Fic: I Carry With Me All My Things
Title: I Carry With Me All My Things
Author: Anonymous (for now)
Summary: Lee tries to come to grips with his new life and everything that has been lost when he comes across some reminders of his past. Set after Resurrection Ship.
Characters: Kara/Lee, Zak, Helo
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2109
Warning: Excessive navel gazing and schmoopyness
Notes: Written as a gift for Angelicalangie forpilots_presents with the prompts . . . ummm I forget. I'll have to ask her.
There's so little left to remind him of his previous life. So little proof that whole worlds of people once lived, breathed, mattered. His friends, his mother, Zak; they’re all just memories in the minds of other people now, susceptible to the same flaws and willful misremberances of any mind. Not a shred of tangible proof that they’d ever been alive. His fingers grazed hesitantly on the lid of the box in front of him. Delivered from storage finally after many lost months in the bowels of Galactica's belly, waiting for him to search it out. It had taken him a long time, but eventually, he'd gone after it. He'd needed something, something to prove that there had been a past that he could see and touch before all this death.
Ever since the mission to destroy the resurrection ship, he'd been floating, still floating adrift in space, wondering what was real, what was lies, whether it mattered anymore. Kara kept telling him to stop looking back. That it was too hard that way. That Cain said it was the only way to get through this piece of shit situation they were all stuck in. She didn't understand. How could she? Her past was all pain. She needed to move past it to survive. He, however, needed his past, to tether him to something. To hold him steady. Something to make him something other than...adrift.
Pulling the cardboard away and looking down into the dusty contents of the box, he felt comforted. This, he thought gratefully, breathing in the stale air, this is what I need. Reaching in his fingers brushed reverently over what was left of his previous life. The well-worn fabric of Zak's favorite tee-shirt, green like his eyes. Lee'd nabbed it after the funeral, mostly for the smell, though he'd never been able to bring himself to wear it. As he raised it to his nose now, it smelled only of mildew. Any lingering whiffs of his brother's scent long disbursed back into the universe. Next he thumbed through his awards, crumbled certificates and broken trophies of his past glories, all useless now. There were socks too and a bottle of ambrosia he’d brought as a gift for Kara, worth so much more now than his dozens of accommodations. He felt the tugging of a smile at the thought.
Among the piles of junk he saw the edge of a photo sticking out and grabbed it. His smile widened as he saw the ghost of his brother smiling out at him, Kara clutched to his side. Lee stood beside them looking into the camera with only the faintest hint of a smirk. He'd brought the photo for Kara too, when he found out that he was coming to the Galactica's decommissioning. She'd run as far from Caprica as possible after Zak's death, into the very depths of space. He doubted she'd taken the time to grab her own bag, let alone anything of Zak. She's been so raw then, but maybe now...maybe now she regretted leaving so much behind, so much she could never go back for. Tucking the photo into his pocket, he sat on his rack and thought back to a simpler time, content in the knowledge that his memories were real, that he'd once loved a brother and still loved a woman. In that belief, Lee Adama became a little more himself again.
*
“You keep it,” she tells him when he tries to give it to her. “I have a copy already.”
“You do?” He asks surprised.
“In my locker.” She says smiling down wistfully at the picture in his outstretched hands. “It feels like so long ago now. Like it was all some dream.”
“Only it wasn't.” He tells her emphatically. “This,” he asserts shaking the picture roughly, “this right here means that it was real.”
He sees the surprise in her face at his unusually passionate speech.
“Yeah.” She nods, reaching out to squeeze his arm reassuringly. “I guess it does.”
And after an awkward moment where neither knows quite what to say, she turns away.
“Keep it, Lee. Somewhere you can see it. It helps.”
*
He tapes it to the ceiling of his rack. Stares at it for hours as he lays, waiting for sleep to come. A lot of them have trouble sleeping these days; their consciences heavy with so many recent losses. He takes comfort in the movement of the others pilots around him. I'm not alone, he reminds himself. I'm not alone. I'm not.
She was right about the picture. It does help. Jogs his memories, inflames his imagination, and reminds him why the fight is still important.
Kara'd been so young then, so carefree and bright. Blinding. He wonders whether she'd ever be that girl again. He doubted it. Nothing lasts. Nothing should. He puzzles over why he'd never met her at flight school or even before that when she was playing semi-pro pyramid. He'd gone to the games back then. If only he'd met her then, everything would be different now. He thinks of the movies where the lead actor and actress keep missing each other by moments. He wonders if that happened to them. Constantly crossing paths, just a second too late. It seems likely. After all, they'd been at the same school, known the same people, frequented the same haunts. But somehow the fates hadn't deigned to let their connection come to light until it was too late for anything but guilt and regret.
