BSG fanfic: House Of Dreams (1/2)
Title: House Of Dreams
Author: jemmalynette
Summary: Takes place after the finale. The Chief finds himself drawn to Boomer and the dreamhouse, even long after her death.
Word Count: 1344
Characters: Mainly the Chief and Boomer with mentions of other characters
Rating: K
Disclaimer: Oh, if BSG was mine......
Other links: Part One~FF.net
His fingers gripped around the door handle gently as he slowly pushed it open, revealing the beautiful golden walls of the house and the many objects and ornaments that made it a home. His home. He walked over to the window where the sun shone through it brightly, causing him to squint slightly as he looked out at the many tall green trees and colourful flowers that were in front of him. He felt slim arms circle their way around his body and he looked down solemnly at the soft hands that caressed his chest and hugged him so tightly.
He pulled away, tearing the hands from his torso and he moved closer to the glass patio window, staring out at the nature that beckoned him in to peace and silence. Where nobody would bother him. Just a place where it was him, the birds in the sky and the natural beauty that grew around him. No one else. There was nobody to hurt him. And no one for him to hurt either. There was no anger or bitterness or danger. Just peace. And quiet.
“Galen…” a voice behind him said softly.
“Leave me alone,” he muttered, crossing his arms tightly and biting down hard on his right thumb.
“Please,” the voice added, “don’t do this. I hate seeing you like this.”
There was a long pause. Blissful for him, agonising for her. But her presence made him uneasy, made him angry. He bit down on his thumb harder until he could taste blood seeping on to his tongue. He swallowed and closed his eyes. Maybe he would be back on that island. Alone again. Away from her.
“If you don’t want to be here then why do you keep coming here?” she asked with confusion, keeping her distance but wanting to come closer, wanting to touch him again and make him smile like he used to.
“I know you’re dead,” he said suddenly, the hurt dripping its way in to his voice. He tried not to care. He had had so much practise in the past. But like all the other times, whenever he tried to forget her he would always fail. He would always see her image in front of him, smiling back at him as if everything was fine. He should’ve learnt by now. There was no forgetting Boomer.
He finally turned to face her, watching her expression fall slightly. She seemed so real. So small. She looked up at him with a frown, “Athena shot me in the stomach,” she told him, almost wanting to place a hand over the wounds that she knew would no longer be there, “Several times.”
“I know,” he replied as his eyes dropped to the floor. He feared that if he looked at her for too long, the image would play in his mind. And he would be reliving the first time he had lost her, when she had died in his arms and they had been torn apart so viciously, so suddenly. He didn’t want to feel such grief again. He didn’t want to grieve for her. He just wanted to be alone and not have to worry about anybody else ever again.
“Maybe she was right to kill me,” she muttered, running her fingers along the table and past the framed photo of their wedding. Mr and Mrs Tyrol. That was who they were supposed to be. Not this now. Not these hollow, miserable people they had become, “I was wrong to take Hera,” she continued, “I wish I hadn’t…I wish I never…”
“Me too,” he mumbled, still avoiding her eyes as she took a gentle step towards him.
She felt her lower lip begin to tremble, “Remember what I told you before I left?” she asked him as he refused to look at her, “I meant everything I said to you. About us.” She reached for his hand and he pulled away vigorously as if her touch were poisonous.
“You used me,” he snapped, “I wanted you-” he glanced at her, stopping in mid-sentence, “I wanted us…” again, he paused, unable to finish, “I shouldn’t have come here,” he muttered angrily, making his way towards the door.
Boomer watched him leave as he opened the door and disappeared once again. She continued to stare at the wooden door as she stood vacantly, wishing for it to open again.
~*~
She couldn’t tell how long it had been when he next visited. There was no sense of time here. Could’ve been days, weeks, months. She stood from the chair, leaving the framed photo of their wedding day on the dining table.
“I missed you,” she said softly, “We both did.” The little girl emerged from behind her, staring at him with the wide and hopeful eyes of her mother. She was truly the spitting image of her; this only made it hurt the more.
Galen looked away sullenly, “Get rid of her,” he mumbled, refusing to look at the child.
“Galen-”
“I said make her go away.” He looked up hesitantly and she was gone. Boomer stared at him sadly and it reminded him of when they had broken up aboard Galactica. Back when she was Sharon, his Sharon. It just wasn’t to be. And he wasted no time in reminding her of this fact with great emphasis.
“Don’t say that,” she said softly.
“Why not?” he barked, “It’s true.”
“You came back,” she told him, “If that were true then why did you come back here?” He turned to look at her angrily, “Here isn’t real,” he snapped, eyes wild. He restrained from touching her, from grabbing her and perhaps doing much worse. He knew what he was capable of now. That’s why he wanted to live alone, that’s why he didn’t want to be with anyone, “You aren’t real. You are dead.” That’s when he realised; it didn’t matter if he touched Boomer, or hurt her. Because there was nothing there to hurt. He couldn’t cause harm to something that wasn’t there.
She stepped slowly towards him, as if she were about to speak. She held out her hand to him, “Go ahead. Grab me and throw me to the floor again. I deserve it.” His head pounded. He didn’t want to do that. But he didn’t want this either - he didn’t want to be manipulated again, hurt. He was sick of it all. There was no one out there for him, there never was. No one that cared for him. What Boomer was telling him, they were all lies. She used him before and she would use him again. What she did to him was unforgivable, spiteful. And there was no way he could release that anger. He grabbed her wrist, squeezing hard and pulling her closer. She barely reacted but he could see the fear in her eyes as he glared down at her. He recognised that look. It was the same expression from when they were both in the brig years ago and he had thrown her to the floor furiously. Don’t touch me. If you do, I swear, I will kill you. He froze, his fingers loosening around her small wrist. Gods, had he really said that? And meant it? He stared at her, glare softening in to a stunned gaze. He didn’t want to be the one who put that fearful look on her face, or those frightened tears in her eyes. He dropped her arm and stepped back.
She let a single tear fall, “I am real,” she almost snapped, “It doesn’t matter what you do. I will still feel the same.”
“You can’t,” he whispered, eyes darting back and forth, “You can’t. I’m a monster.”
She sniffed, wiping at her eyes, “You’re not.”
“I am. I can’t control it,” he took another step back, “I don’t know. I don’t know why I’m here.”
“Galen-”
“I’ve got to go.” And once again, he had left her alone in the house. She knew he would be back. It was only a matter of when.
tbc