#NaBloPoMo Day 6: "She Knows" (BSG: Gina/Cain)
Today's post is brought to you by: Surfin Bird. Bird, bird, bird is the word.
The plan was to post a SheRa fanfic here today. Sadly, I had an attack of the Mondays and thus there is no complete fic to post. Sorry. Instead, I'm tossing up a BSG fic that I did some time ago for a challenge. Enjoy and I'll see you tomorrow.
Blog over.
She Knows
Pairing: Admiral Cain/ Gina
Spoilers: Anything up to Pegasus is fair game although it’s only mild references.
Disclaimers: I don’t own them, I’m broke so suing will only get you all of nothing.
Rating: Maybe an R for violence.
**
A hand takes her chin with surprising gentleness. It’s in these moments that She remembers things most clearly. Pain has muddled most of her memories beyond comprehension. Time is reduced to snippets of data which pass unmonitored, uncategorized through the synapses of her brain.
“How many more are there?” She opens one eye, -the other swelled beyond use- and looks into the face of her captor, a face she once loved. Or, at least, the closest thing to love as She’s ever known.
Once, her captor’s eyes had looked at her fondly though, She admits to herself, it was never with love. The Admiral’s only true love is her ship and her command. But the fondness coupled with the occasional gentle caress had been enough. The caresses are not gentle anymore.
“How many more are there?” She’s asked again as the fingers holding her in place tighten. She can feel, almost on a cellular level, as her blood vessels pop. There’ll be bruises.
She can’t find her voice and wants to laugh at the irony. It’s not the first time the Admiral has stolen her ability to speak. Her mind is wandering to their first encounter, shortly after the attack.
“You’re a civilian dockworker,” the brunette had said looking her up and down. She’d looked at the Admiral, still the perfect picture of Colonial Fleet decorum. As though the destruction of worlds themselves had still been unable to force Cain to abandon the arrogance of invincibility that she wore as a cloak.
She’d found herself at a loss for words, intrigued by the powerful personality of the human before her. Rather than a verbal response all she could manage was a nod.
“My grunts are all either dead or glowing with radiation by now. You’re my new Supply Tech until you die or I find someone better.”
She’d only nodded again, She’d heard what had happened to the last civilians who had dared to refuse the Admiral’s commands.
Of course, She could’ve said no, died, been reborn. It certainly hadn’t been her idea to get stuck on that dingy freighter as her comrades had commenced the attack. Now She was alone, well not really, She’d thought with a small smile. There were others. She’d recognized a Three in the crowd somewhere.
“Do you speak? You’re not a mute are you?” The Admiral had asked with a raise of an elegant eybrow.
“I can speak.” She’d said, not trusting herself with a more verbose answer.
“Good, then start talking to me. When can you get my supply lines operational and up to spec?”
“Um…”
“’Um’ is not an answer civie. Speak to my 2IC get reports and keep me updated. This is the fate of the Colonies we’re dealing with so move like you’ve got a purpose.” With that the Admiral had turned away to speak to one of her men.
The blows come hard across her back now, a testament to the anger of the weapon’s wielder. She kneels, hands covering her head, still not at the point of wishing for death.
Close, but not quite.
“How many more are on the ship?” A hard boot steps into her line of vision. The toe, a polished mirror of Caprican leather, comes at her with unsurprising speed. Cain had always been fast and hard. Whether in the command or in the bedroom there was never a moment’s second guess. Never a flinch.
The solid boot connects sharply with her chin and She rolls with the blow as best as She can. She’s long past the stage of fighting back.
She had fire in her once. She knows that fire was what had drawn her former lover and current captor to her in the first place. Like a moth to a flame, the Admiral had been taken in by her. Cain had needed a companion with enough steel not to break and a touch of brash arrogance that would leave each other wondering who was really on top. Foolishness, She realizes now. She may have wondered but the Admiral never did. No one tops Cain.
“You do good work,” the Admiral had said leaning back in her chair, a cigar dangling from lean fingers.
“I’m the best,” She had responded. Her initial speechlessness had faded. She’d conversed with the Admiral on several occasions, her pull to the human growing stronger. Cain intrigued her, a powerful woman with questionable morals, She supposed She could relate.
Their God said to love all others. She doubted that the complete destruction of the human civilization qualified under His definition of love. Still, She had participated, quite willingly, infiltrating the computers with the information from the Caprican Six. She’d held great power over the humans, had wielded it savagely, and yet none would likely ever know.
Cain was similar, pillaging what she’d needed from the civilian ships, raping them for resources and personnel before leaving them to the Cylons to be disposed of at their leisure.
“You certainly are… skilled,” the Admiral had said pushing a glass of Ambrosia towards her. “Makes me wonder what you were doing on a backwater freighter in the first place.”
“An unfortunate accident,” She’d said honestly. “The transport I was scheduled for suffered system malfunctions. I practically had to trade my first born just to get on that gods forsaken barge you found me on.” She’d been sure to use the term ‘gods’. The woman was too sharp not to notice a mundane slip like that.
“Not so unfortunate, otherwise you may have been planetside during the attack.” She’d nodded, accepting the point. That had been the plan. Idiotic humans and a bad pressure valve had spoiled that particular moment of glory.
