Echoes, Part 1: Chapter 10
Title: Echoes (Part 1)
Author: ecstaticdance
Word Count: 40,000
Rating: NC-17
Pairings: Lee/Kara
Warnings: Smut. Mysticism. Spoilers through Season 3 for part 1 (to be safe), ultimately through Daybreak.
Summary:All of this has happened before, now we're going to see it happen again. But the Lords of Kobol want to see if they can possibly change it, so key characters have retained the echoes of memories which cause them to make different decisions, or experience things at different times, than in previous cycles.
Notes: This is a completed story. But it's a monster. Somewhere 150,000 words (pre-editing). I'm posting Part 1 now. The rest will be posted... as it's available, probably.
Also (and more importantly) THANK YOU! To christ_chexx_4u for doing such a fabulous beta job for me. And many, many thanks to those of you who cheered me on and supported me from the very beginning of this story. You inspire me.
Finally, thank you to redsmirch for the beautiful painting. She's offered to create some more for me, which I'll post links to as it becomes available. The image included here is a point I'm driving toward, which... comes later in the story. So it probably won't make much sense next to what you're reading just yet. But it's beautiful and needs to be shared.
Artist: redsmirch
Link to Art: And the darkness behind her pearled and flushed
Return to Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Doctor Sherman Cottle split a sour look between the former prisoner and Major Adama. “So you want me to add this... person... to my medical staff?”
The young major shrugged faintly. “We asked them for their areas of expertise.”
The Cylon clarified, “Specifically, sir, I'm a neurosurgeon. But I also have experience in general medicine, and medical research.”
“Medical research, huh? Any interest in working on a permanent vaccine for your virus?” Every medical facility in the Fleet was understaffed, and while the challenge of the vaccine they'd promised the Cylons was a welcome change of pace, it was also a drain on their very limited resources.
“I'd love to,” the Cylon replied.
Sherman nodded, acknowledged Major Adama's departure, and wondered how he was supposed to integrate a Cylon into his sickbay when half of his medics and three quarters of his patients would prefer killing him over working with him. “I'll give you a work bench over here for the research. As you can see, we're a bit crowded, but I'd need to dedicate the space anyway. For now, I'll keep you in a strictly research position.” For now, he thought wryly, or at least until he knew that he could trust his staff and the Cylon not to kill each other when he wasn't looking. He started leading the way to a likely work station spot, then stopped. “Oh, and one other thing. What the frak are we supposed to call you?” He looked the tall, dark man calmly in the eye.
He looked surprised. “I... My model number is four. We've not had much contact with the human race. One of us once went by the name Simon.”
“No last name?” Cottle asked.
“No, sir.”
“Well, I need one for the paperwork.” The old doctor scowled, then pulled out and lit a cigarette, drawing thoughtfully on it for a moment. “Knew a guy in college who was going for neurosurgery. Brilliant man, and plain old good person. Name of Pierce. Any objections?” He squinted up, as if daring the man to object. This was his first test of the Cylon's character.
The Cylon considered the question for a long moment before responding. “No objections. And sir...” Sherman raised a questioning eyebrow in response. “Thank you.”
He snorted and smirked sarcastically, “Remember that the first time someone throws a medical tray at you, Dr. Simon Pierce.”
﴿﴾
Karl glanced sideways at the Cylon he was escorting to the kitchen of the Galactica. He knew this model had something to do with the mess that had been Kara Thrace when she returned from New Caprica. As much as he'd argued against the mass murder of the entire Cylon race, he had to admit to his own darker urge to exact revenge for his friend. As right and wrong went, however, there was no real way of telling if this particular Leoben had been responsible for Kara's treatment or not. Right still dictated that he treat this shorter blond man with respect.
All activity stopped when they entered the kitchen. Karl signaled to the head cook, and the three of them stepped out of the room as the work of feeding the colonial fleet resumed. He started his introduction as soon as the hatch was closed. “This is Leoben Conoy--”
“Leonard, actually,” the Cylon interrupted. “Leonard Smith.”
Karl blinked at him, considering, then nodded. “Alright, Leonard. Anyways, turns out he's a gardener, he's going to be assigned to several of the Fleet's Grow Rooms. I need you to show us around Galactica's.”
The cook's jaw dropped, but she collected herself quickly. “Follow me, sir.” The Grow Room was remarkably close to the kitchen, circumstances considered. “It's kind of a make-shift setup. The Galactica didn't originally have a Grow Room at all. A few months before we decided to settle New Caprica, an anonymous suggestion was made that we scatter some of the fruit and vegetable growing operations throughout the Fleet, to prevent the complete loss of fresh foods in the case of some unexpected disaster. Lucky we did, or most of our farming functions would have been lost in the Cloud Nine incident.” The energetic woman opened the door to a large holding area. “As you can see, we have plenty of field hands, but no one who really knows how to manage the room as a whole.”
Karl made sure to point out that the Admiral's orders stated Leonard was to be supervised whenever he was in the Grow Rooms, then tuned out most of the conversation. He was going to spend the next few days not listening to similar explanations on ships throughout the Fleet. He could only hope the conversations would go as smoothly every time as they seemed to be going here.