The image in the picture above him blurs and shifts in his mind until Kara's wrapped around him while Zak stands beside them grasping the ball as proudly as he'd held Kara. The hatch bangs open and the object of his fantasy comes barreling through, with a grinning Helo in tow. As Helo tackles her to the floor, tickling her mercilessly, Lee shakes the false image away. Her infectious cackle fills the room and Lees looks away. He hates watching them play, but he loves listening to the sounds of her laughter. It sends him back to another time. He fades into unconsciousness.
*
That night Lee dreams of that which he'll never have. A past with Kara. The past that might have been. Images flickers through his unconscious brain. Shared physics classes, her teasing whispers in his ear. Late nights spent studying in her dorm, being woken entangled on the floor by her, not at all amused, roommate. He dreams of his arm around her shoulders as they watch old movies on his ratty ass futon, the scent of her hair filling his nose. He even dreams of their fights and how much they'd argue over SIM scores and politics and how messy she is and how much she hates letting him drive. At some point his unconscious mind begins to become aware that he's caught in a dream and as soon as he realizes it, it starts to slip away. The images grow hazy as he lays her down in his bed, pulls at their clothes wildly. She smiles up at him, leans up to meet his mouth. He fights to hold on, wanting to linger a little longer...forever. His hand reaches out towards her happy smile and meets only the cold wall of Galactica's hull.
*
“Not sleepy, sir?” She teases softly from her locker as she strips her flight suit. Coming off shift, he notes absently. It must still be night, he decides, sensing other still bodies around them, noting the darkness. She looks exhausted.
“Rough shift?” He questions.
She just snorts, as she pulls on her sweats. They’re all rough these days. Only the soft memory of his dream and his still foggy brain allow for his next words to break free.
“Come lay with me.”
Her head whips towards him in disbelief and for a moment her shocked eyes hold with his sleepy ones.
“Are you drunk?” She asks seriously.
He shakes his head, propping himself onto his elbow. “Please. I wanna show you something.”
Her face ripples, awash in indecision but she approaches hesitantly anyway.
“What?”
He pats besides him. “Lay.”
She just stares down at him like he suddenly gone insane and quirks an eyebrow questioningly.
Exasperated he reaches out to her wrist, tugging her gently down. “Do you have to make everything difficult? I’m not going to do anything, freak. You smell like stale flight suit and sweat anyways.”
“Hey!” She snaps, arranging herself beside him. “You’re the one who pulled me in here! I was heading to the showers!”
“In a minute,” He promises her, before nodding up at the bottom of the rack above him. “Look.”
Her eyes flicker from his face upward, and soften instantly.
“You put it up.” She says quietly.
“Yeah.”
“And…?” She prompts.
He sighs, looking over at her, taking in her expression. “You were right. It helps.”
For a few blissful minutes they just lay, shoulder to shoulder, staring back through time.
“Gods, we were young.” He breathes.
“I’ll have you know,” she responds wryly reaching out to squeeze his hand without looking away from the photograph, “that I’m still young, old man.”
He squeezes back. “Only in years.”
Without turning, he feels her smile. He feels it in the air and in the skin of her hand.
“You’re wearing his shirt.” She notes, releasing his hand, to reach up and finger the worn hem of the green fabric.
He chuckles, caught. “Yeah.” He wants to say more, but doesn’t. He doesn’t know why, but he feels ashamed. She turns towards him, leans into his chest and breathes deep.
“It doesn’t smell like him anymore.” She says, before dropping to rest her head onto his shoulder.
He nods, mutely, afraid to break this spell. Reaching out, he tucks a piece of her messy hair back from where it had fallen onto her cheek.
“I know.”
She breathes in the fabric again and pauses for a moment before whispering, “It smells like you now.”
He turns into her, pulls her close and tucks her into his body, leans down to breathe in the skin of her neck. She smells of things remembered and of things that still are. She is the only thing left that is both then and now. She’s his past, his present, his future. She’s all things.
“I love you.” He tells her plainly, like it’s not a big deal, like it’s not the most important words he’s ever said.
She nods against him, burrowed tight. “I know you do.” And after a beat…
“I love you too.” She pulls back enough to drop a warm kiss to his jaw, then lets him go, pulls away.
