Flinch
Title: Flinch
Date posted: 06-30-11
Fandom: BSG
Disclaimer: These characters definitely don't belong to me, but instead RDM.
Spoilers: Through the end of season two and Razor.
Beta Thanks: littledivinity, nicole_anell and non_horation, and a special thanks to miabicicletta for brainstorming titles with me!
Notes: "Hatred would have been easier. With hatred, I would have known what to do. Hatred is clear, metallic, one-handed, unwavering; unlike love."
- Margaret Atwood (Cat's Eye)
She dreams of her every night, and she's almost used to it by now.
There are the nights of the cell, where she wakes up with a racing heart and ragged breaths, where she gets up to stalk the walls of her room: securing the perimeter, checking the door's locks. After these dreams she stays awake, grasping at things to anchor herself like the coverlet or the desk chair. I'm here, she thinks hard, as if she's trying to think these thoughts at someone, as proof, I'm free. She doesn't bother to say safe because she'll never be safe here, but at least she's safer. There's comfort in that, at least. There was a time where prayers would've helped, but she's long since given up on that. Her holy father has long since stopped being a source of solace.
Other nights have dreams from before the cell, of soft voices and tangled limbs and sweet glances. When she wakes up from these dreams she just cries, which is worse.
---
I did not flinch, she reminds herself. That is the only thing that is important. She broke into the admiral's quarters and killed her for what she had done. It was justice.
She has doubts, of course, because her mind is faulty, the same as her heart. If she had expressed remorse, could she have fired the gun?
Yes, she tells herself. She can see it in her mind. 'I'm sorry, Gina,' the admiral says, her eyes wet with tears. She doesn't have to add that part. 'I'm sorry, Gina.' Helena’s mouth quivers. Maybe she means it. After an apology, though, she wouldn't have had her snappy comeback. Less wit, colder blood. In her mind she pulls the trigger and misses. She hugs her with trembling arms instead.
No. She pulls the trigger, and it fires true. No more wet eyes or quivering lips, but the apology makes all the difference, except where it doesn't. I'm sorry.
There was a lot to apologize for.
---
She can't remember whose idea it was.
'Come with me to Canceron,' Helena whispers into her shoulder. Reveille is in fifteen minutes, and she is tilting her neck so that Helena can kiss upwards. There is a spot just under her ear that Helena has found that sends shivers down her spine, she would like her to get there in the next few minutes.
'Yes,' she replies, pressing on Helena's upper arm to urge her on. They only have a few minutes.
No. That doesn't sound like Helena.
'Let's go to Canceron,' she says instead. Helena's forehead is against her jaw. Reveille is in fifteen minutes, but she's just trailing her fingers up and down her darling's arms. She's happy here.
'Mm,' Helena agrees. She has leave in a few weeks. It doesn't matter what plans Gina makes, because her mission will be complete before then, but making them doesn't hurt. Helena won't be alive then to miss it.
No, that's not right either.
---
Humans die. Cylons don't. This is a just a fact.
But it doesn't matter that they will, that they all will. It doesn't matter that one day there won't be a Helena because her feelings are just a by-product of her mission. She's soft, her whole model is. But you can't feel for something that doesn't exist. You can't love past death.
She could see Helena down the barrel of the gun. She needs to complete her mission and pull the trigger. You can't love past death. As soon as Helena is gone, the rest of her mission will be simple. In just a second, there will only be negative space.
She can't do it. She doesn't want an absence of feeling.
She regrets her lack of action later. It wasn't worth it.
---
The people of Demand Peace have more vision than most humans, but they're simple. They respect her because she speaks sharply and with purpose; they think this means she knows what she's talking about. No one comes too close to her, which she likes, and they obey her without question.
Gaius stands too close when he visits. He holds her hands with moist, anxious palms, his hands heavy and his soul in his eyes. He doesn't understand that she's not her sister, but she only wants to ruin this illusion sometimes. 'She never loved you,' she imagines sneering when he gets too close. She'll wound him the way she couldn't wound her. But Gaius has been kind to her, so far, and there's no need to hurt him yet. He sends her a nuclear warhead, strange but useful, and it's a comfort she couldn't conceive of to have it in her room. She keeps it close to her bed to safeguard against everything. I can end you all, she thinks when the group meets in her room. She's glad that no one gets too friendly.
---
Gina is holding a gun, and looking at the admiral. She looks both stunned and hurt. Don't flinch, she thinks. You can't love past death.