“If it weren’t for you I would’ve died on that freighter,” She’d said finishing her drink and looking over the glass into predatory eyes.
“Yes, you would’ve.” She’d smiled, She liked the Admiral’s arrogance, it suited the woman well. She had stood walking past the seated woman and drawing a hand along the edge of the brunette’s shoulder.
“Perhaps I can repay that favour,” She’d said smiling with a coy arrogance that seemed to inflame her companion.
“Saving a life is a hard debt to repay,” the Admiral had answered already standing from her chair. “But you are certainly welcome to try.”
The blows stop. She looks up only to see the toned form of the Admiral walking away from her tossing aside the wrench that had been her weapon of choice. She thinks dully that this might be a moment of mercy. But, of course, it’s not. There’s someone else in the room now.
An act of cowardice perhaps. Cain is turning her questioning over to someone, a gray haired man She vaguely recognizes.
“Get me what I need,” She hears the Admiral say. Cowardice it is then. She’s never thought Cain would stoop to this. Knowing what she has to do but unwilling to get her hands dirty.
Or, maybe, it is a form of mercy. Neither of them really wanting to face the other in these few pain filled moments that She has left. This way they can both maintain some semblance of the illusion.
Cain can pretend this has never happened, she hasn’t been taken in by and -quite willingly- frakked a Cylon. And She can pretend it’s been this man the whole time, beating her, degrading her. It wasn’t the hands of her lover that had blackened her eyes and broken her beyond repair.
She hears the man answer the Admiral who looks at her one final time. The fondness is absent but She thinks She sees a grudging respect. Cain always did like her stubborn streak. Then she’s gone, her slim form disappearing behind the stocky figure of the new captor.
“I’m Lieutenant Thorne,” he says hitching his thumbs into his belt. She remembers his name. He’s a man known for his boisterous and crude remarks. Except for the Admiral, She thinks he has little respect for human women.
In these moments she knows many things.
As a Cylon female She knows that, -to this man,- She is less than nothing.
She knows the fate of mankind.
They will kick and scream and bite and scratch to the very last. Eventually, their sins will overtake them and either the Cylons will destroy them or they will be their own demise.
She knows this is God’s will.
She’s known it from the moment of her ‘birth’, when She awoke fully formed in nutrient rich ooze. A parody of human evolution.
And just as surely as She knows that humanity is on the verge of extinction She knows her own fate.
Thorne is smiling at her without humour and unbuckling his belt.
It is now that She most wants to be human. If She were, this life would be her last and She wouldn’t have to suffer the memories that are about to be made.
It is now that She knows, She wants to die.
The plan was to post a SheRa fanfic here today. Sadly, I had an attack of the Mondays and thus there is no complete fic to post. Sorry. Instead, I'm tossing up a BSG fic that I did some time ago for a challenge. Enjoy and I'll see you tomorrow.
Blog over.
She Knows
Pairing: Admiral Cain/ Gina
Spoilers: Anything up to Pegasus is fair game although it’s only mild references.
Disclaimers: I don’t own them, I’m broke so suing will only get you all of nothing.
Rating: Maybe an R for violence.
**
A hand takes her chin with surprising gentleness. It’s in these moments that She remembers things most clearly. Pain has muddled most of her memories beyond comprehension. Time is reduced to snippets of data which pass unmonitored, uncategorized through the synapses of her brain.
“How many more are there?” She opens one eye, -the other swelled beyond use- and looks into the face of her captor, a face she once loved. Or, at least, the closest thing to love as She’s ever known.
Once, her captor’s eyes had looked at her fondly though, She admits to herself, it was never with love. The Admiral’s only true love is her ship and her command. But the fondness coupled with the occasional gentle caress had been enough. The caresses are not gentle anymore.
“How many more are there?” She’s asked again as the fingers holding her in place tighten. She can feel, almost on a cellular level, as her blood vessels pop. There’ll be bruises.
She can’t find her voice and wants to laugh at the irony. It’s not the first time the Admiral has stolen her ability to speak. Her mind is wandering to their first encounter, shortly after the attack.
“You’re a civilian dockworker,” the brunette had said looking her up and down. She’d looked at the Admiral, still the perfect picture of Colonial Fleet decorum. As though the destruction of worlds themselves had still been unable to force Cain to abandon the arrogance of invincibility that she wore as a cloak.
She’d found herself at a loss for words, intrigued by the powerful personality of the human before her. Rather than a verbal response all she could manage was a nod.
“My grunts are all either dead or glowing with radiation by now. You’re my new Supply Tech until you die or I find someone better.”
She’d only nodded again, She’d heard what had happened to the last civilians who had dared to refuse the Admiral’s commands.
Of course, She could’ve said no, died, been reborn. It certainly hadn’t been her idea to get stuck on that dingy freighter as her comrades had commenced the attack. Now She was alone, well not really, She’d thought with a small smile. There were others. She’d recognized a Three in the crowd somewhere.
“Do you speak? You’re not a mute are you?” The Admiral had asked with a raise of an elegant eybrow.
