BSG Fic: With a Whimper (1/1)
Title: With a Whimper
Author: lizardbeth_j
Pairing: Kara Thrace/Sam Anders
Rating: PG
Summary: Kara thought she had let go first.
Warnings: Future!fic, pure speculation. Character death mentioned (not Kara or Sam).
Spoilers through "Unfinished Business".
Disclaimer: Not mine. Alas.
The first time she'd seen Sam in three months was at Laura Roslin's funeral. He stayed by the rest of the Quorum of Twelve, looking absurdly young compared with the rest of the old bags. Jean and Charlie stood to either side of him, and Jean glared at Kara. She ignored the warning and looked at Sam anyway. He fixed his gaze on the coffin and pretended he didn't see her.
Sharon went up to Sam after the service. They spoke quietly and she hugged him.
Kara tried not to mind.
During the reception, she kept an eye on him as he circulated. His path never crossed hers, but he seemed to talk to everyone else. She caught him looking at her only once, after he and the Old Man finished some quiet, intent conversation. He didn't smile when their eyes met, but he didn't look away either. His face seemed thinner than she remembered and pale under the bluish lights, and she wondered if he was sleeping.
But then the Tauron Councillor came up to him and the moment broke, as he returned to business.
She had thought it was hilarious when Sam had put his name in to replace the dying Caprican representative. But she hadn't been surprised when he won -- he had a popular image in the fleet and charisma to burn. He left Galactica to go to Colonial One, and all she heard was from the wireless news and Helo's stories. Karl liked to tell her oh-so-casually about drinking and playing pick-up pyramid with Sam whenever he visited the other ship. She was tempted each time to tell him to shut up, but she knew that Karl would get more joy out of knowing he was needling her. So she just shrugged, like it didn't matter. But Sharon smiled knowingly and he kept telling her things.
But never the stuff she wanted to know: did he ever ask about her? Had he found someone else? But she didn't dare ask, and Karl didn't say.
Three days later Karl found her in the rec room with a smile on his face like a little boy with a secret. He sat on the chair backwards. "Guess what I heard today?"
She raised her brows at him and took a drink deliberately slowly to frak with him. "Baltar's running for president again."
He snorted. "No. but you're close. Anders is."
She sputtered her drink. "You're frakking kidding me. Sam is running for president?"
He nodded, looking all serious. "Told me so himself this morning. He wanted to know what I thought. I told him it was a good idea."
She laughed. "Really, Karl? I think it's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard," she said, scornfully, drinking again. "Sammy as president?"
Helo hesitated, and her stomach got a little tight, waiting for what he was going to say. He didn't reference her and Sam's broken marriage, but she felt the disapproval anyway, "He's learned a lot the past six months, Kara. You'd be surprised, I think, if you gave him a chance. Anyway, I thought you should know before the announcement goes over the wireless."
He left and she swirled around the dregs of her cup. It had felt strange to vote for Sam as the Caprican Councillor; it would feel even stranger to vote for him for president. Because she would. Despite her words, she didn't think it was ridiculous at all. Helo was right. Sam had grown into his political role, taking his natural leadership and minor celebrity status and parlaying it into becoming a legitimate contender.
He wouldn't be running if he didn't already have the admiral's approval. He had worked closely with President Roslin, and that would annoint him as her approved successor. And that meant that, unless someone unexpected came out in opposition, he was going to win. Jean was going to be there with him, in the place Kara might have had. If she hadn't been a frakked up moron.
"Well, frak," she muttered to nobody and drained her drink in a surly mood.
She was on the hangar deck prepping for CAP when the announcement spread. She saw chief and Cally hug each other and Seelix's habitual smirk widen into a genuine smile. Other deck hands grinned and slapped hands, until they saw her glowering.
It didn't matter, she told herself in her Viper. He was just any guy to her. They had never gotten officially divorced, but it wasn't like it meant anything. Samuel T. Anders could be president of the Colonies, if he wanted, and it had nothing to do with her.
She was feeling okay about it by the time she returned. In the locker room she stripped off her flight suit and her fingers caught in her tags.
For just an instant, she felt the warmth of his hand as she gave him the tag on Caprica, and saw the look on his face, the belief that she would come back.
She dropped the tags like they were hot, and they thumped lightly against her chest.
The hatch opened and she turned to give the intruder a piece of her mind.
Sam ducked his head beneath the overhang and pulled the door closed behind him. She couldn't speak, only stare, wondering if she was imagining things.