“But it doesn’t change anything, Lee. Look.” She tells him, gesturing at the picture, plucking at his shirt. “He’s still everywhere. He’ll always be in the way.”
He doesn’t argue. Arguing with her never gets him anywhere. It only strengthens her convictions against him. My stubborn girl, he thinks fondly.
“I had a dream tonight.” He tells her. “That we met first. Fell in love. That you and him never…” He trails off. “Does that make me a bad brother?”
Sighing, she sits up, turns to drop her legs to the floor. He reaches out to rest a hand onto her back.
“It sounds like a beautiful dream, Lee.” She says quietly before rising. His fingers slip to the empty mattress. “But it’ll always be just a dream.”
She doesn’t look back as she walks out of the room to the showers.
He had thought that these little proofs of the past would free him from his despair, but now he sees what she’d meant about needing to let them go. They’re too heavy to bear. He thought they were touchstones. They’re not. They’re anchors.
*
The next morning he puts the shirt back into the box, tucks the picture between the pages of an old book, and shakes Kara awake.
“Hey.” He smiles.
She rubs her eyes groggily. “Lee?”
“I’m sorry about last night.” He barrels ahead as he sees her eyes widen in fear. “You’re right. I don’t think either of us is over him yet. But you’re wrong that we never will be.” Leaning down to her, he drops a chaste kiss to her surprised mouth. He doesn’t linger long, doesn’t push. “And I can wait until we both are.”
She doesn’t say anything, but after a moment that seems like an eternity, she nods almost imperceptibly.
“Good.” He smiles warmly. “Now that that’s out of the way, get your lazy ass up. We’re going running.”
Pulling her pillow over her head, she groans. “One more hour, Lee. I’m frakking exhausted.”
“OK, you asked for it…” He sucks a deep breath before bellowing the entire room awake. “UP ALL DAY WITH THE RISING SUN!”
He’s hit simultaneously with about five pillows and a chorus of angry words from the other sleeping pilots.
“GONNA RUN ALL DAY TILL THE RUNNING’S DONE!” He continues happily. More pillows. More swearing.
Kara jumps up from her rack to cover his smiling mouth. He nips teasingly at her hand. “Oh, you’re up?”
“I hate you so much right now.” She hisses.
Pushing her running gear into her arms, he just grins. “Tell it to the rooster, Kara.”
Author: Anonymous (for now)
Summary: Lee tries to come to grips with his new life and everything that has been lost when he comes across some reminders of his past. Set after Resurrection Ship.
Characters: Kara/Lee, Zak, Helo
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2109
Warning: Excessive navel gazing and schmoopyness
Notes: Written as a gift for Angelicalangie forpilots_presents with the prompts . . . ummm I forget. I'll have to ask her.
There's so little left to remind him of his previous life. So little proof that whole worlds of people once lived, breathed, mattered. His friends, his mother, Zak; they’re all just memories in the minds of other people now, susceptible to the same flaws and willful misremberances of any mind. Not a shred of tangible proof that they’d ever been alive. His fingers grazed hesitantly on the lid of the box in front of him. Delivered from storage finally after many lost months in the bowels of Galactica's belly, waiting for him to search it out. It had taken him a long time, but eventually, he'd gone after it. He'd needed something, something to prove that there had been a past that he could see and touch before all this death.
Ever since the mission to destroy the resurrection ship, he'd been floating, still floating adrift in space, wondering what was real, what was lies, whether it mattered anymore. Kara kept telling him to stop looking back. That it was too hard that way. That Cain said it was the only way to get through this piece of shit situation they were all stuck in. She didn't understand. How could she? Her past was all pain. She needed to move past it to survive. He, however, needed his past, to tether him to something. To hold him steady. Something to make him something other than...adrift.
Pulling the cardboard away and looking down into the dusty contents of the box, he felt comforted. This, he thought gratefully, breathing in the stale air, this is what I need. Reaching in his fingers brushed reverently over what was left of his previous life. The well-worn fabric of Zak's favorite tee-shirt, green like his eyes. Lee'd nabbed it after the funeral, mostly for the smell, though he'd never been able to bring himself to wear it. As he raised it to his nose now, it smelled only of mildew. Any lingering whiffs of his brother's scent long disbursed back into the universe. Next he thumbed through his awards, crumbled certificates and broken trophies of his past glories, all useless now. There were socks too and a bottle of ambrosia he’d brought as a gift for Kara, worth so much more now than his dozens of accommodations. He felt the tugging of a smile at the thought.
