BSG fic: Scenes From a Liberation, part 2 (pg-13)

[sabaceanbabe]

Title: Scenes From a Liberation, part 2
Author: SabaceanBabe
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 21,305 (part 2: ~10,700)
Characters: Helo/Athena, with Starbuck, Anders, Adama, Boomer, Roslin, Maya, and more
Spoilers: through Exodus, pt. 2 and yet it's really quite AU, having been thoroughly jossed by season 3
Disclaimer: not mine, don't sue


***

When they came for Helo this time, rather than take him to the building outside the compound, as they had done for the past six days, the Centurions took him into the town, to what had once been Colonial One. They ushered him into the main office and left him, alone and handcuffed and wondering why he was there.

After only a couple of minutes, not long enough to really cause distress, a model Eight walked in from a room beyond the huge desk, behind which hung a large portrait of President Gaius Baltar.

"They told me you were alive, that you were here, but I had to see you for myself..." she said, rounding the desk to come closer to him. She looked at him with a bit of wonder and a lot of pleasure. She reached up to touch his face, but he shied away. Her smile faded and she dropped her hand.

"Boomer?" he asked.

She relaxed a little at the sign of recognition and smiled at him. "Oh, Helo. I should never have left you on Caprica."

He said nothing - he didn't know what to say to that. If she hadn't left him behind, so many things would have been different, but not necessarily better. He couldn't bring himself to engage in meaningless reminiscence. Gesturing around the room with his cuffed hands, he asked, "Why am I here?"

She sighed and dropped down into one of the chairs in front of the desk, and he remembered seeing that same flop so many times in the rec room or on a leave rotation. He didn't want to feel anything for her, and tried to remind himself that she wasn't Boomer, wasn't his friend, that she was the enemy.

"Can't I just want to say hi to a friend?" she finally asked.

With a pointed look at the metal cuffs around his wrists, he replied simply, "No."

She looked startled, as if she hadn't realized that he was there under duress and muttered, "Frak!" under her breath. She popped up from the chair and headed for the door through which he had come a few minutes earlier. "Hey! You, there!"

A few seconds later, a man walked through the door. "Ma'am?"

"Take those off him and leave."

"Yes, ma'am." The man, one of the Cylons' human police force, headed toward him and Helo held out his wrists. As the guy unlocked the cuffs, their eyes met and he realized it was Gage, one of the Sunshine Boys. Gage smirked at him and Helo resisted the urge to smash his fist into the bastard's face.

But he couldn't resist taunting him. "You heard her, Sunshine. You're dismissed."

Gage shot him a nasty look and opened his mouth to reply, but Boomer cut him off before he could even start. "Shut the door on your way out." With a last look at Helo, Gage turned, saluted her, and then left, pulling the door closed behind him.

"Friend of yours?" she asked.

He laughed, sharp and humorless. "We've met," he acknowledged. "Doesn't surprise me to learn he's a collaborator."

"He's a jackass." She grinned at him, the old Boomer grin that had made him want her from the very first. "Please sit?"

"You still haven't told me why you've brought me here."

"But I did tell you." Realizing that he wasn't going to fall into their old camaraderie, her face became unreadable. "I had to see for myself that you're alive. The last time I saw you," she turned away from him and rounded the desk, trailing the fingers of one hand over the surface, "I thought that if that mob didn't tear you apart, you'd be dead within a week from radiation." She sat behind the desk, looked up at him.

"So did I, but I guess your... family had other plans."

She looked away at that - "Yeah, I guess they did..." - back at him. "Dammit, Helo, will you please just sit down? You're looming." That startled a bark of genuine laughter from him. Reluctantly, he sat. "I'm told the baby died," she continued.

"More than a year ago, yes." In a way, it bothered him that she knew about the baby, even though it made perfect sense that she would know.

"Did you love her?" The question was blurted out and she didn't look at him as she asked it, as though she had to know the answer, but didn't feel she had the right to ask. He knew she wasn't referring to Hera.

"Boomer, that's none of-"

"-my frakking business. I know that, Helo, but you're... you were my friend. And she..."

"Was you?" He shook his head. "Don't go there, Boomer."

There was an awkward silence while she watched him, slumped in his chair, and he avoided looking at her at all.

But eventually he did look at her again and caught a wistful expression that quickly vanished. He pushed up from the chair. "Well, this has been fun, but I think I'd like to go back to the compound now."

"I stopped them hunting you."

"What?"

"I stopped the slaughter." He looked at her then, really looked at her, saw the uncertainty in her and the determination to not lose control. "I- We made them think about what they were doing to you. Made them understand that we're all God's children, Cylons and humans alike." There was a pleading tone in her voice, an almost desperate desire to make him understand.

He wanted none of it, not after what he'd been through these past days, not after what the others in the camp - and dozens more just like it - had been through for the past few months. "So, this is better? Kept like animals in a zoo? Bred like livestock? Thanks. I didn't realize."

She winced as though he had hit her. "It wasn't supposed to be like this," she whispered, closing her eyes tightly for a moment before looking up at him again. "Helo, the others, number Three and her followers, they're planning on taking the children to the Cylon homeworld."

"The children." His heart nearly stopped.

"Yes, all of the human children under ten years old." She looked sick. "They want to raise them as Cylons. They won't physically be Cylons, of course, but they'll-"

"They'll be raised to think and act like Cylons. Why are you telling me this?" Gods, the children... Hera...

***

Helo rests his cheek on Maya's hair. She smells like wood smoke and homemade soap, a combination he'll always associate with her. "We'll find her, Maya. We'll bring Hera home."

She squeezes him hard and then pulls back a little to look up at him. "Isis," she says firmly, continuing an old argument - if an argument that has only existed for a week can be considered old. "Isis."

Laughing, deliberately not thinking about how the future might affect the two of them and Sharon and the little girl whose very existence binds them together, Helo shakes his head. "We'll worry about that later, okay?"

Maya nods, squeezes him one more time, and then lets him go. "Yeah. We have to find her first." Stepping back, she pushes her hair behind her ears and says, "I won't keep you. I just wanted to... Well, I know you're busy..." she begins to back away, suddenly awkward. "I'll just go now."

"As soon as I hear anything, Maya, I'll let you know." Frak. How am I going to explain this to Sharon?

"I know you will, Karl." She smiles at him and then disappears into the crowd.

