BSG fic WIP: Through the Years, 5/30? (pg)
Title: Through the Years, chapter 5 of 30(?)
Author: SabaceanBabe
Rating: PG, this chapter
Word count: 1,173
Focus: pre-series, Maggie Edmondson
Disclaimer: Not mine, no profit, please don’t sue.
Author’s note: Written for poisontaster as part of the Sweet Charity fandom auction. Thank you, grammarwoman and aprilleigh24, for the beta. Okay, rebelliousrose, maybe I do have a style. :P
----------------------------------------
The sound of the wipers on the windshield was mesmerizing, back and forth, back and forth, swish-thwack, swish-thwack. The downpour made it seem more like driving through a waterfall than rain, but Maggie didn’t care how heavy it was or how hard it was to see the road in front of her.
Her eyes burned with unshed tears and her throat from shouting; her neck, her shoulders, the muscles in her hands all ached from the prolonged effort to not hit him.
Eric Lubov had pushed her for the last frakking time. He was no longer part of her life, whether he accepted it or not. It was her decision, dammit, not his, not theirs - a relationship couldn’t work unless both parties wanted it to, were willing to work at it, to compromise - and Eric had proved to her one time too many that he didn’t want a partnership. He wanted a dictatorship.
…swish-thwack, swish-thwack…
A car passed hers and the sign for exit 32, where she’d leave the highway for the road to her grandmother’s house, appeared in the distance. Her headlights cut through the gloomy afternoon and raindrops picked up the glow of the beams, changing it to sparkles and gossamer ropes of light. Maggie switched on her turn signal, the motion automatic.
But as the exit approached, she made no move to take it. And then she drove on by.
…swish-thwack, swish-thwack…
Something tickled at her chin as she continued down the highway, and she realized that the tears that had threatened earlier tracked down her cheeks and dripped off her chin, from the end of her nose, unnoticed until now. She dashed them angrily away, flicking off her forgotten turn signal with almost the same motion.
“Damn you, Eric,” she whispered, even though she was the only one there to hear it. “Why?”
Why did he have to be in charge of everything? Why did things have to be done only his way, no deviation, and step by miniscule step? Maggie felt her temper rise again and she pounded the heels of her hands on the steering wheel, wordlessly shouted her frustration to the gods.
…swish-thwack, swish-thwack, flash of lightning, crack of thunder…
The rain fell harder and most of Maggie’s anger drained away; she just felt tired. She glanced down at her gauges and saw that she had gone a good fifty kilometers past Gran’s exit. Her car was low on fuel. She kicked the wipers up a notch - swish-THWACK, swish-THWACK - and decided she’d get off at the next opportunity. She wished she could remember what was up this way, but she really didn’t get much further than Sparta when she came to visit Gran.
Another flash of lightning split the sky in front of her in a spectacular display. Any other time she would have enjoyed the show -there was nothing better than a good storm - but between depression and anger, she didn’t derive any pleasure from it. The thunder that followed made the ground tremble and cemented her decision to take the next exit, the sign for which she saw up ahead, although she couldn’t make out the name of the town through the driving rain.
Another kilometer passed beneath her tires and Maggie left the highway, heading toward Telos. She’d never been there before, but the glow on the horizon promised that it was a decent-sized town. If nothing else, she should be able to refuel, but at this point, she was ready to just find a hotel room and settle in for the night. It was only 18:30 according to the clock on her dash, but she wasn’t in the mood for human interaction anymore; all she wanted was to sleep and to have everything be better when she woke up.
She laughed at herself and said aloud, “Not that it’ll happen like that, but at least I’ll get some sleep, right?” Nothing was ever easy or simple.
***
Following the storm, the air was thick and muggy, hard to breathe, but the motel she’d found didn’t have room service and she was hungry, so Maggie wandered the main street of downtown Telos, window shopping while she waited for a table to become available at the Drunken Toad Tavern. Not the most appetizing of names, but it came highly recommended by the motel desk clerk, and she was to be sure to tell them Arnot had sent her.
