battlestar galactica fic
Yep. I did it. Started down the slippery slope. Eeek. But hey, I'm writing! For the first time this year! That's gotta count for something.
Title: The Cost of Living
Rating: mild R
Spoilers: YES. Takes place during "Crossroads, Part I." (oeilade, don't read this.)
Character/Pairing: Lee, Lee/Kara
Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me. I'm just borrowing them for the night.
Length: Just shy of 2,000 words. Ficlet.
Huge thanks to em_meredith, who took a look at this for me and seems to believe I won't completely embarrass myself. I hope she's right. *g*
Note: This takes place after Laura takes the stand and after Dee leaves Lee, but before the end of Baltar's trial. Also, em_meredith had wanted me to write a beach planet fic; this was the best I could do. :)
"...and that's when everything really went south."
Lee knocked back the last dregs of booze in the bottle, then let out a harsh breath to cool the burn at the back of his throat. "It was -- well, it was a circus," he said. "That's probably the best word for it." He shook his head, reliving the chaos: reporters screaming questions, Laura Roslin being hustled out of the courtroom, the admiral shooting daggers at his son with his eyes.
Lee's lips curved in a wry smile. "I'm sorry you missed it, even though you probably would have handed me my ass for it." He turned the empty bottle over in his hands. "I also have a feeling that after you'd given me the thrashing I so richly deserve, you'd have bought me a drink to make up for it. Eventually, anyway. That...that won't happen now, will it."
Silence in the corridor. He pushed himself off the bulkhead in order to see Kara's picture more clearly. "To tell the truth, I don't know what will happen now," he confessed. "I kind of...I kind of screwed myself over. You know, normally that would be your job." He laughed to himself, realized that he was more than a little drunk. He hadn't meant to stay here so long, but for once there hadn't been anyone else haunting the makeshift shrine -- they were all too busy hashing over the day's salacious highlights, he supposed -- and the opportunity to be alone with Kara had been too tempting to resist.
Besides, he didn't have anyone else to talk to.
He looked at her once more, the photograph glimmering in the reflected candlelight, then wiped his eyes tiredly. Sleep would be good. Figure out the rest tomorrow.
"I'll, uh, talk to you later," he said to the photograph, feeling like an idiot as he did so. He touched her face briefly, then started off in the direction of his and Dee's quarters - his quarters, he corrected himself, at least until his father evicted him seeing as how he was no longer part of the Galactica crew. Just one more thing to figure out. One life-altering problem at a time, he told himself. Get through the trial first.
He heard a smothered laugh up ahead, and as he turned the corner almost ran headlong into Sam and Tory. Sam and Tory? That was new. "Sorry," he muttered, self-consciously shifting the empty booze bottle behind him.
"Major -- Lee," Sam said, correcting himself, slouching from his reflexive alert stance. Anders hadn't been a nugget long, but he seemed to be taking it to heart with a ferocity that Lee hadn't expected of him, or at least wouldn't have expected of him before Kara had --
"Quite a show today," Sam continued, and Lee forced himself to focus.
"Yeah," Lee said. He felt his jaw clench. "It's, uh, too bad things had to happen the way they did."
"That's one way of putting it." Sam paused, looked like he wanted to say more, but Tory cut him off.
"We should go," she said, her voice like ice. She glanced at Lee, her dark eyes sparking with hatred, and he did his best not to flinch. Better get used to that, he thought.
Sam nodded at her, then looked back at Lee. "Take care of yourself, man," he said, with something that sounded an awful lot like pity.
"You too," Lee said. He watched the two of them walk off, and felt an unreasonable surge of anger on Kara's behalf. None of your business, he told himself, and moved on.
When he entered his quarters the silence swallowed him whole. There'd been plenty of times when he was here by himself, of course, times when Dee was on duty and he wasn't, but now it felt different, as if her absence were palpable, an oily residue that hung in the air. He brushed off the sensation, chalking it up to drink, determined to ignore the emptiness in the pit of his stomach for just a little while longer. He undressed quickly, leaving his clothes in a haphazard pile on the deck, and threw himself down onto the thin mattress.
