One Artist to Another
Title: One Artist to Another
Rating: R
Fandoms: Battlestar Galactica (2003) and Firefly (Ellen Tigh & Saffron)
Summary: Not much was better then sex but Ellen Tigh had a feeling that the fallout from this evening would come awfully frakking close. Written for Multiverse 2006 as requested by florastuart.
Author’s Note: No spoilers for either the Big Damn Movie or Lay Your Burdens Down, Part II. There’s nothing here that would shock anyone who’s seen season one of either show.
Cloud Nine was packed to the gills, overflowing with Colonial and Alliance diplomats and officers. The mood was tense yet euphoric, an electric charge filtered through the crowds that had gathered in every bar and lounge. They hung on every word that poured out of the wireless, breathless with anticipation as they waited for any news from the treaty talks that were dragging through their third long day.
Ellen Tigh waited with them, an untouched glass of ambrosia sitting by her elbow and a sweet looking Alliance junior diplomat on the stool to her right. Saul said that the Old Man was optimistic but the cost was too high for anything to be sure. Her glass sat there, untouched for the past hour and she hadn’t had the heart to flirt with the nice Alliance boy for longer than that.
Not a whisper, not a breath, broke the heavy silence of the lounge, there was only the crackle of the wireless and then the distorted voice of the journalist on the other end introducing the President of the Colonies. Laura Roslin’s voice came across as confident and comforting as it had since the beginning of their collective nightmare. Her voice sailed through space and announced that after a year of running they had all finally found a new home. The fleet erupted into cheers.
Euphoria swept through every person in Cloud Nine’s finest establishment. Ellen wasn’t sure which intoxication was stronger, the ambrosia in her hand, the hungry eyes of the boy to her right or the triumph and excitement that soared in her veins. If she noticed the petite redhead who slithered through the crowd, always there yet never quite in view, she certainly didn’t remember her as she sipped her drink and smiled and laughed and did her best to wrap the boy around her finger and let the chaos flow around her.
She couldn’t help the smug smile that crossed her face when she let that exceptionally pretty young diplomat frak her in the men’s room. Only doing her part to cement the new peace treaty, after all.
~~~
The red-haired girl appeared in the bar the next night as well. Things were slower as everyone, both Alliance and Colonial, slept off the previous day’s festivities. However, there was a group of off-duty Galactica officers whooping it up at the opposite end of the room. Ellen sat and nursed a drink at the bar, content to watch as the spectacle unfolded itself before her.
She had to admit, the girl was a real artist. She circled the table with a smile here, a caress there, a whisper in the occasional ear and soon all of the men and a number of the women were obviously smitten. It wasn’t long before the highest-ranking officer there, a Lt. Cata or Gate or some such, was singled out and the true dance began. Ellen sat back and ordered herself another drink. This was the most entertaining theater she’d seen in years.
At one point the girl rose and came over to the bar. She ordered another round of drinks for the table and gracefully rested on an obliging stool. Ellen raised her glass and grinned knowingly. “Impressive performance,” she said, her tone complimentary with just a touch of professional amusement.
The girl looked up, a millisecond of suspicion flitting through her eyes before she could control it. A shy, dumb smile brightened her face, making her look even younger than she probably was. “A performance? Where?” She turned around on the stool, making a great show of looking at every corner of the room. She turned back to Ellen and now she seemed confused with an obvious pout. “You’re making fun of me.” She shook a finger at her quite preciously.
Ellen only smiled and took another sip of her drink. “Your order is here,” she offered as the bartender set down the very full tray. She winked when the bartender turned away and the girl’s eyes narrowed appraisingly. Ellen could see her mind working, assessing and categorizing the situation at hand. Something flashed between them for a moment, a recognition or an awareness, and then it was gone with the swish of a skirt. An enthusiastic cheer rose from the table of ragtag officers as the girl passed glasses around and she laughed and drank with the best of them.
She looked up one last time, her eyes locking onto Ellen’s from across the room. Her grin was possessive and taunting and Ellen raised one sardonic eyebrow in response. The girl looked away first and Ellen turned back to the bar with a sigh and signaled for another drink. She’d have to watch out for that one.
~~~
The phone jangled obnoxiously. Ellen groaned and rolled over, shoving her head under her pillow as she went. She’d only just gotten to bed and it was too early to deal with some sort of military nonsense. She swatted at Saul who was already rolling out of the bunk. The mattress shifted and she heard him stumble across the room, grumbling under his breath. He yanked the phone off the wall with an angry, “What!” With the ringing gone she felt herself drifting away, the sound of her husband’s fierce muttering a strange sort of lullaby.
The phone slammed down and she came completely awake, sitting up with a jerk. “What’s going on?” She asked, her throat still hoarse from the night before.