She can shoot the admiral and then herself, if only suicide wasn't a sin. Is it really so bad, though? She'll wake up somewhere else. There won't be a Pegasus to miss because the Pegasus will be gone. She's thinking about this and Kendra Shaw knocks her out. Her CO must be proud.
But here she is again, gun in her hand. It trembles slightly, trained on Helena. She's looking at her like she's a stranger. They were going to Canceron on leave, but you can't love past death. She pulls the trigger, and it's no good. The admiral lies dead in her own quarters, not CIC, and her face is gone. Gina may have kicked her in the ribs, but she may have only thought of it.
It was a lie, though. Death doesn't stop anything.
---
'You have leave soon.' Fifteen minutes to reveille. Her head is on Helena's shoulder, her arm around Helena's waist. Maybe this is right.
'I do,' Helena affirms. She doesn't like leave, because she has no one to visit. She had been lonely before Gina.
'Maybe I could get away.' Would she have suggested it? Shirking her duties on the Pegasus wouldn't impress Helena. This isn't right.
'I do,' Helena affirms. She doesn't like leave, because she has no one to visit. She had been lonely before Gina. 'Maybe you could join me.'
Still not right.
---
The idea of New Caprica is nauseating. She can’t do it. The humans here she can handle in small doses- a few Demand Peace members here and there, Gaius when he makes the time to visit, as harmless as any human truly can be. New Caprica will be teeming with them, the thousands of individual faces and scents and voices, cacophonous and horrifying. Here there are walls and doors she can lock, a door that she controls. Here she has the security of anonymity and a bomb.
‘You may need to be inventive,’ the One training them had said disdainfully. He didn’t really believe that any of the other models could do anything as well as the Ones, but they all had to share the burden. ‘Use what you have.’
This may be the best advice her brother had ever given her.
---
‘I’m sorry, Gina.’ Helena comes in to help her up. Kendra stands on the other side of the glass, her face impassive. ‘It was a misunderstanding. Can you forgive me?’
She’s making her weak, but it’s too late to change it. ‘Yes,’ she says, willing to forgive everything immediately. ‘Yes, I forgive you. Don’t be too hard on the Lieutenant.’
‘I was scared,’ Helena says, her hands framing Gina’s face. This is also too gentle, but Gina just smiles in relief.
‘I’m here,’ she tells her, ‘It’s just me.’ Her handcuffs are undone, and she gets her own clothes back. Her siblings never come. There is no betrayal.
Gina wakes up and cries, ashamed of her traitorous heart.
---
Maybe her sister did love Gaius, Gina rationalizes. She can afford to be magnanimous now. Maybe her sister loved Gaius, and maybe on some far away Baseship she still loved him. She wonders if her sister knows that you can love beyond death.
She takes care of Gaius, because there’s no reason not to, and because the small tasks are calming, almost as nice as having a nuclear bomb. Gaius is going to be president, and he’s taking the whole wretched race down to the planet with him. Gina is staying in orbit. She will not go to New Caprica, no.
---
They’re on a beach, not one of Canceron’s. Colder, rockier beaches, and sheer cliffs. It’s Picon, she realizes. She’s seen pictures.
‘Come with me on leave,’ Helena says. She looks happy, if cold.
‘I don’t think you want me to,’ Gina says doubtfully. Surely she knows.
Helena looks out to the waves. Her hair is blowing in the breeze. ‘Sometimes I don’t,’ she admits. ‘But right now I do.’
‘I’ll come,’ Gina says. The rocks crunch beneath her feet, and when she gets to Helena she’s dead, blood seeping into the stones. It’s tragic.
---
Gaius has a nice voice, even over the wireless. She listens part of the time, between waves of halfhearted prayers and memory exercises. The door lock swings to the right. Heavenly father, give me the strength. I, Gaius Baltar, do now avow and affirm. Helena’s quarters were four hallways over from hers. This is not all that we are.
‘Are you sorry?’
‘Yes. Are you?’
‘Yes.’
‘Let’s go to Canceron on leave.’
‘I’d like that.’
It doesn’t matter who said it. There was no Canceron. There was no apology. There was just the cell and the gunshot and this room where a red light blinks. There’s fifteen minutes til reveille, and it’s never enough time.
Helena is up to her knees in a river, looking downstream. Sunlight dapples through tree leaves, and there are birds singing sweetly up above, out of sight like God. Gina is standing on the shore. She’s never once felt the tug of the current, but there is a first time for everything.