Impatient to finally hook up with Sharon, to tell her about Hera, Helo turns back to where he last saw her, but she's gone. Dammit. Frowning, he searches the swirling crowd yet again for some sign of her, but he stops almost immediately on Kara and Anders. As he watches, Kara lays a hand on Anders' chest, her other hand holds one of his against her cheek.

Even from Helo's vantage a good twenty meters distant, Anders' skin looks gray. Kara strokes his face, but then leans over him, brings her ear into contact with his chest. She straightens and frantically shouts something Helo can't make out over the din and he changes course, weaves his way toward Kara, his need to talk to Sharon pushed momentarily into the background. He had seen Sam Anders take two bullets at point-blank range. Helo doesn't know where Doc Cottle is, but he thought he saw Ishay near one of the hatches...

***

"Get down!" Helo shouted and pushed Roslin to the ground, covering her body with his as a spray of bullets cut through the space they'd just occupied. The mud was cold and wet on his forearms, not a particularly pleasant sensation.

One of Sam's men lobbed a grenade at the toaster, stopping the barrage of gunfire, if only for a handful of seconds - long enough for Helo to roll to his knees and aim. The former president of the Colonies wisely stayed down as he fired over her head; his shot took another Centurion in the shoulder and sent it spinning.

Overhead a Raptor screamed past, headed toward the pyramid courts, a Cylon Raider on its tail, but before the Raider could do its job, it exploded in a ball of flame, blown apart by a Colonial Viper. Fragments rained down on the heads of the refugees below. As Helo watched, the Raptor landed in the middle of the nearby pyramid court. He pushed to his feet and offered Roslin a hand up.

Scanning for Sharon, he pulled Roslin to her feet and said, pointing toward the pyramid court, "Head for that Raptor." She nodded, turned, and ran, bent low to the ground.

"Karl!" Maya ran toward him, dodging past a man in a New Caprica police uniform as another Raptor flew in over their heads. "Laura!"

Roslin stopped at the sound of her name and Helo turned from her to Maya. "Maya, go with her to the Raptors." Roslin held out a hand toward her, beckoning her on when she looked as though she'd protest, for which Helo was grateful.

Another hail of bullets sent a spray of dirt and mud up in front of him and he dove for cover behind an overturned truck. Looking back toward the detention center, he saw a flash of blonde hair and green shirt duck behind what looked like a storage shed. A third Raptor appeared above. As Helo watched, it flew in toward the others and made a graceless landing atop one of the pyramid goals.

"Frak," he muttered, then shouted, "Starbuck!"

"Yo!" She sprinted from behind the shed toward him, skidded to a stop beside him, grinning.

He nodded toward the Raptors. "One of our birds just came in on autopilot." Her only response was a raised brow, but that look spoke volumes. "We knew we'd need the ships so we programmed 'em to land at predetermined coordinates." He snuck a look around the front of the truck, saw that all three Raptors had their hatches open and ramps deployed.

"Have you seen Sharon?" he asked, turning back to Starbuck.

"Yeah. She was right behind me."

"Alright. Find her, get to the Raptors. I need you to fly the one that just crushed the pyramid goal."

She blinked once and then laughed. "You been XO so long you forgot how to fly?"

"Bite me, Thrace."

"Later, Raptor Boy." And with that she was gone, headed back toward the detention center to make sure Sharon got out and got to her bird.

Helo searched the chaos, looking for Anders, when he spotted a model Eight who wore the same brown jacket and tan trousers Boomer had worn. He stood. "Boomer!" he shouted.

She turned toward the sound of his voice and he ran to her.

"The children...?" he began, but she shook her head.

"Already gone. As soon as we picked up a battlestar in the system, the baseship they were on jumped."

Helo just stared at her. Gods. The children were gone, headed toward the Cylon homeworld, his daughter with them.

"Helo." She took his hand and it was all he could do to not pull violently away. She pressed something into his palm and closed his fingers over it. "Take this. It'll lead you to them." And then she stepped back from him, let his hand drop from hers. "I have to go."

"Go? You're not coming with us?"

"I don't belong there anymore."

Before he could respond to that, a building nearby exploded as a Viper streaked overhead, the medium of its destruction. Helo heard Anders shouting for people to move, move, move as he herded them toward transport vehicles, waiting to take them to the ships, in turn waiting for their loads of refugees to take off from the planet's surface.

Boomer touched Helo's face briefly and said, "Goodbye, Helo." And then she was running across the square, away from him, away from the Raptors, away from the life she'd known before.

He watched until she disappeared past a building and then headed to help Anders, but as he ran toward his friend, a squad of Centurions came into view. "Anders!" Helo shouted, but it was too late. The Centurions opened fire and he saw Anders fall even as Connor and another man opened up on them.

Helo ran, firing as he went.

***

There, fastening a bandage around a man's midsection only a handful of meters away, Helo sees the medic. Cupping his hands around his mouth to better direct the sound, he shouts, "Ishay!" and rushes toward her. Both she and the man she's tending turn toward him.

"Ishay, when you're finished here, I need you to come with me." He points in the direction of Raptor Three, although there's no way she could possibly see Anders from here.

"I'm nearly done, Captain," Ishay says, tucking in the ends of a bandage. Grabbing up her medical kit from the deck, she nods at the man and turns to Helo. "Let's go."

As he elbows his way through to Sam and Kara, Ishay follows closely behind. "Sorry," and "excuse us" become a sort of mantra along the way. When the press of bodies briefly becomes too dense to continue, Ishay asks, her voice behind him and to the right, "What kind of injury are we looking at, Captain?"

"Unless something else happened that I don't know about, he took a couple of bullets to the gut." The constant motion of the crowd opens a clear path before them. Helo grabs Ishay's hand and all but sprints the final few meters, pulling her along in his wake. "It looked pretty bad."

"Gunshots to the midsection are always bad." Her voice seems to bounce as she runs.

Another swirling eddy of humanity comes between them and their destination. "Let us through!" Helo shouts as he forces an opening for Ishay.

Kara, holding a blood-soaked pad against Anders' stomach and looking more defeated than Helo's ever seen her, lifts her head. "Karl!" she shouts. Recognizing Ishay as well, her expression clears, lightens. "Ishay, thank the Gods."