Saul slammed his locker shut. He shrugged on his uniform shirt and buttoned it with vicious, precise motions. “I have to go to CIC,” he growled. After years of marriage Ellen generally let Saul’s customary morning surliness pass without comment. She’d learned to make him pay in other ways. “Gaeta went and got himself married and now I have to cover his shift.”
“Can’t someone else cover it?” Ellen asked through a yawn. She froze, her hand still raised, as her head began to clear and she recalled last night and the way a certain redhead had nuzzled into a familiar officer’s side as they slipped out of the bar. “It was that redhead,” she muttered to herself in amazement and with more than a little appreciation.
Saul shot her a piercing look and growled when no information was forthcoming. He slapped the clasps on his jacket together and yanked the hatch open. “Frakking typical,” he muttered to himself as he stepped out.
Ellen didn’t hear the hatch slam shut, too lost in trying to piece together what she had seen of that skinny redheaded girl. A sly grin slid across her face, its viciousness lost on the empty quarters. She didn’t know what sort of trouble was coming but she was absolutely certain that it would be one hell of a show.
~~~
The corridors of the Galactica were dimly lit as Ellen stumbled from the transport bay to her rack or whatever the frak those battlestar types called their bedrooms. She swayed down to the passage humming a Caprican pop song to herself. The Athena’s Porn Stars had been a great group, just about to hit the big time, it was only a shame they’d been on-planet when the Cylons attacked.
She banged into a wall and spent a minute giggling before she audibally shushed herself. Ambrosia was wonderful but that Alliance drink, friskey, she thought it was called, had made her warm and relaxed and suddenly a dingy old battlestar was the best place in any galaxy to be.
She pushed herself off the bulkhead and continued on her way, this time humming some Alliance drinking song they’d all been singing earlier in the evening. She swayed down the corridor humming and giggling and had just opened her mouth to belt out a particularly ribald chorus when something clanged to the floor behind her. She jumped and turned, her back banging painfully against a bulkhead.
She stood there, frozen, her heart pounding in her chest. She stared down an almost hidden side corridor, certain that at any moment a Cylon would come clamping towards her. The shadows moved and Ellen scrabbled against the bulkhead behind her, unconsciously making little mewling noises. Seconds passed and her heart began to slow as nothing came out of the shadows to kill her. As the blood stopped pounding in her ears she could hear the very non-mechanical noises that were filtering towards her. There were moans and familiar sucking, wet noises and when the desperately groping couple stumbled out of their corner and right under a flickering light Ellen felt hilarious laughter well up and spill over into the corridor.
Gaius Baltar whipped around, his face swiftly shifting from startled to scared to slightly contemptuous. The curvy redhead with him looked even less amused, if that were possible.
“Congratulations sweetie,” Ellen gasped out between chortles. “We’re really moving up in the galaxy, aren’t we?”
“What are you babbling about?” Baltar asked peevishly, his face flushed in a dangerous combination of anger and embarrassment, a love bite swelling on his neck.
“You know he won’t make an honest woman of you?” Ellen asked, ignoring the vice-president completely.
“Well, obviously,” the redhead replied acerbically, her tone made Baltar’s eyes widen. He cast her the most deliciously befuddled look that Ellen had ever seen. The idea of the kind of sweet and innocent routine the girl must have used on him sent her into another paroxysm of glee.
“That will be quite enough, Mrs. Tigh,” Baltar gritted, his manly pride obviously offended. “You’ve both had quite enough laughter at my expense.” With that he swept out of the corridor, muttering quietly to himself. He was the very picture of a jilted, slightly schizophrenic, 16 year-old.
“Oh, honey, don’t be that way,” Ellen yelled after him. The way he tensed his shoulders without deigning to turn around sent her straight into another fit of the giggles.
She turned back towards the side corridor only to be met by one of the most violent slaps she had ever received and what could only be an obscenity in that strange language the Alliance types were always breaking into.
“You gorram whisky-sodden fuck!” The redhead snarled, her voice didn’t rise above a whisper and for the first time Ellen feared this little melodrama would end badly. “I will not let you screw this up for me.”
Ellen smiled and patted her on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, girly-girl.” She leaned in closer. “Trust me, that innocent lost lamb act would’ve gotten you one evening but the manipulating dominatrix will have him coming back for more. I’m sure you can figure out where to take it from here.”
Ellen grinned and winked as a slow, calculating look slid over the girl’s face, a look Ellen recognized far too well from her own mirror. She turned away, pleased with herself and the hand she’d had in this particular drama.
“Oh,” she started and turned back. “You might want to see about bringing your pretty little husband along for the ride. I bet he’s more up for it than you’d think.”
The sly, wicked grin that spread across the redhead’s face was the most delicious thing Ellen had seen in ages.
Ellen hummed to herself as she swayed down the hallway. Not much was better than sex but she had a feeling that the fallout from this evening would come awfully frakking close.
