Clean and Bright
Title: Clean and Bright
Date posted: 07-02-11
Fandom: BSG
Disclaimer: These characters definitely don't belong to me, but instead RDM.
Beta Thanks: I would be nothing without littledivinity, because she knows how to do tenses and graciously helps me.
Author Notes: Written for the extremely delightful, talented and brilliant kag523 who requested one of Six's embedded childhoods. Title is from the song Edelweiss.
Caroline Gerritsen works in the governor's office on Virgon as a secretary, brilliant and invaluable. She manages Governor Phelan's office flawlessly, organizing her meetings and knowing just who to bring to the Governor's attention immediately and who can be turned away with a sweet smile and a promise to be seen later. The governor has the highest position in Virgon, but the other secretaries around the office joke that the person with the most power is Caroline.
Caroline is perfect for a life of quiet importance. Her parents, both teachers, raised the standards of their schools and later their districts with no fanfare or rewards, just hard work and dedication. Her father taught music and her mother taught math, two sides of the same artfully arranged coin, and the Gerritsen house was the model of ordered beauty.
Her father was taller than any other man she'd ever met, and always wore button-down shirts at work and at home. His voice, rich and deep, made people stop in their tracks to listen. He had a way of speaking that gave everything he said the quality of great importance, which was only fair, as Georg Gerritsen was a serious man. He was big and strong and Caroline has distinct memories of being lifted by her father and thinking in relief how safe he felt. His size belied how gentle he really was, and by looking at him, one would never guess that the man could play instruments like he was taught by Apollo himself. Caroline started on the piano, sitting next to the father she adored, and moved on to others before settling on the flute, whose pure sound made her heart swell.
Nora Gerritsen was loving but firm. She gave nothing short of perfection and expected it to return, and most students realized early on that it was easier to be swept up in the wave of academic excellence than to resist. Nora was the instructor that most students cited as life-changing. At home she was was witty and fun, urging Caroline to do more and be better. An environment that might have stifled some children instead encouraged Caroline to flourish. She enjoyed working hard and achieving things, the same as she liked meeting and exceeding expectations.
Their house, a cozy wood cabin on the outskirts of the town where they lived, was warm and bright and friendly with gingerbread trim, a red door and a sloped roof. They sailed on weekends, Caroline scampering around the deck to help with the sails and the rigging as soon as she was big enough to do so, invigorated by responsibility and the salty air. They went camping on summer break and took nature walks on school nights. Caroline could name all the Colonies at the age of two, and all the major cities six months later. Her mother had put the names into a song, and sang it time and again as she and Caroline had picked edelweiss to make crowns. “Again,” she would prompt, and Caroline would chant the names back, her father dozing nearby. He would carry her home on his shoulders when she was a toddler and on his back when she was older, his beard tickling the arms she wrapped around his neck.
When Caroline graduated high school she went straight to Virgon U to study classic literature, which she loved. She told her parents that she had selected it to round them out- all she needed to do now was to marry a scientist. “Only if you love them,” Georg counseled, and Nora had agreed. Her parents were deeply in love, and always had been. Caroline had always marveled at how their ease with one another was expressed through light banter. “"Did I ever tell you how glad I am I married you?" Her father asked one night, when Caroline was drifting off to sleep with her head in her mother’s lap in front of a roaring campfire. Her father had his arm around her mother’s shoulders, and everything felt right in the world.
"Not once,” her mother had replied, her smile audible.
“Well, then. I'll save it for a special occasion."
Their death her sophomore year had been a shock. The storm that had capsized their little sloop had come out of of no where, and even sailors as experienced as the Gerritsens were no match for Poseidon’s wrath. Caroline had withdrawn from university to return to her childhood home. She felt adrift, her soul raw and aching, and the cabin the only comfort she had left. Both her parents had been only children, as was she, and her grandparents had all died when she was young.
She took to the mountains, hiking and camping on her own for days. She cried and cursed and collected flowers and slept under the stars until she could get through the day without breaking down. After taking care of everything, Caroline returned to Boskirk and finished her degree. The idea of teaching hurt too much to consider- she had only ever imagined working in the same district, teaching in the same schools with her parents- so on a whim she started applying for whatever job looked appealing in the newspaper.
The position at the governor’s office was the result of the fates aligning everything to suit Caroline’s needs: Governor Phelan was desperately in need of a new secretary after hers had quit rather abruptly, and Caroline had been in the office turning in her CV when the governor walked by. “You!” The governor had exclaimed, pointing at her. “Can you handle a phone and a day planner?”
“Of course,” Caroline had said, standing up straight.
“Done,” the governor told another assistant, before pausing. “And you’re a Virgon citizen?”
“Oh, yes.”
“Show her the desk and how to forward calls.”