﴿﴾
“You want to what?” Lee couldn't believe what he was hearing.
“You asked for our expertise. I fly things. I suppose you could stick me on a deck crew, but I'm a pilot.” The tall honey-blond woman walking next to him looked like she was ready to put her fist through a wall.
And why should we trust you with guns? He wanted to scream at her. He already knew the answer. They should trust her because he had suggested it and the President had agreed to it. “If you want to be a pilot, you'll need to enlist in our military and go through officer training to get a commission. If you do that, we'll see about Raptor training for you. Will that work?”
Lee watched as understanding and acceptance filtered across the Cylon's face. Finally, she nodded, seeming genuinely satisfied. “My own people left me to die. You and your Fleet have saved my life and given me a second chance. I have to wonder if maybe we were wrong about you.” She'd answered his unasked question as candidly as if she were talking about the weather. “And my name is Aimee. Aimee Pelletier.”
Lee frowned and blinked. He hadn't thought to ask her name, “I... didn't think you had names...” He left the exceptions to this rule unspoken.
“A lot of us don't. Most of my model have chosen to take unique names,” she explained patiently.
Lee considered her for a long moment. “Alright, Aimee. I need to clear this with the Admiral and the recruiter. Until I do, here are your quarters. If you're accepted, and get your commission, we'll see how things work out for you in the junior officer's bunk, and go from there.”
“Thank you... Sir.” Aimee saluted her farewell, and closed the hatch to her new room behind her. Lee stood and stared after her for another minute, wondering how this new arrangement with these three Cylons would play out, before turning to his father's office to see about getting a second, largely unknown Cylon into Officer training (or promoted to officer), and then into a cockpit, in control of weapons that could be turned against the fleet.
﴿﴾
Kara's days had settled into a quiet routine in the two weeks since they'd found the infected Cylon basestar. She was still doing CAP's, but she was restricted to Raptors now, which made her much less maneuverable. She supposed she should get used to that feeling, but it still grated. When she wasn't on duty, she seemed to be either eating or sleeping. She hadn't had any of the feared morning sickness yet, and hoped like hell that would hold. She hated throwing up. She hated throwing up without having enjoyed a fabulously drunken time the evening before even more than hangover vomit.
And she waited. They were still 5 bodies short of the Admiral's arbitrary minimum for the officer training course. Her shiny new officers would be ready to start Basic Flight three months after they were allowed to crack their books. If they passed the exam.
But this wasn't part of her routine. She walked into sickbay, and marched right past Doc Cottle to the dark man sitting at a work station in the back of the room. She took a deep breath as she glared at his back, playing through a recent conversation with Lee. She'd been furious for being given the task of offering the Cylons asylum. She'd gone back and picked a fight with Lee over it. If we don't have trust, then we are no different from the Cylons. But we have to take it farther. We have to offer them trust. That was the warning. She could argue with her own suggestion all she wanted, and had until she'd yelled herself hoarse, but she couldn't change Lee's mind, and if Lee was so certain... He had an annoying habit of being right when he stopped being willing to listen to counter-arguments.
“Were you the doctor that treated me on Caprica?” she spoke suddenly. He jumped and turned to look questioningly at her, so she elaborated. “Did you steal my frakking ovary two and a half years ago, while I was back on Caprica?”
The Cylon blinked then raised his eyebrows in understanding. “Ah. No, that was another of my model. I was not stationed in the farms on Caprica.”
She ground her teeth, resisting the urge to hit him. “Prove it.”
The frakking machine wasn't even breaking a sweat, didn't seem the least bit nervous. He blinked owlishly, and replied calmly. “I'm afraid I can't do that, Lt. Thrace.”
She nodded, and took a deep breath. “Well, at least you admit that.” She didn't have to trust him here. There were no restraints to prevent her from defending herself, and dozens of humans who would come running if she started down that road. She stuffed down her fear and rage, determined to see this through. “You know how to run one of these ultrasound things? I want to get this done quickly, and it looks like everyone else is already busy.” She resumed her march, continuing over to the ultrasound machine Doc Cottle had told her would be used to scan her uterus to determine both viability and gestation of the fetus she was carrying.
“Yes, I...” the man followed in her wake. “I do know how to run the ultrasound. Please lay back right here.” He indicated a bed in front of the machine. “I'm Dr. Simon Pierce. I'll need you to lower your pants.”
Kara glared at him for a moment, then realized why he was making the request. She complied, and pushed both her pants and underwear down low enough that he could run the wand over her uterus. “There you go, Doc.”
He nodded, then warned her, “This will be cold.”
She tensed as his hand moved closer to her, but refused to admit her anxiety. The doctor had positioned himself so that they could both see the monitor. For long moments, there was nothing but static racing across the screen. The Cylon was muttering under his breath, listing what sounded like various organs that he must have recognized in the midst of all that snow. Then, suddenly, a blank space opened in the middle of the screen. A space that contained what she could only describe as a blob. A blob with a very fast flutter in the middle of it. Kara tuned out Pierce's muttering and tried to process what she was seeing, tried to understand what she was seeing as a child, any child, let alone hers.
