Three ways I hope to heal A.j.'s aching heart, in fic.
TITLE: He Sees the Throne
AUTHOR: daygloparker
FANDOM: Battlestar Galactica
PAIRING/CHARACTER: Billyfic!
SPOILERS: "Sacrifice"
RATING: G
SUMMARY: Three ways Billy didn't end up, uhm, that way that he did.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Billy fic, post-"Sacrifice." YES THAT'S RIGHT. Basically this is supposed to make familyarchives feel better, because she is quite distraught. (I can write fic on other people's computers, yaye!)
i.
Watching her entire body shaking was the worst part of it all. It was so naked, so unashamed, so natural. After all the careful planning, he had never stopped to consider the possibility that she would cry so hard that her entire body would shake. He can’t be near her after that.
He says nothing when he leaves to the agents waiting for the President outside the morgue. Says nothing to her.
In his quarters, Adama pours himself a glass of the ambrosia that Saul gave him for his promotion. He hates ambrosia.
There is a knock on the door. Adama takes a moment, in which he considers the option to send his visitor back to Cloud Nine, of walking away and pretending this scheme was never anyone's crazy idea. But then he remembers her shoulders shaking - that deadly sob moving her entire chest without a single sound to accompany it - and knows that things, they can get worse. Adama says "enter," and the marine opens the hatch.
"Admiral."
He doesn’t sound eager. He doesn’t sound proud.
"Sit down." But he doesn’t. Neither does the Admiral.
"How-- how is she?" A beat later, "The president, I mean." Not asking about Dee. Everyone knows about him and Dee.
Adama considers lying. "Not good."
"If I could just--"
"No."
In a moment that is built on the lies they have so precariously constructed, the truth about one's own faked death might almost seem comforting.
"Sit down, son. We have your first mission for you."
But Billy still refuses to sit.
*
ii.
It almost feels like the time he fell out the tree in Julian Sheppard's backyard, when he woke up in that hospital in Caprica City and his mother was crying and she said he'd been unconscious for more than day. It almost feels like that - pins and needles, and the intense desire to open his eyes without the strength to do it - only about ten times worse. He can hear things beeping and people's feet shuffling around him.
"Mmm?"
He opens his eyes to Dee, leaning over him and then squeezing his hand and starting to cry. At the sound of this, Doc Cottle turns his attention from the nurse to him.
"Welcome back, kid."
Billy looks at Dee and then at Cottle. "What happened?"
"Got shot," Cottle says nonchalatantly. "You probably should send a fruit basket to the Vice President at some point."
None of what Cottle says makes any sense. Except for the part about getting shot - Billy vaguely remembers that. He looks down at his chest, but there's nothing there.
"What?"
But Cottle has moved on, having checked his heart rate and his vitals on the machine and pronounced him in good health. Billy catches Lieutenant-- Captain Thrace in the corner of his eye, but doesn’t bother to notice any further than that.
"Dee?"
She is still holding his hand. "I'm sorry, Billy. I'm sorry."
As wonderful as that sounds, it can wait. "I got shot?" He tries to sound flippant.
Dee looks at him long and hard. It really creeps him the frak out.
"What?"
"You... you died."
Um.
"In the bar, everyone was shooting and you-- you died."
"But I'm--"
He stops. It suddenly makes sense.
The Vice President. If it could cure the President's cancer, why not...
*
iii.
Everyone in Roslin's government has read Dr. Baltar's report on the Cylon consciousness: some models are programmed to be sleeper agents and become active only when it becomes necessary; some are always aware of their true nature. Everyone has also read the post-operation summary on the Resurrection Ship, with the attachment from the doctor about the probability of future Cylon resurrection with this downloading process out of the equation. Billy always wondered why those numbers didn't seem right.
His new legs seem taller. He knows that's not really possible.
At first it was strange. It's one thing to recall the memory of Julian Sheppard's backyard, but this was physical death. He felt the life leaving his body.
And then to wake up here. Here, when everything about the life that he knew changed.
D'Anna Biers switches off the crudely-constructed resurrection machine in the corner. Shelley Godfrey offers him her hand to stand.
"Welcome back."
"Where am I?"
"The Osiris. If you move fast enough, you might even catch your own funeral."
It's not that strange to watch the pod floating out into space. Knowledge has begun opening like a floodgate in his (new) brain. His reaction is appropriate.
"What next?"
D'Anna Biers puts on a hand on his shoulder, slipping a press badge for Colonial One into his hand. "We have a mission for you."
