[bsg rpf] Rhythms of the Dead (Kerry-centric)
Title: Rhythms of the Dead
Author: Sentra Aquila
Rating: PG
Pairings: Kerry/Jamie, Jamie/Katee
Summary: She picks it up and gently places it on her ring finger, then looks at her husband sleeping next to her, and gets up to prepare breakfast for her girls.
I’ve made Kerry an insecure frivolity and Katee an evil mistress. Well sort of. Maybe not. Whatever...deal with it. *ducks the flames* And I'm kinda ehhh! *curses low self-esteem* about the entire plot but it's been sitting on my computer and glowering at me for months so here it is.
Rhythms of the Dead
Kerry can count the things she’s sacrificed for him on one hand. A normal life without plane commutes. Full time residence in London. A budding career. And her heart.
They’re everything she has to offer.
* * *
She flies into Vancouver on a Thursday night. The house is empty and luggage makes a sickening thump as they’re dropped. The girls are restless (“I wanna see Daddy!”) and put up a fight, but she finally manages to tuck them into bed.
The next morning, the space next to her is still cold.
* * *
He cooks omelettes while balancing Ava in his hands.
“Morning.”
“Morning. Things sure have changed since I’ve last been here. My husband cooks and cleans now! What other surprises should I expect?” she says grinning as she retrieves a carton of orange juice.
“I bought a new couch. Everyone was complaining the old one was too lumpy. Especially Katee. Expect her chiropractor’s bills some time soon.”
“Oh, is that all? No tattoos? Dead bodies in the closets?” she teases from the hallway.
When she sees the replacement, she winces. The couch is yellow. She hates that color.
* * *
Ron phones her with an offer to reprise her role as Medic Ishay. The script calls her to tend to Apollo’s wounds after a botched Viper landing. It’s a mediocre scene, the kind that ends up on the cutting floor, but it’s a pay check and time with her husband. So she agrees and shows up on set at call time.
The scene goes fine. Cottle tells her to close the curtain, but Starbuck pushes past the guards threatening her to let her see Apollo. “He needs me there,” she says with a snarl knocking into her shoulder.
It’s all scripted except the contempt in her eyes and Kerry’s astonishment.
After the director calls cut, he claps her on the shoulder.
“Great look at the end, Kerry.”
She nods and looks over at Katee and Jamie laughing over their lattes across the sound stage.
Katee shoots her a callous sneer and Kerry wonders what she did wrong.
* * *
He bumps into the trunk near the bed, startling her from her slumber. Groggily, she turns the light on.
“Sorry, love.”
“Where have you been?”
“Tahmoh and the guys wanted to get drinks,” he smiles, “That’s all.”
He walks over to her side of the bed and kisses her cheek. The smell of cigars, not alcohol, lingers on his clothes.
He flicks the light off.
* * *
“We’re low on spaghetti sauce.”
“I’ll pick some up.”
That was over an hour ago and the girls are getting impatient so she buckles them into the SUV and drives to the supermarket.
She passes a café where she and Jaime once ate. However, she's no longer thinking of Sunday brunch when she sees him and Katee walking down the street. Their hands interlaced. Her fingertips caressing his face. His lips grazing her temple.
A car behind her honks its horn.
* * *
She wishes that she was one of those women. The ones who lock themselves in the bathroom and drown their cries with the sound of the shower. But she can’t be because the twins are sick and Isla needs her supper.
So she wipes the fog off the mirror and heads back to kitchen.
* * *
She won’t cry. She’s stronger than that. Instead, she channels all her feelings of anger, betrayal, and grief into a quiet reserve and waits and waits on the couch.
Jamie sneaks in around three in the morning.
“I was-”
“With her. I know.”
He looks straightforward focusing on the picture of them and their daughters on holiday. “How long?”
“A while. I probably should have known even before that, but I was so stupid.” He opens his mouth, but she shakes her head. “No, I was.”
"I just want to know one thing. Tell me, it’s just sex Jamie. Tell me that it didn’t mean anything,” she pleads softly. “I can forgive that.”
When he turns his head, she sees nothing but pain in his eyes.
* * *
Her ring sits on the bed stand.
She picks it up and gently places it on her ring finger, then looks at her husband sleeping next to her, and gets up to prepare breakfast for her girls.
Because she doesn’t know what else to do.