He looked good, though tired. His hair was short and smoothed down, and he had found a tan jacket over a black t-shirt, which did nothing to hide the fact that he was still keeping fit. But the playfulness in his expression wasn't there anymore, and his face was a strange calm mask. It didn't look right. She felt a tug of ... something. An urge to ruffle his hair, maybe.
He stopped inside the door. "Kara. I was looking for you."
She licked her lips and stood up. Her arms seemed awkward suddenly, and she folded them out of the way. "Well, here I am. I hear you're running for president."
He paused, as if expecting her to laugh. When she didn't say anything mocking, he answered, "Right. I am. It was one of the last things Laura said, to ask me to take her place. So I'm going to try. And that's why I wanted to see you."
She frowned, wondering what running for president had to do with her.
He reached into his jacket pocket and brought out a folded paper. "I need you to sign this."
He handed it to her, and she scanned the top. One word stood out: 'divorce.' She glanced up. "What is this?"
"What does it look like?" he returned, impatiently. "The paper that makes it official."
She saw that he had already signed it. He hadn't waited to see if she wanted to, first. It stung. She bit her lip and accused, "Is this so you and Jean can get married?" The sneer was reflexive. "Go play president with his proper wife?"
His gaze narrowed angrily and he answered, "Not that it's any of your business, but no. I just want to tie up some loose ends."
"And that's what I am?" she demanded.
"I don't know what you are," he shot back. "But it's not in my life anymore. Just sign the frakking paper, Kara. You made it clear that our marriage was nothing but a big mistake for you anyway."
"That's not true," she blurted in protest.
He chuckled bitterly. "You said it yourself, you're not the woman I married. And I don't think I'm the Sam you married any more either. So let's cut this last tie and we'll be done."
"Okay, fine." She said the words, but in her chest something tightened into a small knot. "If that's what you want."
"What I want doesn't exist," he snapped. Then he shut his eyes briefly, and inhaled a deliberate breath, controlling his temper again. "I didn't come here to fight with you. If you want time to look it over, that's fine. It's the standard, basic declaration. After you sign it, give it to Sharon; she's supposed to take me back after I see Admiral Adama."
The impersonal tone struck her more than his anger had. She deserved the anger, she knew she did, but feeling like a stranger made her feel cold. "Sam?" she called softly, when he was at the door.
He turned quickly. "Yes?"
"I -- " There was so much she wanted to say to him, and when faced with her chance, she could only manage, "Good luck. You'll make a good president."
His lips tightened and his gaze dropped from hers, as he turned away again. "Thanks. Take care."
The hatch slammed shut behind him, and she looked at the paper in her hand. "The Lords of Kobol decree that the divorce of Samuel Anders, representative of Caprica to the Quorum of Twelve, and Kara Thrace, Captain of the Fleet of the Twelve Colonies..."
The words seemed so somber. So final.
And it was all her fault. She had pushed him away, until he stopped pushing back. He had tried so many times, and she'd ignored him, used him, and worked through her anger on him, all with the assumption he'd still come when she called, until at the end he hadn't.
She remembered the first night on Caprica, when she'd thought he was just one of her casual fraks. But he'd been there after the farm and he'd known what to do. She'd watched him with his people, his casual charm and easy competence reflected back in their loyalty, and that more than anything had wormed a way into her heart. He'd kept fighting, even after she'd left him behind on Caprica and then, when the Cylons had come again.
So why had he given up on her? If he'd only fought a little harder, given her time...
She wrenched that thought out by the roots. No. He wasn't the frak-up here.
Smoothing the paper on the small table at the end of the lockers, she grabbed the nearest pen. But her hand didn't want to move toward the signature line. She doodled on the table instead, wondering what he would do if she asked him to come back. He'd seemed disappointed that she hadn't said something else before he left. Maybe he still loved her, maybe she could say she was sorry, and they could try again and make it work this time...
She shook her head, impatient with herself. That was nothing but nostalgia for the days when he'd made her laugh and they'd made silly plans for a cabin and frakking by the light of the moon. But those days were gone and there was no getting them back. He had moved on, and this time, he had left her behind.
Before she hesitated again, she scrawled her name on the other line, opposite his.
There, it was done. They weren't married any more. He was free to run for president without any dangling threads in his life. She was free, too, just as she'd wanted to be.
She hurled the pen across the room. It clanged against a locker and dropped to the floor.
