Rocking the Cradle
Summary: Starbuck can't sleep. Kat can't cope. The two hotshot pilots take their frustrations out on each other. Set mid-S2 not long after 'Final Cut'.
Characters: Starbuck, Kat.
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I don't own this frakking show.
Authors Note: My emotions/stress levels are settling down now. I'm steadily working things out. I'm pacing myself with my novel and taking little breathers to post a few of my shorter BSG fics. My Baltar/Gaeta epics will have to wait until I can focus on them properly. But for now here is my stab at a Kat/Kara fic for my dear flister kajam.
Rocking the Cradle
Kat was talking in her sleep again; her dry voice scraping the walls of the pilot's quarters. Starbuck had to put up with this crap, because Cottle had let the kid out of sickbay too early. The stupid frakking chimney of a man wanted the little junkie out of his infirmary. And who could blame him. Starbuck had no idea what Kat was muttering about but it was grating on her nerves worse than Hotdog's snoring. She raised herself on her elbows. She could see Kat balled up on the edge of her rack, her fists bunched and her brow wrinkled. The girl was twitching, moaning and rocking herself back and forth. Pretty soon she was going to fall from that bunk and crack her skull open on the floor.
This is what happens when you fry your brain with stims. Starbuck had half a bottle of ambrosia under her skin, which she had drunk down only to help her sleep for a few precious hours. The last thing she needed was this little bitch cutting into her rack time. Kat was enough of a headache during their day shifts. Her voice had been stuck in Starbuck's mind ever since they had dragged her, screaming and kicking, out of her bent bird...
“Home is dead. We gotta get out of here! They're gonna kill us!”
They all knew it. Deep down they all frakking knew it. But nobody was supposed to say it. When you say it, then you start messing with people’s sleep. You start turning them to drink and fist fights. You make them want to fly their vipers straight into those pretty red lights so they can become their own explosion in the darkness.
Kat had no right to open her big fat mouth and admit they were screwed. She was still muttering in the shadows. Starbuck couldn't figure how the other pilots were sleeping through it. Kat's curly head was flopping off the mattress now. She imagined the kid was flying again in her dreams. Maybe she was flying to that place that was better than hitting a jackpot; better than sex. She was gonna fly herself out of the frakking bed if she wasn't careful...
Starbuck couldn't take it any longer. She got to her feet, tapped her hand against Kat's cheek and then grabbed her wrists. ‘Get your crazy ass out of here’ she hissed, as she dragged Kat stumbling towards the door. Starbuck pushed her into the hallway, shoving her hard against the wall and throwing a blanket at her chest.
“Listen up, Katraine..." she sneered. "These quarters ain't your frakking nursery. Until you get your shit together you can sleep out here. You don’t get to inflict your little breakdown on your buddies, you get that? If you frakked up your own head that's your issue. You don't get a Gods damn sympathy vote from me. ”
Kat glowered back at her, curling her lips into a snarl.
“Your breath stinks,” she whispered coolly.
Starbuck felt her jaw harden into a contemptuous smile. She looked Kat up and down. Gods, the state of this kid...her little midget body, her scrunched up mousy face, her sweaty vest and shorts, her hair that looked like something had exploded in it. Kat was a mess. She looked like a frakking street junkie.
Starbuck leaned closer, pressing her hand to the wall above Kat's head, reminding her which one of them was taller. She had always been the bully at school. She would never let anyone beat her. Especially not some whiney little upstart thinking she was a hotshot fighter. Starbuck had to be the top of her league. She had to be harder, faster and meaner than any one of her contenders. Her mother had always taught that if you weren’t the one holding the other kids down, sticking your boot their face, then you were…you were the one with your fingers slammed in the door.
Starbuck brought her mouth very close to Kat's ear.
“Home is dead...” she breathed.
Starbuck was expecting a rise out of her. She thought she would see Kat's eyes flash. She thought she would swing her fists and then Starbuck would have an excuse to give her the tarring she was asking for. After they had fought it out they could go back to bed. They could let their bruises fade. Maybe they could even be friends some day. So long as Kat knew not to mess with her. So long as she knew that Starbuck always had to win.
"We're all frakking dead..." she taunted again.
Kat didn’t say a word. Her eyes filled with tears and she sank to the floor. Just like that...she was a blubbering wreak at Starbuck’s feet. And in this moment Starbuck realised that Kat had beaten her. She had turned it all around on her. Suddenly she was the one with the problem. She was the mean drunk, the abusive parent, the bully, the bitch. Yeah, Kat had wiped the smile off her face alright. Now she was calling Starbuck on her buff. Because the truth was that she wasn’t so hard and mean that she could leave one of her kids crying in the corridor at night.
