BSG fic: For the Moment, PG (afterlife fic)
Disclaimer: not mine
Rating: PG, language
Length: 1000+
Spoilers: all of BSG? idek. Some of it, at least.
Character: Sam Anders, references Kara/Sam
Genre: character study
Notes: I blame lizardbeth_j for the comment she made in the PoD Make Sam Happy fest. I'm also not entirely certain I haven't half-written this before. (It was only supposed to be a 400-word ficlet. whatever). completely unbetaed. I did spellcheck, though. Not that it means much. I'm going to regret this in the morning. (I think I will make this the first story I put on ff'net tomorrow)
For the Moment
by ALC Punk!
The other side isn't some dimension or place. It just is--Sam floats (sits, stands), and tries to find up.
There is no up. No down, no back or forward.
(the last thing he remembers is Kara shouting, and then--)
Everything comes back, and it hurts.
Now there is place. His feet on solid ground, the grass poking into the bare soles. Sunlight doesn't exist, then it does, burning down on him and he tips his head back (too fast) and falls backwards.
The breath goes out of his lungs at the impact and he lays there, eyes open as he watches the sun.
"You always were a lazy frakker." Shape follows voice, blocking the sunlight from him.
Sam squints, places the face looking down at him and the ground lurches. "You're dead--" Not the most diplomatic approaches, but his gut rolls and his heart aches as if Kara had told him only five seconds ago. I'm sorry, Sam... she didn't make it.
A foot nudges his shoulder, then Sue-Shaun steps away and drops down next to him. "No shit."
(the other side, he thinks, and for an instant there is no sun, no grass, no ground, no--)
Reaching out, he grabs her arm, squeezing tightly. "But you feel real."
Her free hand slaps at his. "Asshole, I might not bruise here, but that still hurts."
"Sorry--" he pulls his fingers off of her arm and decides that sitting up for this conversation will be even more confusing. "Where are we?"
"Nowhere. Everywhere."
"Frakking philosophy."
"You were the one who wanted perfection," Sue-Shaun mocks, picking a piece a grass and twirling it before dropping it on his chest.
So many thoughts go through his head. Memories of all the times they've sat in the grass, mocked each other, laughed, played--been teammates and friends. He remembers Sue-Shaun stoically refusing to fall apart after the fall of the Colonies, remembers earlier than that--his own folly as he and Tory worked on the last of the data for the children the Cylons so desperately wanted.
And before, so many memories of before. They drown him for a moment, then a handful of grass falls on his face, and he yelps.
"Don't get caught in your own undertow, T."
"Yeah." He sits up, rubbing the grass off his face and glances at her sideways. "So now what?"
"Now nothing." The grin she shoots him is pure Sue-Shaun deviltry, and she tosses another handful of grass at him. "I'm off, but you've got a connection of your own to make."
"Missed you--" he blurts the words before really thinking about them, and finds himself wanting to blush Samuel T Anders, professional pyramid player, blushing. The grass gets a little misty, but he looks away from it before it gets worse.
"I know." On her feet, she steps away and gives him one last grin before she's gone.
"T--" It's Barolay who slaps him on the back of the head, and that makes sense to him. "Glad you could make it."
"Hey--"
She grins down at him, then turns her head to look around the mountain-top. "Thought you got enough of this shit-heap during the occupation."
The ugly little settlement of New Caprica city is slowly spreading out before them, the air has more of a chill in it. Not that he's ever really felt it like others did. Sam shrugs. "It's not real."
"Right. I've gotta--" she shrugs and points over her shoulder. "Won't be the last, probably."
He doesn't say did you know I'm a Cylon, but he thinks it. And she's gone before he can say goodbye anyway (not that it matters).
New Caprica isn't where he wants to be--it might have his happiest memories of Kara (at first), but the later ones--yeah, no. Not where he wants to be. He closes his eyes.
"Hey, nowhere-man," Rally slaps him on the shoulder, Ten-Point snorts.
This time it's the training camp they were in--high in the mountains, again. He can feel his lungs straining as the oxygen thins out. Coach, Connor, Muriel, all the other members of the C-Bucs who didn't make it, the resistance people who'd been destroyed when the Cylons betrayed them.
Sam keeps his eyes open as they give him nods or salutes, jokes or just looks. Some of them, he only barely remembers.
It occurs to him that if he's seeing all the people he's killed there are far larger crowds who should appear.