All business, Ishay sets right to work. No attention to spare for anyone but the injured man, she sets down her kit and searches through it. Straightening, whatever piece of equipment she was looking for apparently found, she glances first at Helo and then Kara. "I need room to work."

With a nod, Helo reaches for Kara's hand, slick with Sam's blood, and pulls her with him, closer to the Raptor's still-deployed ramp. Her eyes never leave her husband.

"Gods," she whispers and then, stronger, "He's going to die, isn't he?"

Helo simply says, "Yeah."

That gets her attention and she throws a sharp look at him. "You're supposed to lie and tell me everything's going to be okay." She pulls her hand from his and crosses her arms over her chest as if suddenly cold. She looks back over at Anders, her feelings plain to see, if only for a heartbeat.

"We all die, Kara. I don't think Anders is gonna die today, though."

Another sharp look and then her eyes narrow and she visibly relaxes. "Mother frakker," she accuses with a jab to his arm. She runs her less bloodied hand over her face impatiently, wiping at both tears and stray strands of hair, but looking a little less lost.

"That's better. Seriously, Kara, he's lost a lot of blood, but Ishay's maybe better than Cottle for something like this."

"I hope so. This is the first time I've seen him in four frakking months; I don't want to lose him forever the same day." There is a faraway look in her eyes as she stares toward Anders and Ishay, but clearly she doesn't see them. "The sonofabitch just wouldn't stay dead," she whispers. Kara blinks twice and then slants a look at Helo, rubs at her arm. "Thanks for finding me, Karl."

Slinging an arm around her shoulder, Helo pulls her in close and kisses the top of her head. "Just returning the favor." He leans back against the Raptor, pulling her with him, and they stay there in silence watching Ishay work.

***

His head spinning and his equilibrium shot to hell, Helo couldn't offer much resistance as two Centurions dragged him down a long corridor to a gray metal door, streaked with grime. While one of them held Helo's arms, the other unlocked and opened the door. They shoved Helo through it; he jumped at the opening as they pulled the heavy door closed, but he couldn't move fast enough and it shut with a note of finality.

Cheek to the single small window, he pounded a fist against the door in frustration and shouted, "I'm not a member of-" He winced at the pain in both his head and his hand. "-the resistance." Turning, he leaned his back against the door and looked around the dimly lit room.

The walls were concrete and there was a small gap, no more than a centimeter, beneath. A single light fixture hung above a table from the center of the ceiling; the fixture was high enough that it would be impractical to attempt to use it for either escape or suicide. Not that Helo was up for either of those things, just then.

"No." The voice was muffled, but female. "You're not a member of the resistance." She lifted her head. "You're a member of the opposition."

He pushed away from the door, took a step further in, not taking his eyes from the mass of blonde hair and blue cloth in the corner. "Kara?"

A grin and a snort of laughter. "As far as I know."

Thank the Gods Tigh was wrong. Just like that, Helo felt as though they might actually have a chance to pull this off. If Kara was still alive... "You just can't keep yourself out of hack, can you?"

She shrugged. "Girl's gotta have someplace to call home."

Moving slowly because of the pounding in his head, Helo shuffled to Kara's side and slid down the wall beside her. Now that he was closer, he could see the purple shadows under her eyes and the haunted look in them.

"What the frak are you doing here, Karl?" she asked.

"I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. You?"

Silence. Then Kara leaned her head on his shoulder. He waited for her to say something, but was met only with more silence and he thought that she might have fallen asleep. He let his eyes wander about the cell, noting the lack of hinges on this side of the door, the wire mesh inside the window. It only added to the surreal feeling he'd lived with since he'd been captured by the Cylons and subsequently met up with Colonel Tigh and half a dozen other resistance members in a canvas-covered truck.

But then, her voice low enough that he wouldn't have been able to hear her if her mouth wasn't so close to his ear, Kara said, "The bastards mess with your head, Karl. They mix lies and truth until you don't know which way is up anymore." She reached for his hand, twined her fingers with his. "Don't let them. Don't let 'em get to you. Hang on to what's important. Stay focused." She seemed to speak as much to herself as to him.

He squeezed her hand. "I haven't given up yet, Thrace." He shifted to settle her more comfortably on his shoulder, leaned his head on hers. He closed his eyes and wished the room would stop spinning.

Time passed and they simply sat. Helo wanted to ask her why she was wearing a terry cloth robe, why her feet were bare, but while those things might be important to him, they weren't important to his mission, so instead he asked, "How many people in the resistance?" They needed to know back on Galactica what kind of ground support they could expect.

She rolled her head back and forth on his shoulder. "I can't answer that."

Idiot. Of course she can't say anything. The cell could be bugged or I could be a double agent... "Yeah, I understand," he told her. "Guess I shouldn't have asked."

"No, Karl, you don't understand. I really can't tell you." She shifted so that she could look at him. "I was taken not long after the toasters came back. However long it's been, this is the closest I ever got to escape, and you see how successful that was. No one even knows I'm alive."

He squeezed her hand again. "Until now."

"What? Big damn hero to the rescue?" She leaned back against him again and pulled his arm around her.

"Well, it is my turn..." he laughed.

"You're full of shit, Agathon."

Ignoring that, he observed, "So if no one knows you're alive, the toasters must have kept you pretty well hidden."

"Yeah. You're the first human being I've seen in... I don't even know." Her voice trailed off. Restlessly, she picked at the sleeve of his shirt before she spoke again. "One day, he tells me I've been here for a couple of weeks, the next it's a couple of years." She sounded lost.

Helo buried his face in Kara's hair and tightened his arms around her. "I can tell you that it's been one hundred thirty-two days since the toasters came," he said, offering what little comfort he could. "He?" he prompted, knowing that she needed to get this out.

But she didn't answer his question. Instead she asked, "Have you seen Sam?"

"No, I just got here." He leaned his head back against the slightly damp concrete. With a bitter laugh, he said, "First thing I did after seeing the others on their way was get my sorry ass caught." He raised a hand to his aching head. "I think I might have a concussion."

"You're nothing but a frakkin' Cylon magnet, you know that?"

"Piss off," he groused, smiling even as he said it. "Colonel Tigh told me Sam's alive, though, along with Tyrol and Roslin."

"Good." She squeezed his hand hard. "That's good."

Like flipping a switch, her voice was stronger when she continued. "You haven't told me why you're here. Frak that. You haven't told me how you're here."

"When the fleet bugged out, we didn't go too far."

