fic: BSG, From the Mouths of Babes, PG
disclaimer: not mine
characters: Hotdog, Starbuck, Cottle, Athena. References Kara/Sam
length: 3000. rating: PG, language
set: somewhere in the grey areas of Deadlock.
genre: angst, gen
notes: I blame prolix_allie for sparking the idea and palmetto for laughing at me. I'm also very sorry, and would like to stop getting ideas for fic like this.
From the Mouths of Babes
by ALC Punk!
It was Hotdog who noticed the pattern. Sitting in Joe's, he narrowed his eyes and watched the blonde pilot bellied up at the bar.
"Hey," he said, nudging Lockjaw, "You noticed Starbuck lately?"
"Still hot. Even if she might be a Cylon," replied Lockjaw, giving their superior officer a once-over and a leer.
At the bar, Starbuck didn't notice their scrutiny, or more likely, didn't care. Not that Lockjaw had a frakking chance, there, even with her husband in a coma.
Hotdog shook his head, "No, not that. It's the drinking."
"Starbuck drinks like a fish."
"Used to." Turning his glass around and around in his hand, Hotdog nodded at the one in hers, "She's had that shot at least half an hour. She's been doing that a lot. Playing with it, fiddling. Drinking only three or four by the end of the night--even during card games--"
"What the frak, man, you got a crush on the Cylon-lover?"
Lockjaw thought he was being funny. Hotdog shrugged, "No. I just noticed. Y'know? Like you notice the way Paginelli in communications always takes a shower right before you."
"No, that is lust. She wants to frak me."
Hotdog let it drop, figuring it wasn't worth arguing. Besides, it was no skin off his nose if Starbuck wasn't drinking herself into a stupor every night.
-
A few days after the weird conversation in Joe's, Hotdog was jogging through the starboard flight pod. The damage done by the centurions was mostly gone by now, but there were still scratches here and there. The forward area was occupied by Joe's bar, but the rear was where the Chief and marines used it for storage, and most people didn't like going there. Brendan liked the solitude, and so he did his morning run there every day.
The sound of something banging as he neared the unused head drew him to a halt and he stepped inside in time to hear someone empty the contents of their stomach.
Concerned, he walked over to the stall, finding the door still swinging from the violence of passage.
Starbuck was bent over, one hand bracing herself against the wall, back heaving.
For an instant, he thought about backing out and taking off before she noticed him. It could get awkward, after all. Starbuck wasn't exactly polite company at the best of times, and poking her when she was down would just be asking for trouble, or KP duty.
"Gonna stare at my ass all day, Costanza?"
He jumped, "Uh, sir--"
"Get me a wet towel."
The order got him away from her and the sound of the running water almost covered the sound of her retching again. He stayed at the sink until she'd stopped, then went back. "Here."
She didn't thank him, yanking it out of his hands and wiping her face before pressing it to the back of her neck as she straightened. Her eyes closed and she sort of sagged against the wall of the stall, as though it were the only thing holding her up.
"You should see Doc Cottle."
"No point. It's just that flu bug Kreitman had last week."
He gave her a doubtful look, but decided that pressing the issue wasn't worth the pain. "Do you need me to tell the CAG you need the CAP off this afternoon?"
"Frak that. I'll be fine by then, I--" she stopped, glaring at him. "What the frak are you doing here, anyway?"
"I like the quiet."
The simple words made her eyes shift and she closed them, nodding. "Hotdog. Get out of here before I puke on your boots."
"Sir." He spun and headed out. In the corridor, with the door closed, he couldn't hear her. But he was pretty sure she was probably leaning over the toilet again. There was something familiar about her behavior, and he considered the idea for a moment before deciding it was stupid and he was being fantastical.
Still, there'd been that thing with the way she wasn't drinking lately...
-
It sort of became a game after that. Hotdog watched Starbuck off and on for almost a week before he went to Doc Cottle. She barely drank, he'd half-followed her three times to the empty head. And if that was the flu or food-poisoning, it was sticking around something awful. Plus, she was strange and moody--ok, that one was Starbuck, all over, so it really didn't add to the theory he was forming in his head.
Trouble was, trying to tattle on a fellow pilot went against the grain.