“Probably gets a nice little kickback,” she said aloud, smiling cynically. She glanced down at her watch, saw that she still had almost half an hour to kill. Up ahead were several shops with colorful awnings and cloth banners tastefully advertising their wares, dripping charm along with lingering rainwater. Across the street from where she stood were a book merchant and a Colonial Fleet recruiting office. Neither was as eye-catching as the shops up the road.
She stepped across the raging river that was the street’s storm gutter and crossed to the book merchant. There were several titles on display in the window, a couple of which Maggie would have liked to take a look at, but sadly, the sign on the door proclaimed the shop closed and asked that she return at nine the following morning. She turned to leave, to check out the quaint and no doubt overpriced shops up the road, but the recruiter’s open door caught her eye. That and the cool, dry air that wafted out from the interior of the office.
She poked her head in. “Hello? Anybody here?” When there was no answer, she stepped over the threshold, glad she wouldn’t have to wait outside in that godsawful humidity.
The room was sparsely decorated and exactly what she expected of a recruiting office. Glossy posters depicted sleek Vipers in flight. Blue-clad ranks of women and men stood at attention, hands raised in salute. Mechanics in orange or yellow worked on fighter planes and support planes on a busy hangar deck. Proud parents hugged smiling graduates in form-fitting gray.
There was a desk in the corner opposite the front door, its polished wood surface marred only by a stack of pamphlets proclaiming the glories of service to the Fleet of the Twelve Colonies of Kobol. Beyond the desk was a doorway and light leaked out into the larger office from the partially open door. Maggie called out again.
A man in a crisp blue uniform stepped out from the back room with a cup in his hand. He held it out to her and asked, “Would you like a cup of coffee? I just made a fresh pot and it always seems to taste better when there’s someone to share it with.” He smiled, black eyes dancing, daring her to step into his office.
Maggie raised a brow and glanced again at her watch. Less than ten minutes later than when she’d last looked at it. Plenty of time. She was frakking made of time. “Why not?” She shrugged and accepted the cup, the steam from which smelled like heaven.
~tbc~
Previous chapters:
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Author: SabaceanBabe
Rating: PG, this chapter
Word count: 1,173
Focus: pre-series, Maggie Edmondson
Disclaimer: Not mine, no profit, please don’t sue.
Author’s note: Written for poisontaster as part of the Sweet Charity fandom auction. Thank you, grammarwoman and aprilleigh24, for the beta. Okay, rebelliousrose, maybe I do have a style. :P
----------------------------------------
The sound of the wipers on the windshield was mesmerizing, back and forth, back and forth, swish-thwack, swish-thwack. The downpour made it seem more like driving through a waterfall than rain, but Maggie didn’t care how heavy it was or how hard it was to see the road in front of her.
Her eyes burned with unshed tears and her throat from shouting; her neck, her shoulders, the muscles in her hands all ached from the prolonged effort to not hit him.
Eric Lubov had pushed her for the last frakking time. He was no longer part of her life, whether he accepted it or not. It was her decision, dammit, not his, not theirs - a relationship couldn’t work unless both parties wanted it to, were willing to work at it, to compromise - and Eric had proved to her one time too many that he didn’t want a partnership. He wanted a dictatorship.
…swish-thwack, swish-thwack…
A car passed hers and the sign for exit 32, where she’d leave the highway for the road to her grandmother’s house, appeared in the distance. Her headlights cut through the gloomy afternoon and raindrops picked up the glow of the beams, changing it to sparkles and gossamer ropes of light. Maggie switched on her turn signal, the motion automatic.
But as the exit approached, she made no move to take it. And then she drove on by.
…swish-thwack, swish-thwack…
Something tickled at her chin as she continued down the highway, and she realized that the tears that had threatened earlier tracked down her cheeks and dripped off her chin, from the end of her nose, unnoticed until now. She dashed them angrily away, flicking off her forgotten turn signal with almost the same motion.
“Damn you, Eric,” she whispered, even though she was the only one there to hear it. “Why?”