"You really are here for a rescue, then. The Old Man has a plan, I take it?" It worried him that she merely sounded curious, like it wouldn't affect her.

"Yeah. We're gonna get you guys off this rock."

She laughed, humorless, the sound like broken glass. "Not me. No one knows where to find me. Even if the toasters don't kill you, Karl, you won't know where to find me, once he comes for me." He stared down at her for a moment, thinking.

"Maybe you don't know as much as you think you do, Thrace." He leaned forward, pulled his arms away from her and unbuckled his belt. It would hurt like frakking hell, but there was nothing else to use - the toasters had taken just about everything from him before they'd thrown him in here.

When he pulled the belt from his waist, he caught Kara watching him, a smirk on her face, a much more comforting sight than that lost look whenever she spoke of the Cylon who'd been holding her prisoner. "What?" he asked, pausing with the belt held loosely in one hand.

"The table might be a little more comfortable than the floor..."

Shaking his head, he continued with what he'd been doing and applied the tang of the buckle to the concrete floor. He'd never be able to truly sharpen it, but he could at least remove some of the roundness, giving it a better chance of puncturing skin. Kara watched him in bemused silence as he turned the belt over and scraped the other side of the tang against the floor.

"What are you doing?" She sounded almost interested.

Helo flashed her a grin and, satisfied that the tang was as sharp as it was going to get, he shoved his right sleeve up his arm, left it bunched over his shoulder. With one finger he pressed against the muscles until he found a small lump, then pressed the tang of the belt buckle just below it.

"Karl?"

He sucked his lower lip between his teeth and jabbed hard into his arm. The tang sank into flesh and then broke through into the muscle beneath. The pain didn't hit until the blood began to flow, but it wasn't too bad. He let go of his lip.

"Karl, what the frak?" Kara moved away from the wall, scrambling the short distance to him on all fours as he squeezed, pushing the lump from its resting place in his arm, down to the jagged tear he'd just made in his skin.

Finally he looked at her. "Transmitter. Kind of a locator beacon." He dropped his eyes back to the wound in his arm as he squeezed the bit of electronics out through the tear. It was small enough, light enough that it stuck to the blood on his arm. He raised his eyes to Kara again. "I don't suppose you've got any water in here?" She shook her head, looking at him like he was insane. He sighed, wondering how he was going to clean the blood off - it'd be just perfect if he shoved the damn thing into Kara's arm only to have her die of a blood infection.

***

The buzz of the celebration continues unabated around them and Helo closes his eyes, Kara warm against his side. He doesn't remember her sliding an arm around his waist, but she must have, because after a time she squeezes him and asks, "Where's Sharon?"

"Don't know. I keep losing her in the damn crowd." He opens his eyes, scans the hangar. He doesn't find Sharon, but he does see Admiral Adama, ex-President Roslin at his side, talking to Tyrol in the middle of the bay.

"Captain Thrace," Ishay calls just as Adama looks over to Helo and Kara and motions for them to join him.

Helo pushes away from the Raptor. "Go. I'll talk to the Old Man." But Kara is already pulling away from him and Helo isn't sure if she even cares that Adama wants them both.

When he reaches the Admiral, Tyrol is gone and Adama is instructing a deck officer to take Roslin to Adama's own quarters. He raises a finger to indicate that he'll be with Helo in just a moment and so he waits, studying Laura Roslin.

The impact with the muddy ground hadn't done good things for her tunic or trousers, although most of the muck is gone from her face. He'd thought for half a second of letting her take that bullet; seeing her now, knowing that his daughter is still alive and in Cylon hands, a part of him wishes that he had.

***

"I don't understand why they're treating you like this."

Helo flinched as Maya dabbed at a new cut above his left eye, wiping away blood with an alcohol-soaked cloth. The swelling had gone down over the past couple of days so that he could see again, but it still hurt like hell.

He tried to sit up, but Maya pushed him back down. "Stop that. You're not going anywhere right now." Her voice was stern, her expression worried.

"I have to talk to Kat." Even as he said it, he relaxed against the thin mattress and closed his eyes. It had been three days since he'd been captured. Only four days left until Galactica and Pegasus returned to the system. Every member of the original team knew what to do, and no one team member was indispensable, but...

Cloth rustled and wood creaked as Maya shifted on her stool and Helo opened his eyes again. "Stop looking at me like that," he told her. They all looked at him like he was going to break. Kat and Hotdog had taken to hovering near him whenever the Centurions appeared, as though they could prevent the chrome jobs from taking him back to their masters.

"I'm worried about you, Karl."

"Don't. They won't kill me." He wasn't entirely sure of that, though. So far, they wanted his "willing" participation, but they could just as easily decide that drugging him was too much trouble and that a more scientific approach to another human-Cylon hybrid would be just as pleasing to their god.

"Why do you keep fighting them?" She dropped the cloth into a dish on the floor, apparently satisfied now that the bleeding had stopped. "You have to know you can't win."

"It's not about winning." Forcing himself past the discomfort, he pushed himself upright, swung his feet to the floor, only then noticing that someone had removed his boots. "It's about not giving up." He thought of Kara as he'd last seen her, frightened and alone, but still fighting. He thought of Sharon and all she'd been through; if he and Sharon both made it off this planet alive... "It's about staying focused on what's important." Helo looked at Maya. "This," he waved a hand at the barracks they were in, "this isn't important. What's outside that barbed wire is what we need to focus on."

Her eyes darted about the room, which was empty save for the two of them, and then she leaned in close to him, a lock of dark hair falling over her eyes. "I know you and the others have been talking about escape," she whispered, tucking her hair behind her ear again. "I'll do anything I can to help you. My daughter is outside that barbed wire."

Helo glanced at the cameras mounted near the rafters in the corners of the room, red lights glowing dispassionately. Every move was under visual surveillance, but the listening devices were more easily dealt with; there was so much dust in the New Caprican air that, with a little help from the residents, the Cylons' "ears" weren't much use. Even so...

Helo seized on the opportunity to change the subject to something less dangerous. "What's her name?"

Maya smiled, her expression for just that moment untainted with worry. "Isis. Oh, she's so beautiful and I miss her so much."

Helo nodded, remembering his first glimpse of Hera. She'd been so very small, wrinkled and red but so perfect. "Tell me about her, your Isis." She looked at him sharply and he realized he hadn't quite been able to keep the wistfulness from his tone. "I had a daughter. She... died."