Cottle didn't exactly have a lot of patience, though. "Don't got all day, son. Spit it out. Is there something wrong with the baby?"
"No, sir, it's--" now he was there, Brendan really had no idea how to begin. Though the reminder of Cally-- "It's Starbuck."
Something in Cottle's demeanor changed and he glanced towards the corner of the infirmary where Sam Anders still lay, unconscious. "She's got a lot on her plate, son."
"I think she has more, sir." Brendan realized he'd made a mistake, coming to Cottle. He didn't have a say in Starbuck's life, and he was probably wrong. "Uh, never mind. I should go. I need to check on Nicky at day care before--"
Cottle silenced him with a look, "Stop. Take a deep breath, and tell me what the problem is."
Following orders, Brendan opened his mouth. Nothing came out. He shook his head, "I can't do it, sir."
"Then get the frak out of my infirmary, I have patients to see."
"It's just--she's acting like Cally," he blurted. And then he fled, knowing he might have said far too much. After all, it wasn't his responsibility if Starbuck didn't want anyone to know she was sick... or worse.
-
Unfortunately for Starbuck, doctor Cottle wasn't a stupid man. The next time she came to stand by the bedside of her husband, he pulled her aside. "I'd like to run a few blood tests."
"On Sam? What do you need my permission for, Doc, just do 'em."
"No. On you."
She stared at him for a moment, surprised. Then she shrugged, figuring he was just cross-checking her blood for some obscure purpose. "Fine. Whatever." She'd had nearly enough of needles to last her a frakking lifetime, but one or two more wouldn't hurt.
After he pulled two tubes of blood, she went back to standing and staring at Sam, hand wrapped around his. She'd stopped talking a while ago, having run out of things to say. Still, Cottle had told her anything could help. When she could stand to be there, at least. "Flew CAP today. Frakking boring without someone to mouth off at me, Sam."
Luckily, Cottle came to find her before she could ramble for too long or say something truly inane. He pulled her into one of the curtained-off areas and looked at her. "You're pregnant."
Kara looked back at him, eyes calm, "What makes you say that, Doc?"
"Don't try bullshitting me, Starbuck." He sucked on his cigarette for a moment, then shook his head. "You knew."
"I--"
He pointed at her, "You know that flying a viper could be too stressful for your body. Hell, Starbuck, if that baby survives your talent for alcohol--"
"I've stopped," she interrupted him.
"Stopped?"
"Drinking. Mostly." She glanced away from him, "It just...I'm not pregnant."
"You are. And as of two weeks from now, you are grounded."
"Oh, that's great. This crew already thinks I'm useless enough for being married to a Cylon," she snapped. Continuing to deny the truth wasn't going to get her anywhere, and in some ways, it was almost a relief.
"They can frakking deal." He made a rude gesture towards Sam's bed. "Go tell him, then get the frak out of my infirmary."
Kara looked at him for a moment, then asked, "Why two weeks?"
Something almost like discomfort crossed Cottle's face, then he shook his head, "Who's the doctor here, Starbuck?"
Once upon a time, Kara had the feeling she would have had a come-back for that. Something sarcastic and trite, a real zinger. But right now, she was too tired to really care who came out on top. And she had the disturbed suspicion that Cottle was giving her an out should she want to terminate the pregnancy.
But then again, he should have realized that was no longer an option. Looking him in the eye, she said softly, "One week, but only because I don't think Helo can fill the slots in time."
He sucked down a lungful of smoke. "Go tell Anders, Starbuck."
Missing cigarettes almost as much as she did cigars and booze, Kara shook her head, "I've got planes to check on." She was at the door before she glanced back and murmured, "Besides, he already knows."
-
Hotdog was sitting at Joe's when Starbuck dropped down on the stool next to his. He started a little, wondering why she'd chosen to sit next to him. Then he relaxed after she made it clear she was ignoring him and ordered a drink.
Not that he meant to, because he'd given up paying attention, but Brendan noticed how she nursed that shot for at least an hour before ordering another. Even after a week he still felt like he'd tattled on her to Cottle (even if he hadn't really told him anything).
When two of the younger pilots pulled him away to referee their pyramid game, he was almost grateful. Starbuck hadn't said anything (to anyone); she'd just sat there, playing with her bullet. And yet he'd felt as though she were giving him a lecture at the top of her lungs in front ever everyone.