“I can speak.” She’d said, not trusting herself with a more verbose answer.
“Good, then start talking to me. When can you get my supply lines operational and up to spec?”
“Um…”
“’Um’ is not an answer civie. Speak to my 2IC get reports and keep me updated. This is the fate of the Colonies we’re dealing with so move like you’ve got a purpose.” With that the Admiral had turned away to speak to one of her men.
The blows come hard across her back now, a testament to the anger of the weapon’s wielder. She kneels, hands covering her head, still not at the point of wishing for death.
Close, but not quite.
“How many more are on the ship?” A hard boot steps into her line of vision. The toe, a polished mirror of Caprican leather, comes at her with unsurprising speed. Cain had always been fast and hard. Whether in the command or in the bedroom there was never a moment’s second guess. Never a flinch.
The solid boot connects sharply with her chin and She rolls with the blow as best as She can. She’s long past the stage of fighting back.
She had fire in her once. She knows that fire was what had drawn her former lover and current captor to her in the first place. Like a moth to a flame, the Admiral had been taken in by her. Cain had needed a companion with enough steel not to break and a touch of brash arrogance that would leave each other wondering who was really on top. Foolishness, She realizes now. She may have wondered but the Admiral never did. No one tops Cain.
“You do good work,” the Admiral had said leaning back in her chair, a cigar dangling from lean fingers.
“I’m the best,” She had responded. Her initial speechlessness had faded. She’d conversed with the Admiral on several occasions, her pull to the human growing stronger. Cain intrigued her, a powerful woman with questionable morals, She supposed She could relate.
Their God said to love all others. She doubted that the complete destruction of the human civilization qualified under His definition of love. Still, She had participated, quite willingly, infiltrating the computers with the information from the Caprican Six. She’d held great power over the humans, had wielded it savagely, and yet none would likely ever know.
Cain was similar, pillaging what she’d needed from the civilian ships, raping them for resources and personnel before leaving them to the Cylons to be disposed of at their leisure.
“You certainly are… skilled,” the Admiral had said pushing a glass of Ambrosia towards her. “Makes me wonder what you were doing on a backwater freighter in the first place.”
“An unfortunate accident,” She’d said honestly. “The transport I was scheduled for suffered system malfunctions. I practically had to trade my first born just to get on that gods forsaken barge you found me on.” She’d been sure to use the term ‘gods’. The woman was too sharp not to notice a mundane slip like that.
“Not so unfortunate, otherwise you may have been planetside during the attack.” She’d nodded, accepting the point. That had been the plan. Idiotic humans and a bad pressure valve had spoiled that particular moment of glory.
“If it weren’t for you I would’ve died on that freighter,” She’d said finishing her drink and looking over the glass into predatory eyes.
“Yes, you would’ve.” She’d smiled, She liked the Admiral’s arrogance, it suited the woman well. She had stood walking past the seated woman and drawing a hand along the edge of the brunette’s shoulder.
“Perhaps I can repay that favour,” She’d said smiling with a coy arrogance that seemed to inflame her companion.
“Saving a life is a hard debt to repay,” the Admiral had answered already standing from her chair. “But you are certainly welcome to try.”
The blows stop. She looks up only to see the toned form of the Admiral walking away from her tossing aside the wrench that had been her weapon of choice. She thinks dully that this might be a moment of mercy. But, of course, it’s not. There’s someone else in the room now.
An act of cowardice perhaps. Cain is turning her questioning over to someone, a gray haired man She vaguely recognizes.
“Get me what I need,” She hears the Admiral say. Cowardice it is then. She’s never thought Cain would stoop to this. Knowing what she has to do but unwilling to get her hands dirty.
Or, maybe, it is a form of mercy. Neither of them really wanting to face the other in these few pain filled moments that She has left. This way they can both maintain some semblance of the illusion.
Cain can pretend this has never happened, she hasn’t been taken in by and -quite willingly- frakked a Cylon. And She can pretend it’s been this man the whole time, beating her, degrading her. It wasn’t the hands of her lover that had blackened her eyes and broken her beyond repair.
She hears the man answer the Admiral who looks at her one final time. The fondness is absent but She thinks She sees a grudging respect. Cain always did like her stubborn streak. Then she’s gone, her slim form disappearing behind the stocky figure of the new captor.
“I’m Lieutenant Thorne,” he says hitching his thumbs into his belt. She remembers his name. He’s a man known for his boisterous and crude remarks. Except for the Admiral, She thinks he has little respect for human women.
In these moments she knows many things.
As a Cylon female She knows that, -to this man,- She is less than nothing.
She knows the fate of mankind.
They will kick and scream and bite and scratch to the very last. Eventually, their sins will overtake them and either the Cylons will destroy them or they will be their own demise.
She knows this is God’s will.
She’s known it from the moment of her ‘birth’, when She awoke fully formed in nutrient rich ooze. A parody of human evolution.
And just as surely as She knows that humanity is on the verge of extinction She knows her own fate.
Thorne is smiling at her without humour and unbuckling his belt.
It is now that She most wants to be human. If She were, this life would be her last and She wouldn’t have to suffer the memories that are about to be made.
It is now that She knows, She wants to die.