Starbuck hissed a curse and sat herself down beside Kat. She slung an arm around her neck, almost like a headlock. Her comfort was stiff and resentful, but she still meant it. She really did.
“Get it out,” she told Kat, a blunt command. “Get it over with so you’re ready to fight again tomorrow. I mean it. Blow it all out your nose, kid. Because once you’re done, then it’ll be your turn to be the strong one for the others who are scared, losing their shit and ready to crack. I know you’re frakking strong, Kat...”
She snorted a laugh. “I just miss my family, Starbuck," she sobbed. "Jeez, I still have to tell myself that I can’t ever go back to them. I’ve frakked up so many times in my life, but I always knew that if things got bad I could go back to my mom. I always knew she'd have a bed waiting for me and a cup of warm milk...”
Starbuck remembered how earlier that week Kat had been prancing around in a towel, playing up to the cameras that the journalists had brought into their bunk room. Kat had been waving to her mother like the woman was still alive somewhere. As if she was watching Kat on the tube and waiting for her little girl to come home.
Kat wiped her eyes. “Do you miss you mom, Starbuck?”
Her whole body tensed. Kat had no idea how close she was to making her to crumble. Starbuck wasn’t even going to begin this conversation. If she had to start talking about her mother then Kat would really have her beat and it would be her crazy issues that came spilling over the edges. She wasn’t going to let that happen.
“Starbuck?” Kat said again, using her baby girl voice. “Do you really think I’m strong?”
Starbuck narrowed her eyes. She wasn't gonna give her an inch. She wasn’t gonna put her on level ground.
“If you're strong, then you better frakking prove it...” she spat out.
With those words, she grabbed Kat under her armpits and pulled her to her feet. She picked up the blanket and wrapped it around her small shivery shoulders. Kat took a calming breath. Her tears had dried up now and her chin was set in deviance. Starbuck had the feeling that one day she would regret this little pep talk. From the look in this kid's eyes she had the guts to prove her worth; to prove to everyone that they were wrong about her, to show them all what she was made of. When that day came Starbuck would owe her some frakking respect. Man, that was gonna hurt...
But for now, Kat was one of her kids...just one of the scared little children in this great flying orphanage. For now Kat needed a gentle hand to rock her to sleep. And once Starbuck had put her to bed...once she had put the bruised child inside her own heart to bed...then maybe they could both get some sleep.
The End
Characters: Starbuck, Kat.
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I don't own this frakking show.
Authors Note: My emotions/stress levels are settling down now. I'm steadily working things out. I'm pacing myself with my novel and taking little breathers to post a few of my shorter BSG fics. My Baltar/Gaeta epics will have to wait until I can focus on them properly. But for now here is my stab at a Kat/Kara fic for my dear flister kajam.
Rocking the Cradle
Kat was talking in her sleep again; her dry voice scraping the walls of the pilot's quarters. Starbuck had to put up with this crap, because Cottle had let the kid out of sickbay too early. The stupid frakking chimney of a man wanted the little junkie out of his infirmary. And who could blame him. Starbuck had no idea what Kat was muttering about but it was grating on her nerves worse than Hotdog's snoring. She raised herself on her elbows. She could see Kat balled up on the edge of her rack, her fists bunched and her brow wrinkled. The girl was twitching, moaning and rocking herself back and forth. Pretty soon she was going to fall from that bunk and crack her skull open on the floor.
This is what happens when you fry your brain with stims. Starbuck had half a bottle of ambrosia under her skin, which she had drunk down only to help her sleep for a few precious hours. The last thing she needed was this little bitch cutting into her rack time. Kat was enough of a headache during their day shifts. Her voice had been stuck in Starbuck's mind ever since they had dragged her, screaming and kicking, out of her bent bird...
“Home is dead. We gotta get out of here! They're gonna kill us!”
They all knew it. Deep down they all frakking knew it. But nobody was supposed to say it. When you say it, then you start messing with people’s sleep. You start turning them to drink and fist fights. You make them want to fly their vipers straight into those pretty red lights so they can become their own explosion in the darkness.
Kat had no right to open her big fat mouth and admit they were screwed. She was still muttering in the shadows. Starbuck couldn't figure how the other pilots were sleeping through it. Kat's curly head was flopping off the mattress now. She imagined the kid was flying again in her dreams. Maybe she was flying to that place that was better than hitting a jackpot; better than sex. She was gonna fly herself out of the frakking bed if she wasn't careful...