Hotdog eventually packed it in for the night and headed for his rack. It took a little while for him to notice the footsteps following him, and it wasn't until he was most of the way back that he realized they weren't stopping or going away.
So he turned and looked back to find Starbuck following him, hands in her pockets and head down.
"Starbuck?"
Her head came up and she blinked at him. "Hey, Costanza."
She looked tired, dark hollows under her eyes and a set to her shoulders that spoke of nights without sleep. Brendan rolled his shoulders. "You all right?"
"I'm fine. Just fine." She started moving again to go past him.
He would never understand why he reached out and caught her arm, "No, really, Starbuck. You look like shit. Maybe you should see Cottle."
For a moment, she looked at him, eyes blank. Then she laughed. "You told him I was sick, didn't you."
Not a question, but he bristled anyway. "I don't tattle, sir."
"Right." She pulled her arm free of his grasp. "Get some rest, Costanza, you have CAP in the morning."
"I do?" He blinked after her, "It's your go tomorrow, with Lockjaw and Dragon."
"No can do--" with a twirl, she looked at him, eyes a little angry, even at a distance. "I've been grounded, Costanza. Didn't you hear?"
Oh. He stared after her for a moment, then rubbed a hand over his face. He'd been right.
-
"Starbuck."
Grateful for the distraction from the duty roster Helo had dumped on her that morning, Kara looked towards the doorway. Athena stood there, a strange look in her eyes. "What?"
Sauntering into quarters, Athena shrugged, the strange expression turning into something almost like a smirk. "Rumor says you're grounded. You decide to spend more time with the vegetable?"
Coming from anyone else, that would have been an insult. From Athena, one of the few people (never think of her as a Cylon, Kara) who knew her well, it was a joke. Kara still tried not to show how close that was to the truth. "Yeah, well, some of us can't spend all day changing diapers."
"Nah," Sharon dropped into the chair across from her with a sigh, "Newest crop are past that stage. I left Racetrack and Hotdog giving 'em lectures on each piece of equipment on the EC board."
Kara snorted and took a drink of the water at her elbow. She made a face at the taste--the last few days, everything tasted wrong.
"It goes away after about two weeks."
"Huh?" Kara blinked at her.
Sharon leaned forward, voice soft, "The weird after-taste. Takes a little while, but it goes away."
"You're making less sense than the Eights who come fawn over Sammy." Kara informed her dryly. The way they seemed to hold all of the Final Five in esteem was annoying, but she'd had to get used to it. Cottle had asked her if she wanted them barred, but Kara refused to take responsibility for that. Still, she'd made sure Cottle had someone hovering nearby in case any of them tried something hinky.
"And you're pregnant by one of the Final Five, Kara. Maybe I should tell 'em, see if they fawn all over you, too." Settling back in the chair, Athena looked amused as she watched Kara squirm a little.
Telling Athena to frak off was pointless, so Starbuck settled for pointedly glaring down at the roster she was trying to fix.
"I've asked around, you know. Not every pregnancy is the same. Could be you'll be puking for another six months. Could be, you'll be over it in a week." Continuing, as though Kara weren't trying to ignore her, Athena chuckled, "Could be you'll be craving pickles and peanut butter tomorrow. Which means you're screwed."
"Am not," Kara muttered.
"Why, you got a secret stash?"
"Frak yes." It wasn't terribly convincing, but it was all she had. Kara grabbed the glass and made a face once she'd drained it. "You come here to babble at me, or you got a purpose?"
"Just marveling. You know, you are the last person I would have expected to get pregnant--" Athena made a strange sound, "Not to mention keeping it. But you are, and you're grounded."
Kara let the silence speak for herself. She wasn't having this conversation. Not with Karl, not with Athena, and certainly not in a place where anyone wandering by could hear her spilling her guts about a baby she still didn't really want.
The silence just made Athena continue. "I don't know. Maybe it's destiny. Have you ever wondered--"
"Destiny is a lie, Sharon," Kara replied, cutting her off before she could begin. She groaned and rubbed her hands over her face. "Frak."
