BSG Fic - You Could Be Happy Part 2
Title: You Could Be Happy Part 2
Author: redknightalex
Pairing: Cain/Gina
Word Count: 5,783
Rating: PG-13
Summary: In a world where Gina isn't revealed as a Cylon when Pegasus meets Galactica, Admiral Cain has to deal with the consequences of governing the rest of humanity in her own unique fashion.
Disclaimer, warnings, and long author's note can be found at the beginning to Parts 0+1
Much Smaller Author's Note: This chapter took me pretty much all of the past two days and I'm certainly hoping future chapters won't be this hard. I've dealt with most of the back story and what's been changed. A lot of ground was covered in the process. I'm still not sure how it went from a 2,000 word chapter to almost 6,000...I just kept writing.
I'm pretty sure there are grammar mistakes and other editing problems. It's quarter past one on the US East Coast so I'm sure in the light of day I'll smack my head and wonder why I needed to post so late at night (or so early in the morning).
Overall, just enjoy. I probably won't get another chapter out for another few weeks. Between now and then I've got life (yuck) to deal with. Sigh. Oh well. Thankfully most of the next five or so chapters have already been planned out, more or less.
Chapter 2
Cain broke open the bottle of brandy Commander Adama had given to her right before she left Galactica. It was wonderful stuff and she greatly appreciated the gesture. It helped to quell the anxiety bubbling up within her as the more she thought about combining the fleets the more apprehensive she got. Ships were like families and, sometimes, mashing two families together didn't work out the way one would imagine. In the next few days she would have to go over the ships manifests, logs, and reports to determine who would work well in the two vastly different environments of either Pegasus or Galactica. She already had in mind a few of her own personnel that didn't thrive under her constant vigilance and demands and just might function more efficiently under the more lax control of Adama.
She understood that one approach to a solution, even her own approach, may not be what works best for everyone. Now, whether or not she acted upon it and helped others out with their problem (for she would have no issue following her own mandates) is, in large part, the product of living with another person.
Holding the two glasses of brandy in one hand she sneaked back under the covers. Gina relieved her of a glass, sniffed the liquid, and made a face.
“I can't believe you drink this stuff, it's horribly strong.”
Cain chuckled. “It took me years to really acquire a taste. My superiors loved to hand the stuff out at any opportunity. It was rather taboo not to drink.”
They clinked glasses before taking a sip. Gina made another, more annoyed and abhorrent look than before as she tasted the liquid.
“Ugh,” she groaned, “one sip is certainly enough for me, thank you.”
Cain gave her a smile, took the offered glass back, took another sip, and placed them both on her book stand. “That's alright, more for me to enjoy.”
She laid down on her back and pulled Gina close, directing the honeyed head to lay upon her shoulder. When their naked bodies touched once more she shivered slightly while Gina make a tiny noise of approval.
Cain always liked holding Gina this way. There was no other feeling on the ship quite like it. She could smell that incredibly intoxicating hair, let it move through her fingers, and feel the whole of the other's body while still keeping a part of herself private. She could stare at the ceiling and think if she needed to while still remain connected to Gina. To Cain, it was the best of both the private her and the increasingly demanded open her she had with Gina.
And Gina was demanding, at least emotionally. She continually challenged Cain to open up, to let go, to identify everything that she was feeling. Was she angry at the pilots? Was she frustrated? At just the pilots or at herself as well? Most of the time, Cain found, she was mad at herself. Somehow she decided to shoulder everyone's responsibilities and failures, taking each small fault of each of her subordinates personally. Even if this drove her and her ship to new heights of perfectionism it strained her to breaking. Then, at the end of the day, she came home and let her companion pick up the pieces. Of course, each time Gina had to rearrange them, making them fit into places they had never fit into before. At times it was more strenuous doing the rearranging than the actual breaking.
It scared Cain to no end that she was frequently equating home with Gina, that the two were the same. Whenever she got back from a tough shift Gina was always there. She'd get off her computer, give the admiral a hug, and officially welcome Helena back.
She traced her fingers along Gina's arm sprawled across her stomach. The skin was soft under her finger tips and, if she did it just right, goosebumps would form and a low groan of approval heard.
When Cain really, truly, honestly thought about it, everything seemed to change after the attack on the communications relay over a month ago. She suddenly felt the weight of all the dead on her shoulders, of Gina's disapproving eyes upon learning the fate of her executive officer. It was hard to look at her and see the sadness revealed in those expressive eyes. But she couldn't look back now, she could only charge forward.
