wee drabbles
So, at QoT's request, I am migrating these from the wilds of comment-hood to their own post. These started out as political drabbles, but also double as motivation-for-Indi-to-get off-her-butt-and-write-some-more! Much love to everyone who participated in the original meme, and of course a big hug to wisteria_, because as always she has been the godmother to these babies.
For pixiestks:
When all the executive duties have been put to rest - Cylons escorted off, Marines dismissed, logs filled out (exception to the use of the airlock duly noted) - he goes in search of her.
The bunkroom is dim, with the familiar nighttime rustles of many sleeping bodies. He rolls his steps - heel-to-toe, heel-to-toe - to avoid making a sound with his fancy-soled shoes. When he gets to her bunk he notes where her arm is and then carefully positions himself clear of her swing.
“Hey,” he says, when her eyes have cleared enough to see who it is. “Come for a walk?” he whispers, miming the words more than he says them.
They head up, away from the hangar deck, away from CIC. He’s somehow not surprised when they end up in the ready room - still so familiar and comforting for them both, though he’s relinquished his claim and she’s only recently reestablished hers. He goes up to the podium and she perches on the arm of a front-row seat.
He takes off his jacket, lays it over the back of a chair. Loosens his tie. Finally he steals a glance at her. “I almost spaced Chief,” he says.
“Can’t fly like that, Apollo,” she shoots back, never mind that she’d been dead asleep not ten minutes before.
“Yeah, but frak! the Fleet’s second-highest ranking officer, our best knuckledragger, and - well, a rookie Viper pilot,” he finishes lamely.
She rolls her eyes at the mention of her once-husband. “You don’t second-guess what you do out there. You played your cards and look - we’re still here, the Cylons are still here, we’re all going to Earth in the morning.”
“Yeah. Gods.” He closes his eyes and tilts his head back, rubbing the crick that’s taken up permanent residence on the right side of his neck.
Kara comes to stand behind him and pulls his collar away from his neck. She digs her fingers into the knot, making him wince. “Here?”
“Mmm.” They stand like that for a few minutes, Lee rocking rhythmically with the force of her ministrations.
“Hey. Wake up, Prez.”
Lee opens his eyes reluctantly. “You were sleeping on your feet. Come on,” she tells him, tossing him his jacket. “You going back to Colonial One tonight?”
“Nah, too late to call up a Raptor. I’ll… crash somewhere.”
She lifts an eyebrow. “There’s a hot bunk in the senior officers’ quarters.”
He takes a slow breath as he pulls his jacket back on, a tangible reminder of his role. “I hear the officer in question hasn’t vacated the bunk yet. And wouldn’t that be…inappropriate?”
She shrugs. “I’m not only a Cylon-lover these days, I may also be a Cylon. I’m used to inappropriate.”
He’s too tired to think of any better options. Besides, he wants to. Kara takes his silence as acquiescence. As she undogs the hatch, he reaches out for her shoulder. “Hey.”
She turns back, query in her eyes. For answer, he draws her close, and presses a kiss to her temple. “Thank you.”
Instead of moving away, however, she reaches up and takes his face in her hands, giving him her strength as she kisses him slowly, slowly. She runs her fingers through his hair, along his jaw, over his shoulders, and as she does so he feels the layers of doubt and anger begin to slough off. He holds her to him, hands balanced on her hips, and breathes.
“We okay?” she says at last. He nods, and together they reenter their world.
~
For queenofthorns:
The rocks are cool under my hands, even though we worked up a sweat hiking up here. She doesn’t complain, though - it would take more than a little walk to make her mad. In fact, I’ve only ever seen her truly angry once, and it was up here, which is why I’ve dragged her out again. Which I’m sure she knows.
“Stay away from the edge this time, okay?” she calls. “I’m not explaining myself to the Old Man a second time.”
I give her a look but she pretends not to see and sits down to rest, looking out over the horizon. I turn back to the marker that we’ve come up to visit.
“'Hero.'” I pick up some debris that’s fallen around the base. “Stupid word.”
She lets out a long breath, shifting her position on the rock. “Why stupid, Rory?”
“They were just doing what they had to do. Wouldn’t anyone do that?”
She sits up a little more and shades her eyes so she can look me over. I can’t see the look in her eyes. “It’s a word other people call them. That tells me they respect - they respected what they did. That it had value.” She stands up and comes over to look at the words engraved into the stone. “They didn’t choose that title for themselves.”
“But okay, so dad blew up the wormhole. Kept the bad guys from coming after us. Someone had to do it. What made mo - my mother such a hero? The fight was over. She didn’t have to go out there and sacrifice herself.”
She’s getting mad at me, because her voice is getting lower and more controlled. “You know, even if she had lived to be as old as your grandfather, she would still be a hero. There were what? Two hundred pilots, when the Exodus began? And now there are just fifty left here. Some of them we left on New Caprica. Others never got a plaque. Every one of them is a hero. Your Uncle Helo. Mayor Costanza. Even Maggie down at the bar.”
“The Mayor!! He’s a joke. He just likes to hang out and talk all day long.”
“He put his life on the line for the Fleet. Every day. He deserves to have a relaxing job.”
“Mom was a coward. She didn’t want to raise a ki-”
“Rory Adama. Whatever else your mother was, she was not a coward. I have not raised you to dismiss your parents’ lives as nothing more than vanity. When you have faced the extermination of your entire race, then you will be entitled to pass judgment on their contribution to society. Until then, in my presence, you will kindly speak respectfully of them.” She turns to her pack and pulls out the new strand of prayer flags we’ve brought for the year. In silence she attaches it above the plaque, between the boulder and the nearby pole. When she’s satisfied that it’s secure, she crouches by the face of the rock.