Sharon's flight suit made squeaky noises as she shifted in the chair. Her voice was amused when she spoke again. "It's not often I feel I've got some sort of upper hand with a human."
"You're enjoying this."
"Yes." Then the amusement faded, "Kara. If there's anything you need to know, just ask, all right?"
Kara finally looked up and met the eyes of the Cylon sitting across from her. There were all sorts of emotions bubbling beneath the surface, and for once, Kara realized she gave a shit about them. She set her pencil down and nodded, "All right." She fiddled with her empty glass, then asked, voice intent and serious, "You ever thought of flying a viper?"
A giggle burst from Sharon, "What the frak for?"
"Well," Kara drawled, "If I'm taking over as mama of the new prophet of Human-Cylon interaction, someone has to take my place in the cockpit."
Shaking her head, Athena sighed. "I--Boomer washed out of viper training."
"Fine." Rubbing a hand over her face, letting her guard drop just a little, Kara said softly, "Sometimes I wake up and I think about what would happen if I walked down and Cottle told me--" She stopped, unable to voice it. Her nightmares were bad enough. The body she burned hers, or Sam's. Sometimes, Leoben's, which scared her almost as much as the others.
"Kara. You had faith in gods like Artemis and Aphrodite, once upon a time. Do you still believe in them now?"
Of all the things Kara had expected from the day, a discussion about faith hadn't been one of them. She shrugged, "I don't know. Do you still believe in your god?" It was a lie, of course. Even now, after all that had happened, she couldn't shake the faith she'd had since childhood, when curling around herself and whispering prayers had been the only thing that made sense.
"I guess I do. I don't know why, but some part of me wants to believe there is more than this. That we are more than human and cylon," Athena paused and shook her head, half-smiling, "I don't know why, but I sometimes think that God meant for all of this to happen. That there is a purpose."
"You have faith."
"Don't you?"
They studied each other for a moment, and Kara was the one to drop her eyes first. She picked up her pencil. "I need to finish these."
"Give me half."
Kara wasn't above foisting paperwork off onto other people. Even if there was something vaguely strange about working on duty rosters with a cylon. But then again, there were Cylons flying CAP these days, so what did she know about normal?
-f-
characters: Hotdog, Starbuck, Cottle, Athena. References Kara/Sam
length: 3000. rating: PG, language
set: somewhere in the grey areas of Deadlock.
genre: angst, gen
notes: I blame prolix_allie for sparking the idea and palmetto for laughing at me. I'm also very sorry, and would like to stop getting ideas for fic like this.
From the Mouths of Babes
by ALC Punk!
It was Hotdog who noticed the pattern. Sitting in Joe's, he narrowed his eyes and watched the blonde pilot bellied up at the bar.
"Hey," he said, nudging Lockjaw, "You noticed Starbuck lately?"
"Still hot. Even if she might be a Cylon," replied Lockjaw, giving their superior officer a once-over and a leer.
At the bar, Starbuck didn't notice their scrutiny, or more likely, didn't care. Not that Lockjaw had a frakking chance, there, even with her husband in a coma.
Hotdog shook his head, "No, not that. It's the drinking."
"Starbuck drinks like a fish."
"Used to." Turning his glass around and around in his hand, Hotdog nodded at the one in hers, "She's had that shot at least half an hour. She's been doing that a lot. Playing with it, fiddling. Drinking only three or four by the end of the night--even during card games--"
"What the frak, man, you got a crush on the Cylon-lover?"
Lockjaw thought he was being funny. Hotdog shrugged, "No. I just noticed. Y'know? Like you notice the way Paginelli in communications always takes a shower right before you."
"No, that is lust. She wants to frak me."
Hotdog let it drop, figuring it wasn't worth arguing. Besides, it was no skin off his nose if Starbuck wasn't drinking herself into a stupor every night.
-
A few days after the weird conversation in Joe's, Hotdog was jogging through the starboard flight pod. The damage done by the centurions was mostly gone by now, but there were still scratches here and there. The forward area was occupied by Joe's bar, but the rear was where the Chief and marines used it for storage, and most people didn't like going there. Brendan liked the solitude, and so he did his morning run there every day.
The sound of something banging as he neared the unused head drew him to a halt and he stepped inside in time to hear someone empty the contents of their stomach.