Then she left to find something to hit.
===============
Author: lizardbeth_j
Pairing: Kara Thrace/Sam Anders
Rating: PG
Summary: Kara thought she had let go first.
Warnings: Future!fic, pure speculation. Character death mentioned (not Kara or Sam).
Spoilers through "Unfinished Business".
Disclaimer: Not mine. Alas.
The first time she'd seen Sam in three months was at Laura Roslin's funeral. He stayed by the rest of the Quorum of Twelve, looking absurdly young compared with the rest of the old bags. Jean and Charlie stood to either side of him, and Jean glared at Kara. She ignored the warning and looked at Sam anyway. He fixed his gaze on the coffin and pretended he didn't see her.
Sharon went up to Sam after the service. They spoke quietly and she hugged him.
Kara tried not to mind.
During the reception, she kept an eye on him as he circulated. His path never crossed hers, but he seemed to talk to everyone else. She caught him looking at her only once, after he and the Old Man finished some quiet, intent conversation. He didn't smile when their eyes met, but he didn't look away either. His face seemed thinner than she remembered and pale under the bluish lights, and she wondered if he was sleeping.
But then the Tauron Councillor came up to him and the moment broke, as he returned to business.
She had thought it was hilarious when Sam had put his name in to replace the dying Caprican representative. But she hadn't been surprised when he won -- he had a popular image in the fleet and charisma to burn. He left Galactica to go to Colonial One, and all she heard was from the wireless news and Helo's stories. Karl liked to tell her oh-so-casually about drinking and playing pick-up pyramid with Sam whenever he visited the other ship. She was tempted each time to tell him to shut up, but she knew that Karl would get more joy out of knowing he was needling her. So she just shrugged, like it didn't matter. But Sharon smiled knowingly and he kept telling her things.
But never the stuff she wanted to know: did he ever ask about her? Had he found someone else? But she didn't dare ask, and Karl didn't say.
Three days later Karl found her in the rec room with a smile on his face like a little boy with a secret. He sat on the chair backwards. "Guess what I heard today?"
She raised her brows at him and took a drink deliberately slowly to frak with him. "Baltar's running for president again."
He snorted. "No. but you're close. Anders is."
She sputtered her drink. "You're frakking kidding me. Sam is running for president?"
He nodded, looking all serious. "Told me so himself this morning. He wanted to know what I thought. I told him it was a good idea."
She laughed. "Really, Karl? I think it's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard," she said, scornfully, drinking again. "Sammy as president?"
Helo hesitated, and her stomach got a little tight, waiting for what he was going to say. He didn't reference her and Sam's broken marriage, but she felt the disapproval anyway, "He's learned a lot the past six months, Kara. You'd be surprised, I think, if you gave him a chance. Anyway, I thought you should know before the announcement goes over the wireless."
He left and she swirled around the dregs of her cup. It had felt strange to vote for Sam as the Caprican Councillor; it would feel even stranger to vote for him for president. Because she would. Despite her words, she didn't think it was ridiculous at all. Helo was right. Sam had grown into his political role, taking his natural leadership and minor celebrity status and parlaying it into becoming a legitimate contender.
He wouldn't be running if he didn't already have the admiral's approval. He had worked closely with President Roslin, and that would annoint him as her approved successor. And that meant that, unless someone unexpected came out in opposition, he was going to win. Jean was going to be there with him, in the place Kara might have had. If she hadn't been a frakked up moron.
"Well, frak," she muttered to nobody and drained her drink in a surly mood.
She was on the hangar deck prepping for CAP when the announcement spread. She saw chief and Cally hug each other and Seelix's habitual smirk widen into a genuine smile. Other deck hands grinned and slapped hands, until they saw her glowering.
It didn't matter, she told herself in her Viper. He was just any guy to her. They had never gotten officially divorced, but it wasn't like it meant anything. Samuel T. Anders could be president of the Colonies, if he wanted, and it had nothing to do with her.
She was feeling okay about it by the time she returned. In the locker room she stripped off her flight suit and her fingers caught in her tags.
For just an instant, she felt the warmth of his hand as she gave him the tag on Caprica, and saw the look on his face, the belief that she would come back.
She dropped the tags like they were hot, and they thumped lightly against her chest.
The hatch opened and she turned to give the intruder a piece of her mind.
Sam ducked his head beneath the overhang and pulled the door closed behind him. She couldn't speak, only stare, wondering if she was imagining things.