Maya waited a moment for him to elaborate, but when he didn't continue, she said, "Isis is so smart. She's only a year and a half old, but she watches everything, just soaks every little thing in. She's so curious." Her face lit up when she spoke of Isis and Helo felt sharp regret that he'd never had the chance to experience the wonder that Maya clearly felt for her little girl.

"Where is she now?" The way she spoke, Isis was clearly somewhere that Maya felt was safe.

"With friends. I don't really know where." She sat back on the stool and stretched her legs out in front of her. "We were trying to escape the city the day I was taken, but we didn't move fast enough." Eyes closed, her mind was far away, reliving those events. "Somebody had to stay behind so the others could get away. Tory volunteered so that I could stay with Isis, but it didn't work out that way." She shifted again, leaning forward. "Isis is safe, though. I'm sure of that."

She fell silent again and Helo allowed her that silence. Rather than pushing her for more, he watched the sunlight drift slowly across the floor, having forced its way past the dust that coated the windows. There were still a few hours yet before the Cylons would return for him, if they followed their established pattern. He really should find Hotdog and Kat; there were plans to make.

"Karl?" He shifted his attention back to Maya. "Your daughter. Did she die back home, in the Colonies?"

"No. She died not long before the election." Something in her face made him continue. "Her lungs weren't fully developed. She only lived a few hours, less than a day."

Her eyes narrowed and she frowned, staring at him intently, as though she searched for something. "You and your wife must have been devastated."

Dropping his eyes to his hands, he said, "We're not married. There were... complications." He looked at her again. "Religious differences." Gods, what an understatement.

She nodded, still studying his face. "You're the one who had a child with a Cylon, aren't you?" she finally said.

Frak. Does everyone know? "Yep, that'd be me." Although she said nothing more, he found neither hostility nor disapproval in her expression or her attitude and he was surprised to find that he wanted to talk to her about it. "Sharon's pregnancy didn't go smoothly. Hera was born too early. It seemed like one minute, she was fine and the next, she was gone. Doc Cottle said there was nothing he could do."

"Doctor Cottle?"

"Yeah, the Galactica's medical officer."

Sharon had never believed what Cottle had told them. For that matter, Helo didn't quite believe it himself. It was more likely that the doc hadn't been allowed to do anything.

"She has your eyes."

Maya's quiet voice interrupted his thoughts and suddenly, Helo couldn't breathe. Eyes wide, he stared at her. "What did you say?"

***

Helo fights back the sudden wave of anger that threatens to overwhelm him as he watches the former president.

"Thank you, Bill," Roslin says to Admiral Adama. "Your thoughtfulness is appreciated." She smiles, the expression warm but tired, and turns toward Helo. "Captain, I want to thank you again for all you've done."

Helo can't bring himself to return her smile, but he does manage a nod. She turns to follow the lieutenant. "Ms. Roslin," he calls after her. His hands are clenched so tightly into fists that his knuckles ache.

With a soft touch on her escort's arm to gain his attention, she turns back to Helo. "Yes, Captain?"

"We need to talk." He knows that some of his anger must be clear on his face, but he doesn't care. "About my daughter."

She looks taken aback, but quickly recovers. Adama's attention vacillates back and forth between the two of them. "Yes, Captain Agathon. We should talk." And then she turns and walks away, her escort following a moment later. She doesn't look back.

***

Sharon wanders the corridors of Galactica aimlessly, lost inside herself, and wonders how she came to be here. A lifetime ago, it seems, she willingly placed herself in the hands of the enemy based solely on feelings for a man from whom she's been separated for months and who, as far as she can tell - as far as she fears - has moved on. At her urging.

As she walks, she absently notes the changes in Galactica from the days when she was a newly commissioned officer. She doesn't try to remind herself that she isn't the one who lived it; she experienced all of those things in every way that counts. The battlestar had been old, even then, a veteran, but she had always been well taken care of. Now...

Drifts of dust gather in the seams between the decking and bulkheads, causing odd little shadows as the lights flicker, not quite ready to give up on life. The air is musty and there is an oily, tacky film that coats the flat surfaces along the bulkheads, a sad tale of air scrubbers not functioning properly and no one left to care.

She passes a few people, some in orange or yellow coveralls, and others in green or blue uniforms, but not many as most are involved in the celebration she still hears in the distance. No one she passes speaks to her, although one or two nod or smile in greeting and she thinks they must somehow not realize who and what she is.

No one challenges her right to be there and as she wanders, still no destination in mind, Sharon passes into the corridor that leads to Admiral Adama's quarters. The lights here are in no better shape than anywhere else, flickering sporadically, but there seems to be less dust and oil and the air a bit fresher. She hesitates for a moment as she passes the closed hatch to his quarters. It's unlikely that he's there and she doesn't want to talk to anyone, in any case.

She continues past to the next junction, her only intention to escape the now-distant celebration and her memories, which are far too close at hand.

Still caught up in those memories, Sharon slams into someone as she rounds a corner; she has an impression of a solid wall of blue fabric before she stumbles back, stops herself from falling by grabbing at the closest bulkhead.

"I'm so sorry," she says to the man, a lieutenant she remembers from CIC, although she doesn't recall his name. "I wasn't paying attention." She pushes away from her support and crouches down to help him gather up the things scattered on the deck.

"That's alright, Lieutenant Valerii. Not your fault." He stands and offers her a hand up, his grip firm.

Desanti, that's his name. "Thank you, Lieutenant Desanti." She offers him a quick smile and starts off in the direction she'd been heading when the woman with Desanti stops her.

"Lieutenant Valerii."

Sharon turns to see Laura Roslin, her face streaked with what appears to be soot, her clothes dirty and torn, but somehow still wrapped in the authority of her former office. Roslin turns to Desanti and holds out her hands for the things he carries, which Sharon realizes are Fleet greens and a smallish bag that she thinks must contain toiletries.

"Thank you for your help, Lieutenant Desanti." Roslin smiles and takes the clothes and bag from him. "I can find my way to the Admiral's quarters from here." It's clearly a dismissal and Desanti straightens and salutes her, then turns on his heel and walks away.

The two women stare at each other, assessing. Sharon sees in Roslin a woman who may no longer be president of the Twelve Colonies, but who has lost none of her confidence or her air of command. She doesn't know what Roslin sees, but it's never been a secret that she neither trusts Sharon nor has she ever seen any value in allowing her to remain alive.