Rating: R
Fandoms: Battlestar Galactica (2003) and Firefly (Ellen Tigh & Saffron)
Summary: Not much was better then sex but Ellen Tigh had a feeling that the fallout from this evening would come awfully frakking close. Written for Multiverse 2006 as requested by florastuart.
Author’s Note: No spoilers for either the Big Damn Movie or Lay Your Burdens Down, Part II. There’s nothing here that would shock anyone who’s seen season one of either show.
Cloud Nine was packed to the gills, overflowing with Colonial and Alliance diplomats and officers. The mood was tense yet euphoric, an electric charge filtered through the crowds that had gathered in every bar and lounge. They hung on every word that poured out of the wireless, breathless with anticipation as they waited for any news from the treaty talks that were dragging through their third long day.
Ellen Tigh waited with them, an untouched glass of ambrosia sitting by her elbow and a sweet looking Alliance junior diplomat on the stool to her right. Saul said that the Old Man was optimistic but the cost was too high for anything to be sure. Her glass sat there, untouched for the past hour and she hadn’t had the heart to flirt with the nice Alliance boy for longer than that.
Not a whisper, not a breath, broke the heavy silence of the lounge, there was only the crackle of the wireless and then the distorted voice of the journalist on the other end introducing the President of the Colonies. Laura Roslin’s voice came across as confident and comforting as it had since the beginning of their collective nightmare. Her voice sailed through space and announced that after a year of running they had all finally found a new home. The fleet erupted into cheers.
Euphoria swept through every person in Cloud Nine’s finest establishment. Ellen wasn’t sure which intoxication was stronger, the ambrosia in her hand, the hungry eyes of the boy to her right or the triumph and excitement that soared in her veins. If she noticed the petite redhead who slithered through the crowd, always there yet never quite in view, she certainly didn’t remember her as she sipped her drink and smiled and laughed and did her best to wrap the boy around her finger and let the chaos flow around her.
She couldn’t help the smug smile that crossed her face when she let that exceptionally pretty young diplomat frak her in the men’s room. Only doing her part to cement the new peace treaty, after all.
~~~
The red-haired girl appeared in the bar the next night as well. Things were slower as everyone, both Alliance and Colonial, slept off the previous day’s festivities. However, there was a group of off-duty Galactica officers whooping it up at the opposite end of the room. Ellen sat and nursed a drink at the bar, content to watch as the spectacle unfolded itself before her.
She had to admit, the girl was a real artist. She circled the table with a smile here, a caress there, a whisper in the occasional ear and soon all of the men and a number of the women were obviously smitten. It wasn’t long before the highest-ranking officer there, a Lt. Cata or Gate or some such, was singled out and the true dance began. Ellen sat back and ordered herself another drink. This was the most entertaining theater she’d seen in years.
At one point the girl rose and came over to the bar. She ordered another round of drinks for the table and gracefully rested on an obliging stool. Ellen raised her glass and grinned knowingly. “Impressive performance,” she said, her tone complimentary with just a touch of professional amusement.
The girl looked up, a millisecond of suspicion flitting through her eyes before she could control it. A shy, dumb smile brightened her face, making her look even younger than she probably was. “A performance? Where?” She turned around on the stool, making a great show of looking at every corner of the room. She turned back to Ellen and now she seemed confused with an obvious pout. “You’re making fun of me.” She shook a finger at her quite preciously.
Ellen only smiled and took another sip of her drink. “Your order is here,” she offered as the bartender set down the very full tray. She winked when the bartender turned away and the girl’s eyes narrowed appraisingly. Ellen could see her mind working, assessing and categorizing the situation at hand. Something flashed between them for a moment, a recognition or an awareness, and then it was gone with the swish of a skirt. An enthusiastic cheer rose from the table of ragtag officers as the girl passed glasses around and she laughed and drank with the best of them.
She looked up one last time, her eyes locking onto Ellen’s from across the room. Her grin was possessive and taunting and Ellen raised one sardonic eyebrow in response. The girl looked away first and Ellen turned back to the bar with a sigh and signaled for another drink. She’d have to watch out for that one.
~~~
The phone jangled obnoxiously. Ellen groaned and rolled over, shoving her head under her pillow as she went. She’d only just gotten to bed and it was too early to deal with some sort of military nonsense. She swatted at Saul who was already rolling out of the bunk. The mattress shifted and she heard him stumble across the room, grumbling under his breath. He yanked the phone off the wall with an angry, “What!” With the ringing gone she felt herself drifting away, the sound of her husband’s fierce muttering a strange sort of lullaby.
The phone slammed down and she came completely awake, sitting up with a jerk. “What’s going on?” She asked, her throat still hoarse from the night before.