Why did he have to be in charge of everything? Why did things have to be done only his way, no deviation, and step by miniscule step? Maggie felt her temper rise again and she pounded the heels of her hands on the steering wheel, wordlessly shouted her frustration to the gods.
…swish-thwack, swish-thwack, flash of lightning, crack of thunder…
The rain fell harder and most of Maggie’s anger drained away; she just felt tired. She glanced down at her gauges and saw that she had gone a good fifty kilometers past Gran’s exit. Her car was low on fuel. She kicked the wipers up a notch - swish-THWACK, swish-THWACK - and decided she’d get off at the next opportunity. She wished she could remember what was up this way, but she really didn’t get much further than Sparta when she came to visit Gran.
Another flash of lightning split the sky in front of her in a spectacular display. Any other time she would have enjoyed the show -there was nothing better than a good storm - but between depression and anger, she didn’t derive any pleasure from it. The thunder that followed made the ground tremble and cemented her decision to take the next exit, the sign for which she saw up ahead, although she couldn’t make out the name of the town through the driving rain.
Another kilometer passed beneath her tires and Maggie left the highway, heading toward Telos. She’d never been there before, but the glow on the horizon promised that it was a decent-sized town. If nothing else, she should be able to refuel, but at this point, she was ready to just find a hotel room and settle in for the night. It was only 18:30 according to the clock on her dash, but she wasn’t in the mood for human interaction anymore; all she wanted was to sleep and to have everything be better when she woke up.
She laughed at herself and said aloud, “Not that it’ll happen like that, but at least I’ll get some sleep, right?” Nothing was ever easy or simple.
***
Following the storm, the air was thick and muggy, hard to breathe, but the motel she’d found didn’t have room service and she was hungry, so Maggie wandered the main street of downtown Telos, window shopping while she waited for a table to become available at the Drunken Toad Tavern. Not the most appetizing of names, but it came highly recommended by the motel desk clerk, and she was to be sure to tell them Arnot had sent her.
“Probably gets a nice little kickback,” she said aloud, smiling cynically. She glanced down at her watch, saw that she still had almost half an hour to kill. Up ahead were several shops with colorful awnings and cloth banners tastefully advertising their wares, dripping charm along with lingering rainwater. Across the street from where she stood were a book merchant and a Colonial Fleet recruiting office. Neither was as eye-catching as the shops up the road.
She stepped across the raging river that was the street’s storm gutter and crossed to the book merchant. There were several titles on display in the window, a couple of which Maggie would have liked to take a look at, but sadly, the sign on the door proclaimed the shop closed and asked that she return at nine the following morning. She turned to leave, to check out the quaint and no doubt overpriced shops up the road, but the recruiter’s open door caught her eye. That and the cool, dry air that wafted out from the interior of the office.
She poked her head in. “Hello? Anybody here?” When there was no answer, she stepped over the threshold, glad she wouldn’t have to wait outside in that godsawful humidity.
The room was sparsely decorated and exactly what she expected of a recruiting office. Glossy posters depicted sleek Vipers in flight. Blue-clad ranks of women and men stood at attention, hands raised in salute. Mechanics in orange or yellow worked on fighter planes and support planes on a busy hangar deck. Proud parents hugged smiling graduates in form-fitting gray.
There was a desk in the corner opposite the front door, its polished wood surface marred only by a stack of pamphlets proclaiming the glories of service to the Fleet of the Twelve Colonies of Kobol. Beyond the desk was a doorway and light leaked out into the larger office from the partially open door. Maggie called out again.
A man in a crisp blue uniform stepped out from the back room with a cup in his hand. He held it out to her and asked, “Would you like a cup of coffee? I just made a fresh pot and it always seems to taste better when there’s someone to share it with.” He smiled, black eyes dancing, daring her to step into his office.
Maggie raised a brow and glanced again at her watch. Less than ten minutes later than when she’d last looked at it. Plenty of time. She was frakking made of time. “Why not?” She shrugged and accepted the cup, the steam from which smelled like heaven.
~tbc~
Previous chapters:
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4