BSG ficlet: Gone (G)
Title: Gone
Author: sabaceanbabe
Rating: G
Word count: 339
Focus: Helo, Helo/Kara (no, not like that)
Spoilers/warnings: Spoilers for the end, and it's a little bit maudlin.
Author's note: Written for the Mourn the Fallen Challenge at Kindreds, not betaed.
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Helo stared into the flames, but didn’t see them. Nor did he see his wife and child, asleep on the ground within the protective embrace of the campfire’s heat and light, although he was aware of them. All he could see just then was the commercial packaging of a musical performance that he held in his hands. Dreilide Thrace, Live at the Opera House. All that remained of the woman who had been his closest friend since the academy; nearly the last physical remnant of an entire civilization, as well.
His vision blurred and he lifted his eyes to watch the fire, dancing to its own internal music. He blinked away the tears that tried to form. Kara had given him the disk earlier that day, the afternoon sun beating down on their heads, before walking out onto the savannah to search for Lee.
“Just something to remember me by. I don’t have much else…”
“Remember you by? Got someplace better to be, Thrace?”
She hadn’t answered, just shrugged and shoved her hands into her pockets, a half smile on her face. And then she’d turned on her heels and walked away.
Across the fire, Hera made a small sound in her sleep, drawing his attention. Sharon’s arms tightened around their little girl, but neither of them seemed to wake, and Helo dropped his eyes again to the disk. He turned the slim box over in his hands, absently reading the words of praise for Kara’s father and his “angelic melodies.”
He swallowed hard. Kara hadn’t returned with Lee. Apparently, from what Lee had said, she had never really been there at all, even though they had all seen her, talked to her, touched her and, in the case of the Demetrius and its frakking overheated atmosphere, had even smelled her.
“I’m going to miss you, Kara Thrace,” he whispered, his voice strained with unshed tears. A soft breeze picked up for just a second, ruffling his hair like phantom fingers before dissipating as though it had never been.
Author: sabaceanbabe
Rating: G
Word count: 339
Focus: Helo, Helo/Kara (no, not like that)
Spoilers/warnings: Spoilers for the end, and it's a little bit maudlin.
Author's note: Written for the Mourn the Fallen Challenge at Kindreds, not betaed.
-----------------------
Helo stared into the flames, but didn’t see them. Nor did he see his wife and child, asleep on the ground within the protective embrace of the campfire’s heat and light, although he was aware of them. All he could see just then was the commercial packaging of a musical performance that he held in his hands. Dreilide Thrace, Live at the Opera House. All that remained of the woman who had been his closest friend since the academy; nearly the last physical remnant of an entire civilization, as well.
His vision blurred and he lifted his eyes to watch the fire, dancing to its own internal music. He blinked away the tears that tried to form. Kara had given him the disk earlier that day, the afternoon sun beating down on their heads, before walking out onto the savannah to search for Lee.
“Just something to remember me by. I don’t have much else…”
“Remember you by? Got someplace better to be, Thrace?”
She hadn’t answered, just shrugged and shoved her hands into her pockets, a half smile on her face. And then she’d turned on her heels and walked away.
Across the fire, Hera made a small sound in her sleep, drawing his attention. Sharon’s arms tightened around their little girl, but neither of them seemed to wake, and Helo dropped his eyes again to the disk. He turned the slim box over in his hands, absently reading the words of praise for Kara’s father and his “angelic melodies.”
He swallowed hard. Kara hadn’t returned with Lee. Apparently, from what Lee had said, she had never really been there at all, even though they had all seen her, talked to her, touched her and, in the case of the Demetrius and its frakking overheated atmosphere, had even smelled her.
“I’m going to miss you, Kara Thrace,” he whispered, his voice strained with unshed tears. A soft breeze picked up for just a second, ruffling his hair like phantom fingers before dissipating as though it had never been.