Starbuck couldn't take it any longer. She got to her feet, tapped her hand against Kat's cheek and then grabbed her wrists. ‘Get your crazy ass out of here’ she hissed, as she dragged Kat stumbling towards the door. Starbuck pushed her into the hallway, shoving her hard against the wall and throwing a blanket at her chest.
“Listen up, Katraine..." she sneered. "These quarters ain't your frakking nursery. Until you get your shit together you can sleep out here. You don’t get to inflict your little breakdown on your buddies, you get that? If you frakked up your own head that's your issue. You don't get a Gods damn sympathy vote from me. ”
Kat glowered back at her, curling her lips into a snarl.
“Your breath stinks,” she whispered coolly.
Starbuck felt her jaw harden into a contemptuous smile. She looked Kat up and down. Gods, the state of this kid...her little midget body, her scrunched up mousy face, her sweaty vest and shorts, her hair that looked like something had exploded in it. Kat was a mess. She looked like a frakking street junkie.
Starbuck leaned closer, pressing her hand to the wall above Kat's head, reminding her which one of them was taller. She had always been the bully at school. She would never let anyone beat her. Especially not some whiney little upstart thinking she was a hotshot fighter. Starbuck had to be the top of her league. She had to be harder, faster and meaner than any one of her contenders. Her mother had always taught that if you weren’t the one holding the other kids down, sticking your boot their face, then you were…you were the one with your fingers slammed in the door.
Starbuck brought her mouth very close to Kat's ear.
“Home is dead...” she breathed.
Starbuck was expecting a rise out of her. She thought she would see Kat's eyes flash. She thought she would swing her fists and then Starbuck would have an excuse to give her the tarring she was asking for. After they had fought it out they could go back to bed. They could let their bruises fade. Maybe they could even be friends some day. So long as Kat knew not to mess with her. So long as she knew that Starbuck always had to win.
"We're all frakking dead..." she taunted again.
Kat didn’t say a word. Her eyes filled with tears and she sank to the floor. Just like that...she was a blubbering wreak at Starbuck’s feet. And in this moment Starbuck realised that Kat had beaten her. She had turned it all around on her. Suddenly she was the one with the problem. She was the mean drunk, the abusive parent, the bully, the bitch. Yeah, Kat had wiped the smile off her face alright. Now she was calling Starbuck on her buff. Because the truth was that she wasn’t so hard and mean that she could leave one of her kids crying in the corridor at night.
Starbuck hissed a curse and sat herself down beside Kat. She slung an arm around her neck, almost like a headlock. Her comfort was stiff and resentful, but she still meant it. She really did.
“Get it out,” she told Kat, a blunt command. “Get it over with so you’re ready to fight again tomorrow. I mean it. Blow it all out your nose, kid. Because once you’re done, then it’ll be your turn to be the strong one for the others who are scared, losing their shit and ready to crack. I know you’re frakking strong, Kat...”
She snorted a laugh. “I just miss my family, Starbuck," she sobbed. "Jeez, I still have to tell myself that I can’t ever go back to them. I’ve frakked up so many times in my life, but I always knew that if things got bad I could go back to my mom. I always knew she'd have a bed waiting for me and a cup of warm milk...”
Starbuck remembered how earlier that week Kat had been prancing around in a towel, playing up to the cameras that the journalists had brought into their bunk room. Kat had been waving to her mother like the woman was still alive somewhere. As if she was watching Kat on the tube and waiting for her little girl to come home.
Kat wiped her eyes. “Do you miss you mom, Starbuck?”
Her whole body tensed. Kat had no idea how close she was to making her to crumble. Starbuck wasn’t even going to begin this conversation. If she had to start talking about her mother then Kat would really have her beat and it would be her crazy issues that came spilling over the edges. She wasn’t going to let that happen.
“Starbuck?” Kat said again, using her baby girl voice. “Do you really think I’m strong?”
Starbuck narrowed her eyes. She wasn't gonna give her an inch. She wasn’t gonna put her on level ground.
“If you're strong, then you better frakking prove it...” she spat out.
With those words, she grabbed Kat under her armpits and pulled her to her feet. She picked up the blanket and wrapped it around her small shivery shoulders. Kat took a calming breath. Her tears had dried up now and her chin was set in deviance. Starbuck had the feeling that one day she would regret this little pep talk. From the look in this kid's eyes she had the guts to prove her worth; to prove to everyone that they were wrong about her, to show them all what she was made of. When that day came Starbuck would owe her some frakking respect. Man, that was gonna hurt...
But for now, Kat was one of her kids...just one of the scared little children in this great flying orphanage. For now Kat needed a gentle hand to rock her to sleep. And once Starbuck had put her to bed...once she had put the bruised child inside her own heart to bed...then maybe they could both get some sleep.
The End