His head swam with scattered thoughts and images, overwhelmed by the events of the day and the prospect of going through it all again tomorrow. Felt a twinge in his chest as he remembered the look on the president's face earlier, when she'd called him Captain Apollo, her voice nearly breaking on the words. The shocked betrayal in her eyes had made his throat close up and his stomach churn. He had a sudden flash of memory, he and Laura in adjoining cells in the Galactica brig, exchanging silly childhood stories to while away the hours. He'd even talked to her about Zak.
Zak -- he pushed the thought away. He was dealing with enough ghosts tonight already.
He closed his eyes, cleared his throat. Exhaled in relief when he felt sleep tugging at his consciousness, pulling him down into the dark.
When he opened his eyes, Kara was there.
His shock at seeing her standing before him was compounded by the strangeness of their surroundings. Blue ocean stretched to the horizon. White sand tickled between his toes. He breathed in, smelled salt and fish and baking heat. "How are you --" he stammered. "Where are --"
"You're dreaming, you idiot," Kara said.
A dream. Awareness flooded through him; the sky above shifted from bright blue to smudged gray and back again like animated watercolor. Shadows passed over her face and were gone.
And a corner of his brain found it reassuring that even his subconscious manifestation of her was breaking his balls.
He blinked rapidly, trying to take her in. She was dressed in her tanks and raggedy cutoff fatigues, her bare feet digging into the sand. Her blonde hair was tucked behind her ears and her full lips were curved in a cocky grin. She looked beautiful, confident -- and alive. He didn't know whether to laugh or weep, so he did neither.
"Okay, I'm dreaming," he said. "That explains you. It doesn't explain this, though," he said, gesturing to the deep blue water. "This doesn't make any sense."
"Sure it does," she said. "You, me and Zak. The summer after Zak's basic training. Remember?"
He did. Remembered the three of them tossing a ball around, Zak floundering into the ocean after it when a throw went wild. He and Kara laughing at him so hard they were practically crying. "That was a long time ago."
"A lifetime ago, in fact," Kara said. He winced, and she bit her lip on a smile. "Sorry -- was that too macabre?"
He shook his head. "I wouldn't expect anything less." He took a step toward her, wanting to touch her, but terrified that the dream would end if he did. "Besides, I'm the one who's sorry," he said.
"For what?"
"What do you think?" he snapped. "For not grounding you when I should have. For letting you fly too far away from me. For not being able to bring you back." The anger was acidic, like bile, and he let it wash over him, balled his fists, bit down hard.
She laughed.
"You think that had anything to do with you?" she scoffed. "You really think you would have been able to stop me from doing what I wanted? Especially in the frakked-up state I was in? I'm a big girl, Lee. Was a big girl, anyway. I made my own choices. And if you'd stop feeling so godsdamn sorry for yourself for a minute, you'd realize that."
"I shouldn't have let you fly," he said stubbornly.
She put her hands on her hips. "Oh, so now you're just assuming I would've followed orders." She looked skyward; a muscle in her cheek twitched. "Right."
"Hey, there's a first time for everything," he retorted. Their eyes met, and her amused grin ignited one of his own.
The tension dissipated, leaving just the two of them.
"I miss you," he said helplessly.
"I know you do," she said. She was the one to take a step closer this time, so that only inches separated them. Her hazel eyes were inscrutable as always, even now. "But it's gonna get better, Lee. You're gonna be okay." There was a sureness in her tone, an almost otherworldly calm, that made him believe it.
And yet. "I hope so," he whispered.
And finally kissed her.
Her lips were all too real, pliant and soft against his. Her hands dug into his hips, firm and strong. Her skin was smooth and sun-warmed. She tasted the way he remembered, vanilla and musk and smoke.
What he didn't, couldn't, remember was a dream ever being quite this vivid.
Not that he was complaining. He cupped her face with his hands, kissing her harder, losing himself in her, a familiar thrill tripping over his nerve endings. He could feel her breath warm against his cheek, could hear the way she kept making satisfied sounds deep in her throat.