AUTHOR: daygloparker
FANDOM: Battlestar Galactica
PAIRING/CHARACTER: Billyfic!
SPOILERS: "Sacrifice"
RATING: G
SUMMARY: Three ways Billy didn't end up, uhm, that way that he did.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Billy fic, post-"Sacrifice." YES THAT'S RIGHT. Basically this is supposed to make familyarchives feel better, because she is quite distraught. (I can write fic on other people's computers, yaye!)
i.
Watching her entire body shaking was the worst part of it all. It was so naked, so unashamed, so natural. After all the careful planning, he had never stopped to consider the possibility that she would cry so hard that her entire body would shake. He can’t be near her after that.
He says nothing when he leaves to the agents waiting for the President outside the morgue. Says nothing to her.
In his quarters, Adama pours himself a glass of the ambrosia that Saul gave him for his promotion. He hates ambrosia.
There is a knock on the door. Adama takes a moment, in which he considers the option to send his visitor back to Cloud Nine, of walking away and pretending this scheme was never anyone's crazy idea. But then he remembers her shoulders shaking - that deadly sob moving her entire chest without a single sound to accompany it - and knows that things, they can get worse. Adama says "enter," and the marine opens the hatch.
"Admiral."
He doesn’t sound eager. He doesn’t sound proud.
"Sit down." But he doesn’t. Neither does the Admiral.
"How-- how is she?" A beat later, "The president, I mean." Not asking about Dee. Everyone knows about him and Dee.
Adama considers lying. "Not good."
"If I could just--"
"No."
In a moment that is built on the lies they have so precariously constructed, the truth about one's own faked death might almost seem comforting.
"Sit down, son. We have your first mission for you."
But Billy still refuses to sit.
*
ii.
It almost feels like the time he fell out the tree in Julian Sheppard's backyard, when he woke up in that hospital in Caprica City and his mother was crying and she said he'd been unconscious for more than day. It almost feels like that - pins and needles, and the intense desire to open his eyes without the strength to do it - only about ten times worse. He can hear things beeping and people's feet shuffling around him.
"Mmm?"
He opens his eyes to Dee, leaning over him and then squeezing his hand and starting to cry. At the sound of this, Doc Cottle turns his attention from the nurse to him.
"Welcome back, kid."
Billy looks at Dee and then at Cottle. "What happened?"
"Got shot," Cottle says nonchalatantly. "You probably should send a fruit basket to the Vice President at some point."
None of what Cottle says makes any sense. Except for the part about getting shot - Billy vaguely remembers that. He looks down at his chest, but there's nothing there.
"What?"
But Cottle has moved on, having checked his heart rate and his vitals on the machine and pronounced him in good health. Billy catches Lieutenant-- Captain Thrace in the corner of his eye, but doesn’t bother to notice any further than that.
"Dee?"
She is still holding his hand. "I'm sorry, Billy. I'm sorry."
As wonderful as that sounds, it can wait. "I got shot?" He tries to sound flippant.
Dee looks at him long and hard. It really creeps him the frak out.
"What?"
"You... you died."
Um.
"In the bar, everyone was shooting and you-- you died."
"But I'm--"
He stops. It suddenly makes sense.
The Vice President. If it could cure the President's cancer, why not...
*
iii.
Everyone in Roslin's government has read Dr. Baltar's report on the Cylon consciousness: some models are programmed to be sleeper agents and become active only when it becomes necessary; some are always aware of their true nature. Everyone has also read the post-operation summary on the Resurrection Ship, with the attachment from the doctor about the probability of future Cylon resurrection with this downloading process out of the equation. Billy always wondered why those numbers didn't seem right.
His new legs seem taller. He knows that's not really possible.
At first it was strange. It's one thing to recall the memory of Julian Sheppard's backyard, but this was physical death. He felt the life leaving his body.
And then to wake up here. Here, when everything about the life that he knew changed.
D'Anna Biers switches off the crudely-constructed resurrection machine in the corner. Shelley Godfrey offers him her hand to stand.
"Welcome back."
"Where am I?"
"The Osiris. If you move fast enough, you might even catch your own funeral."
It's not that strange to watch the pod floating out into space. Knowledge has begun opening like a floodgate in his (new) brain. His reaction is appropriate.
"What next?"
D'Anna Biers puts on a hand on his shoulder, slipping a press badge for Colonial One into his hand. "We have a mission for you."