The thought makes his stomach lurch, and he tells himself it's a stupid thought, he's not going to see every person who died on the Colonies--
(nowhere and nothing flickers around him and he almost welcomes it until he remembers there are others he wants to see)
"I wasn't expecting..." Natalie looks around the wooded valley, then back at Sam, frowning. "How intriguing. I think. Should you be here?"
"No?"
"Hrm." Her arms cross, and her finger taps abstractedly for a moment before she smiles. Half-amused, half-something else he can't really name. "And the dying leader shall lead them home... I wonder which of us it was?"
She's gone, fading with the trees and the sunlight before he can answer.
(would you have stopped him?)
The question is in Tory's eyes, but she doesn't say it as she stands across from him. There's a brook babbling beneath their feet, and Sam think about wading in it, feeling the water course over his toes (such a human reaction).
"Why didn't we survive?" She asks that, as though she already knows the answer, her gaze sliding past him and away.
The distance between them wavers, and Sam steps into the brook to catch her elbow. It's an awkward hug (and he wishes he'd thought of it before Sue-Shaun and Barolay and the others were gone, but Tory has known him longer than all of them), but there's something perfect about it that breaks a smile over his face.
"Our destinies?" Sam suggests, tone light as Tory pulls away from him. She's never liked getting her feet wet--even on Earth.
"We were meant for something greater. Yes."
The explanation satisfies her, and he's not surprised that she simply blinks out of his sight without anything more.
Sam's beginning to get the hang of nowhere, and he closes his eyes. If he focuses on what he wants, and where he wants to be...
"Been taking your time."
The smile on his face is all for her, though the hot tub and the deck, the sun overhead and the ocean crashing far below are a nice touch. Kara snorts as he just stands there and kicks her sandal at him.
"You imagine this?" He asks, dodging the flying shoe and moving to take her in his arms. It's cliche and ridiculous, but every inch of him comes alive when her hands brush over his arms and then grab his shoulders. He pulls her up onto her toes, and she stretches into him. Their mouths meet, and he remembers more than Caprica and New Caprica, more than the battlestar. There are years stretching behind them, warnings and moments, women and men. Everything they are and will be, all in one burst of emotion and belonging.
Kissing in nothing is perfect.
-f-
Rating: PG, language
Length: 1000+
Spoilers: all of BSG? idek. Some of it, at least.
Character: Sam Anders, references Kara/Sam
Genre: character study
Notes: I blame lizardbeth_j for the comment she made in the PoD Make Sam Happy fest. I'm also not entirely certain I haven't half-written this before. (It was only supposed to be a 400-word ficlet. whatever). completely unbetaed. I did spellcheck, though. Not that it means much. I'm going to regret this in the morning. (I think I will make this the first story I put on ff'net tomorrow)
For the Moment
by ALC Punk!
The other side isn't some dimension or place. It just is--Sam floats (sits, stands), and tries to find up.
There is no up. No down, no back or forward.
(the last thing he remembers is Kara shouting, and then--)
Everything comes back, and it hurts.
Now there is place. His feet on solid ground, the grass poking into the bare soles. Sunlight doesn't exist, then it does, burning down on him and he tips his head back (too fast) and falls backwards.
The breath goes out of his lungs at the impact and he lays there, eyes open as he watches the sun.
"You always were a lazy frakker." Shape follows voice, blocking the sunlight from him.
Sam squints, places the face looking down at him and the ground lurches. "You're dead--" Not the most diplomatic approaches, but his gut rolls and his heart aches as if Kara had told him only five seconds ago. I'm sorry, Sam... she didn't make it.
A foot nudges his shoulder, then Sue-Shaun steps away and drops down next to him. "No shit."
(the other side, he thinks, and for an instant there is no sun, no grass, no ground, no--)
Reaching out, he grabs her arm, squeezing tightly. "But you feel real."
Her free hand slaps at his. "Asshole, I might not bruise here, but that still hurts."
"Sorry--" he pulls his fingers off of her arm and decides that sitting up for this conversation will be even more confusing. "Where are we?"
"Nowhere. Everywhere."
"Frakking philosophy."
"You were the one who wanted perfection," Sue-Shaun mocks, picking a piece a grass and twirling it before dropping it on his chest.