But then -- then, in the maddening way of dreams, he was inside of her, suddenly, from one moment to the next, and now she was straddling him and he was thrusting up into her, sheathed in her heat, straining and sweating and gasping.
"Kara," he whispered. Palmed her breast as she arched her back and murmured his name in return. The color of the sky shifted above them, from blue to gray and back again. Golden rays limned Kara's body in a nimbus of light. He felt guiltless, free, his awareness narrowed to pure sensation.
Her hair fell across her eyes as she leaned forward and met his gaze. Blocked out the sun.
"This isn't over," she said.
He woke up.
He woke with a start, breathing hard, his cock straining against the sheets, fabric sticking to his sweat-sheened body. He shook his head violently, trying to anchor himself to reality. A glance at the clock told him that many hours had passed, even though the dream hadn't felt that long.
It had all been so visceral: the sight of her, feel of her, taste of her -- he willed his body and mind to stop racing. You're not some skinny teenager waking up from a wet dream, he told himself. Get it together.
He did, finally, his breathing returning to normal, body settling down a bit. But he could still hear her voice in his head.
It's gonna get better, Lee.
Was it?
"It has to," he whispered, ignoring his lingering doubts. She had sounded so sure -- and wasn't she just a conjuration of his own subconscious?
He flashed back to a moment in the boxing ring a few weeks ago, when Helo had knocked him for a loop and he was having trouble getting back on his feet. Kara had been there, sneering at him from the sidelines, but then, as their eyes met, said so softly he'd thought at first he'd imagined it --
Come on.
He never would have admitted it to her then, but those two words had gotten him standing.
And now, even though she was gone, it appeared she was still holding him up.
The realization actually hurt, a dull ache in his chest, and he did his best to ward off the guilt and despair that consumed him whenever he thought about her. Clung to the feeling of weightlessness and freedom he'd experienced when his dream self was buried inside of her, instead. Forced himself to focus on the positive. On the possibilities.
Because for the first time since he'd removed his Major insignia and placed it on his father's desk, he felt like maybe, just maybe, he could do this.
Come on, he thought.
And got himself standing.
End.
Title: The Cost of Living
Rating: mild R
Spoilers: YES. Takes place during "Crossroads, Part I." (oeilade, don't read this.)
Character/Pairing: Lee, Lee/Kara
Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me. I'm just borrowing them for the night.
Length: Just shy of 2,000 words. Ficlet.
Huge thanks to em_meredith, who took a look at this for me and seems to believe I won't completely embarrass myself. I hope she's right. *g*
Note: This takes place after Laura takes the stand and after Dee leaves Lee, but before the end of Baltar's trial. Also, em_meredith had wanted me to write a beach planet fic; this was the best I could do. :)
"...and that's when everything really went south."
Lee knocked back the last dregs of booze in the bottle, then let out a harsh breath to cool the burn at the back of his throat. "It was -- well, it was a circus," he said. "That's probably the best word for it." He shook his head, reliving the chaos: reporters screaming questions, Laura Roslin being hustled out of the courtroom, the admiral shooting daggers at his son with his eyes.
Lee's lips curved in a wry smile. "I'm sorry you missed it, even though you probably would have handed me my ass for it." He turned the empty bottle over in his hands. "I also have a feeling that after you'd given me the thrashing I so richly deserve, you'd have bought me a drink to make up for it. Eventually, anyway. That...that won't happen now, will it."
Silence in the corridor. He pushed himself off the bulkhead in order to see Kara's picture more clearly. "To tell the truth, I don't know what will happen now," he confessed. "I kind of...I kind of screwed myself over. You know, normally that would be your job." He laughed to himself, realized that he was more than a little drunk. He hadn't meant to stay here so long, but for once there hadn't been anyone else haunting the makeshift shrine -- they were all too busy hashing over the day's salacious highlights, he supposed -- and the opportunity to be alone with Kara had been too tempting to resist.
Besides, he didn't have anyone else to talk to.
He looked at her once more, the photograph glimmering in the reflected candlelight, then wiped his eyes tiredly. Sleep would be good. Figure out the rest tomorrow.