“Seven weeks 1 day, based on these measurements, with a good, strong heartbeat.” He was still scribbling frantically.
Kara pressed her lips together and sighed with relief as the new doctor removed the wand from her abdomen and the image blinked off the screen in front of her. She snatched the towels he produced for wiping the excess gel off of her and took care of it herself. She wasn't about to let him touch her any more than was absolutely necessary. “I want my record updated and the confidentiality removed from my flight suspension. I'll take it up to Adama myself.”
Pierce nodded hesitantly, “I'll get Dr. Cottle to take care of that right away.”
Kara finished cleaning herself up and putting herself back together in the short time it took for Doc Cottle to listen to his new staff member and pull out Kara's file.
“Here it is. You know where to find us when you get done telling him.” Doc Cottle handed her the new flight suspension sheet with his usual abrasive candor.
She stretched her jaw, “Yeah. Thanks Doc, Pierce.” She nodded her gratitude and waved her goodbye, leaving the two men looking after her in complete bafflement.
She found Lee and his father returning together from seeing off the long-lost Bulldog Novacek. Now there's a man with reason to hate life. Three years in a Cylon brig, only to be released and manipulated into trying to kill the Old Man. “Sirs,” She saluted the men in front of her. “I need to speak with both of you, please. Privately.”
The older Adama answered. “I've got to head to my quarters anyways. Make it quick?”
Kara nodded and fell in with them both, choosing to acknowledge the questioning look Lee shot in her direction with nothing more than a subtle wave of the sheet of paper she clenched tightly in her hand. From the change in his expression, it was enough.
When they got to the Admiral's quarters, he ushered them in. Kara waited by the door until he'd entered, then reached out to dog the hatch, “May I, sir?” She waited for his nod of approval before completing the action.
“Drink, either of you?” The older man offered. Lee accepted gratefully, while Kara declined with a generic smile. “Have a seat, please.” He waved them to his couch.
It was Kara's turn to accept. “I think I'll stand, thanks,” Lee spoke into his glass, then took a generous swallow.
Kara watched her commanding officer cast frowning glances between the two of them. “What d'ya hear, Starbuck?”
Kara felt her stomach turn to jelly and answered softly, “Nothin' but the rain, sir.”
“So what's this about?” He must have heard the lie in her voice.
Kara silently thanked the older Adama for getting right to the point, and laid her flight suspension order out on the coffee table for him to read.
He sighed, and deflated visibly. “I wish you hadn't shown me that. It would have been easier to get the termination.”
“We don't want a termination, Dad,” Lee had spoken the words slowly but clearly, without hesitation. Kara tried to send him a look of pure gratitude.
His father blinked at him, then repeated a single word. “We?”
Lee cleared his throat and nodded. “I'm the baby's father.”
Bill responded by emptying his glass, then moving to refill it.
Kara finally spoke. “I had an ultrasound today. I'm just past seven weeks.” She kept her eyes on her hands as she spoke.
The Admiral kept his back to both of them as he responded. “So, when's the wedding?”
It was Kara's turn to clear her throat. “We hadn't discussed it, sir.”
“I see.” His disapproval came through loud and clear.
“Dad, we --”
“Major,” Bill cut Lee off as he sat down behind his desk, clearly uninterested in whatever Lee was trying to say. “You and Captain Thrace to have four weeks to get a strategy on my desk explaining how a pregnant flight instructor is going to train my new pilots. Dismissed.” He muttered the last, bent over one of the myriad reports he had to review daily. Kara blinked back the tears that threatened to fall, cursing the insanity of her hormones, and saluted before taking her leave.
Lee was waiting for her on the other side of the hatch. “That went well.”
She scowled at him and kept walking.
﴿﴾
Caprica walked alone through the quiet halls of the basestar. She breathed in the scent of damp earth and fresh leaves, and thought again of how intrigued Gaius had been by the idea of projection. He couldn't possibly be wondering if he were one of the final five. Or could he? She'd seen the wreckage of his home on Caprica. His body had not been there. And yet... there was something different about him since the attacks. She couldn't put her finger on the change, but it was there, and undeniable however vague it was.
She set the difference aside and smiled, remembering how absolutely fascinated he'd been by the hybrid when she and D'Anna had introduced him. She gazed into the canopy of green overhead. He'd been like a child seeing a new plaything. A somewhat feral plaything, but then what was life without a little danger? She chuckled quietly to herself, biting her lower lip. Yes, a feral plaything for a dangerous man.
And D'Anna had no idea how dangerous. Caprica knew she watched them, watched him. D'Anna seemed to believe she had some claim on the man, but refused to share any but the most cursory of discussions on him. Still, she was always near, always watching from deep within her own ornate cathedral, plotting something that she didn't deign to share with anyone else.
Ah, that cathedral. D'Anna claimed that it helped her feel closer to God. Caprica was beginning to wonder if it made her feel closer to divine. She woke and walked the halls at all hours of the day and night, and blamed it on dreams. Dreams she believed were being sent her by God. Smothering a rising petulance, Caprica wondered if perhaps she could persuade Gaius to befriend the troubled Three. Maybe he would be able to determine what it was that bothered the woman's sleep and haunted her thoughts.