There were other consequences of the attack, the most important one being that Gina had changed. She became more attuned to Cain, as if Cain was the only thing worthy of her attention, the only thing she could ever focus on. Their relationship, which was working just fine before, seemed to have a deeper meaning to it, that it was suddenly more than it had been just a few days ago. In some ways this new attention from Gina unnerved Cain. For a week Cain didn't know what to think, how to act. She wanted to know what had changed in Gina, what had suddenly made her more dependent, until she realized she didn't care. Once she got over her initial distaste she found she enjoyed it, the greater intimacy this new relationship seemed to bring.
Could Cain feel her walls crumbling? Did it happen in one sure moment? Or was it gradual? Did Gina just have to smile and take Cain's hand to make the admiral disappear and the woman underneath it to appear?
And, more importantly, when did she stop caring? When did Cain no longer worry about putting on the face in front of Gina? When had being soft stopped feeling like such a bad thing? When had she become so vulnerable? When did it cease to matter?
Lt. Shaw also became more interested in Cain's personal life after the attack, which irritated her. Her officers didn't need to know about her personal affairs and, even if she was more inclined to let Shaw in than anyone else, she still didn't find a need for it. It had nothing to do with the normal operations of the ship. Even so, she didn't mind that Gina and Shaw would routinely work on the network programming together, the two worked well as a pair. There were a few times when Gina seemed more stressed out after their sessions, to a point where she was edging on the paranoia that seemed to creep up every so often in her dealings with Shaw. After a couple times of trying to deal with Gina's anxious mood, Cain got fed up and went directly to her officer the next morning.
She told Shaw, in no uncertain terms, that she needed to lay off on whatever it was she was doing to Gina that scared the woman so. Shaw had glanced up from her breakfast, looking Cain over, as if to find the answers written in her commanding officer's stance, her attitude. The admiral grew uncomfortable under such scrutiny, something she hadn't felt since her last board examination, but she needed an answer from this lieutenant and would put up with whatever it was that Shaw needed to do, as unorthodox as it may seem, to get it.
Time seemed to slow as admiral and lieutenant read each other's face. What was to be found in each pair of eyes, in each firm jaw? When had Shaw become so independent, so interested in the admiral?
Cain was starting to question what Shaw's real motives were when Shaw replied, “Yes, sir,” and the discussion had ended.
During this time of turmoil Pegasus found the fifteen civilian ships floating in space. Cain asked for ship manifests and inventory reports from each ship. That day she placed them on the table in front of her and felt torn. She needed some of the people on board those ships, some with specialties that Pegasus was in dire need of, and their supplies were equally as important to repairing the Vipers and Raptors sitting dead in the hanger, except she couldn't take on fifteen ships that would just follow her, bogging her down. She need to loose that dead weight. To make matters worse, there were families on those ships, with innocent children that had never been asked if they wanted to be in this position.
Cain grew frustrated and slammed her fist on the sturdy glass. No one asked to be placed in this position, how were children any different? They just had to survive.
She reached into her pocket and found that familiar object she always kept there.
She survived.
Of course in the end it doesn't matter, couldn't matter, the Cylons would find all of them eventually and their pitiful existence as a human race would end. Why delay the inevitable? Sometimes she wondered.
Then Gina walked into Cain's world, into her thoughts, into her tactical decisions, and asked, politely, “what is it you're working on?”
Cain glanced from Gina to her reports and back again. Her decision became suddenly clear.
In three quick, sure steps she stood in front of Gina and grabbed her hands. She played with them, caressed them, feeling the small cuts and rough patches on the otherwise tender skin from working on the terminals in the CIC. She stared at those hands for a long, hard time, trying to form the words from the thoughts now screaming in her head.
And Gina, gods bless her, stayed quiet.
“Gina, I-” Cain faltered, the words getting stuck in her dry throat. “I can't loose you. I,” she glanced up, finding confused eyes, “I just can't.”
Gina smiled. “Then you won't. I'm not going anywhere. Where would I go?”
“No,” Cain shook her head. Why was it so hard to get these stupid words out? They were just words after all. “I meant-”
The room was suddenly filled with silence, with absolute clarity, as Gina pressed a knowing kiss against Cain's lips.
