where the blues and greens swirl into gray
Title: where the blues and greens swirl into gray
Date posted: 04-30-09
Fandom: BSG
Disclaimer: Nothing is mine, except the scenario.
Spoilers: It's all very vague.
Notes: Title from Tereza and Tomas by Bright Eyes.
So it's true, the trick is complete, you've become everything you said you never would be
You're a fool; you're a fool!
- Sunrise, Sunset, Bright Eyes
Also, April 2009 has been my most prolific writing month in like, ever. Yay April!
"One day," she says, "You're going to tire of watching me die."
He doesn't tell her that day has already come.
--
She comes to him, night after night, as though she didn't know what was coming.
"Doesn't it hurt?" He breaks enough to ask, and she shrugs a delicate shoulder. The muzzle to her temple is second nature now. "It's worth it."
--
Laura Roslin dies her quiet death. She returns in a new body two days later.
"Bill," she says, her voice raw, and he shoots her where she stands.
--
"One day," says the twenty-third version, "You're just going to love me."
--
It is difficult to watch the light leave the same pair of eyes over and over again. He tells himself it's not the same, that this is not the beloved body he held so dear, but she always looks so fragile as she goes.
--
The fifty-fifth one has the most success, pressing her lips to his before he pulls the trigger. "Don't you miss me?"
"You don't give me a chance."
--
He does miss her, her words and her thoughts and her gaze. These skinjobs have nothing of her.
(Except they do. And they try. And he shoots them again and again.)
--
The seventieth time he shoots her, she reaches for him, quavering and desperate. "Please," and blood froths on her lips.
Though it is capitulation, he takes her hand.
--
This is hell.
--
"Stop coming," he tells the seventy-third.
"I can't," she says, and her voice is faint with despair, "We belong together."
"We are nothing. You are nothing."
She dies in a particularly horrific fashion, a bullet between her eyes as she smiles fondly at him.
--
He sheds tears over some of them. With one, the particularly vulnerable forty-seven, he holds the body close, longing.
Her body feels the same, the bones the same width and weight, nailbeds the same color, lashes the same length. "I am her," the forty-seventh had tried to say. "We're the sa-"
--
"I have to come back," says seventy-four.
"Your program."
"No. My heart."
--
Eighty-one wakes him up by stroking his face. "I know what's coming," she says softly, "I just wanted to see you first."
"What do you want from me?"
"I don't want anything."
--
Ninety days of killing her repeatedly leaves him seeing her around every corner and waiting in shadows. He aches from wanting her.
--
"I'll stop coming, if that's what you want." One hundred and two's head is on his chest.
"It is," he says with no conviction, and she has to do the honors.
--
"You've hit your head but good," Cottle says as he examines him. "Who in the name of the Gods are you wrestling with in there?"
"I'm fine," he says shortly.
"Marines hear things from your quarters. It's okay if you-"
He cuts him off. "There is no need. Thank you."
--
"How do you get in?"
One hundred and four cocks her head, and it's all he can do not to reach out and pull her towards him. "Wouldn't you like to know?"
"Yes."
"If I told you that, you'd stop me from coming."
--
Lee is so earnest when he thinks he's right. "Dad, I've lost people too," he attempts, and his face holds such promise. He tells his son not to worry and sends him on his way.
--
"I don't think this is real," he whispers to one hundred and five. She's been idly dropping kisses on his shoulder.
"What makes you think that?"
"A lot of things."
"Are you worried?"
He stalls by kissing the crown of her head and lies, "No."
--
He must kill them, he just waits until the morning. He hates himself for desecrating her memory.
"Your initial cruelty compensates for it," says one hundred and nine. Her eyes open and shut and her mouth is like Laura's and she sounds like Laura and she's whole for as long as he'll allow it.
"You're not real, are you?"
"I'm as real as you let me be."
--
"Are you a Cylon?"
"I think you know the answer to that."
"Yes, I do."
She twines her arms around his back, so tantalizingly close that her lips brush his skin as she whispers "You need to end this."
--
What does it say about him, that he does this to her?
--
There is no pool of blood. There is never a stain, there is never a corpse.
