Limn, written for the Kindreds Objectify Sharon Ficathon
Limn
By: rebelliousrose
Rated PG-13
Words- 990
Written for Kindreds “Objectify Sharon” Ficathon
Author’s note- Limn: to illuminate.
Big thanks to my betas, mamaboolj and sabaceanbabe
Sharon wasn’t used to the idea of people knocking before they came into her cell. Before the discovery of New Caprica, the only person who ever knocked was Helo, on the windows to catch her attention when he came to visit. Even after the Admiral’s apology when the Pegasus men assaulted her, he never knocked, just walked in with a marine guard. Starbuck never knocked on anything, anywhere, since barging in was part of her persona. So when the tentative knock sounded on the cell wall, Sharon jumped.
She’d been sitting in the new chair, at the new table, going over the photographs of the Cylon fleet that had been shot in the Blackbird before Lee Adama crashed it. No one seemed to comprehend that she honestly had no knowledge or experience with a resurrection ship, and had no way of finding out without alerting the other Cylon to her location. Not that “in Galactica’s special Cylon storage” was going to help any of the rest of her people mount a rescue, anyway. Or that they would try to rescue her. She was a liability. The Cylon lived by the group, and she was a renegade- a reject. Her programming was flawed, and if she returned, she’d be boxed. She was boxed now, just in a different way.
Outside the window, Lieutenant Gaeta waited politely for her to respond to his knock. He held more files, and in his other hand, he awkardly held a Tylium lantern. She rose to her feet, and crossed to the door. He smiled tentatively and mouthed “May I come in?” through the window. Sharon nodded, and only then did he indicate to the waiting guard to unlock the cell’s big door.
Sharon took the lamp as he entered the cell. Placing his files on the table, he took the lamp from her and showed her how to turn it on. With typical Gaeta efficiency, it was battery powered, since the cell had no outlets. With his face illuminated by the softer light, he looked very young, much like the man Sharon remembered dancing with on Colonial Day, in her red dress.
“Is the table helping?” Gaeta asked her, holding out the chair so she could sit. Such courtesies were automatic to him, and a luxury to her.
“Yes. Tell the Admiral thank you.” A hurt look flashed across his face, and Sharon noticed. “Was the table from you?”
A flush showed on his high cheekbones. “I thought you’d have an easier time working, with something to work on. And now you can see, too.”
“I still can’t tell you about the ship, Lieutenant. I really don’t know.”
“I know, Sharon.” He was comfortable with her name, Felix Gaeta was. He always had been, even as she prepared to cut into her own flesh and link Galactica with her neural pathways. She was Sharon to him, even as the former Sharon had been. Not an alien, but almost a person. Someone he was willing to treat like he treated other humans. For him, she’d answer questions, if she could.
“He’s doing fine.” Gaeta answered questions, too, the ones she couldn’t and wouldn’t ask, about Helo, and the Chief, and Galactica. Helo was taking Gaeta’s place in CIC as Tactical Officer. Lieutenant Gaeta was mustering out and going down to the surface to assist President Baltar. Helo was a Captain now, and Chief and Cally were going to have a baby. And Sharon sat in a cell.
She couldn’t help the anger. It was part of her, along with the wrenching emptiness where Hera had been, and the silence that had been her link to the other Cylon. She still could hardly talk to Helo. Most of the time he didn’t even try, just stood outside the cell and watched. His loyalty infuriated her. He was like a big dog, kicked and starved and abused, but unable to believe that people were bad. She hated him.
“Sharon?” Gaeta had said something and she had missed it, caught up in her own emotional abyss. She brought her eyes around to him and he flinched, something he had never done before. God only knew what he could see in her face. “I’ll leave the files here, and you can look at them.”
She nodded silently, letting the rage flare to life in her eyes. No matter who he was, or how kind he was, he was still human. She hated him too. Hated them all. Hated herself more.
“I sorted the personnel records for the New Capricans. Found a lot of old service jackets, too.” The Lieutenant turned to leave. Sharon sat, immobile, glaring at his back. “I appreciate your help. I know it must be difficult.”
The files slammed to the floor in an explosion of crop-edged paper. A flash of color caught Sharon’s attention as the papers drifted to the floor. Helo looked up at her, smiling. His face was clear and untroubled, without the line between his brows that appeared when he watched her. He wore Captain’s pins and piping, and his gentle, steady eyes stared into hers with that tender expression that said he was thinking about only her. She knew that look, both from her memories and Sharon’s. Something broke her then, something huge and inexorable, undeniable. Her angry heart cracked open under a wave of grief and love.
Sharon went to her knees, caught up in Helo’s face the same way she had been on Caprica when they had first kissed as themselves, not as Helo and Sharon. Wonderingly, she raised her eyes to Gaeta. He was watching her, and with a crisp nod, he followed the marine out of the cell. Sharon returned her eyes to Helo’s paper gaze, allowing herself to be lost again, and found.