Gina dives into the stream.
Date posted: 06-30-11
Fandom: BSG
Disclaimer: These characters definitely don't belong to me, but instead RDM.
Spoilers: Through the end of season two and Razor.
Beta Thanks: littledivinity, nicole_anell and non_horation, and a special thanks to miabicicletta for brainstorming titles with me!
Notes: "Hatred would have been easier. With hatred, I would have known what to do. Hatred is clear, metallic, one-handed, unwavering; unlike love."
- Margaret Atwood (Cat's Eye)
She dreams of her every night, and she's almost used to it by now.
There are the nights of the cell, where she wakes up with a racing heart and ragged breaths, where she gets up to stalk the walls of her room: securing the perimeter, checking the door's locks. After these dreams she stays awake, grasping at things to anchor herself like the coverlet or the desk chair. I'm here, she thinks hard, as if she's trying to think these thoughts at someone, as proof, I'm free. She doesn't bother to say safe because she'll never be safe here, but at least she's safer. There's comfort in that, at least. There was a time where prayers would've helped, but she's long since given up on that. Her holy father has long since stopped being a source of solace.
Other nights have dreams from before the cell, of soft voices and tangled limbs and sweet glances. When she wakes up from these dreams she just cries, which is worse.
---
I did not flinch, she reminds herself. That is the only thing that is important. She broke into the admiral's quarters and killed her for what she had done. It was justice.
She has doubts, of course, because her mind is faulty, the same as her heart. If she had expressed remorse, could she have fired the gun?
Yes, she tells herself. She can see it in her mind. 'I'm sorry, Gina,' the admiral says, her eyes wet with tears. She doesn't have to add that part. 'I'm sorry, Gina.' Helena’s mouth quivers. Maybe she means it. After an apology, though, she wouldn't have had her snappy comeback. Less wit, colder blood. In her mind she pulls the trigger and misses. She hugs her with trembling arms instead.
No. She pulls the trigger, and it fires true. No more wet eyes or quivering lips, but the apology makes all the difference, except where it doesn't. I'm sorry.
There was a lot to apologize for.
---
She can't remember whose idea it was.
'Come with me to Canceron,' Helena whispers into her shoulder. Reveille is in fifteen minutes, and she is tilting her neck so that Helena can kiss upwards. There is a spot just under her ear that Helena has found that sends shivers down her spine, she would like her to get there in the next few minutes.
'Yes,' she replies, pressing on Helena's upper arm to urge her on. They only have a few minutes.
No. That doesn't sound like Helena.
'Let's go to Canceron,' she says instead. Helena's forehead is against her jaw. Reveille is in fifteen minutes, but she's just trailing her fingers up and down her darling's arms. She's happy here.
'Mm,' Helena agrees. She has leave in a few weeks. It doesn't matter what plans Gina makes, because her mission will be complete before then, but making them doesn't hurt. Helena won't be alive then to miss it.
No, that's not right either.
---
Humans die. Cylons don't. This is a just a fact.
But it doesn't matter that they will, that they all will. It doesn't matter that one day there won't be a Helena because her feelings are just a by-product of her mission. She's soft, her whole model is. But you can't feel for something that doesn't exist. You can't love past death.
She could see Helena down the barrel of the gun. She needs to complete her mission and pull the trigger. You can't love past death. As soon as Helena is gone, the rest of her mission will be simple. In just a second, there will only be negative space.
She can't do it. She doesn't want an absence of feeling.
She regrets her lack of action later. It wasn't worth it.
---
The people of Demand Peace have more vision than most humans, but they're simple. They respect her because she speaks sharply and with purpose; they think this means she knows what she's talking about. No one comes too close to her, which she likes, and they obey her without question.
Gaius stands too close when he visits. He holds her hands with moist, anxious palms, his hands heavy and his soul in his eyes. He doesn't understand that she's not her sister, but she only wants to ruin this illusion sometimes. 'She never loved you,' she imagines sneering when he gets too close. She'll wound him the way she couldn't wound her. But Gaius has been kind to her, so far, and there's no need to hurt him yet. He sends her a nuclear warhead, strange but useful, and it's a comfort she couldn't conceive of to have it in her room. She keeps it close to her bed to safeguard against everything. I can end you all, she thinks when the group meets in her room. She's glad that no one gets too friendly.
---
Gina is holding a gun, and looking at the admiral. She looks both stunned and hurt. Don't flinch, she thinks. You can't love past death.