﴿﴾
Kara was eating in the pilot's rec room when Lee found her the day after she'd made her announcement to the Admiral. He slapped a half-sheet of paper on the table in front of her and headed back out the hatch.
“What the frak is this?” Kara called after him.
He stopped and turned to face her. “I thought it was fairly self-explanatory. It's your new rooming assignment. We're going to have to shuffle people once our new nuggets start basic flight, we might as well start moving now.”
He watched her blink, eyebrows rising in surprise and humor. “Decide to live a little dangerously, flyboy?”
He raised an eyebrow and cocked his head to one side, gratefully falling into her playful attitude. “A bad habit I picked up hanging out with a certain Viper pilot.” He'd been afraid she wouldn't speak to him for days, given the mood she'd been in when they'd left his father's quarters.
Kara snorted and stood up, then walked towards him, arms crossed. “So you're moving said pilot in with you.”
He noted the dangerous glint in her eye, and frowned. “You didn't honestly think I'd let my child grow up in a bunk room with the Neanderthals we have flying birds out of this bucket, did you?”
“Mmm! Neanderthals,” Kara nodded, her trouble-seeking grin still in place. “No, I never would have imagined you'd be okay letting your spawn anywhere near lowly pilots.” By the end, she'd managed to pull the smile from her face and look nearly serious. “You know that moving me in with you right now would make both of us certifiably insane, right?”
Lee heard the hatch swing open behind them and stepped closer so that he could pitch his voice low enough to not carry through the room. He knew what she said was as much truth as jest, but wanted to be sure she knew he didn't care. “Well I'd be fascinated to hear any better options you've come up with.”
Kara blinked at him and frowned playfully. “Lee! What has happened to your memory?”
She'd stumped him. He stared at her, brow furrowed, and she walked away. “Oh, come on, Kara. A hint, at least?”
She turned back to him, gave him a shrewed look, as if she were trying to figure out exactly how much to say. “A hint.” She walked back toward him, stopping just before their noses touched. She also didn't bother to keep her voice down. “Don't you want to make your daddy proud?” She smiled and scrunched her nose at him. Then she turned and sashayed back to her food.
Lee followed her over to the table and pulled a chair out for himself, forgetting that someone else was in the room and might be watching them. He slouched down in the chair, hooked his fingers through his belt loops, and studied her in complete confusion. She couldn't possibly be suggesting what she seemed to be leading him towards. “But... Back on New Caprica, didn't you say...”
Kara barely managed to swallow her food before laughing out loud. Lee watched her, completely perplexed, until she'd managed to catch her breath. “Lee! You were talking about Sam then. Gods, could you imagine?” She shuddered dramatically, then went back to laughing.
And was joined by a deep voice from the other side of the room. Lee glanced over to see Karl Agathon struggling to contain his humor. Despite their differences of opinion on the matter of Cylons, Karl was a friend of Kara's and so a relatively safe audience for their conversation. Grateful for that bit of luck, Lee shook his head and rubbed the back of his neck. He had to acknowledge Kara's point. Sam would likely have been a disaster, although it hadn't seemed so far outside the realm of possibility at the time.
Kara, who had seen Karl when he'd entered the room, regained her poise and continued her thought. “Besides. I didn't say I'd agree. Just that it was a possibility we haven't discussed.”
Frak, but this woman could spin him around like no one else. Narrowing his eyes at her, he leaned forward and settled his elbows on the table. “Alright. Discuss.”
Kara froze, eyes wide. This was going to either be very long or very, very short. “You're kidding.” She wasn't laughing any more.
“Why? Why would I be kidding?” He knew the risk he was taking by pushing, but she'd done her fair share of that lately. It was time to turn the tables a little. “I'm in this. I'm not going anywhere. I'm not asking you right now. I just want to know where you stand on the idea.”
Watching her swallow hard, Lee allowed himself to hope that he'd fumbled into the right approach. He'd shown his hand. There was no good reason to not marry the mother of his child, except the fear that suggesting it would push her away. He would have proposed long ago if not for that. In the end though, it didn't matter to him if they ever took any vows to any of those gods he didn't believe in. He knew what he intended and if that was enough for Kara, or all that she could handle, then it was more than enough for him.
As the silence stretched, he began to second-guess his tactic. Kara's rough whisper stopped him just as he was preparing to rescind his question. “I don't know.” Her eyes were wide and guileless, and the expression on her face told him that she was terrified, and not ready to talk about it.
It was more or less the answer he'd expected. They hadn't discussed marriage before because they hadn't thought about it. Kara's impulsiveness rarely brought her to happy choices. He reached out a hand to cup the side of her face, running his thumb along her cheek. “Will you think about it?” He poured all the patience and love he could into the words, hoping beyond the bounds of logic that she would understand that he'd be content with any answer she gave. Their eyes met and held for a moment, and then Kara gave him a single, slow nod. He leaned over to kiss the top of her head as he stood to take his leave. “Thank you,” he whispered into her hair.
An official proposal would be made, but not now, not yet. He'd take it one step at a time, and the first step was to get her moved into his quarters. The hatch swung shut behind him with a heavy clang, and all he could do was hope that he hadn't scared her so badly that she ran away for good this time.
