TM 225 - "Do not the most moving moments of our lives find us without words?" Marcel Marceau.
There weren’t any words for it. There just weren’t.
I thought she was mine. I believed she was mine. I never wanted kids - never - but Leoben produced this little blonde thing, all curls and giggles, and told me that she was ours, and I believed him. I believed him from the start - I resisted at first, but yeah. I believed him from the start.
I never talked to anyone about it later - never explained. Not even to Sam, who had to wait for me to find her before he could get me to leave that damned prison. Had to wait for me to get my daughter. I think I even called her that - I think he heard me call her that. But I never explained.
Because there weren’t any words. There wasn’t any point. I never wanted kids anyway, so what was the problem, right? What was I going to do with a kid besides frak it up beyond recognition?
But you want to talk about moving? What’s more moving than reuniting a mother with her child? I get back to Galactica and here I am ready to tell anyone who will listen that I’ve got this half Cylon baby as if that’s a good thing, as if she’s some kind of answer to all my problems, some kind of meaning … and then her mother shows up. Her real mother. Because of course I’m not - how could I be? How ridiculous is it that I could have believed that, even for a minute?
Sometimes I think I’m a lot more of an idiot than I let myself believe.
And her mother was so grateful, and of course it was moving, but it was also … I don’t know. There’s not a word for it. There weren’t any words. There still aren’t, not really. I shouldn’t even bother to try.
Muse: Kara Thrace
Fandom: Battlestar Galactica
Word Count: 310
I thought she was mine. I believed she was mine. I never wanted kids - never - but Leoben produced this little blonde thing, all curls and giggles, and told me that she was ours, and I believed him. I believed him from the start - I resisted at first, but yeah. I believed him from the start.
I never talked to anyone about it later - never explained. Not even to Sam, who had to wait for me to find her before he could get me to leave that damned prison. Had to wait for me to get my daughter. I think I even called her that - I think he heard me call her that. But I never explained.
Because there weren’t any words. There wasn’t any point. I never wanted kids anyway, so what was the problem, right? What was I going to do with a kid besides frak it up beyond recognition?
But you want to talk about moving? What’s more moving than reuniting a mother with her child? I get back to Galactica and here I am ready to tell anyone who will listen that I’ve got this half Cylon baby as if that’s a good thing, as if she’s some kind of answer to all my problems, some kind of meaning … and then her mother shows up. Her real mother. Because of course I’m not - how could I be? How ridiculous is it that I could have believed that, even for a minute?
Sometimes I think I’m a lot more of an idiot than I let myself believe.
And her mother was so grateful, and of course it was moving, but it was also … I don’t know. There’s not a word for it. There weren’t any words. There still aren’t, not really. I shouldn’t even bother to try.
Muse: Kara Thrace
Fandom: Battlestar Galactica
Word Count: 310