Among the piles of junk he saw the edge of a photo sticking out and grabbed it. His smile widened as he saw the ghost of his brother smiling out at him, Kara clutched to his side. Lee stood beside them looking into the camera with only the faintest hint of a smirk. He'd brought the photo for Kara too, when he found out that he was coming to the Galactica's decommissioning. She'd run as far from Caprica as possible after Zak's death, into the very depths of space. He doubted she'd taken the time to grab her own bag, let alone anything of Zak. She's been so raw then, but maybe now...maybe now she regretted leaving so much behind, so much she could never go back for. Tucking the photo into his pocket, he sat on his rack and thought back to a simpler time, content in the knowledge that his memories were real, that he'd once loved a brother and still loved a woman. In that belief, Lee Adama became a little more himself again.
*
“You keep it,” she tells him when he tries to give it to her. “I have a copy already.”
“You do?” He asks surprised.
“In my locker.” She says smiling down wistfully at the picture in his outstretched hands. “It feels like so long ago now. Like it was all some dream.”
“Only it wasn't.” He tells her emphatically. “This,” he asserts shaking the picture roughly, “this right here means that it was real.”
He sees the surprise in her face at his unusually passionate speech.
“Yeah.” She nods, reaching out to squeeze his arm reassuringly. “I guess it does.”
And after an awkward moment where neither knows quite what to say, she turns away.
“Keep it, Lee. Somewhere you can see it. It helps.”
*
He tapes it to the ceiling of his rack. Stares at it for hours as he lays, waiting for sleep to come. A lot of them have trouble sleeping these days; their consciences heavy with so many recent losses. He takes comfort in the movement of the others pilots around him. I'm not alone, he reminds himself. I'm not alone. I'm not.
She was right about the picture. It does help. Jogs his memories, inflames his imagination, and reminds him why the fight is still important.
Kara'd been so young then, so carefree and bright. Blinding. He wonders whether she'd ever be that girl again. He doubted it. Nothing lasts. Nothing should. He puzzles over why he'd never met her at flight school or even before that when she was playing semi-pro pyramid. He'd gone to the games back then. If only he'd met her then, everything would be different now. He thinks of the movies where the lead actor and actress keep missing each other by moments. He wonders if that happened to them. Constantly crossing paths, just a second too late. It seems likely. After all, they'd been at the same school, known the same people, frequented the same haunts. But somehow the fates hadn't deigned to let their connection come to light until it was too late for anything but guilt and regret.
The image in the picture above him blurs and shifts in his mind until Kara's wrapped around him while Zak stands beside them grasping the ball as proudly as he'd held Kara. The hatch bangs open and the object of his fantasy comes barreling through, with a grinning Helo in tow. As Helo tackles her to the floor, tickling her mercilessly, Lee shakes the false image away. Her infectious cackle fills the room and Lees looks away. He hates watching them play, but he loves listening to the sounds of her laughter. It sends him back to another time. He fades into unconsciousness.
*
That night Lee dreams of that which he'll never have. A past with Kara. The past that might have been. Images flickers through his unconscious brain. Shared physics classes, her teasing whispers in his ear. Late nights spent studying in her dorm, being woken entangled on the floor by her, not at all amused, roommate. He dreams of his arm around her shoulders as they watch old movies on his ratty ass futon, the scent of her hair filling his nose. He even dreams of their fights and how much they'd argue over SIM scores and politics and how messy she is and how much she hates letting him drive. At some point his unconscious mind begins to become aware that he's caught in a dream and as soon as he realizes it, it starts to slip away. The images grow hazy as he lays her down in his bed, pulls at their clothes wildly. She smiles up at him, leans up to meet his mouth. He fights to hold on, wanting to linger a little longer...forever. His hand reaches out towards her happy smile and meets only the cold wall of Galactica's hull.
*
“Not sleepy, sir?” She teases softly from her locker as she strips her flight suit. Coming off shift, he notes absently. It must still be night, he decides, sensing other still bodies around them, noting the darkness. She looks exhausted.
“Rough shift?” He questions.
She just snorts, as she pulls on her sweats. They’re all rough these days. Only the soft memory of his dream and his still foggy brain allow for his next words to break free.
“Come lay with me.”
Her head whips towards him in disbelief and for a moment her shocked eyes hold with his sleepy ones.
“Are you drunk?” She asks seriously.
He shakes his head, propping himself onto his elbow. “Please. I wanna show you something.”
Her face ripples, awash in indecision but she approaches hesitantly anyway.
“What?”