Go to Chapter 11
Author: ecstaticdance
Word Count: 40,000
Rating: NC-17
Pairings: Lee/Kara
Warnings: Smut. Mysticism. Spoilers through Season 3 for part 1 (to be safe), ultimately through Daybreak.
Summary:All of this has happened before, now we're going to see it happen again. But the Lords of Kobol want to see if they can possibly change it, so key characters have retained the echoes of memories which cause them to make different decisions, or experience things at different times, than in previous cycles.
Notes: This is a completed story. But it's a monster. Somewhere 150,000 words (pre-editing). I'm posting Part 1 now. The rest will be posted... as it's available, probably.
Also (and more importantly) THANK YOU! To christ_chexx_4u for doing such a fabulous beta job for me. And many, many thanks to those of you who cheered me on and supported me from the very beginning of this story. You inspire me.
Finally, thank you to redsmirch for the beautiful painting. She's offered to create some more for me, which I'll post links to as it becomes available. The image included here is a point I'm driving toward, which... comes later in the story. So it probably won't make much sense next to what you're reading just yet. But it's beautiful and needs to be shared.
Artist: redsmirch
Link to Art: And the darkness behind her pearled and flushed
Return to Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Doctor Sherman Cottle split a sour look between the former prisoner and Major Adama. “So you want me to add this... person... to my medical staff?”
The young major shrugged faintly. “We asked them for their areas of expertise.”
The Cylon clarified, “Specifically, sir, I'm a neurosurgeon. But I also have experience in general medicine, and medical research.”
“Medical research, huh? Any interest in working on a permanent vaccine for your virus?” Every medical facility in the Fleet was understaffed, and while the challenge of the vaccine they'd promised the Cylons was a welcome change of pace, it was also a drain on their very limited resources.
“I'd love to,” the Cylon replied.
Sherman nodded, acknowledged Major Adama's departure, and wondered how he was supposed to integrate a Cylon into his sickbay when half of his medics and three quarters of his patients would prefer killing him over working with him. “I'll give you a work bench over here for the research. As you can see, we're a bit crowded, but I'd need to dedicate the space anyway. For now, I'll keep you in a strictly research position.” For now, he thought wryly, or at least until he knew that he could trust his staff and the Cylon not to kill each other when he wasn't looking. He started leading the way to a likely work station spot, then stopped. “Oh, and one other thing. What the frak are we supposed to call you?” He looked the tall, dark man calmly in the eye.
He looked surprised. “I... My model number is four. We've not had much contact with the human race. One of us once went by the name Simon.”
“No last name?” Cottle asked.
“No, sir.”
“Well, I need one for the paperwork.” The old doctor scowled, then pulled out and lit a cigarette, drawing thoughtfully on it for a moment. “Knew a guy in college who was going for neurosurgery. Brilliant man, and plain old good person. Name of Pierce. Any objections?” He squinted up, as if daring the man to object. This was his first test of the Cylon's character.
The Cylon considered the question for a long moment before responding. “No objections. And sir...” Sherman raised a questioning eyebrow in response. “Thank you.”
He snorted and smirked sarcastically, “Remember that the first time someone throws a medical tray at you, Dr. Simon Pierce.”
﴿﴾
Karl glanced sideways at the Cylon he was escorting to the kitchen of the Galactica. He knew this model had something to do with the mess that had been Kara Thrace when she returned from New Caprica. As much as he'd argued against the mass murder of the entire Cylon race, he had to admit to his own darker urge to exact revenge for his friend. As right and wrong went, however, there was no real way of telling if this particular Leoben had been responsible for Kara's treatment or not. Right still dictated that he treat this shorter blond man with respect.
All activity stopped when they entered the kitchen. Karl signaled to the head cook, and the three of them stepped out of the room as the work of feeding the colonial fleet resumed. He started his introduction as soon as the hatch was closed. “This is Leoben Conoy--”
“Leonard, actually,” the Cylon interrupted. “Leonard Smith.”
Karl blinked at him, considering, then nodded. “Alright, Leonard. Anyways, turns out he's a gardener, he's going to be assigned to several of the Fleet's Grow Rooms. I need you to show us around Galactica's.”
The cook's jaw dropped, but she collected herself quickly. “Follow me, sir.” The Grow Room was remarkably close to the kitchen, circumstances considered. “It's kind of a make-shift setup. The Galactica didn't originally have a Grow Room at all. A few months before we decided to settle New Caprica, an anonymous suggestion was made that we scatter some of the fruit and vegetable growing operations throughout the Fleet, to prevent the complete loss of fresh foods in the case of some unexpected disaster. Lucky we did, or most of our farming functions would have been lost in the Cloud Nine incident.” The energetic woman opened the door to a large holding area. “As you can see, we have plenty of field hands, but no one who really knows how to manage the room as a whole.”
Karl made sure to point out that the Admiral's orders stated Leonard was to be supervised whenever he was in the Grow Rooms, then tuned out most of the conversation. He was going to spend the next few days not listening to similar explanations on ships throughout the Fleet. He could only hope the conversations would go as smoothly every time as they seemed to be going here.