Roslin breaks the silence. Given their history and her earlier emphasis on Sharon's rank, her words are a surprise. "Thank you for your assistance on New Caprica, Lieutenant."

Not knowing quite how to deal with her, wary, Sharon falls back on military protocol. "I was just doing my job, ma'am."

"Yes, your job." She shifts, settles the bundle of clothing more securely under one arm. "I take it that you've been reinstated to your former position within the Fleet?"

Sharon nods. "Admiral Adama felt that it would be better for all involved if I were sworn in."

"Did he?"

The question could simply be curious, or it could be hostile. Suddenly, Sharon wants nothing more than to be alone, to not have to watch what she does, what she says, what she thinks in the presence of these humans. They have surrounded her for days - not just one or two at a time, but dozens - and now she feels an odd nostalgia for her cell, the quiet and isolation to be found there.

"If you'll excuse me, Ms. Roslin?" Without waiting for a response, Sharon turns her back on the former president. She feels the weight of the woman's gaze between her shoulder blades for the length of the corridor.

***

Finally, all the well wishers and grateful refugees have moved on to other things. Kara makes a break for it to follow Anders and Ishay to the med bay, and Helo finds that he no longer has the stomach for celebrating. Only Admiral Adama notices when he leaves and the Admiral doesn't try to stop him.

He knows the path so well that he can walk it in his sleep.

Past the main brig, the lights leading to maximum security are dimmer, nearly half the bulbs dead, not worth replacing since there is no longer an occupant to keep watch over. And the brig is empty when he arrives, not even a token guard and he thinks everyone must be at the impromptu party.

The door to her old cell is open and Helo stops, rests both hands against the doorjamb, unsurprised to see that Sharon's there, cross-legged on the bed. She looks up and then back down, says nothing, but neither does she seem any more surprised at his presence than he is at hers.

It's been hours since they'd landed their birds in Galactica's hangar, hours since he began to look for her, wanting - needing - to talk to her. There are so many things he wants to say and he has no idea where to begin.

After a moment, he says, "Listen. That's all. Just listen." When she doesn't make any move to turn or leave, he takes a deep breath, holds it, marshalling his thoughts, and then releases it. "Sharon, I love you. Nothing that's been said or done, nothing that hasn't been said or done, has changed that. I love you. You. Not the rook who flew with me before the war, although I know she's a part of you. And not the woman I thought you were, back on Caprica. You."

He holds himself very still and watches her as he speaks, but she doesn't look at him, just sits on the bed, stares at her hands, rubs at her fingers. He realizes that he has a death grip on the jamb and lets go, lets his arms drop to his sides as he takes one step and then another into the cell.

"I know you're a Cylon. It doesn't matter. I'm human. That doesn't matter either. I know that just about everyone, human and Cylon, thinks we're freaks." Her expression doesn't change, but her hands cease their restless movement. He crouches down in front of her, so that his head is just below hers, so that if she shifts her eyes the tiniest fraction she'll have little choice but to meet his. "It. Doesn't. Matter. The only things that matter are you and me. What we think of each other, feel for each other."

Finally she looks at him, but still he can't read her expression. He looks down at the deck between his knees. "Sharon, there isn't a rule book for this." He looks up at her again, takes the risk and lightly brushes his knuckles against her cheek. "No one has ever been in this situation before. Just us. And if you can honestly tell me that it was all a lie, that you never felt anything for me, that you only used me for my DNA, then I'll go away. You'll never hear from me again." He pauses, searches her face for some kind of sign. "But if it wasn't a lie, if you did care for me, then give me another chance. Give us a chance."

He sees the tears gather before she blinks them quickly away. Almost as though the movement isn't under her control, she reaches out and traces her index finger along his lower lip. He closes his eyes, muscles almost rigid with the effort to not flinch at the touch - the first time his Sharon has touched him in more than a year. "It wasn't all a lie," she whispers. "Helo..." Her voice is stronger as she says his name, more sure, more like Sharon Valerii, like Boomer.

More like Cylon model number Eight.

"Helo." She cups his face in her hand and he slams back from her, scrabbles away as instinct forces reason into a dark corner of his brain. He doesn't stop until he feels the metal wall of the cell at his back, preventing him from retreating further. His heart is tight in his chest, his pulse pounding as the sound of his own heartbeat drowns out everything but her shocked cry. "Helo!"

"Don't!" In an effort to get some semblance of control back, he bashes his head into the wall. "Don't call me that." His voice is steadier, less panicked. He swallows hard, forces his muscles to relax. "Karl. My name is Karl." They'd never used that, only his call sign, only Helo. None of them had called him Karl.

***

A Centurion dragged Helo back to the compound and dropped him inside the gate. He couldn't stop shaking or feeling like he'd never be warm again. His left eye was swollen nearly shut; it throbbed, sending flares of white-hot pain deep into his skull. He didn't think it should hurt as much as it did. Nor should the sticky mud under his cheek feel so icy, or the whatever-it-was under his shoulder feel as though it were going to burst through his shirt to tear at the skin and muscle beneath.

It took everything he had to turn his head and open his one good eye. Bright white spotlights on tall towers drilled through the darkness straight into his head and he felt his stomach lurch. "Gods," he whispered. As he sat up, a shiver swept through him that was so strong, he nearly bit his tongue. "What the frak did they give me?"

Cradling his head in his hands, he tried to remember what had happened. Biers and her tin minions had taken him to a building just outside the compound, itself surrounded by barbed wire. He didn't remember what she'd said to him, something about things being more pleasant if he'd only cooperate, but he'd fought her, fought them. Biers had circled him and whispered into his ear with each circuit, and then Sharon was there; but of course, it wasn't Sharon. Nor was the one that followed her or the one after that.

He'd fought in earnest then, Kat's words still echoing in his head. Frakkers may call it a farm... Breeders' Canyon... He'd managed to free one arm, not that it had done him much good. That was probably when he'd received the latest blow, the one that left him half-blind now. All that followed was a jumble of sights and sounds and sensations piled one on top of the other.

Voices drifted to him from across the compound. Helo closed his eyes again and fought back the nausea, but it was worse with his eyes closed. Sharon, Biers, another Sharon... the sting of a needle in his arm... cool air on bare skin, followed by warm hands... the taste of Sharon's mouth, but not hers, never hers... He lost the fight, spilled the meager contents of his stomach onto the muddy ground.

