helo laughs. “Like you want me cursing in front of your kid?” Kara sighs. “I hurt him and he made me crazy but he’s here. Even though he knows who I am.”
Helo cocks his head. “Are you mad at us for leaving?”
“No.”
“You can be.”
She puts her hands on her hips. “It was the right tactical decision. I would have made it, too.”
“But Leoben was here.”
She shrugs. “And we wouldn’t be at peace now without him.”
Helo raises an eyebrow. “I heard this was all you.”
“From who?”
“Roslin.”
Kara grimaces at the name. “You know about her and Hera?”
He clenches his jaw, watches his daughter. “Not right now,” he says, anger prickling his voice.
She nods. Hera looks up at them, squealing as she throws a rock into the air. They watch her in companionable silence. Kara
rests her head against Helo’s shoulder. After a few minutes she speaks softly. “Do you believe in destiny?”
He answers slowly. “I don’t know. Not for me, but--maybe for her. Someone’s looking after her. And she’s the first child to be born to a human and Cylon family...she’s important.”
“She’s just a kid,” Kara snaps.
He puts his arm around her. “And we’ll let her be.”
“Captain.” A voice interrupts and they turn as one. “Captain!” Kat bursts out, lighting up.
Kara nods to her, smiling but caught off guard at the sight of someone in a flight suit after all this time.
Kat quickly reports to Helo: their initial ground survey shows all the launch keys were destroyed along with the main Cylon encampment. He nods in acknowledgment, dismissing Kat, and collects his daughter, balancing her on his hip. “Come on,” he tells Kara, and strides off toward the Cylon structure where the rest of the Colonial officers are visible even from a distance, directing the civilians.
He fills Kara in on the situation on the Galactica while they walk--and then suddenly she’s not listening anymore because there in front of them, after all this time, is Lee Adama. Kara launches herself toward him.
Lee catches her as she slams into him, holds on reflexively for a moment and then lets go, stepping back stiffly, staring at her with a mix of discomfort and distaste and relief. “Hello, Kara.”
Kara flinches, feeling the rejection like a slap. She forces back a wave of regret she’d forgotten she was supposed to feel. “Hey, Lee.”
He stares at her, his face wavering between emotions. “I’m,” he swallows. “I heard about Sam. I’m sorry.”
She drops her eyes. “Yeah. Thanks.” Peeking back up at him she sees the genuine sympathy in Lee’s face and wants to cry. Leoben should stay the frak away from her.
Stepping in to cover the awkwardness, Helo begins to report. He shakes his head dolefully as he explains that it’ll be a long time before they can get the grounded ships in the air again. The argument that Roslin and Adama and the others have been having about staying or leaving has already been settled.
Kara shrugs. “So we stay here,” she says defensively. “I know you two have been nice and warm up there in your battlestars, but this is our shot at a civilization. A home.”
“Space was starting to get pretty cold,” Lee nods, his eyes searching hers for a moment before he glances back to Helo.
The taller man shakes his head, affable as ever. “I met my daughter today.” He rests a hand on Hera’s head; she’s fallen asleep in his arms. “You and Dee don’t have kids but when you do--I want to give her everything, Lee. I want to give her better than this.” Helo waves his other hand at the dust and rubble. He looks down at Kara. “I remember when you came out of the Tomb of Athena. You were still whispering you were so in awe of it, of how beautiful it was. Earth. That’s where I want to raise my daughter.”
Kara sighs softly, despairingly at the hope in his eyes. “I remember.” She avoids looking at Lee.
A Raptor descending draws all their attention and wakes Hera, who starts to cry. Helo shushes her. “That’s Sharon,” he tells Kara. “Can you bring the baby to her?”
She nods, reaches out and shifts the child into her arms. Already the warm weight is becoming familiar. Kara smiles tightly at the two men for a moment, then heads off.
“What do you think?” Kara murmurs, bouncing Hera as she walks. Little fingers poke at her tattoo, then the girl looks up at her, eyes wide and honest. “Do you want to go to Earth?”
Hera smiles widely and Kara stops short. She’s completely certain that she’s just gotten an answer. She tightens her arms, pulling Hera closer until the sleepy head rests on her shoulder. “Alright,” Kara murmurs, heading toward the Raptor landing pad, “I hope you’re right about this.”
*
Leoben leans out the window, taking a deep breath. The air carries an odor of burnt plastic and metal, but it’s faded since last night. The sunlight warms his face as he watches Kara down below. The stream is rushing onward now, carrying them both forward faster than he can get his bearings. He sees her give in to it: no longer the rock fighting back the current but the leaf above it.
He turns back into the room. Eight forks, eight spoons. Six chairs, though two are damaged now. The rug bears the imprint of their presence in white paint: here he braced his hand on the floor, there Kara’s hair fell like a halo. For a moment he submerges himself in the sensation of her body, of her love; the memory is more intense than any vision. If he had a choice he wouldn’t leave, either.
He crosses the room, ascends the stairs, wrenches open the door. For another moment he looks down at their home, then he leaves it behind.
Chapter 7