BSG fic: Contact
Fandom: Battlestar Galactica
Title: Fragments
Episode: 1x01 - "33"
Character/s: Billy, Roslin
Summary: "Fragments" will be a series of 'missing moment'-style ficlets set throughout the episodes.
Disclaimer: I've only recently started watching, and I'm only up to 2x02 so far. Therefore, a) there are probably glaring errors, and b) I may have picked up fanon things without realising. Both these things are annoying, so please let me know about them. Unless it's like, "actually, mirandabeth, so-and-so's a Cylon", because I figure I've probably still got one or two surprises ahead of me (in spite of all the fic I've read) and I'd sort of like to keep it that way if I can.
Fragment 1: Contact
It's odd how quickly life takes on a new shape. The parameters of "normal" shift. Like Billy's first day at work. He'd been so nervous before, and it was strange for a while, but by the second day it was just what he did.
But, still.
It's the paper cup that starts it. It's twenty-eight minutes into the cycle, and he's just taken the last mouthful of coffee - they all need it, staying awake is not as exciting as he'd thought, not so long ago when he had a curfew - and while he's of course going to reuse it, the empty cup still dimly makes him think of trash. And then he remembers that it was waste collection day when he left for work, but he forgot about it, again. And it's not like his roommate Rob ever remembers, which means it'll have to wait another week, and there's always too much by then, and he smiles slightly because he knows exactly what his mother will say if he tells her, because she's said it so many times before, he can't look after himself, she never wanted him to move out of home in the first place-
And then it hits him, so hard he can feel it, and hear it like a roaring in his ears, and he can't see properly.
Because there is no waste collection any more. And it doesn't matter if Rob forgot too, because Rob is dead. And his mother won't say those words to him ever again, ever. He won't evade her questions about how well he's eating and won't roll his eyes at the way she doesn't want to let go of him just because he's the youngest. Not ever again.
"Billy?"
He realises he's still staring blankly into his cup, and forces his eyes up to the President's face. His face feels hot and his throat is sore.
"You were saying?" she prompts gently.
He tries to speak, he really does, because he can hardly explain that whatever-it-was-that-was-so-urgent-this-time has been driven out of his head by a paper cup. He glances down at the document in front of him, but the lines blur together and gods, he wants to be home.
She reaches out suddenly and takes his hand, her eyes locked on his, and it makes him draw in his breath in a great gasp, and he holds his breath as if he can push everything back down inside, and clings to her hand as if it's an anchor and he's in a storm.
And he thinks that maybe he doesn't have to explain after all.
"Two minutes," the voice says, and draws him back.
She's giving him a small, sad smile, and he should be embarrassed, but he isn't. He lets out his breath, slowly, loosening his grip on her hand and feeling some of the tension drain from him.
They jump. The cycle begins again. He lets the new reality settle back around him.
The difference this time is that he feels the memory of her hand pressing his.
Fragment 2
Title: Fragments
Episode: 1x01 - "33"
Character/s: Billy, Roslin
Summary: "Fragments" will be a series of 'missing moment'-style ficlets set throughout the episodes.
Disclaimer: I've only recently started watching, and I'm only up to 2x02 so far. Therefore, a) there are probably glaring errors, and b) I may have picked up fanon things without realising. Both these things are annoying, so please let me know about them. Unless it's like, "actually, mirandabeth, so-and-so's a Cylon", because I figure I've probably still got one or two surprises ahead of me (in spite of all the fic I've read) and I'd sort of like to keep it that way if I can.
Fragment 1: Contact
It's odd how quickly life takes on a new shape. The parameters of "normal" shift. Like Billy's first day at work. He'd been so nervous before, and it was strange for a while, but by the second day it was just what he did.
But, still.
It's the paper cup that starts it. It's twenty-eight minutes into the cycle, and he's just taken the last mouthful of coffee - they all need it, staying awake is not as exciting as he'd thought, not so long ago when he had a curfew - and while he's of course going to reuse it, the empty cup still dimly makes him think of trash. And then he remembers that it was waste collection day when he left for work, but he forgot about it, again. And it's not like his roommate Rob ever remembers, which means it'll have to wait another week, and there's always too much by then, and he smiles slightly because he knows exactly what his mother will say if he tells her, because she's said it so many times before, he can't look after himself, she never wanted him to move out of home in the first place-
And then it hits him, so hard he can feel it, and hear it like a roaring in his ears, and he can't see properly.
Because there is no waste collection any more. And it doesn't matter if Rob forgot too, because Rob is dead. And his mother won't say those words to him ever again, ever. He won't evade her questions about how well he's eating and won't roll his eyes at the way she doesn't want to let go of him just because he's the youngest. Not ever again.
"Billy?"
He realises he's still staring blankly into his cup, and forces his eyes up to the President's face. His face feels hot and his throat is sore.
"You were saying?" she prompts gently.
He tries to speak, he really does, because he can hardly explain that whatever-it-was-that-was-so-urgent-this-time has been driven out of his head by a paper cup. He glances down at the document in front of him, but the lines blur together and gods, he wants to be home.
She reaches out suddenly and takes his hand, her eyes locked on his, and it makes him draw in his breath in a great gasp, and he holds his breath as if he can push everything back down inside, and clings to her hand as if it's an anchor and he's in a storm.
And he thinks that maybe he doesn't have to explain after all.
"Two minutes," the voice says, and draws him back.
She's giving him a small, sad smile, and he should be embarrassed, but he isn't. He lets out his breath, slowly, loosening his grip on her hand and feeling some of the tension drain from him.
They jump. The cycle begins again. He lets the new reality settle back around him.
The difference this time is that he feels the memory of her hand pressing his.
Fragment 2