He can, and will, and must, command.
Date posted: 04-30-09
Fandom: BSG
Disclaimer: Nothing is mine, except the scenario.
Spoilers: It's all very vague.
Notes: Title from Tereza and Tomas by Bright Eyes.
So it's true, the trick is complete, you've become everything you said you never would be
You're a fool; you're a fool!
- Sunrise, Sunset, Bright Eyes
Also, April 2009 has been my most prolific writing month in like, ever. Yay April!
"One day," she says, "You're going to tire of watching me die."
He doesn't tell her that day has already come.
--
She comes to him, night after night, as though she didn't know what was coming.
"Doesn't it hurt?" He breaks enough to ask, and she shrugs a delicate shoulder. The muzzle to her temple is second nature now. "It's worth it."
--
Laura Roslin dies her quiet death. She returns in a new body two days later.
"Bill," she says, her voice raw, and he shoots her where she stands.
--
"One day," says the twenty-third version, "You're just going to love me."
--
It is difficult to watch the light leave the same pair of eyes over and over again. He tells himself it's not the same, that this is not the beloved body he held so dear, but she always looks so fragile as she goes.
--
The fifty-fifth one has the most success, pressing her lips to his before he pulls the trigger. "Don't you miss me?"
"You don't give me a chance."
--
He does miss her, her words and her thoughts and her gaze. These skinjobs have nothing of her.
(Except they do. And they try. And he shoots them again and again.)
--
The seventieth time he shoots her, she reaches for him, quavering and desperate. "Please," and blood froths on her lips.
Though it is capitulation, he takes her hand.
--
This is hell.
--
"Stop coming," he tells the seventy-third.
"I can't," she says, and her voice is faint with despair, "We belong together."
"We are nothing. You are nothing."
She dies in a particularly horrific fashion, a bullet between her eyes as she smiles fondly at him.
--
He sheds tears over some of them. With one, the particularly vulnerable forty-seven, he holds the body close, longing.
Her body feels the same, the bones the same width and weight, nailbeds the same color, lashes the same length. "I am her," the forty-seventh had tried to say. "We're the sa-"
--
"I have to come back," says seventy-four.
"Your program."
"No. My heart."
--
Eighty-one wakes him up by stroking his face. "I know what's coming," she says softly, "I just wanted to see you first."
"What do you want from me?"
"I don't want anything."
--
Ninety days of killing her repeatedly leaves him seeing her around every corner and waiting in shadows. He aches from wanting her.
--
"I'll stop coming, if that's what you want." One hundred and two's head is on his chest.
"It is," he says with no conviction, and she has to do the honors.
--
"You've hit your head but good," Cottle says as he examines him. "Who in the name of the Gods are you wrestling with in there?"
"I'm fine," he says shortly.
"Marines hear things from your quarters. It's okay if you-"
He cuts him off. "There is no need. Thank you."
--
"How do you get in?"
One hundred and four cocks her head, and it's all he can do not to reach out and pull her towards him. "Wouldn't you like to know?"
"Yes."
"If I told you that, you'd stop me from coming."
--
Lee is so earnest when he thinks he's right. "Dad, I've lost people too," he attempts, and his face holds such promise. He tells his son not to worry and sends him on his way.
--
"I don't think this is real," he whispers to one hundred and five. She's been idly dropping kisses on his shoulder.
"What makes you think that?"
"A lot of things."
"Are you worried?"
He stalls by kissing the crown of her head and lies, "No."
--
He must kill them, he just waits until the morning. He hates himself for desecrating her memory.
"Your initial cruelty compensates for it," says one hundred and nine. Her eyes open and shut and her mouth is like Laura's and she sounds like Laura and she's whole for as long as he'll allow it.
"You're not real, are you?"
"I'm as real as you let me be."
--
"Are you a Cylon?"
"I think you know the answer to that."
"Yes, I do."
She twines her arms around his back, so tantalizingly close that her lips brush his skin as she whispers "You need to end this."
--
What does it say about him, that he does this to her?
--
There is no pool of blood. There is never a stain, there is never a corpse.
He can, and will, and must, command.