He looked good, though tired. His hair was short and smoothed down, and he had found a tan jacket over a black t-shirt, which did nothing to hide the fact that he was still keeping fit. But the playfulness in his expression wasn't there anymore, and his face was a strange calm mask. It didn't look right. She felt a tug of ... something. An urge to ruffle his hair, maybe.
He stopped inside the door. "Kara. I was looking for you."
She licked her lips and stood up. Her arms seemed awkward suddenly, and she folded them out of the way. "Well, here I am. I hear you're running for president."
He paused, as if expecting her to laugh. When she didn't say anything mocking, he answered, "Right. I am. It was one of the last things Laura said, to ask me to take her place. So I'm going to try. And that's why I wanted to see you."
She frowned, wondering what running for president had to do with her.
He reached into his jacket pocket and brought out a folded paper. "I need you to sign this."
He handed it to her, and she scanned the top. One word stood out: 'divorce.' She glanced up. "What is this?"
"What does it look like?" he returned, impatiently. "The paper that makes it official."
She saw that he had already signed it. He hadn't waited to see if she wanted to, first. It stung. She bit her lip and accused, "Is this so you and Jean can get married?" The sneer was reflexive. "Go play president with his proper wife?"
His gaze narrowed angrily and he answered, "Not that it's any of your business, but no. I just want to tie up some loose ends."
"And that's what I am?" she demanded.
"I don't know what you are," he shot back. "But it's not in my life anymore. Just sign the frakking paper, Kara. You made it clear that our marriage was nothing but a big mistake for you anyway."
"That's not true," she blurted in protest.
He chuckled bitterly. "You said it yourself, you're not the woman I married. And I don't think I'm the Sam you married any more either. So let's cut this last tie and we'll be done."
"Okay, fine." She said the words, but in her chest something tightened into a small knot. "If that's what you want."
"What I want doesn't exist," he snapped. Then he shut his eyes briefly, and inhaled a deliberate breath, controlling his temper again. "I didn't come here to fight with you. If you want time to look it over, that's fine. It's the standard, basic declaration. After you sign it, give it to Sharon; she's supposed to take me back after I see Admiral Adama."
The impersonal tone struck her more than his anger had. She deserved the anger, she knew she did, but feeling like a stranger made her feel cold. "Sam?" she called softly, when he was at the door.
He turned quickly. "Yes?"
"I -- " There was so much she wanted to say to him, and when faced with her chance, she could only manage, "Good luck. You'll make a good president."
His lips tightened and his gaze dropped from hers, as he turned away again. "Thanks. Take care."
The hatch slammed shut behind him, and she looked at the paper in her hand. "The Lords of Kobol decree that the divorce of Samuel Anders, representative of Caprica to the Quorum of Twelve, and Kara Thrace, Captain of the Fleet of the Twelve Colonies..."
The words seemed so somber. So final.
And it was all her fault. She had pushed him away, until he stopped pushing back. He had tried so many times, and she'd ignored him, used him, and worked through her anger on him, all with the assumption he'd still come when she called, until at the end he hadn't.
She remembered the first night on Caprica, when she'd thought he was just one of her casual fraks. But he'd been there after the farm and he'd known what to do. She'd watched him with his people, his casual charm and easy competence reflected back in their loyalty, and that more than anything had wormed a way into her heart. He'd kept fighting, even after she'd left him behind on Caprica and then, when the Cylons had come again.
So why had he given up on her? If he'd only fought a little harder, given her time...
She wrenched that thought out by the roots. No. He wasn't the frak-up here.
Smoothing the paper on the small table at the end of the lockers, she grabbed the nearest pen. But her hand didn't want to move toward the signature line. She doodled on the table instead, wondering what he would do if she asked him to come back. He'd seemed disappointed that she hadn't said something else before he left. Maybe he still loved her, maybe she could say she was sorry, and they could try again and make it work this time...
She shook her head, impatient with herself. That was nothing but nostalgia for the days when he'd made her laugh and they'd made silly plans for a cabin and frakking by the light of the moon. But those days were gone and there was no getting them back. He had moved on, and this time, he had left her behind.
Before she hesitated again, she scrawled her name on the other line, opposite his.
There, it was done. They weren't married any more. He was free to run for president without any dangling threads in his life. She was free, too, just as she'd wanted to be.
She hurled the pen across the room. It clanged against a locker and dropped to the floor.
Then she left to find something to hit.
===============