"I'll, uh, talk to you later," he said to the photograph, feeling like an idiot as he did so. He touched her face briefly, then started off in the direction of his and Dee's quarters - his quarters, he corrected himself, at least until his father evicted him seeing as how he was no longer part of the Galactica crew. Just one more thing to figure out. One life-altering problem at a time, he told himself. Get through the trial first.
He heard a smothered laugh up ahead, and as he turned the corner almost ran headlong into Sam and Tory. Sam and Tory? That was new. "Sorry," he muttered, self-consciously shifting the empty booze bottle behind him.
"Major -- Lee," Sam said, correcting himself, slouching from his reflexive alert stance. Anders hadn't been a nugget long, but he seemed to be taking it to heart with a ferocity that Lee hadn't expected of him, or at least wouldn't have expected of him before Kara had --
"Quite a show today," Sam continued, and Lee forced himself to focus.
"Yeah," Lee said. He felt his jaw clench. "It's, uh, too bad things had to happen the way they did."
"That's one way of putting it." Sam paused, looked like he wanted to say more, but Tory cut him off.
"We should go," she said, her voice like ice. She glanced at Lee, her dark eyes sparking with hatred, and he did his best not to flinch. Better get used to that, he thought.
Sam nodded at her, then looked back at Lee. "Take care of yourself, man," he said, with something that sounded an awful lot like pity.
"You too," Lee said. He watched the two of them walk off, and felt an unreasonable surge of anger on Kara's behalf. None of your business, he told himself, and moved on.
When he entered his quarters the silence swallowed him whole. There'd been plenty of times when he was here by himself, of course, times when Dee was on duty and he wasn't, but now it felt different, as if her absence were palpable, an oily residue that hung in the air. He brushed off the sensation, chalking it up to drink, determined to ignore the emptiness in the pit of his stomach for just a little while longer. He undressed quickly, leaving his clothes in a haphazard pile on the deck, and threw himself down onto the thin mattress.
His head swam with scattered thoughts and images, overwhelmed by the events of the day and the prospect of going through it all again tomorrow. Felt a twinge in his chest as he remembered the look on the president's face earlier, when she'd called him Captain Apollo, her voice nearly breaking on the words. The shocked betrayal in her eyes had made his throat close up and his stomach churn. He had a sudden flash of memory, he and Laura in adjoining cells in the Galactica brig, exchanging silly childhood stories to while away the hours. He'd even talked to her about Zak.
Zak -- he pushed the thought away. He was dealing with enough ghosts tonight already.
He closed his eyes, cleared his throat. Exhaled in relief when he felt sleep tugging at his consciousness, pulling him down into the dark.
When he opened his eyes, Kara was there.
His shock at seeing her standing before him was compounded by the strangeness of their surroundings. Blue ocean stretched to the horizon. White sand tickled between his toes. He breathed in, smelled salt and fish and baking heat. "How are you --" he stammered. "Where are --"
"You're dreaming, you idiot," Kara said.
A dream. Awareness flooded through him; the sky above shifted from bright blue to smudged gray and back again like animated watercolor. Shadows passed over her face and were gone.
And a corner of his brain found it reassuring that even his subconscious manifestation of her was breaking his balls.
He blinked rapidly, trying to take her in. She was dressed in her tanks and raggedy cutoff fatigues, her bare feet digging into the sand. Her blonde hair was tucked behind her ears and her full lips were curved in a cocky grin. She looked beautiful, confident -- and alive. He didn't know whether to laugh or weep, so he did neither.
"Okay, I'm dreaming," he said. "That explains you. It doesn't explain this, though," he said, gesturing to the deep blue water. "This doesn't make any sense."
"Sure it does," she said. "You, me and Zak. The summer after Zak's basic training. Remember?"
He did. Remembered the three of them tossing a ball around, Zak floundering into the ocean after it when a throw went wild. He and Kara laughing at him so hard they were practically crying. "That was a long time ago."
"A lifetime ago, in fact," Kara said. He winced, and she bit her lip on a smile. "Sorry -- was that too macabre?"
