Fanfic
Title: A Woman Scorned
Author: Aussie
Rated: T
For the prompt of a/r from another POV in season one. I'm not sure this worked out how I wanted. I picked the character first (yes, I was trying to be clever *snort*) and...oh well, see what you think...
Footsteps approach. I flatten myself into a gap where the bulkheads meet.
A man stops and greets a woman.
They stand close, comfortable in each other’s presence. The scent off their skin wafts up, irritating my senses.
I will them not to turn and catch a glimpse; not to hear my ragged breaths, the adrenaline rushing through my veins, and the pounding of my heart.
He begins to talk and his deep authoritative voice is instantly familiar. I dare to stretch my neck and confirm his identity.
He is rubbing his eyes, holding his glasses; quoting times, call signs, and instructions.
I can’t see her face. She’s bending over a clipboard, scribbling busily, desperately trying to keep up.
I could step out, crush their skulls. It would be quick, an ambush, with no resistance.
I’d like that. I’ve discovered in this lifetime I’m vengeful.
He’s left my pride punctured. I offered myself to him and saw no desire, no want, not even a heartbeat’s worth of temptation in return.
One had wanted it to be just so. One had wished to evoke suspicion, doubt, and disbelief; for my seduction to be a failure.
I didn’t think it would be so easy. And I certainly didn’t think I’d view my failure as a failure.
The woman turns and leaves. I need to take the opportunity.
I slide out, take a step towards him, but then a flash of black catches my attention -- Marines.
I press back into my hiding place.
Suddenly, his stance alters. His back straightens, his chin lifts, and he’s alert. His breathing has sped up. He’s… excited?
I frantically peer out to see whose arrival is eliciting such a reaction.
It’s a woman. Is she who I think she is?
She’s plain. Her nose is too long, her jaw too square. She wears a satin blue blouse that is cut low, exposing the lines of her neck. Her makeup is amateurish and overdone. It doesn’t even begin to hide the rings beneath her eyes. Her hair is flicking out at the ends in an old fashioned style. I uncharitably decide she is hiding wrinkles under the fringe flopping across her forehead.
“Madam President, I didn’t realise you were on board. You’ve recovered?
She hesitates.
“Oh, yes, I’m fine. It was just some flu bug. I wanted to visit Doctor Baltar.”
He hesitates now.
“I see.”
His gaze wanders across her. She has no shame, doesn’t bother to look away from his scrutiny. She likes his attention?
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yes.”
I could kill her too. Not a vengeful death, like his, but prestigious.
“Perhaps you could join me in my quarters and we can discuss a few matters while you are here?”
There’s an odd edge to his voice. He’s nervous?
“That would seem sensible.”
He hesitates.
“Have you eaten? I could order dinner.”
She hesitates.
“Yes. I mean, no, I haven’t eaten. Dinner sounds appealing. Thank you, Commander.”
Although they’ve decided to return to his quarters, they stand motionless, watching, waiting for the other to make the first move.
I plan my move.
I lean forward, my hands clenching, turning into fists.
He leans forward, his hand brushing across her jacket sleeve.
I hesitate, draw back, and wait for the right moment.
He hesitates, draws back.
She looks up and smiles.
I freeze, confused.
That smile: sad, bittersweet, cautious and hopeful, all at the same time.
I swivel my head to see what effect it's had on him but I can’t read anything in his eyes. They’re lowered, his gaze lingering, seemingly on her mouth.
I press my lips together and close my eyes, remembering how soft his lips felt as I ran mine across them. Yes, soft--but cold. Lips that hadn’t responded, parted, or wanted to continue with my kiss.
A jealous wave crashes through me. Surely he doesn’t rather that woman? With her tired and sickly pallor, and her dull coloured hair?
I channel my anger until I can feel the blood pumping through every muscle of my human replica body.
Opening my eyes, I growl and step out, ready to attack.
I’m alone.
I spin around.
I see a flicker of dark blue rounding the corner.
Once again, I’m a failure.