﴿﴾
“You want to what?” Lee couldn't believe what he was hearing.
“You asked for our expertise. I fly things. I suppose you could stick me on a deck crew, but I'm a pilot.” The tall honey-blond woman walking next to him looked like she was ready to put her fist through a wall.
And why should we trust you with guns? He wanted to scream at her. He already knew the answer. They should trust her because he had suggested it and the President had agreed to it. “If you want to be a pilot, you'll need to enlist in our military and go through officer training to get a commission. If you do that, we'll see about Raptor training for you. Will that work?”
Lee watched as understanding and acceptance filtered across the Cylon's face. Finally, she nodded, seeming genuinely satisfied. “My own people left me to die. You and your Fleet have saved my life and given me a second chance. I have to wonder if maybe we were wrong about you.” She'd answered his unasked question as candidly as if she were talking about the weather. “And my name is Aimee. Aimee Pelletier.”
Lee frowned and blinked. He hadn't thought to ask her name, “I... didn't think you had names...” He left the exceptions to this rule unspoken.
“A lot of us don't. Most of my model have chosen to take unique names,” she explained patiently.
Lee considered her for a long moment. “Alright, Aimee. I need to clear this with the Admiral and the recruiter. Until I do, here are your quarters. If you're accepted, and get your commission, we'll see how things work out for you in the junior officer's bunk, and go from there.”
“Thank you... Sir.” Aimee saluted her farewell, and closed the hatch to her new room behind her. Lee stood and stared after her for another minute, wondering how this new arrangement with these three Cylons would play out, before turning to his father's office to see about getting a second, largely unknown Cylon into Officer training (or promoted to officer), and then into a cockpit, in control of weapons that could be turned against the fleet.
﴿﴾
Kara's days had settled into a quiet routine in the two weeks since they'd found the infected Cylon basestar. She was still doing CAP's, but she was restricted to Raptors now, which made her much less maneuverable. She supposed she should get used to that feeling, but it still grated. When she wasn't on duty, she seemed to be either eating or sleeping. She hadn't had any of the feared morning sickness yet, and hoped like hell that would hold. She hated throwing up. She hated throwing up without having enjoyed a fabulously drunken time the evening before even more than hangover vomit.
And she waited. They were still 5 bodies short of the Admiral's arbitrary minimum for the officer training course. Her shiny new officers would be ready to start Basic Flight three months after they were allowed to crack their books. If they passed the exam.
But this wasn't part of her routine. She walked into sickbay, and marched right past Doc Cottle to the dark man sitting at a work station in the back of the room. She took a deep breath as she glared at his back, playing through a recent conversation with Lee. She'd been furious for being given the task of offering the Cylons asylum. She'd gone back and picked a fight with Lee over it. If we don't have trust, then we are no different from the Cylons. But we have to take it farther. We have to offer them trust. That was the warning. She could argue with her own suggestion all she wanted, and had until she'd yelled herself hoarse, but she couldn't change Lee's mind, and if Lee was so certain... He had an annoying habit of being right when he stopped being willing to listen to counter-arguments.
“Were you the doctor that treated me on Caprica?” she spoke suddenly. He jumped and turned to look questioningly at her, so she elaborated. “Did you steal my frakking ovary two and a half years ago, while I was back on Caprica?”
The Cylon blinked then raised his eyebrows in understanding. “Ah. No, that was another of my model. I was not stationed in the farms on Caprica.”
She ground her teeth, resisting the urge to hit him. “Prove it.”
The frakking machine wasn't even breaking a sweat, didn't seem the least bit nervous. He blinked owlishly, and replied calmly. “I'm afraid I can't do that, Lt. Thrace.”
She nodded, and took a deep breath. “Well, at least you admit that.” She didn't have to trust him here. There were no restraints to prevent her from defending herself, and dozens of humans who would come running if she started down that road. She stuffed down her fear and rage, determined to see this through. “You know how to run one of these ultrasound things? I want to get this done quickly, and it looks like everyone else is already busy.” She resumed her march, continuing over to the ultrasound machine Doc Cottle had told her would be used to scan her uterus to determine both viability and gestation of the fetus she was carrying.
“Yes, I...” the man followed in her wake. “I do know how to run the ultrasound. Please lay back right here.” He indicated a bed in front of the machine. “I'm Dr. Simon Pierce. I'll need you to lower your pants.”
Kara glared at him for a moment, then realized why he was making the request. She complied, and pushed both her pants and underwear down low enough that he could run the wand over her uterus. “There you go, Doc.”
He nodded, then warned her, “This will be cold.”
She tensed as his hand moved closer to her, but refused to admit her anxiety. The doctor had positioned himself so that they could both see the monitor. For long moments, there was nothing but static racing across the screen. The Cylon was muttering under his breath, listing what sounded like various organs that he must have recognized in the midst of all that snow. Then, suddenly, a blank space opened in the middle of the screen. A space that contained what she could only describe as a blob. A blob with a very fast flutter in the middle of it. Kara tuned out Pierce's muttering and tried to process what she was seeing, tried to understand what she was seeing as a child, any child, let alone hers.
“Seven weeks 1 day, based on these measurements, with a good, strong heartbeat.” He was still scribbling frantically.