And Cain lost all her focus, all her determination when she felt those lips press sweetly against hers. She could feel herself shattering into multiple directions, some skittering all the way to the farthest corners of her quarters. Was Gina tasting the unsaid words, the unfelt emotions laying wait on her lips? Could Gina taste the fear, the uncertainty left there? Could Gina tell that Cain was at her own tipping point? Was this Cain's moment of change?
Cain didn't think so, hoped it wasn't while at the same time daring it to be.
Then she felt a warm, wet tongue flirt across her lips, hands moving to cup her face, and she could feel all those pieces rush back into place. Like sharp pieces of glass they drove into her, cutting her, making her gasp. And with that gasp a honey-sweetened tongue came waltzing in.
Thus they kissed, deeply, passionately, with Cain trying hard to understand all the things she felt at once.
She could feel a kiss, a tongue, a hand, a body. It lulled her gently with a Siren's song.
She could feel the heavy weight in her pocket. It kept her tied like a rope, a mast, chaining her to one spot as such sweet music was played against her mouth, her body.
Cain couldn't decided which one demanded more attention, which one needed her more. Nor could she decided which one she wanted, needed. Couldn't she have both?
With a last, gentle nip to Cain's lower lip, Gina pulled away only far enough to touch foreheads. Her eyes sparkled with a deep happiness. It made Cain's heart beat faster.
“I know,” Gina whispered. “I couldn't bear to loose you either.”
Could Cain really resist the smile that sprang up, unbidden, from Gina's face? Or suppress the glow that seemed to spread between them, connecting them, uniting them in one single emotion, one thought?It brought her reserves down, broke her defense, and all that was left of Cain was a raw side she couldn't remember ever feeling, ever knowing.
So what else could Cain do but speak with her heart?
Cain closed her eyes, gathered up her courage, and breathed out in one long exhale, “would you move in with me?”
She opened her eyes just as Gina pulled back, eyebrows razed to the ceiling.
Cain panicked, the sense of peace pushed aside. Frak, did she really just say that? Why must she loose so many higher brain functions when she stood so close to this woman? First she had lost all forms of speech but now too the total cognition of what she actually said? Dangerous.
“I mean, would you relocate to my quarters, so that we can accommodate more people? Your current quarters is rather spacious and when you spend all your nights with me anyway it just makes the most sense.”
Gina's eyebrows didn't move. “Relocate?”
“Yes, relocate.”
After a moment's hesitation the eyebrows returned to their normal, less intimidating position as eyes rolled. “Whatever you need to tell yourself at night, Helena, but I swear that sometimes you just make things more difficult on yourself.”
“Is that a yes then?”
“No, it's not a yes. It's an 'of course.'”
The peace, the sense of well-being, returned in full-force to Cain, who only smiled. A hug and several kisses later, Gina took to her quarters to retrieve her belongings.
It was settled.
The next day Cain issued several orders.
First, all civilians were to move from their ships to assigned quarters on Pegasus. It would be tight, it would be uncomfortable, but complaints were not allowed. If they didn't like it an airlock would be provided.
Second, all ships were to be searched for goods that would help the Pegasus in her fight against the Cylons. Everything from FTL drives to food to scraps of metal were included in the list and brought aboard.
Third, each ship would, in a matter of days, be stripped down to the outer hull for repair parts. Crews would work overtime to get this done and civilians with proper training would assist. Cain wanted to leave nothing but skeletons hovering in dead space for the enemy to find.
Four, the civilians needed to understand that this was a battlestar operating in a time of war. She was the commanding officer and her word was the end of the line. All they needed to know was that her word was divine, there was no higher authority than her. And, most importantly, she held their lives in her hands and would not hesitate to cut any of them short if the need arose.
Five, each civilian needed to find some job that would increase the efficiency and productivity of Pegasus. Cleaning and organization were assigned to the elderly and young. All able-bodied men and women were drafted into either the Marines, the air group, or other departments on board. Selection into which group would be based on prior qualifications and the needs of the battlestar. There would be no choice and they would excel.
To Cain these were all reasonable orders and could be easily met if everyone put their mind to it. When she told these to the group of civilians as they boarded, some were not happy. They wanted autonomy, independence. They were citizens of the colonies and they were entitled to a greater respect than this!
So ungrateful, Cain realized. Civilians didn't understand war, they never would. Autonomy, independence, were luxuries only found in peace. She understood this, understood war, and wondered briefly if taking them all in was a good idea.