Concerned, he walked over to the stall, finding the door still swinging from the violence of passage.
Starbuck was bent over, one hand bracing herself against the wall, back heaving.
For an instant, he thought about backing out and taking off before she noticed him. It could get awkward, after all. Starbuck wasn't exactly polite company at the best of times, and poking her when she was down would just be asking for trouble, or KP duty.
"Gonna stare at my ass all day, Costanza?"
He jumped, "Uh, sir--"
"Get me a wet towel."
The order got him away from her and the sound of the running water almost covered the sound of her retching again. He stayed at the sink until she'd stopped, then went back. "Here."
She didn't thank him, yanking it out of his hands and wiping her face before pressing it to the back of her neck as she straightened. Her eyes closed and she sort of sagged against the wall of the stall, as though it were the only thing holding her up.
"You should see Doc Cottle."
"No point. It's just that flu bug Kreitman had last week."
He gave her a doubtful look, but decided that pressing the issue wasn't worth the pain. "Do you need me to tell the CAG you need the CAP off this afternoon?"
"Frak that. I'll be fine by then, I--" she stopped, glaring at him. "What the frak are you doing here, anyway?"
"I like the quiet."
The simple words made her eyes shift and she closed them, nodding. "Hotdog. Get out of here before I puke on your boots."
"Sir." He spun and headed out. In the corridor, with the door closed, he couldn't hear her. But he was pretty sure she was probably leaning over the toilet again. There was something familiar about her behavior, and he considered the idea for a moment before deciding it was stupid and he was being fantastical.
Still, there'd been that thing with the way she wasn't drinking lately...
-
It sort of became a game after that. Hotdog watched Starbuck off and on for almost a week before he went to Doc Cottle. She barely drank, he'd half-followed her three times to the empty head. And if that was the flu or food-poisoning, it was sticking around something awful. Plus, she was strange and moody--ok, that one was Starbuck, all over, so it really didn't add to the theory he was forming in his head.
Trouble was, trying to tattle on a fellow pilot went against the grain.
Cottle didn't exactly have a lot of patience, though. "Don't got all day, son. Spit it out. Is there something wrong with the baby?"
"No, sir, it's--" now he was there, Brendan really had no idea how to begin. Though the reminder of Cally-- "It's Starbuck."
Something in Cottle's demeanor changed and he glanced towards the corner of the infirmary where Sam Anders still lay, unconscious. "She's got a lot on her plate, son."
"I think she has more, sir." Brendan realized he'd made a mistake, coming to Cottle. He didn't have a say in Starbuck's life, and he was probably wrong. "Uh, never mind. I should go. I need to check on Nicky at day care before--"
Cottle silenced him with a look, "Stop. Take a deep breath, and tell me what the problem is."
Following orders, Brendan opened his mouth. Nothing came out. He shook his head, "I can't do it, sir."
"Then get the frak out of my infirmary, I have patients to see."
"It's just--she's acting like Cally," he blurted. And then he fled, knowing he might have said far too much. After all, it wasn't his responsibility if Starbuck didn't want anyone to know she was sick... or worse.
-
Unfortunately for Starbuck, doctor Cottle wasn't a stupid man. The next time she came to stand by the bedside of her husband, he pulled her aside. "I'd like to run a few blood tests."
"On Sam? What do you need my permission for, Doc, just do 'em."
"No. On you."
She stared at him for a moment, surprised. Then she shrugged, figuring he was just cross-checking her blood for some obscure purpose. "Fine. Whatever." She'd had nearly enough of needles to last her a frakking lifetime, but one or two more wouldn't hurt.
After he pulled two tubes of blood, she went back to standing and staring at Sam, hand wrapped around his. She'd stopped talking a while ago, having run out of things to say. Still, Cottle had told her anything could help. When she could stand to be there, at least. "Flew CAP today. Frakking boring without someone to mouth off at me, Sam."
Luckily, Cottle came to find her before she could ramble for too long or say something truly inane. He pulled her into one of the curtained-off areas and looked at her. "You're pregnant."
Kara looked back at him, eyes calm, "What makes you say that, Doc?"
"Don't try bullshitting me, Starbuck." He sucked on his cigarette for a moment, then shook his head. "You knew."