Kara pressed her lips together and sighed with relief as the new doctor removed the wand from her abdomen and the image blinked off the screen in front of her. She snatched the towels he produced for wiping the excess gel off of her and took care of it herself. She wasn't about to let him touch her any more than was absolutely necessary. “I want my record updated and the confidentiality removed from my flight suspension. I'll take it up to Adama myself.”
Pierce nodded hesitantly, “I'll get Dr. Cottle to take care of that right away.”
Kara finished cleaning herself up and putting herself back together in the short time it took for Doc Cottle to listen to his new staff member and pull out Kara's file.
“Here it is. You know where to find us when you get done telling him.” Doc Cottle handed her the new flight suspension sheet with his usual abrasive candor.
She stretched her jaw, “Yeah. Thanks Doc, Pierce.” She nodded her gratitude and waved her goodbye, leaving the two men looking after her in complete bafflement.
She found Lee and his father returning together from seeing off the long-lost Bulldog Novacek. Now there's a man with reason to hate life. Three years in a Cylon brig, only to be released and manipulated into trying to kill the Old Man. “Sirs,” She saluted the men in front of her. “I need to speak with both of you, please. Privately.”
The older Adama answered. “I've got to head to my quarters anyways. Make it quick?”
Kara nodded and fell in with them both, choosing to acknowledge the questioning look Lee shot in her direction with nothing more than a subtle wave of the sheet of paper she clenched tightly in her hand. From the change in his expression, it was enough.
When they got to the Admiral's quarters, he ushered them in. Kara waited by the door until he'd entered, then reached out to dog the hatch, “May I, sir?” She waited for his nod of approval before completing the action.
“Drink, either of you?” The older man offered. Lee accepted gratefully, while Kara declined with a generic smile. “Have a seat, please.” He waved them to his couch.
It was Kara's turn to accept. “I think I'll stand, thanks,” Lee spoke into his glass, then took a generous swallow.
Kara watched her commanding officer cast frowning glances between the two of them. “What d'ya hear, Starbuck?”
Kara felt her stomach turn to jelly and answered softly, “Nothin' but the rain, sir.”
“So what's this about?” He must have heard the lie in her voice.
Kara silently thanked the older Adama for getting right to the point, and laid her flight suspension order out on the coffee table for him to read.
He sighed, and deflated visibly. “I wish you hadn't shown me that. It would have been easier to get the termination.”
“We don't want a termination, Dad,” Lee had spoken the words slowly but clearly, without hesitation. Kara tried to send him a look of pure gratitude.
His father blinked at him, then repeated a single word. “We?”
Lee cleared his throat and nodded. “I'm the baby's father.”
Bill responded by emptying his glass, then moving to refill it.
Kara finally spoke. “I had an ultrasound today. I'm just past seven weeks.” She kept her eyes on her hands as she spoke.
The Admiral kept his back to both of them as he responded. “So, when's the wedding?”
It was Kara's turn to clear her throat. “We hadn't discussed it, sir.”
“I see.” His disapproval came through loud and clear.
“Dad, we --”
“Major,” Bill cut Lee off as he sat down behind his desk, clearly uninterested in whatever Lee was trying to say. “You and Captain Thrace to have four weeks to get a strategy on my desk explaining how a pregnant flight instructor is going to train my new pilots. Dismissed.” He muttered the last, bent over one of the myriad reports he had to review daily. Kara blinked back the tears that threatened to fall, cursing the insanity of her hormones, and saluted before taking her leave.
Lee was waiting for her on the other side of the hatch. “That went well.”
She scowled at him and kept walking.
﴿﴾
Caprica walked alone through the quiet halls of the basestar. She breathed in the scent of damp earth and fresh leaves, and thought again of how intrigued Gaius had been by the idea of projection. He couldn't possibly be wondering if he were one of the final five. Or could he? She'd seen the wreckage of his home on Caprica. His body had not been there. And yet... there was something different about him since the attacks. She couldn't put her finger on the change, but it was there, and undeniable however vague it was.
She set the difference aside and smiled, remembering how absolutely fascinated he'd been by the hybrid when she and D'Anna had introduced him. She gazed into the canopy of green overhead. He'd been like a child seeing a new plaything. A somewhat feral plaything, but then what was life without a little danger? She chuckled quietly to herself, biting her lower lip. Yes, a feral plaything for a dangerous man.
And D'Anna had no idea how dangerous. Caprica knew she watched them, watched him. D'Anna seemed to believe she had some claim on the man, but refused to share any but the most cursory of discussions on him. Still, she was always near, always watching from deep within her own ornate cathedral, plotting something that she didn't deign to share with anyone else.
Ah, that cathedral. D'Anna claimed that it helped her feel closer to God. Caprica was beginning to wonder if it made her feel closer to divine. She woke and walked the halls at all hours of the day and night, and blamed it on dreams. Dreams she believed were being sent her by God. Smothering a rising petulance, Caprica wondered if perhaps she could persuade Gaius to befriend the troubled Three. Maybe he would be able to determine what it was that bothered the woman's sleep and haunted her thoughts.