The clamor grew until even her voice could not be heard over the roar. She calmly placed a blank into her pistol and fired it above the crowd's head. Silence reigned.
“I do not care how you feel or what you think. This is how it is going to be. If any of you disagree and want out, I will provide you with a means to get back to your ship to wait out for Cylons there. Any takers?”
A dropped sheet of paper feel to the hanger floor. The sound was deafening.
Cain furrowed her brow, thinking, biting the inside of her lip. She thought of home, of Gina, of what led her to this conclusion, this course of action. “I advise everyone to look around you and say your prayers tonight. Be thankful, be oh-so-very thankful that you at least have each other.”
With that Cain turned to her right and told Shaw, “get them settled. Use your own judgment when problems arise. I don't want to be disturbed about this, I have a lot of assignments to make.”
Shaw nodded, gave a salute, and Cain walked back to the CIC where Fisk waited with the manifests of people and supplies on each ship. It would be a long night.
Cain shifted in bed, stretching her back a little. Was Gina asleep?
Cain took the arm she was playing with and turned it around. She moved her fingers along the slightly wrinkled pads, along the contours of the palm. She learned the curves of the veins all over again before heading to the wrist, to the elbow. She swirled her finger inside the joint before moving back.
She thought of those unsure times when Gina had moved from her quarters and into theirs. Cain had been nervous about what it meant to share your quarters with some else, at least officially. Of course the whole ship knew, much to Gina's delight, yet Cain still kept a tight lid on the gossip that went around in the corridors. She may have to compromise on a few things but privacy and authority would not be, could not be, on that list.
It was when Gina moved into Cain's quarters that she was given an order, the first one in years: leave the admiral at the hatch. And Gina made sure Cain kept that promise. Cain could talk about work, about problems, issues, but she could never act the admiral. They've had this contract for over a month now and she's been pleasantly surprised as to how neatly it worked. There were a few slip ups, particularly one time when Cain had had enough of the slow moving repairs of the Vipers after the comm station attack.
That night was one of the worst in recent memory, coming just a week after Gina had relocated. Cain, already furious, ran through the hatch only to trip on one of the new chairs Gina had set up.
“Where the frak did this come from and why is it in the middle of my frakking quarters?” Cain yelled the moment she regained her precious balance.
“I brought them from my old quarters,” Gina said, appearing from the doorway that lead to their private bathroom. Her hair was wet and all that covered her tall body was a thread-bare towel. “We talked about this, you said I could keep the table and chairs up for my network programming.”
Cain thought back to that conversation and recalled in perfect detail exactly what she said.”I remember, Gina, however what I said was that you could put the folding chairs up some of the time. I just don't want permanent chairs in my quarters, do you understand?”
Gina crossed her arms, not amused. “I fully understand that, however, these are not your quarters anymore, these are our quarters now, Helena. And, in our quarters, we have chairs so that I may contribute to the well-being of your battlestar and your crew. Now, do you understand?”
Cain couldn't respond, the anger at Gina's nerve, Gina's insubordination, stung her to the quick. And she knew then that if she didn't leave, if she didn't find some way to channel her growing ire, that things would only get worse.
However, Cain did not flee her quarters, an admiral never runs with her tail tucked between her legs, she just changed direction. She turned sharply on her heel, opened the hatch, and walked briskly to the CAG's office. She had an overwhelming desire to dissect the pilots in their weekly inspection which had, until now, been put aside for the sake of time and expediency. That, she realized, was unacceptable.
Perhaps Lt. Shaw would like to accompany her.
Hours later Cain returned, her anger cooled. Gina was already asleep, she saw, and the chairs were still there. She made a face, thinking. It was a good thing she had to leave the Admiral at the door for this was one battle she could not win.
And the Admiral did not lose.
But it seemed obvious that Helena could.
Cain felt a tug at her hair, bringing her back to the present in a rush.
“What's going on?” Gina whispered softly.
Cain turned to look at her and sighed. “A lot.”
“I meant other than the obvious.”
“Other than the fact that for the next few weeks, perhaps a month, I'm going to be bogged down with little personnel details?” Cain felt a twinge of emotion and turned to look at the ceiling. If Gina saw it she knew she'd have to explain it, have to think about it, and it was late. Couldn't she just forget about emotions even for a little while with this woman? “I hate it.”
“But you're good at it.”
“I know.”
A chuckle brought Cain's focus back. “You find this funny?”