"I--"
He pointed at her, "You know that flying a viper could be too stressful for your body. Hell, Starbuck, if that baby survives your talent for alcohol--"
"I've stopped," she interrupted him.
"Stopped?"
"Drinking. Mostly." She glanced away from him, "It just...I'm not pregnant."
"You are. And as of two weeks from now, you are grounded."
"Oh, that's great. This crew already thinks I'm useless enough for being married to a Cylon," she snapped. Continuing to deny the truth wasn't going to get her anywhere, and in some ways, it was almost a relief.
"They can frakking deal." He made a rude gesture towards Sam's bed. "Go tell him, then get the frak out of my infirmary."
Kara looked at him for a moment, then asked, "Why two weeks?"
Something almost like discomfort crossed Cottle's face, then he shook his head, "Who's the doctor here, Starbuck?"
Once upon a time, Kara had the feeling she would have had a come-back for that. Something sarcastic and trite, a real zinger. But right now, she was too tired to really care who came out on top. And she had the disturbed suspicion that Cottle was giving her an out should she want to terminate the pregnancy.
But then again, he should have realized that was no longer an option. Looking him in the eye, she said softly, "One week, but only because I don't think Helo can fill the slots in time."
He sucked down a lungful of smoke. "Go tell Anders, Starbuck."
Missing cigarettes almost as much as she did cigars and booze, Kara shook her head, "I've got planes to check on." She was at the door before she glanced back and murmured, "Besides, he already knows."
-
Hotdog was sitting at Joe's when Starbuck dropped down on the stool next to his. He started a little, wondering why she'd chosen to sit next to him. Then he relaxed after she made it clear she was ignoring him and ordered a drink.
Not that he meant to, because he'd given up paying attention, but Brendan noticed how she nursed that shot for at least an hour before ordering another. Even after a week he still felt like he'd tattled on her to Cottle (even if he hadn't really told him anything).
When two of the younger pilots pulled him away to referee their pyramid game, he was almost grateful. Starbuck hadn't said anything (to anyone); she'd just sat there, playing with her bullet. And yet he'd felt as though she were giving him a lecture at the top of her lungs in front ever everyone.
Hotdog eventually packed it in for the night and headed for his rack. It took a little while for him to notice the footsteps following him, and it wasn't until he was most of the way back that he realized they weren't stopping or going away.
So he turned and looked back to find Starbuck following him, hands in her pockets and head down.
"Starbuck?"
Her head came up and she blinked at him. "Hey, Costanza."
She looked tired, dark hollows under her eyes and a set to her shoulders that spoke of nights without sleep. Brendan rolled his shoulders. "You all right?"
"I'm fine. Just fine." She started moving again to go past him.
He would never understand why he reached out and caught her arm, "No, really, Starbuck. You look like shit. Maybe you should see Cottle."
For a moment, she looked at him, eyes blank. Then she laughed. "You told him I was sick, didn't you."
Not a question, but he bristled anyway. "I don't tattle, sir."
"Right." She pulled her arm free of his grasp. "Get some rest, Costanza, you have CAP in the morning."
"I do?" He blinked after her, "It's your go tomorrow, with Lockjaw and Dragon."
"No can do--" with a twirl, she looked at him, eyes a little angry, even at a distance. "I've been grounded, Costanza. Didn't you hear?"
Oh. He stared after her for a moment, then rubbed a hand over his face. He'd been right.
-
"Starbuck."
Grateful for the distraction from the duty roster Helo had dumped on her that morning, Kara looked towards the doorway. Athena stood there, a strange look in her eyes. "What?"
Sauntering into quarters, Athena shrugged, the strange expression turning into something almost like a smirk. "Rumor says you're grounded. You decide to spend more time with the vegetable?"
Coming from anyone else, that would have been an insult. From Athena, one of the few people (never think of her as a Cylon, Kara) who knew her well, it was a joke. Kara still tried not to show how close that was to the truth. "Yeah, well, some of us can't spend all day changing diapers."
"Nah," Sharon dropped into the chair across from her with a sigh, "Newest crop are past that stage. I left Racetrack and Hotdog giving 'em lectures on each piece of equipment on the EC board."