Governor Phelan often says that hiring Caroline on the spot had been on the best decisions she had ever made, and in the two years of her employment everything had gone smoothly. Caroline has even implemented a system of organization for all documents, old and new, that renders their office virtually paperless, all filed away neatly in a network accessible to all governmental bodies in Virgon and on Caprica. It was a genius advance that Caroline did so quickly that the office had wondered if she was even human. “I like things to be nice,” Caroline shrugged in response to their claims. Her simple but elegant outfits had also revolutionized the way people dressed in the office.
Caroline’s greatest friend and love is a tall, fair man named Cillian. He works for the Department of Virgon Security, where he has also made great strides in organizing their homeworld’s documents and plans so that things can be accessed more efficiently. They met when he asked to sit on the same bench where she was eating lunch in the courtyard by her building. They had both just started the week before, and they shyly admitted their positions to one another. It was safe here, in the government quad, to talk about what they were doing, and after a little while they began to talk to one another about their lives too. Cillian is an orphan from Blaustad who speaks loudly and animatedly whenever he gets excited and who seems to take particular pleasure in taking her hand when it won’t be seen. They really shouldn’t be in a relationship.
“We’re made for each other,” he whispers reverently in the moments they’re intimate, and the turn of phrase always makes Caroline hesitate. What does he mean by that? Being with Cillian always feels like she is sinking into a long-forgotten routine, and while she’s never happier than when she can wake up to his kisses, something is not right that she can’t put her finger on. It’s worrying, because she wants what her parents had shared. She wants to sit next to a fire with Cillian’s arms around her, teasing him about how happy she is that they’re together, but there is always something giving her pause, something unknown and vaguely threatening, like a storm on the horizon.
When the first bombs hit, Caroline is filled with a preternatural calm. As the others in the office stand frozen with fear or wracked with hysterics, Caroline takes her purse and walks calmly out of the office, ignoring the chaos around her. The first mushroom cloud visible in the distance is strange, but not frightening. The DoVS building is just across the courtyard, and she finds Cillian just at the corner of the reflecting pond. He pulls her into his arms in relief. “It’s an attack,” he tells her, but his words aren’t anxious. Instead they are peaceful, as though something he has been waiting a long time for is finally happening.
“Yes,” Caroline replies, sliding her arms around his waist, “It’s happening.”
They must look like a still from a film- a tall, beautiful couple embracing as everything around them goes to hell. She nuzzles her face against his. The pieces have all fallen into place: this is what they were sent here to do. This had been what was missing, their mission, their lives, their God. Cillian’s hand cups around her neck lovingly. “God’s will be done,” he says, and everything goes brilliantly bright.
Date posted: 07-02-11
Fandom: BSG
Disclaimer: These characters definitely don't belong to me, but instead RDM.
Beta Thanks: I would be nothing without littledivinity, because she knows how to do tenses and graciously helps me.
Author Notes: Written for the extremely delightful, talented and brilliant kag523 who requested one of Six's embedded childhoods. Title is from the song Edelweiss.
Caroline Gerritsen works in the governor's office on Virgon as a secretary, brilliant and invaluable. She manages Governor Phelan's office flawlessly, organizing her meetings and knowing just who to bring to the Governor's attention immediately and who can be turned away with a sweet smile and a promise to be seen later. The governor has the highest position in Virgon, but the other secretaries around the office joke that the person with the most power is Caroline.
Caroline is perfect for a life of quiet importance. Her parents, both teachers, raised the standards of their schools and later their districts with no fanfare or rewards, just hard work and dedication. Her father taught music and her mother taught math, two sides of the same artfully arranged coin, and the Gerritsen house was the model of ordered beauty.
Her father was taller than any other man she'd ever met, and always wore button-down shirts at work and at home. His voice, rich and deep, made people stop in their tracks to listen. He had a way of speaking that gave everything he said the quality of great importance, which was only fair, as Georg Gerritsen was a serious man. He was big and strong and Caroline has distinct memories of being lifted by her father and thinking in relief how safe he felt. His size belied how gentle he really was, and by looking at him, one would never guess that the man could play instruments like he was taught by Apollo himself. Caroline started on the piano, sitting next to the father she adored, and moved on to others before settling on the flute, whose pure sound made her heart swell.
Nora Gerritsen was loving but firm. She gave nothing short of perfection and expected it to return, and most students realized early on that it was easier to be swept up in the wave of academic excellence than to resist. Nora was the instructor that most students cited as life-changing. At home she was was witty and fun, urging Caroline to do more and be better. An environment that might have stifled some children instead encouraged Caroline to flourish. She enjoyed working hard and achieving things, the same as she liked meeting and exceeding expectations.
Their house, a cozy wood cabin on the outskirts of the town where they lived, was warm and bright and friendly with gingerbread trim, a red door and a sloped roof. They sailed on weekends, Caroline scampering around the deck to help with the sails and the rigging as soon as she was big enough to do so, invigorated by responsibility and the salty air. They went camping on summer break and took nature walks on school nights. Caroline could name all the Colonies at the age of two, and all the major cities six months later. Her mother had put the names into a song, and sang it time and again as she and Caroline had picked edelweiss to make crowns. “Again,” she would prompt, and Caroline would chant the names back, her father dozing nearby. He would carry her home on his shoulders when she was a toddler and on his back when she was older, his beard tickling the arms she wrapped around his neck.