"Hush, it'll be okay." A woman's voice, soft, low.

Too-warm hands gripped his arms below the sleeves of his t-shirt, almost burning his skin as they supported him and helped him to his knees, then more or less to his feet. He couldn't keep his balance, swayed and nearly fell, but she kept him upright, a shoulder under his armpit and an arm around his waist.

"Let's get you inside." Inexplicably, he felt tears slide down his cheeks, hot when they leaked from his eyes, but cold when they reached his jaw and chin, the sensation surreal.

***

Sharon covers her mouth with her hand, as if she can physically hold back the sob that threatens to tear from her throat. For a split second, just a flash and then gone, there is a kind of loathing in his eyes as he looks at her. The tears spill down her cheeks unchecked. "Oh, God, He-" She stops herself from finishing the word. "Karl, what did they do to you?"

The unyielding control under which he has held himself since his initial panicked flight suddenly collapses. He leans back against the wall of what was once her cage, slants a look at her and laughs, the sound bitter. "Sharon, they had me for almost a week. They knew who I was, they knew about you and me, about Hera." The last of the panic drains from him, leaving him looking profoundly tired. His next words cut through her like knives. "What do you think they did to me?"

My name is Karl.

The yellow of old, faded bruises on his cheeks, his jaw...

My name is Karl.

The edges of a dirty and bloody bandage around his arm, just below the short sleeve of his shirt - the same shirt he'd worn the day they'd left Galactica for New Caprica, wearing civilian clothes in case of capture instead of uniforms and flight suits...

My name is Karl.

The near-desperation in his eyes when she'd touched him, when she'd called him Helo, the name she'd always used for him, from the day they'd met - a brief glimpse in her memory of his smiling face, open and friendly, as he'd held out his hand and said, "Call me Helo..."

My name is Karl.

The way he wouldn't look at her, wouldn't touch her or so much as sit near her when they'd gone from the camp where they'd found him to the detention center in New Caprica City...

"Oh, God."

***

The transport rattled along, Sam at the wheel. Beside him, Sharon monitored her hand-held transponder, guiding him toward wherever Kara was based on the strength of the signal it received. Rather than briefing her, Helo was in the back of the truck, showing Maya how to shoot a gun, leaving Sam to tell her that Helo had seen Kara and somehow given her his transmitter.

After more than an hour, the signal led them into New Caprica City. As they drew closer, they heard gunfire, faint at first but growing louder, interspersed with explosions both large and small. Driving at breakneck speed through the battle that raged between the human resistance and Cylon Centurions, Sam brought the truck to a jerky stop in front of a concrete building, one of the few with multiple stories.

Sam slammed from the truck, shouting orders, as his people jumped to the hard ground. "All right, people, let's go. I don't like to keep my wife waiting."

Transponder in one hand, side arm in the other, Sharon followed Sam. He stopped short of the main door, which hung ajar, and called, "Connor!" A man with lank brown hair came forward, clapped a hand on Sam's shoulder in passing, and pushed the door open the rest of the way. When nothing happened, he stepped further into the building.

A staccato burst of gunfire sounded shortly thereafter and then nothing for several seconds. Finally Connor shouted, "Clear!"

Stepping past the body of a Five, his glassy eyes staring at the ceiling, Sharon followed the signal past what appeared to be administrative offices. The only other Cylon they saw was another Five, sprawled dead across a desk.

When the group reached a heavy metal door, locked, Sharon looked at Connor. "I don't suppose you found the key?"

Connor shook his head and Sam shot her a wolfish grin, swinging the pack from his shoulder. "Universal key." He rummaged through it and came up with a pack of G-4 explosive. Pinching off a small amount, he wired in a detonator with practiced ease. Once the smoke from the blast cleared, Sam gestured for Sharon to lead on.

Beyond the remains of the door was a long corridor, lined on either side with more doors, at least a dozen, all similar to the one they had just destroyed. Voices shouted from behind those doors, the words muffled.

Stepping up beside Sam, Helo said, "Blow 'em all, man. We're not leaving anyone behind. Not this time."

Sam and Connor got to work while Helo and Maya kept watch behind them and Sharon moved forward, checking the signal strength at each door. The signal remained steady as she made her way down the corridor, until she reached a set of stairs leading up. At the foot of the stairs, the signal jumped in strength and, after a quick look up the steps, she started up.

"Fire in the hole!" Connor shouted and Sharon, only about a quarter of the way up the stairs, which seemed to extend at least two stories, pressed her back against the concrete wall.

The aggregate explosion was deafening. Dust and smoke and bits of concrete flew everywhere and Sharon heard coughing and shouts and Helo's voice cut through it all. "All of you! Head for the pyramid courts in the center of the city. You'll find help there."

Sharon returned her attention to the task at hand. She reached the landing and turned to find a locked gate; the corridor beyond only held four doors, possibly indicating larger holding facilities rather than the individual cells they'd found below. Not waiting for the others, she aimed and fired at the lock box and then kicked in the gate. It crashed into the wall with a resounding clang and Sharon went to the first door on the right.

She heard footsteps, running up the stairs and then Sam asked, "Is she in there?"

A confirming glance at the transponder and Sharon looked back at him. "According to this, yes."

Not bothering to try the handle, knowing it was unlikely to be open, he slung his rifle across his back and dropped to his knees to apply an explosive charge. "Stand back," he said and moved off to the side. Sharon pocketed the transponder and moved to the other side.

The charge he used was strong enough to leave the bent door hanging half off its hinges, but not enough to completely remove it. He kicked it open and entered the room, rifle at the ready, and Sharon followed.

They stepped onto a walkway and looked over the railing. Below, knife in hand and seemingly oblivious to anything happening around her, was Kara. She stood over the body of Cylon model number Two, the one the humans knew as Leoben Conoy. There was blood everywhere.

"Kara!" Sam sprinted down the stairs, skidded at the bottom, but still he landed on his feet and ran across the room to his wife. Sharon was aware of it when the others arrived just as Sam reached Kara and tried to take her into his arms.

The spell she seemed to be under was broken the instant Sam touched her. Kara screamed, a wild, frightening sound, and suddenly Sam Anders was fighting for his life. She turned on him, tried to impale him on the knife that still bore a Cylon's blood.