Saul slammed his locker shut. He shrugged on his uniform shirt and buttoned it with vicious, precise motions. “I have to go to CIC,” he growled. After years of marriage Ellen generally let Saul’s customary morning surliness pass without comment. She’d learned to make him pay in other ways. “Gaeta went and got himself married and now I have to cover his shift.”
“Can’t someone else cover it?” Ellen asked through a yawn. She froze, her hand still raised, as her head began to clear and she recalled last night and the way a certain redhead had nuzzled into a familiar officer’s side as they slipped out of the bar. “It was that redhead,” she muttered to herself in amazement and with more than a little appreciation.
Saul shot her a piercing look and growled when no information was forthcoming. He slapped the clasps on his jacket together and yanked the hatch open. “Frakking typical,” he muttered to himself as he stepped out.
Ellen didn’t hear the hatch slam shut, too lost in trying to piece together what she had seen of that skinny redheaded girl. A sly grin slid across her face, its viciousness lost on the empty quarters. She didn’t know what sort of trouble was coming but she was absolutely certain that it would be one hell of a show.
~~~
The corridors of the Galactica were dimly lit as Ellen stumbled from the transport bay to her rack or whatever the frak those battlestar types called their bedrooms. She swayed down to the passage humming a Caprican pop song to herself. The Athena’s Porn Stars had been a great group, just about to hit the big time, it was only a shame they’d been on-planet when the Cylons attacked.
She banged into a wall and spent a minute giggling before she audibally shushed herself. Ambrosia was wonderful but that Alliance drink, friskey, she thought it was called, had made her warm and relaxed and suddenly a dingy old battlestar was the best place in any galaxy to be.
She pushed herself off the bulkhead and continued on her way, this time humming some Alliance drinking song they’d all been singing earlier in the evening. She swayed down the corridor humming and giggling and had just opened her mouth to belt out a particularly ribald chorus when something clanged to the floor behind her. She jumped and turned, her back banging painfully against a bulkhead.
She stood there, frozen, her heart pounding in her chest. She stared down an almost hidden side corridor, certain that at any moment a Cylon would come clamping towards her. The shadows moved and Ellen scrabbled against the bulkhead behind her, unconsciously making little mewling noises. Seconds passed and her heart began to slow as nothing came out of the shadows to kill her. As the blood stopped pounding in her ears she could hear the very non-mechanical noises that were filtering towards her. There were moans and familiar sucking, wet noises and when the desperately groping couple stumbled out of their corner and right under a flickering light Ellen felt hilarious laughter well up and spill over into the corridor.
Gaius Baltar whipped around, his face swiftly shifting from startled to scared to slightly contemptuous. The curvy redhead with him looked even less amused, if that were possible.
“Congratulations sweetie,” Ellen gasped out between chortles. “We’re really moving up in the galaxy, aren’t we?”
“What are you babbling about?” Baltar asked peevishly, his face flushed in a dangerous combination of anger and embarrassment, a love bite swelling on his neck.
“You know he won’t make an honest woman of you?” Ellen asked, ignoring the vice-president completely.
“Well, obviously,” the redhead replied acerbically, her tone made Baltar’s eyes widen. He cast her the most deliciously befuddled look that Ellen had ever seen. The idea of the kind of sweet and innocent routine the girl must have used on him sent her into another paroxysm of glee.
“That will be quite enough, Mrs. Tigh,” Baltar gritted, his manly pride obviously offended. “You’ve both had quite enough laughter at my expense.” With that he swept out of the corridor, muttering quietly to himself. He was the very picture of a jilted, slightly schizophrenic, 16 year-old.
“Oh, honey, don’t be that way,” Ellen yelled after him. The way he tensed his shoulders without deigning to turn around sent her straight into another fit of the giggles.
She turned back towards the side corridor only to be met by one of the most violent slaps she had ever received and what could only be an obscenity in that strange language the Alliance types were always breaking into.
“You gorram whisky-sodden fuck!” The redhead snarled, her voice didn’t rise above a whisper and for the first time Ellen feared this little melodrama would end badly. “I will not let you screw this up for me.”
Ellen smiled and patted her on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, girly-girl.” She leaned in closer. “Trust me, that innocent lost lamb act would’ve gotten you one evening but the manipulating dominatrix will have him coming back for more. I’m sure you can figure out where to take it from here.”
Ellen grinned and winked as a slow, calculating look slid over the girl’s face, a look Ellen recognized far too well from her own mirror. She turned away, pleased with herself and the hand she’d had in this particular drama.
“Oh,” she started and turned back. “You might want to see about bringing your pretty little husband along for the ride. I bet he’s more up for it than you’d think.”
The sly, wicked grin that spread across the redhead’s face was the most delicious thing Ellen had seen in ages.
Ellen hummed to herself as she swayed down the hallway. Not much was better than sex but she had a feeling that the fallout from this evening would come awfully frakking close.