I stumble towards the airlock.
Author: Aussie
Rated: T
For the prompt of a/r from another POV in season one. I'm not sure this worked out how I wanted. I picked the character first (yes, I was trying to be clever *snort*) and...oh well, see what you think...
Footsteps approach. I flatten myself into a gap where the bulkheads meet.
A man stops and greets a woman.
They stand close, comfortable in each other’s presence. The scent off their skin wafts up, irritating my senses.
I will them not to turn and catch a glimpse; not to hear my ragged breaths, the adrenaline rushing through my veins, and the pounding of my heart.
He begins to talk and his deep authoritative voice is instantly familiar. I dare to stretch my neck and confirm his identity.
He is rubbing his eyes, holding his glasses; quoting times, call signs, and instructions.
I can’t see her face. She’s bending over a clipboard, scribbling busily, desperately trying to keep up.
I could step out, crush their skulls. It would be quick, an ambush, with no resistance.
I’d like that. I’ve discovered in this lifetime I’m vengeful.
He’s left my pride punctured. I offered myself to him and saw no desire, no want, not even a heartbeat’s worth of temptation in return.
One had wanted it to be just so. One had wished to evoke suspicion, doubt, and disbelief; for my seduction to be a failure.
I didn’t think it would be so easy. And I certainly didn’t think I’d view my failure as a failure.
The woman turns and leaves. I need to take the opportunity.
I slide out, take a step towards him, but then a flash of black catches my attention -- Marines.
I press back into my hiding place.
Suddenly, his stance alters. His back straightens, his chin lifts, and he’s alert. His breathing has sped up. He’s… excited?
I frantically peer out to see whose arrival is eliciting such a reaction.
It’s a woman. Is she who I think she is?
She’s plain. Her nose is too long, her jaw too square. She wears a satin blue blouse that is cut low, exposing the lines of her neck. Her makeup is amateurish and overdone. It doesn’t even begin to hide the rings beneath her eyes. Her hair is flicking out at the ends in an old fashioned style. I uncharitably decide she is hiding wrinkles under the fringe flopping across her forehead.
“Madam President, I didn’t realise you were on board. You’ve recovered?
She hesitates.
“Oh, yes, I’m fine. It was just some flu bug. I wanted to visit Doctor Baltar.”
He hesitates now.
“I see.”
His gaze wanders across her. She has no shame, doesn’t bother to look away from his scrutiny. She likes his attention?
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yes.”
I could kill her too. Not a vengeful death, like his, but prestigious.
“Perhaps you could join me in my quarters and we can discuss a few matters while you are here?”
There’s an odd edge to his voice. He’s nervous?
“That would seem sensible.”
He hesitates.
“Have you eaten? I could order dinner.”
She hesitates.
“Yes. I mean, no, I haven’t eaten. Dinner sounds appealing. Thank you, Commander.”
Although they’ve decided to return to his quarters, they stand motionless, watching, waiting for the other to make the first move.
I plan my move.
I lean forward, my hands clenching, turning into fists.
He leans forward, his hand brushing across her jacket sleeve.
I hesitate, draw back, and wait for the right moment.
He hesitates, draws back.
She looks up and smiles.
I freeze, confused.
That smile: sad, bittersweet, cautious and hopeful, all at the same time.
I swivel my head to see what effect it's had on him but I can’t read anything in his eyes. They’re lowered, his gaze lingering, seemingly on her mouth.
I press my lips together and close my eyes, remembering how soft his lips felt as I ran mine across them. Yes, soft--but cold. Lips that hadn’t responded, parted, or wanted to continue with my kiss.
A jealous wave crashes through me. Surely he doesn’t rather that woman? With her tired and sickly pallor, and her dull coloured hair?
I channel my anger until I can feel the blood pumping through every muscle of my human replica body.
Opening my eyes, I growl and step out, ready to attack.
I’m alone.
I spin around.
I see a flicker of dark blue rounding the corner.
Once again, I’m a failure.
I stumble towards the airlock.