Fic: BSG
Title: Fade: In Small Things Forgotten
Author: Trinity, aka trinnifer
Rating: G
Characters: Kara, Helo, Lee
Spoilers: to "Valley of Darkness"
Summary: In her apartment on Caprica, Kara finds a jacket - and a memory.
Author's Notes: The fic formerly known as Fade (in).
The first fic in my Fade series. Fade is about the things we don't see. What happens when the camera fades out? A missing moments/backstory exploration series.
Fade: In Small Things Forgotten
Kara is sitting on her couch in the rat-trap that passes for her apartment on Caprica, wrapped up in an old leather jacket and smoking a stogie. Her father's old song, the only one he ever made any money off of, is echoing off the cement walls. Helo's sitting across from her and somehow it doesn't seem strange.
It's vaguely reminiscent of old times, although she's not quite sure she wants to remember what those old times ever were.
"After the attack," she says, practically out of nowhere, "I never...I never pined over any of my old crap. Never missed it."
Would you miss me, sir?
She stares into nothing, seeing more of the memories of the place she's in then the place itself. "Stupid view of the parking lot...broken toilet in the bathroom..."
There's one in particular. One memory of this place that stands out. She sinks deeper into the jacket's embrace. It's old, torn, splattered with paint and reeks of cigar smoke, but it's her only connection to a place and time long gone from here.
"You know, everyone I know is fighting to get back what they had. I'm fighting 'cause I don't know how to do anything else."
I'm a screw-up, Lee, try to keep that in mind.
She slings one leg over the arm of the couch, props a foot up on the coffee table and takes a long drag off the cigar. Helo echoes her actions, head falling back against the chair, and they stare at each other for a bit before her gaze slips behind her eyes and the room turns to shadows.
Because I don't owe you anything.
*
She'd almost forgotten this. Lets the memory fade into her conscious thought.
The apartment is cleaner, but not by much. A few fewer cigar boxes, but there's Kara, fishing through the debris for a stogie. Same music, because it's the only thing that keeps her sane now that Zak's gone. Same stupid view of the parking lot, evening glow filtering in through the moth-eaten curtains. it falls over the canvases littering the floor, falls over the stereo that only works because her neighbor had spare batteries and sympathy for the girl who'd just lost her fiancee.
The sunlight falls over a head resting on the back of a chair, brown hair only it's lighter in color, cut in a perfect military haircut, parted on one side.
The sunlight falls over blue eyes that are tinged with red, the only visible sign Kara can see of what's transpired in the past twenty-four hours.
"I think you owe me an explanation, Kara. Tell me why I had to bail you out of the brig less than a day after my brother's funeral."
it doesn't go unnoticed that he says "my brother," and not "your fiancee," or even just "Zak."
So typically Lee, she thinks, staring at him blank-faced. It's not anybody's grief but his.
Kara sighs. "I told you already. I was drunk. I got in a fight. Tell me you honestly didn't expect this."
"No, Kara, I didn't." She ignores him, goes back to shaking boxes, comes up with a stogie. She clips and lights it while he continues his one-sided rant. She watches him through blue-tinged haze. "I thought maybe, somewhere in that frakked up head of yours that you might still have a little bit of respect for Zak! You couldn't have waited a little longer before you forgot about him?"
Kara is on her feet, over the table and going for Lee's throat before she even realizes what she's doing. She flies at him with Viper-speed, across the room and on top of him in the chair, thumbs pressing into his jugular. They fall backwards, Kara and Lee and the chair, and without either of them thinking about it he grabs her hips as the momentum of her flight tries to carry her over his head.
She freezes.
She's not supposed to welcome his hands on her body.
She's not supposed to drown in those blue eyes.
He's not supposed to look at her like that.
It's not clear who lets go first. They try to avoid touching each other as they disentangle themselves from the now-broken chair. Kara's head is spinning. She needs oxygen, alcohol, something other than Lee's aura. Trembling legs carry her away, she grabs her keys, a mini-disc, the first jacket she can find. Heads out the door and takes refuge in her jeep, slipping the jacket on and turning the collar up against the spring chill. The jeep roars to life, she slips in the disc and the rich tones of her father's favorite piano piece float above the him of the engine.
She drives until she doesn't feel the ghosts of his hands anymore.
It's pitch black when she returns, and the apartment is empty save for a scrap of paper taped to a half-empty cigar box.
I want my jacket back, Thrace.