When Caroline graduated high school she went straight to Virgon U to study classic literature, which she loved. She told her parents that she had selected it to round them out- all she needed to do now was to marry a scientist. “Only if you love them,” Georg counseled, and Nora had agreed. Her parents were deeply in love, and always had been. Caroline had always marveled at how their ease with one another was expressed through light banter. “"Did I ever tell you how glad I am I married you?" Her father asked one night, when Caroline was drifting off to sleep with her head in her mother’s lap in front of a roaring campfire. Her father had his arm around her mother’s shoulders, and everything felt right in the world.
"Not once,” her mother had replied, her smile audible.
“Well, then. I'll save it for a special occasion."
Their death her sophomore year had been a shock. The storm that had capsized their little sloop had come out of of no where, and even sailors as experienced as the Gerritsens were no match for Poseidon’s wrath. Caroline had withdrawn from university to return to her childhood home. She felt adrift, her soul raw and aching, and the cabin the only comfort she had left. Both her parents had been only children, as was she, and her grandparents had all died when she was young.
She took to the mountains, hiking and camping on her own for days. She cried and cursed and collected flowers and slept under the stars until she could get through the day without breaking down. After taking care of everything, Caroline returned to Boskirk and finished her degree. The idea of teaching hurt too much to consider- she had only ever imagined working in the same district, teaching in the same schools with her parents- so on a whim she started applying for whatever job looked appealing in the newspaper.
The position at the governor’s office was the result of the fates aligning everything to suit Caroline’s needs: Governor Phelan was desperately in need of a new secretary after hers had quit rather abruptly, and Caroline had been in the office turning in her CV when the governor walked by. “You!” The governor had exclaimed, pointing at her. “Can you handle a phone and a day planner?”
“Of course,” Caroline had said, standing up straight.
“Done,” the governor told another assistant, before pausing. “And you’re a Virgon citizen?”
“Oh, yes.”
“Show her the desk and how to forward calls.”
Governor Phelan often says that hiring Caroline on the spot had been on the best decisions she had ever made, and in the two years of her employment everything had gone smoothly. Caroline has even implemented a system of organization for all documents, old and new, that renders their office virtually paperless, all filed away neatly in a network accessible to all governmental bodies in Virgon and on Caprica. It was a genius advance that Caroline did so quickly that the office had wondered if she was even human. “I like things to be nice,” Caroline shrugged in response to their claims. Her simple but elegant outfits had also revolutionized the way people dressed in the office.
Caroline’s greatest friend and love is a tall, fair man named Cillian. He works for the Department of Virgon Security, where he has also made great strides in organizing their homeworld’s documents and plans so that things can be accessed more efficiently. They met when he asked to sit on the same bench where she was eating lunch in the courtyard by her building. They had both just started the week before, and they shyly admitted their positions to one another. It was safe here, in the government quad, to talk about what they were doing, and after a little while they began to talk to one another about their lives too. Cillian is an orphan from Blaustad who speaks loudly and animatedly whenever he gets excited and who seems to take particular pleasure in taking her hand when it won’t be seen. They really shouldn’t be in a relationship.
“We’re made for each other,” he whispers reverently in the moments they’re intimate, and the turn of phrase always makes Caroline hesitate. What does he mean by that? Being with Cillian always feels like she is sinking into a long-forgotten routine, and while she’s never happier than when she can wake up to his kisses, something is not right that she can’t put her finger on. It’s worrying, because she wants what her parents had shared. She wants to sit next to a fire with Cillian’s arms around her, teasing him about how happy she is that they’re together, but there is always something giving her pause, something unknown and vaguely threatening, like a storm on the horizon.
When the first bombs hit, Caroline is filled with a preternatural calm. As the others in the office stand frozen with fear or wracked with hysterics, Caroline takes her purse and walks calmly out of the office, ignoring the chaos around her. The first mushroom cloud visible in the distance is strange, but not frightening. The DoVS building is just across the courtyard, and she finds Cillian just at the corner of the reflecting pond. He pulls her into his arms in relief. “It’s an attack,” he tells her, but his words aren’t anxious. Instead they are peaceful, as though something he has been waiting a long time for is finally happening.
“Yes,” Caroline replies, sliding her arms around his waist, “It’s happening.”
They must look like a still from a film- a tall, beautiful couple embracing as everything around them goes to hell. She nuzzles her face against his. The pieces have all fallen into place: this is what they were sent here to do. This had been what was missing, their mission, their lives, their God. Cillian’s hand cups around her neck lovingly. “God’s will be done,” he says, and everything goes brilliantly bright.