The End
The RPF-ifcation of Stephanie is now complete.
Author: Sentra Aquila
Rating: PG
Pairings: Kerry/Jamie, Jamie/Katee
Summary: She picks it up and gently places it on her ring finger, then looks at her husband sleeping next to her, and gets up to prepare breakfast for her girls.
I’ve made Kerry an insecure frivolity and Katee an evil mistress. Well sort of. Maybe not. Whatever...deal with it. *ducks the flames* And I'm kinda ehhh! *curses low self-esteem* about the entire plot but it's been sitting on my computer and glowering at me for months so here it is.
Rhythms of the Dead
Kerry can count the things she’s sacrificed for him on one hand. A normal life without plane commutes. Full time residence in London. A budding career. And her heart.
They’re everything she has to offer.
* * *
She flies into Vancouver on a Thursday night. The house is empty and luggage makes a sickening thump as they’re dropped. The girls are restless (“I wanna see Daddy!”) and put up a fight, but she finally manages to tuck them into bed.
The next morning, the space next to her is still cold.
* * *
He cooks omelettes while balancing Ava in his hands.
“Morning.”
“Morning. Things sure have changed since I’ve last been here. My husband cooks and cleans now! What other surprises should I expect?” she says grinning as she retrieves a carton of orange juice.
“I bought a new couch. Everyone was complaining the old one was too lumpy. Especially Katee. Expect her chiropractor’s bills some time soon.”
“Oh, is that all? No tattoos? Dead bodies in the closets?” she teases from the hallway.
When she sees the replacement, she winces. The couch is yellow. She hates that color.
* * *
Ron phones her with an offer to reprise her role as Medic Ishay. The script calls her to tend to Apollo’s wounds after a botched Viper landing. It’s a mediocre scene, the kind that ends up on the cutting floor, but it’s a pay check and time with her husband. So she agrees and shows up on set at call time.
The scene goes fine. Cottle tells her to close the curtain, but Starbuck pushes past the guards threatening her to let her see Apollo. “He needs me there,” she says with a snarl knocking into her shoulder.
It’s all scripted except the contempt in her eyes and Kerry’s astonishment.
After the director calls cut, he claps her on the shoulder.
“Great look at the end, Kerry.”
She nods and looks over at Katee and Jamie laughing over their lattes across the sound stage.
Katee shoots her a callous sneer and Kerry wonders what she did wrong.
* * *
He bumps into the trunk near the bed, startling her from her slumber. Groggily, she turns the light on.
“Sorry, love.”
“Where have you been?”
“Tahmoh and the guys wanted to get drinks,” he smiles, “That’s all.”
He walks over to her side of the bed and kisses her cheek. The smell of cigars, not alcohol, lingers on his clothes.
He flicks the light off.
* * *
“We’re low on spaghetti sauce.”
“I’ll pick some up.”
That was over an hour ago and the girls are getting impatient so she buckles them into the SUV and drives to the supermarket.
She passes a café where she and Jaime once ate. However, she's no longer thinking of Sunday brunch when she sees him and Katee walking down the street. Their hands interlaced. Her fingertips caressing his face. His lips grazing her temple.
A car behind her honks its horn.
* * *
She wishes that she was one of those women. The ones who lock themselves in the bathroom and drown their cries with the sound of the shower. But she can’t be because the twins are sick and Isla needs her supper.
So she wipes the fog off the mirror and heads back to kitchen.
* * *
She won’t cry. She’s stronger than that. Instead, she channels all her feelings of anger, betrayal, and grief into a quiet reserve and waits and waits on the couch.
Jamie sneaks in around three in the morning.
“I was-”
“With her. I know.”
He looks straightforward focusing on the picture of them and their daughters on holiday. “How long?”
“A while. I probably should have known even before that, but I was so stupid.” He opens his mouth, but she shakes her head. “No, I was.”
"I just want to know one thing. Tell me, it’s just sex Jamie. Tell me that it didn’t mean anything,” she pleads softly. “I can forgive that.”
When he turns his head, she sees nothing but pain in his eyes.
* * *
Her ring sits on the bed stand.
She picks it up and gently places it on her ring finger, then looks at her husband sleeping next to her, and gets up to prepare breakfast for her girls.
Because she doesn’t know what else to do.
The End
The RPF-ifcation of Stephanie is now complete.