Sharon and Connor both started down the stairs to help Sam, but Helo bellowed, "Captain Thrace, stand down! That's an order!"

Just as quickly as the attack began, it stopped. Kara, wide-eyed and shaking, stared at Sam, who held a hand tightly against one arm, blood trickling between his fingers where she'd cut him. The knife dropped from Kara's grasp; her eyes never left Sam's shocked face.

No one moved for several seconds and the only sound was Kara's and Sam's harsh breathing until Helo broke the stillness. "Starbuck, we have to get out of here."

Kara blinked once, twice, and visibly relaxed. Breaking the connection with her husband, she looked up at Helo. "I don't give a frak if you are a captain now, Agathon. Don't give me orders." With a last look down at the dead Cylon, she stepped carefully around the body, which brought her closer to Sam. Kara reached up when she was mere centimeters away and cupped his face in the palm of her hand; she didn't seem to realize that her hand was sticky with Leoben's blood. "I'm sorry, Sam." The words were whispered, but Sharon, standing at the foot of the stairs, was close enough to hear both the words and the pain beneath.

Her gaze met Kara's and Sharon backed up a step, giving her space to pass, watched her as she ran up the steps and out the door without a backward glance.

"Gods..." Sam picked up the knife Kara had dropped and turned to follow her. His movement seemed to set the rest of them free. First Maya and then Connor went back out into the corridor. Sharon saw a brief glimpse of someone else outside the door before that person, too, left. With a final look at the body at her feet, Sharon turned, disturbed by what she had seen in Kara's eyes.

When she reached the landing, the others were all gone save Helo, who waited for her. She searched his face for a moment and when she came too close, it was a like a door closed in her face. He turned away from her, as if he was afraid she'd see too much and she realized why the look in Kara's eyes had disturbed her so much - it was the same look on Helo's face as he turned away.

***

"They used versions of me, didn't they?" Sharon whispers, horrified.

The gap between them suddenly seems so much larger than just a few meters as he stares at her, but then finally, reluctantly, he says simply, "Yes."

"Oh, Helo..." Her own people had used her against him. "Karl." She has to remember not to use his call sign, but it's hard. "Karl, I'm so sorry."

He gives her an attempt at reassurance. "I know it wasn't you."

"Still..."

"No. There's no still, Sharon. It wasn't you."

He says nothing more and when Sharon looks at him again, he seems lost in his own thoughts, memories. He shifts, still sitting on the deck, and the scrape of his boots as he pulls his knees up in front of him is somehow too loud.

Finally, Sharon asks, "Can we get past this?"

He looks at her and doesn't answer right away. Then, "I don't know. When I came in here and saw you..." He pauses and looks at his hands, looks back up at her. "Yes. We're going to get through this, Sharon." His expression softens. "If you love me half as much as I love you..." And he smiles at her.

She can't not smile back at him. But then his smile fades as he pushes up from the deck and comes to her, takes her hands in his a little too tightly. She thinks he's fighting demons, just to be able to touch her. He kisses her knuckles and says, "Sharon..." but then hesitates, not knowing quite how to say whatever it is.

"What is it, Karl?"

For what seems like forever, he just looks at her, but finally he takes a deep breath and says, "Sharon, Hera is alive."

Everything stops. There is no breath, no air. No sight, no sound, no sensation at all. No movement. Time ceases to exist. Then...

...she looks up and sees herself. She sees herself, gripping her small hand tightly, and she knows that she has just tried to run away, run back to her mother.

The disorientation of seeing herself, or at least another model Eight, through Hera's eyes - and she knows now without a doubt that she is seeing through her daughter's eyes, somehow - rips at Sharon's psyche. And still she can't breathe.

All around her are children and controlling those children, carrying them and herding them, are her fellow Cylons. The majority of them seem to be model Eights, but there are several Nines there as well, the ones Kara had known on Caprica as Simon.

As though from a great distance, Sharon hears Helo's voice. No. That isn't right. He's not Helo anymore. He's Karl. Karl. But she can't understand what he's saying, only the urgency of it.

The air is warm, cloying. There are no bulkheads or decks, no lights overhead or along the corridors, although there is light, an unpleasant pink to her child's eyes. The surface beneath her feet is soft and yielding, like flesh.

"Sharon! Gods, Sharon!" She feels his hands on her face, frantically trying to rouse her. Her eyes are open; she knows this because the ceiling of her cell slowly comes into focus, just before Karl's face blocks out the sight.

Sharon blinks and her eyes flutter shut. She gasps, begins to cough. There is a great weight on her chest, holding her down, and she tries to move, to push against it, only to realize that it's Karl. And he's not holding her down, but rather kneeling over her.

She opens her eyes again, focuses on his worried face. Funny. Why am I always surprised at how green his eyes are? "Karl." She swallows, her throat tight.

Brushing the hair from her face, Karl visibly relaxes. He remains where he is, supporting his weight on the one arm while he strokes her hair, her face with his other hand. She becomes aware that his knees are on either side of her hips and that they are on the bed.

"Sharon, what happened? You just seemed to... to shut down. What the frak was that?"

She doesn't know how to answer that, doesn't know how to explain to him what she saw through their little girl's eyes, and so, instead, she reaches up to trace a finger over his eyebrows, his jaw, his mouth. She watches as the green of his eyes seems to darken as his pupils dilate. She feels it under her fingertips when he stiffens at her touch, and then he pulls away and a wave of despair washes over her.

But he doesn't move far and she realizes that he's reaching for something in his pocket, so maybe... Maybe he isn't pulling away from her, after all.

He's holding something - a data chip. "Boomer gave this to me. She said it'll help us find the baseship, the one carrying Hera." He leans toward her again, gently strokes the side of her face with his knuckles.

Holding her breath, Sharon slides a hand around to the back of his neck and exerts pressure there, her eyes never leaving his. He resists, at first, shaking with the effort to not pull away. "Karl," she whispers, infusing that one word with all that she feels for him and for them and for their child, their little girl. Somehow, they'll find her, they'll bring her back. Together, they can do anything.

And then his mouth is on hers, the force of his kiss bruising her lips, but she doesn't care. The small pain is more than welcome if it means that he'll stay with her, that she hasn't lost him. Sharon opens her mouth to let him in, to welcome him home.

~fin~