He shook his head. "I wouldn't expect anything less." He took a step toward her, wanting to touch her, but terrified that the dream would end if he did. "Besides, I'm the one who's sorry," he said.
"For what?"
"What do you think?" he snapped. "For not grounding you when I should have. For letting you fly too far away from me. For not being able to bring you back." The anger was acidic, like bile, and he let it wash over him, balled his fists, bit down hard.
She laughed.
"You think that had anything to do with you?" she scoffed. "You really think you would have been able to stop me from doing what I wanted? Especially in the frakked-up state I was in? I'm a big girl, Lee. Was a big girl, anyway. I made my own choices. And if you'd stop feeling so godsdamn sorry for yourself for a minute, you'd realize that."
"I shouldn't have let you fly," he said stubbornly.
She put her hands on her hips. "Oh, so now you're just assuming I would've followed orders." She looked skyward; a muscle in her cheek twitched. "Right."
"Hey, there's a first time for everything," he retorted. Their eyes met, and her amused grin ignited one of his own.
The tension dissipated, leaving just the two of them.
"I miss you," he said helplessly.
"I know you do," she said. She was the one to take a step closer this time, so that only inches separated them. Her hazel eyes were inscrutable as always, even now. "But it's gonna get better, Lee. You're gonna be okay." There was a sureness in her tone, an almost otherworldly calm, that made him believe it.
And yet. "I hope so," he whispered.
And finally kissed her.
Her lips were all too real, pliant and soft against his. Her hands dug into his hips, firm and strong. Her skin was smooth and sun-warmed. She tasted the way he remembered, vanilla and musk and smoke.
What he didn't, couldn't, remember was a dream ever being quite this vivid.
Not that he was complaining. He cupped her face with his hands, kissing her harder, losing himself in her, a familiar thrill tripping over his nerve endings. He could feel her breath warm against his cheek, could hear the way she kept making satisfied sounds deep in her throat.
But then -- then, in the maddening way of dreams, he was inside of her, suddenly, from one moment to the next, and now she was straddling him and he was thrusting up into her, sheathed in her heat, straining and sweating and gasping.
"Kara," he whispered. Palmed her breast as she arched her back and murmured his name in return. The color of the sky shifted above them, from blue to gray and back again. Golden rays limned Kara's body in a nimbus of light. He felt guiltless, free, his awareness narrowed to pure sensation.
Her hair fell across her eyes as she leaned forward and met his gaze. Blocked out the sun.
"This isn't over," she said.
He woke up.
He woke with a start, breathing hard, his cock straining against the sheets, fabric sticking to his sweat-sheened body. He shook his head violently, trying to anchor himself to reality. A glance at the clock told him that many hours had passed, even though the dream hadn't felt that long.
It had all been so visceral: the sight of her, feel of her, taste of her -- he willed his body and mind to stop racing. You're not some skinny teenager waking up from a wet dream, he told himself. Get it together.
He did, finally, his breathing returning to normal, body settling down a bit. But he could still hear her voice in his head.
It's gonna get better, Lee.
Was it?
"It has to," he whispered, ignoring his lingering doubts. She had sounded so sure -- and wasn't she just a conjuration of his own subconscious?
He flashed back to a moment in the boxing ring a few weeks ago, when Helo had knocked him for a loop and he was having trouble getting back on his feet. Kara had been there, sneering at him from the sidelines, but then, as their eyes met, said so softly he'd thought at first he'd imagined it --
Come on.
He never would have admitted it to her then, but those two words had gotten him standing.
And now, even though she was gone, it appeared she was still holding him up.
The realization actually hurt, a dull ache in his chest, and he did his best to ward off the guilt and despair that consumed him whenever he thought about her. Clung to the feeling of weightlessness and freedom he'd experienced when his dream self was buried inside of her, instead. Forced himself to focus on the positive. On the possibilities.
Because for the first time since he'd removed his Major insignia and placed it on his father's desk, he felt like maybe, just maybe, he could do this.
Come on, he thought.
And got himself standing.
End.