Gina shifted, sitting up a little to lean on her elbow, her eyes staring directly into Cain's. “I have a feeling that your crew is not on your mind at this present moment and, if it is, I've done a very poor job of providing you with a satisfactory celebration for the night.”
Cain rolled her eyes. “Your celebration was more than satisfactory, have no doubt about that.”
When Gina smiled brightly Cain lowered her eyes.
“Then what's really on your mind? You seem so far away. Come back.”
“I just wonder, sometimes, how it is exactly that I got here, with you, like this.”
Gina's smile faded into a frown. Could she read the unspoken qualities Cain's mind always ran to? How could Cain get so weak, so soft, so vulnerable? And should she just quit while she was ahead?
“Like how,” Cain continued, uncharacteristically mumbling, “did I ever equate my quarters, my home, with you?”
“Well, I did move in after you brought on those civilians from that rag-tag fleet we found a few months ago. You said it was to conserve space seeing as I always seemed to stay over in your quarters anyway.”
Cain murmured in agreement. “It was the logical choice.”
Gina laughed lightly. “I'm sure it was. You called it 'relocating' if I remember correctly. But I can see right through you Helena.”
“You have special glasses now? I think I'll have to confiscate them.”
“Either way,” Gina continued, ignoring the last spiteful remark, “it makes sense that you'd now think of me when you think of being home, in your quarters. I'm here too and I don't have much to do other than work on that new program I'm developing.”
Was this a piece of fleshy bait Gina was dangling in front of her mouth? Could she really divert the conversation from her to Gina? It was worth a shot.
“How is that going?”
“It's absolutely horrible,” Gina began, flopping back down on her side. Her tone had taken on a certain edge and Cain knew a rant was coming, her goal achieved. “I can't believe how many back-doors I found in the original code. I know I told you a rough estimate after the attack but it just keeps growing. I'm starting to wonder if I shouldn't just completely rewrite it. It would be a bear to do except everything is just...ugh, it makes me want to cry sometimes! Or laugh. It's so horrible that I just want to laugh. Perhaps both at the same time.”
Cain imagined a crying and laughing Gina. It was ridiculously adorable.
“There would probably be lots of hiccups and sobs too,” Gina continued as Cain turned to face her. “I'd be so embarrassing that you'd have to put me in the brig until I calmed down.”
“I wouldn't throw you in the brig. At least not for that. I'd consider it though.”
“Is it the crying or the laughing part that is the offense?”
“I'm not amused.”
“Alright, then don't be amused. Really though, what would I have to do to be thrown in there?”
Cain flashed her a disapproving look. “Not much. Do you want to go there? I don't need an excuse, I'll have you know. I send crewmen and captains alike into the brig on a whim.”
Gina took a stray piece of dark hair and twirled it around her fingers. “So I don't want to go there, I just like to tease you. But, if you did throw me in the brig, would you visit me?”
“Visit you? The brig is not a place to socialize. It's a place to reflect on what you've done wrong and be punished.”
“You'd visit me.”
“Don't be so sure.”
“I'm sure.”
“Visiting would not be an issue. I hear Lt. Thorne has taken a liking to the brig, especially when civilians are brought in for some minor infringement. I'm considering moving him there on a permanent basis if the civilians continue to be a problem. He would always keep you company.”
“Thorne? I don't think I like him.”
“No, I don't think you do. In fact, didn't you run into him the other day and said he was a 'chubby-'”
“chubby, bald walking doorstop you wouldn't be able to move with a Raptor tugging on his coat tails. I remember him now.” Gina made a face. “No, I think I'll skip the brig this time around.”
A moment of silence. It sounded hollow.
Then Gina mumbled, “he doesn't even salute right.”
Cain laughed, loud and hard. Gina was right, Thorne never could give her a proper salute. It always came off limp. She'd have to correct it next time she saw him.
Once she had composed herself, she brought her hand to Gina's face, made a circle on her cheek with her thumb, and kissed her gently.
“You're right. You are absolutely right. Next time I'll correct him.”
“And tell him it's from me?”
Cain smiled. “And tell him it's from you.”
The smug smile she got in return was masked by a yawn. Perhaps it was finally time to rest. Today had been an exhausting day, even if she'd never admit it. Tomorrow only promised to be even more tedious. A meeting with Adama and Roslin was scheduled for 1200 hours and a more thorough inspection of Galactica after that. Then, once she returned to Pegasus there would be more dossiers to look over. Of all the things she should have done tonight sleep was at the top of the list.