Kara snorted and took a drink of the water at her elbow. She made a face at the taste--the last few days, everything tasted wrong.
"It goes away after about two weeks."
"Huh?" Kara blinked at her.
Sharon leaned forward, voice soft, "The weird after-taste. Takes a little while, but it goes away."
"You're making less sense than the Eights who come fawn over Sammy." Kara informed her dryly. The way they seemed to hold all of the Final Five in esteem was annoying, but she'd had to get used to it. Cottle had asked her if she wanted them barred, but Kara refused to take responsibility for that. Still, she'd made sure Cottle had someone hovering nearby in case any of them tried something hinky.
"And you're pregnant by one of the Final Five, Kara. Maybe I should tell 'em, see if they fawn all over you, too." Settling back in the chair, Athena looked amused as she watched Kara squirm a little.
Telling Athena to frak off was pointless, so Starbuck settled for pointedly glaring down at the roster she was trying to fix.
"I've asked around, you know. Not every pregnancy is the same. Could be you'll be puking for another six months. Could be, you'll be over it in a week." Continuing, as though Kara weren't trying to ignore her, Athena chuckled, "Could be you'll be craving pickles and peanut butter tomorrow. Which means you're screwed."
"Am not," Kara muttered.
"Why, you got a secret stash?"
"Frak yes." It wasn't terribly convincing, but it was all she had. Kara grabbed the glass and made a face once she'd drained it. "You come here to babble at me, or you got a purpose?"
"Just marveling. You know, you are the last person I would have expected to get pregnant--" Athena made a strange sound, "Not to mention keeping it. But you are, and you're grounded."
Kara let the silence speak for herself. She wasn't having this conversation. Not with Karl, not with Athena, and certainly not in a place where anyone wandering by could hear her spilling her guts about a baby she still didn't really want.
The silence just made Athena continue. "I don't know. Maybe it's destiny. Have you ever wondered--"
"Destiny is a lie, Sharon," Kara replied, cutting her off before she could begin. She groaned and rubbed her hands over her face. "Frak."
Sharon's flight suit made squeaky noises as she shifted in the chair. Her voice was amused when she spoke again. "It's not often I feel I've got some sort of upper hand with a human."
"You're enjoying this."
"Yes." Then the amusement faded, "Kara. If there's anything you need to know, just ask, all right?"
Kara finally looked up and met the eyes of the Cylon sitting across from her. There were all sorts of emotions bubbling beneath the surface, and for once, Kara realized she gave a shit about them. She set her pencil down and nodded, "All right." She fiddled with her empty glass, then asked, voice intent and serious, "You ever thought of flying a viper?"
A giggle burst from Sharon, "What the frak for?"
"Well," Kara drawled, "If I'm taking over as mama of the new prophet of Human-Cylon interaction, someone has to take my place in the cockpit."
Shaking her head, Athena sighed. "I--Boomer washed out of viper training."
"Fine." Rubbing a hand over her face, letting her guard drop just a little, Kara said softly, "Sometimes I wake up and I think about what would happen if I walked down and Cottle told me--" She stopped, unable to voice it. Her nightmares were bad enough. The body she burned hers, or Sam's. Sometimes, Leoben's, which scared her almost as much as the others.
"Kara. You had faith in gods like Artemis and Aphrodite, once upon a time. Do you still believe in them now?"
Of all the things Kara had expected from the day, a discussion about faith hadn't been one of them. She shrugged, "I don't know. Do you still believe in your god?" It was a lie, of course. Even now, after all that had happened, she couldn't shake the faith she'd had since childhood, when curling around herself and whispering prayers had been the only thing that made sense.
"I guess I do. I don't know why, but some part of me wants to believe there is more than this. That we are more than human and cylon," Athena paused and shook her head, half-smiling, "I don't know why, but I sometimes think that God meant for all of this to happen. That there is a purpose."
"You have faith."
"Don't you?"
They studied each other for a moment, and Kara was the one to drop her eyes first. She picked up her pencil. "I need to finish these."
"Give me half."
Kara wasn't above foisting paperwork off onto other people. Even if there was something vaguely strange about working on duty rosters with a cylon. But then again, there were Cylons flying CAP these days, so what did she know about normal?
-f-