﴿﴾
Kara was eating in the pilot's rec room when Lee found her the day after she'd made her announcement to the Admiral. He slapped a half-sheet of paper on the table in front of her and headed back out the hatch.
“What the frak is this?” Kara called after him.
He stopped and turned to face her. “I thought it was fairly self-explanatory. It's your new rooming assignment. We're going to have to shuffle people once our new nuggets start basic flight, we might as well start moving now.”
He watched her blink, eyebrows rising in surprise and humor. “Decide to live a little dangerously, flyboy?”
He raised an eyebrow and cocked his head to one side, gratefully falling into her playful attitude. “A bad habit I picked up hanging out with a certain Viper pilot.” He'd been afraid she wouldn't speak to him for days, given the mood she'd been in when they'd left his father's quarters.
Kara snorted and stood up, then walked towards him, arms crossed. “So you're moving said pilot in with you.”
He noted the dangerous glint in her eye, and frowned. “You didn't honestly think I'd let my child grow up in a bunk room with the Neanderthals we have flying birds out of this bucket, did you?”
“Mmm! Neanderthals,” Kara nodded, her trouble-seeking grin still in place. “No, I never would have imagined you'd be okay letting your spawn anywhere near lowly pilots.” By the end, she'd managed to pull the smile from her face and look nearly serious. “You know that moving me in with you right now would make both of us certifiably insane, right?”
Lee heard the hatch swing open behind them and stepped closer so that he could pitch his voice low enough to not carry through the room. He knew what she said was as much truth as jest, but wanted to be sure she knew he didn't care. “Well I'd be fascinated to hear any better options you've come up with.”
Kara blinked at him and frowned playfully. “Lee! What has happened to your memory?”
She'd stumped him. He stared at her, brow furrowed, and she walked away. “Oh, come on, Kara. A hint, at least?”
She turned back to him, gave him a shrewed look, as if she were trying to figure out exactly how much to say. “A hint.” She walked back toward him, stopping just before their noses touched. She also didn't bother to keep her voice down. “Don't you want to make your daddy proud?” She smiled and scrunched her nose at him. Then she turned and sashayed back to her food.
Lee followed her over to the table and pulled a chair out for himself, forgetting that someone else was in the room and might be watching them. He slouched down in the chair, hooked his fingers through his belt loops, and studied her in complete confusion. She couldn't possibly be suggesting what she seemed to be leading him towards. “But... Back on New Caprica, didn't you say...”
Kara barely managed to swallow her food before laughing out loud. Lee watched her, completely perplexed, until she'd managed to catch her breath. “Lee! You were talking about Sam then. Gods, could you imagine?” She shuddered dramatically, then went back to laughing.
And was joined by a deep voice from the other side of the room. Lee glanced over to see Karl Agathon struggling to contain his humor. Despite their differences of opinion on the matter of Cylons, Karl was a friend of Kara's and so a relatively safe audience for their conversation. Grateful for that bit of luck, Lee shook his head and rubbed the back of his neck. He had to acknowledge Kara's point. Sam would likely have been a disaster, although it hadn't seemed so far outside the realm of possibility at the time.
Kara, who had seen Karl when he'd entered the room, regained her poise and continued her thought. “Besides. I didn't say I'd agree. Just that it was a possibility we haven't discussed.”
Frak, but this woman could spin him around like no one else. Narrowing his eyes at her, he leaned forward and settled his elbows on the table. “Alright. Discuss.”
Kara froze, eyes wide. This was going to either be very long or very, very short. “You're kidding.” She wasn't laughing any more.
“Why? Why would I be kidding?” He knew the risk he was taking by pushing, but she'd done her fair share of that lately. It was time to turn the tables a little. “I'm in this. I'm not going anywhere. I'm not asking you right now. I just want to know where you stand on the idea.”
Watching her swallow hard, Lee allowed himself to hope that he'd fumbled into the right approach. He'd shown his hand. There was no good reason to not marry the mother of his child, except the fear that suggesting it would push her away. He would have proposed long ago if not for that. In the end though, it didn't matter to him if they ever took any vows to any of those gods he didn't believe in. He knew what he intended and if that was enough for Kara, or all that she could handle, then it was more than enough for him.
As the silence stretched, he began to second-guess his tactic. Kara's rough whisper stopped him just as he was preparing to rescind his question. “I don't know.” Her eyes were wide and guileless, and the expression on her face told him that she was terrified, and not ready to talk about it.
It was more or less the answer he'd expected. They hadn't discussed marriage before because they hadn't thought about it. Kara's impulsiveness rarely brought her to happy choices. He reached out a hand to cup the side of her face, running his thumb along her cheek. “Will you think about it?” He poured all the patience and love he could into the words, hoping beyond the bounds of logic that she would understand that he'd be content with any answer she gave. Their eyes met and held for a moment, and then Kara gave him a single, slow nod. He leaned over to kiss the top of her head as he stood to take his leave. “Thank you,” he whispered into her hair.
An official proposal would be made, but not now, not yet. He'd take it one step at a time, and the first step was to get her moved into his quarters. The hatch swung shut behind him with a heavy clang, and all he could do was hope that he hadn't scared her so badly that she ran away for good this time.
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