She can shoot the admiral and then herself, if only suicide wasn't a sin. Is it really so bad, though? She'll wake up somewhere else. There won't be a Pegasus to miss because the Pegasus will be gone. She's thinking about this and Kendra Shaw knocks her out. Her CO must be proud.
But here she is again, gun in her hand. It trembles slightly, trained on Helena. She's looking at her like she's a stranger. They were going to Canceron on leave, but you can't love past death. She pulls the trigger, and it's no good. The admiral lies dead in her own quarters, not CIC, and her face is gone. Gina may have kicked her in the ribs, but she may have only thought of it.
It was a lie, though. Death doesn't stop anything.
---
'You have leave soon.' Fifteen minutes to reveille. Her head is on Helena's shoulder, her arm around Helena's waist. Maybe this is right.
'I do,' Helena affirms. She doesn't like leave, because she has no one to visit. She had been lonely before Gina.
'Maybe I could get away.' Would she have suggested it? Shirking her duties on the Pegasus wouldn't impress Helena. This isn't right.
'I do,' Helena affirms. She doesn't like leave, because she has no one to visit. She had been lonely before Gina. 'Maybe you could join me.'
Still not right.
---
The idea of New Caprica is nauseating. She can’t do it. The humans here she can handle in small doses- a few Demand Peace members here and there, Gaius when he makes the time to visit, as harmless as any human truly can be. New Caprica will be teeming with them, the thousands of individual faces and scents and voices, cacophonous and horrifying. Here there are walls and doors she can lock, a door that she controls. Here she has the security of anonymity and a bomb.
‘You may need to be inventive,’ the One training them had said disdainfully. He didn’t really believe that any of the other models could do anything as well as the Ones, but they all had to share the burden. ‘Use what you have.’
This may be the best advice her brother had ever given her.
---
‘I’m sorry, Gina.’ Helena comes in to help her up. Kendra stands on the other side of the glass, her face impassive. ‘It was a misunderstanding. Can you forgive me?’
She’s making her weak, but it’s too late to change it. ‘Yes,’ she says, willing to forgive everything immediately. ‘Yes, I forgive you. Don’t be too hard on the Lieutenant.’
‘I was scared,’ Helena says, her hands framing Gina’s face. This is also too gentle, but Gina just smiles in relief.
‘I’m here,’ she tells her, ‘It’s just me.’ Her handcuffs are undone, and she gets her own clothes back. Her siblings never come. There is no betrayal.
Gina wakes up and cries, ashamed of her traitorous heart.
---
Maybe her sister did love Gaius, Gina rationalizes. She can afford to be magnanimous now. Maybe her sister loved Gaius, and maybe on some far away Baseship she still loved him. She wonders if her sister knows that you can love beyond death.
She takes care of Gaius, because there’s no reason not to, and because the small tasks are calming, almost as nice as having a nuclear bomb. Gaius is going to be president, and he’s taking the whole wretched race down to the planet with him. Gina is staying in orbit. She will not go to New Caprica, no.
---
They’re on a beach, not one of Canceron’s. Colder, rockier beaches, and sheer cliffs. It’s Picon, she realizes. She’s seen pictures.
‘Come with me on leave,’ Helena says. She looks happy, if cold.
‘I don’t think you want me to,’ Gina says doubtfully. Surely she knows.
Helena looks out to the waves. Her hair is blowing in the breeze. ‘Sometimes I don’t,’ she admits. ‘But right now I do.’
‘I’ll come,’ Gina says. The rocks crunch beneath her feet, and when she gets to Helena she’s dead, blood seeping into the stones. It’s tragic.
---
Gaius has a nice voice, even over the wireless. She listens part of the time, between waves of halfhearted prayers and memory exercises. The door lock swings to the right. Heavenly father, give me the strength. I, Gaius Baltar, do now avow and affirm. Helena’s quarters were four hallways over from hers. This is not all that we are.
‘Are you sorry?’
‘Yes. Are you?’
‘Yes.’
‘Let’s go to Canceron on leave.’
‘I’d like that.’
It doesn’t matter who said it. There was no Canceron. There was no apology. There was just the cell and the gunshot and this room where a red light blinks. There’s fifteen minutes til reveille, and it’s never enough time.
Helena is up to her knees in a river, looking downstream. Sunlight dapples through tree leaves, and there are birds singing sweetly up above, out of sight like God. Gina is standing on the shore. She’s never once felt the tug of the current, but there is a first time for everything.
Gina dives into the stream.