“I’m sorry we didn’t bring candles,” she murmurs to the silent letters. “They just blow out too quickly up here.” Dee pats the words, then draws herself up. “Let’s go back home,” she says.
* * *
For pixiestks:
When all the executive duties have been put to rest - Cylons escorted off, Marines dismissed, logs filled out (exception to the use of the airlock duly noted) - he goes in search of her.
The bunkroom is dim, with the familiar nighttime rustles of many sleeping bodies. He rolls his steps - heel-to-toe, heel-to-toe - to avoid making a sound with his fancy-soled shoes. When he gets to her bunk he notes where her arm is and then carefully positions himself clear of her swing.
“Hey,” he says, when her eyes have cleared enough to see who it is. “Come for a walk?” he whispers, miming the words more than he says them.
They head up, away from the hangar deck, away from CIC. He’s somehow not surprised when they end up in the ready room - still so familiar and comforting for them both, though he’s relinquished his claim and she’s only recently reestablished hers. He goes up to the podium and she perches on the arm of a front-row seat.
He takes off his jacket, lays it over the back of a chair. Loosens his tie. Finally he steals a glance at her. “I almost spaced Chief,” he says.
“Can’t fly like that, Apollo,” she shoots back, never mind that she’d been dead asleep not ten minutes before.
“Yeah, but frak! the Fleet’s second-highest ranking officer, our best knuckledragger, and - well, a rookie Viper pilot,” he finishes lamely.
She rolls her eyes at the mention of her once-husband. “You don’t second-guess what you do out there. You played your cards and look - we’re still here, the Cylons are still here, we’re all going to Earth in the morning.”
“Yeah. Gods.” He closes his eyes and tilts his head back, rubbing the crick that’s taken up permanent residence on the right side of his neck.
Kara comes to stand behind him and pulls his collar away from his neck. She digs her fingers into the knot, making him wince. “Here?”
“Mmm.” They stand like that for a few minutes, Lee rocking rhythmically with the force of her ministrations.
“Hey. Wake up, Prez.”
Lee opens his eyes reluctantly. “You were sleeping on your feet. Come on,” she tells him, tossing him his jacket. “You going back to Colonial One tonight?”
“Nah, too late to call up a Raptor. I’ll… crash somewhere.”
She lifts an eyebrow. “There’s a hot bunk in the senior officers’ quarters.”
He takes a slow breath as he pulls his jacket back on, a tangible reminder of his role. “I hear the officer in question hasn’t vacated the bunk yet. And wouldn’t that be…inappropriate?”
She shrugs. “I’m not only a Cylon-lover these days, I may also be a Cylon. I’m used to inappropriate.”
He’s too tired to think of any better options. Besides, he wants to. Kara takes his silence as acquiescence. As she undogs the hatch, he reaches out for her shoulder. “Hey.”
She turns back, query in her eyes. For answer, he draws her close, and presses a kiss to her temple. “Thank you.”
Instead of moving away, however, she reaches up and takes his face in her hands, giving him her strength as she kisses him slowly, slowly. She runs her fingers through his hair, along his jaw, over his shoulders, and as she does so he feels the layers of doubt and anger begin to slough off. He holds her to him, hands balanced on her hips, and breathes.
“We okay?” she says at last. He nods, and together they reenter their world.
~
For queenofthorns:
The rocks are cool under my hands, even though we worked up a sweat hiking up here. She doesn’t complain, though - it would take more than a little walk to make her mad. In fact, I’ve only ever seen her truly angry once, and it was up here, which is why I’ve dragged her out again. Which I’m sure she knows.
“Stay away from the edge this time, okay?” she calls. “I’m not explaining myself to the Old Man a second time.”
I give her a look but she pretends not to see and sits down to rest, looking out over the horizon. I turn back to the marker that we’ve come up to visit.
“'Hero.'” I pick up some debris that’s fallen around the base. “Stupid word.”
She lets out a long breath, shifting her position on the rock. “Why stupid, Rory?”
“They were just doing what they had to do. Wouldn’t anyone do that?”
She sits up a little more and shades her eyes so she can look me over. I can’t see the look in her eyes. “It’s a word other people call them. That tells me they respect - they respected what they did. That it had value.” She stands up and comes over to look at the words engraved into the stone. “They didn’t choose that title for themselves.”
“But okay, so dad blew up the wormhole. Kept the bad guys from coming after us. Someone had to do it. What made mo - my mother such a hero? The fight was over. She didn’t have to go out there and sacrifice herself.”
She’s getting mad at me, because her voice is getting lower and more controlled. “You know, even if she had lived to be as old as your grandfather, she would still be a hero. There were what? Two hundred pilots, when the Exodus began? And now there are just fifty left here. Some of them we left on New Caprica. Others never got a plaque. Every one of them is a hero. Your Uncle Helo. Mayor Costanza. Even Maggie down at the bar.”
“The Mayor!! He’s a joke. He just likes to hang out and talk all day long.”
“He put his life on the line for the Fleet. Every day. He deserves to have a relaxing job.”
“Mom was a coward. She didn’t want to raise a ki-”
“Rory Adama. Whatever else your mother was, she was not a coward. I have not raised you to dismiss your parents’ lives as nothing more than vanity. When you have faced the extermination of your entire race, then you will be entitled to pass judgment on their contribution to society. Until then, in my presence, you will kindly speak respectfully of them.” She turns to her pack and pulls out the new strand of prayer flags we’ve brought for the year. In silence she attaches it above the plaque, between the boulder and the nearby pole. When she’s satisfied that it’s secure, she crouches by the face of the rock.
“I’m sorry we didn’t bring candles,” she murmurs to the silent letters. “They just blow out too quickly up here.” Dee pats the words, then draws herself up. “Let’s go back home,” she says.
* * *