He pats besides him. “Lay.”
She just stares down at him like he suddenly gone insane and quirks an eyebrow questioningly.
Exasperated he reaches out to her wrist, tugging her gently down. “Do you have to make everything difficult? I’m not going to do anything, freak. You smell like stale flight suit and sweat anyways.”
“Hey!” She snaps, arranging herself beside him. “You’re the one who pulled me in here! I was heading to the showers!”
“In a minute,” He promises her, before nodding up at the bottom of the rack above him. “Look.”
Her eyes flicker from his face upward, and soften instantly.
“You put it up.” She says quietly.
“Yeah.”
“And…?” She prompts.
He sighs, looking over at her, taking in her expression. “You were right. It helps.”
For a few blissful minutes they just lay, shoulder to shoulder, staring back through time.
“Gods, we were young.” He breathes.
“I’ll have you know,” she responds wryly reaching out to squeeze his hand without looking away from the photograph, “that I’m still young, old man.”
He squeezes back. “Only in years.”
Without turning, he feels her smile. He feels it in the air and in the skin of her hand.
“You’re wearing his shirt.” She notes, releasing his hand, to reach up and finger the worn hem of the green fabric.
He chuckles, caught. “Yeah.” He wants to say more, but doesn’t. He doesn’t know why, but he feels ashamed. She turns towards him, leans into his chest and breathes deep.
“It doesn’t smell like him anymore.” She says, before dropping to rest her head onto his shoulder.
He nods, mutely, afraid to break this spell. Reaching out, he tucks a piece of her messy hair back from where it had fallen onto her cheek.
“I know.”
She breathes in the fabric again and pauses for a moment before whispering, “It smells like you now.”
He turns into her, pulls her close and tucks her into his body, leans down to breathe in the skin of her neck. She smells of things remembered and of things that still are. She is the only thing left that is both then and now. She’s his past, his present, his future. She’s all things.
“I love you.” He tells her plainly, like it’s not a big deal, like it’s not the most important words he’s ever said.
She nods against him, burrowed tight. “I know you do.” And after a beat…
“I love you too.” She pulls back enough to drop a warm kiss to his jaw, then lets him go, pulls away.
“But it doesn’t change anything, Lee. Look.” She tells him, gesturing at the picture, plucking at his shirt. “He’s still everywhere. He’ll always be in the way.”
He doesn’t argue. Arguing with her never gets him anywhere. It only strengthens her convictions against him. My stubborn girl, he thinks fondly.
“I had a dream tonight.” He tells her. “That we met first. Fell in love. That you and him never…” He trails off. “Does that make me a bad brother?”
Sighing, she sits up, turns to drop her legs to the floor. He reaches out to rest a hand onto her back.
“It sounds like a beautiful dream, Lee.” She says quietly before rising. His fingers slip to the empty mattress. “But it’ll always be just a dream.”
She doesn’t look back as she walks out of the room to the showers.
He had thought that these little proofs of the past would free him from his despair, but now he sees what she’d meant about needing to let them go. They’re too heavy to bear. He thought they were touchstones. They’re not. They’re anchors.
*
The next morning he puts the shirt back into the box, tucks the picture between the pages of an old book, and shakes Kara awake.
“Hey.” He smiles.
She rubs her eyes groggily. “Lee?”
“I’m sorry about last night.” He barrels ahead as he sees her eyes widen in fear. “You’re right. I don’t think either of us is over him yet. But you’re wrong that we never will be.” Leaning down to her, he drops a chaste kiss to her surprised mouth. He doesn’t linger long, doesn’t push. “And I can wait until we both are.”
She doesn’t say anything, but after a moment that seems like an eternity, she nods almost imperceptibly.
“Good.” He smiles warmly. “Now that that’s out of the way, get your lazy ass up. We’re going running.”
Pulling her pillow over her head, she groans. “One more hour, Lee. I’m frakking exhausted.”
“OK, you asked for it…” He sucks a deep breath before bellowing the entire room awake. “UP ALL DAY WITH THE RISING SUN!”
He’s hit simultaneously with about five pillows and a chorus of angry words from the other sleeping pilots.
“GONNA RUN ALL DAY TILL THE RUNNING’S DONE!” He continues happily. More pillows. More swearing.
Kara jumps up from her rack to cover his smiling mouth. He nips teasingly at her hand. “Oh, you’re up?”
“I hate you so much right now.” She hisses.
Pushing her running gear into her arms, he just grins. “Tell it to the rooster, Kara.”