So many thoughts go through his head. Memories of all the times they've sat in the grass, mocked each other, laughed, played--been teammates and friends. He remembers Sue-Shaun stoically refusing to fall apart after the fall of the Colonies, remembers earlier than that--his own folly as he and Tory worked on the last of the data for the children the Cylons so desperately wanted.
And before, so many memories of before. They drown him for a moment, then a handful of grass falls on his face, and he yelps.
"Don't get caught in your own undertow, T."
"Yeah." He sits up, rubbing the grass off his face and glances at her sideways. "So now what?"
"Now nothing." The grin she shoots him is pure Sue-Shaun deviltry, and she tosses another handful of grass at him. "I'm off, but you've got a connection of your own to make."
"Missed you--" he blurts the words before really thinking about them, and finds himself wanting to blush Samuel T Anders, professional pyramid player, blushing. The grass gets a little misty, but he looks away from it before it gets worse.
"I know." On her feet, she steps away and gives him one last grin before she's gone.
"T--" It's Barolay who slaps him on the back of the head, and that makes sense to him. "Glad you could make it."
"Hey--"
She grins down at him, then turns her head to look around the mountain-top. "Thought you got enough of this shit-heap during the occupation."
The ugly little settlement of New Caprica city is slowly spreading out before them, the air has more of a chill in it. Not that he's ever really felt it like others did. Sam shrugs. "It's not real."
"Right. I've gotta--" she shrugs and points over her shoulder. "Won't be the last, probably."
He doesn't say did you know I'm a Cylon, but he thinks it. And she's gone before he can say goodbye anyway (not that it matters).
New Caprica isn't where he wants to be--it might have his happiest memories of Kara (at first), but the later ones--yeah, no. Not where he wants to be. He closes his eyes.
"Hey, nowhere-man," Rally slaps him on the shoulder, Ten-Point snorts.
This time it's the training camp they were in--high in the mountains, again. He can feel his lungs straining as the oxygen thins out. Coach, Connor, Muriel, all the other members of the C-Bucs who didn't make it, the resistance people who'd been destroyed when the Cylons betrayed them.
Sam keeps his eyes open as they give him nods or salutes, jokes or just looks. Some of them, he only barely remembers.
It occurs to him that if he's seeing all the people he's killed there are far larger crowds who should appear.
The thought makes his stomach lurch, and he tells himself it's a stupid thought, he's not going to see every person who died on the Colonies--
(nowhere and nothing flickers around him and he almost welcomes it until he remembers there are others he wants to see)
"I wasn't expecting..." Natalie looks around the wooded valley, then back at Sam, frowning. "How intriguing. I think. Should you be here?"
"No?"
"Hrm." Her arms cross, and her finger taps abstractedly for a moment before she smiles. Half-amused, half-something else he can't really name. "And the dying leader shall lead them home... I wonder which of us it was?"
She's gone, fading with the trees and the sunlight before he can answer.
(would you have stopped him?)
The question is in Tory's eyes, but she doesn't say it as she stands across from him. There's a brook babbling beneath their feet, and Sam think about wading in it, feeling the water course over his toes (such a human reaction).
"Why didn't we survive?" She asks that, as though she already knows the answer, her gaze sliding past him and away.
The distance between them wavers, and Sam steps into the brook to catch her elbow. It's an awkward hug (and he wishes he'd thought of it before Sue-Shaun and Barolay and the others were gone, but Tory has known him longer than all of them), but there's something perfect about it that breaks a smile over his face.
"Our destinies?" Sam suggests, tone light as Tory pulls away from him. She's never liked getting her feet wet--even on Earth.
"We were meant for something greater. Yes."
The explanation satisfies her, and he's not surprised that she simply blinks out of his sight without anything more.
Sam's beginning to get the hang of nowhere, and he closes his eyes. If he focuses on what he wants, and where he wants to be...
"Been taking your time."
The smile on his face is all for her, though the hot tub and the deck, the sun overhead and the ocean crashing far below are a nice touch. Kara snorts as he just stands there and kicks her sandal at him.
"You imagine this?" He asks, dodging the flying shoe and moving to take her in his arms. It's cliche and ridiculous, but every inch of him comes alive when her hands brush over his arms and then grab his shoulders. He pulls her up onto her toes, and she stretches into him. Their mouths meet, and he remembers more than Caprica and New Caprica, more than the battlestar. There are years stretching behind them, warnings and moments, women and men. Everything they are and will be, all in one burst of emotion and belonging.
Kissing in nothing is perfect.
-f-