Fade out.
*
Author: Trinity, aka trinnifer
Rating: G
Characters: Kara, Helo, Lee
Spoilers: to "Valley of Darkness"
Summary: In her apartment on Caprica, Kara finds a jacket - and a memory.
Author's Notes: The fic formerly known as Fade (in).
The first fic in my Fade series. Fade is about the things we don't see. What happens when the camera fades out? A missing moments/backstory exploration series.
Fade: In Small Things Forgotten
Kara is sitting on her couch in the rat-trap that passes for her apartment on Caprica, wrapped up in an old leather jacket and smoking a stogie. Her father's old song, the only one he ever made any money off of, is echoing off the cement walls. Helo's sitting across from her and somehow it doesn't seem strange.
It's vaguely reminiscent of old times, although she's not quite sure she wants to remember what those old times ever were.
"After the attack," she says, practically out of nowhere, "I never...I never pined over any of my old crap. Never missed it."
Would you miss me, sir?
She stares into nothing, seeing more of the memories of the place she's in then the place itself. "Stupid view of the parking lot...broken toilet in the bathroom..."
There's one in particular. One memory of this place that stands out. She sinks deeper into the jacket's embrace. It's old, torn, splattered with paint and reeks of cigar smoke, but it's her only connection to a place and time long gone from here.
"You know, everyone I know is fighting to get back what they had. I'm fighting 'cause I don't know how to do anything else."
I'm a screw-up, Lee, try to keep that in mind.
She slings one leg over the arm of the couch, props a foot up on the coffee table and takes a long drag off the cigar. Helo echoes her actions, head falling back against the chair, and they stare at each other for a bit before her gaze slips behind her eyes and the room turns to shadows.
Because I don't owe you anything.
*
She'd almost forgotten this. Lets the memory fade into her conscious thought.
The apartment is cleaner, but not by much. A few fewer cigar boxes, but there's Kara, fishing through the debris for a stogie. Same music, because it's the only thing that keeps her sane now that Zak's gone. Same stupid view of the parking lot, evening glow filtering in through the moth-eaten curtains. it falls over the canvases littering the floor, falls over the stereo that only works because her neighbor had spare batteries and sympathy for the girl who'd just lost her fiancee.
The sunlight falls over a head resting on the back of a chair, brown hair only it's lighter in color, cut in a perfect military haircut, parted on one side.
The sunlight falls over blue eyes that are tinged with red, the only visible sign Kara can see of what's transpired in the past twenty-four hours.
"I think you owe me an explanation, Kara. Tell me why I had to bail you out of the brig less than a day after my brother's funeral."
it doesn't go unnoticed that he says "my brother," and not "your fiancee," or even just "Zak."
So typically Lee, she thinks, staring at him blank-faced. It's not anybody's grief but his.
Kara sighs. "I told you already. I was drunk. I got in a fight. Tell me you honestly didn't expect this."
"No, Kara, I didn't." She ignores him, goes back to shaking boxes, comes up with a stogie. She clips and lights it while he continues his one-sided rant. She watches him through blue-tinged haze. "I thought maybe, somewhere in that frakked up head of yours that you might still have a little bit of respect for Zak! You couldn't have waited a little longer before you forgot about him?"
Kara is on her feet, over the table and going for Lee's throat before she even realizes what she's doing. She flies at him with Viper-speed, across the room and on top of him in the chair, thumbs pressing into his jugular. They fall backwards, Kara and Lee and the chair, and without either of them thinking about it he grabs her hips as the momentum of her flight tries to carry her over his head.
She freezes.
She's not supposed to welcome his hands on her body.
She's not supposed to drown in those blue eyes.
He's not supposed to look at her like that.
It's not clear who lets go first. They try to avoid touching each other as they disentangle themselves from the now-broken chair. Kara's head is spinning. She needs oxygen, alcohol, something other than Lee's aura. Trembling legs carry her away, she grabs her keys, a mini-disc, the first jacket she can find. Heads out the door and takes refuge in her jeep, slipping the jacket on and turning the collar up against the spring chill. The jeep roars to life, she slips in the disc and the rich tones of her father's favorite piano piece float above the him of the engine.
She drives until she doesn't feel the ghosts of his hands anymore.
It's pitch black when she returns, and the apartment is empty save for a scrap of paper taped to a half-empty cigar box.
I want my jacket back, Thrace.
Fade out.
*