Except, she thought, she wouldn't feel this damn good.
Cain rolled over on her back to keep Gina from seeing the warm and positively gooey smile that glued itself to her lips. She needed something to distract her, to put her mind on anything else.
There were times, much like this, that Cain felt guilty to be so happy. How could one be guilty and happy at the same time? Moreover, how could happy bring up feelings of guilt? She knew why, knew how, she just didn't understand why she couldn't let one of them go. Couldn't she just feel happy instead of guilty and happy? She'd settle for just guilty if that's all she could get. Happiness was something she still didn't believe she deserved.
Her smile was gone, replaced by the same somber thoughts that plagued her time and time again. When would she be done taming her ghosts, her demons? Would she ever be? Should she ever be?
“I talked with Commander Adama and, well, President Roslin at length before coming back to Pegasus.” Cain sighed. “He told me some of his stories, how they escaped the Cylons, found the President, and a few other odds and ends. There's a lot more he hasn't confessed to but his logs will be in my office by tomorrow afternoon so I can go over them in detail. I have a feeling his command needs a bit of restructuring.”
“Really?”
“Of course. He's got his son as CAG for one. He'll be the first transferred.”
“He still has his son with him?” Gina perked up, running her arm back over Cain's stomach. “I think it's lovely.”
“So do they, I imagine. Still, too much of a liability.”
“Alright,” Gin shrugged, “you're call.”
“It is,” Cain thought back to her earlier conversation with the commander. There was something else he said that kept nagging at the back of her mind, taunting her with unknown knowledge. “Adama says they have a Cylon on board.” Ah, that was it. “Supposedly they look like humans now.” A stiffening in Gina's shoulders brought Cain's attention back. “Oh, I'm not sure if I believe them, I'll have to see it for myself before I make any conclusions. He claims that valuable information has been...what's the matter?”
Gina's body was frozen, unable to disengage from the locked grip she had on Cain. Her legs were tensed as if she were ready to flee at any moment yet her hands held on tightly to warm flesh like she never wanted to leave. Cain tried unsuccessfully to get Gina to loosen up by taking one of her hands. It wouldn't let go.
“Hey,” Cain whispered, bringing her hand instead to cup the face once so full of happiness, “it's alright. She's in a holding cell monitored by guards at all times.”
Gina's eyes darted away from Cain's worried expression. “It's not that,” Gina began, her voice breaking.
Cain didn't understand, couldn't understand, so for a few moments she watched the emotions play across Gina's face. It unsettled her and a rising panic flooded through her. She had never seen Gina look like this, act like this. Even after the attack on the colonies, the raid on the comm station, and the subsequent boarding by centurions Gina had never looked so scared. In fact, she looked absolutely terrified.
Then Cain saw moisture start to well up in those eyes she'd come to adore. Would tears start to roll down Gina's face? Cain didn't think she could handle that. What should she do? What should she say? Was she expected to offer comforting words? Was it any different than comforting a fellow soldier who had just lost a mate? She could handle that just fine, and had many times, but when it was someone who shared your bed that started to cry....
“Do you,” Cain started before stumbling on her words. She was still wrestling with the idea that she wanted to say them, much less mean them. “Do you want to tell me about it? What's,” a held breath expelled grudgingly, “bothering you.”
Cain didn't know if it was her own discomfort at the whole situation or some other, internal workings that made Gina relax. She felt the muscles, the hands, loosen their hold and the steady feel of warm breath resumed against her breast.
Gina looked up and gave her a shy smile. “No, I'm ok.” A pause, allowing Gina to collect her thoughts. “It's just, ah, scarey, I suppose. C-Cylons, as humans? Who's left to trust?”
“I know, it's hard to get a grip on it,” Cain replied with a similar smile. “I'm sure that we'll all be able to deal with this new paranoia. Galactica did and I sure won't let them get the upper hand on me in anything. It'll work out, I promise.”
It didn't seem to convince either one of them and they drifted off into an uneasy silence. The clock ticked lightly beside Cain. Glancing over she saw it to be 0200. She needed to be up in three hours to be ready for the morning rounds she intended to make before the morning watch. There was bound to be plenty of crew members still hung-over or, worse yet, sleeping. After seeing some of the activities going on last night she had a strong desire to put her foot down and reorder her ship. One night here and there wouldn't hurt the productivity of Pegasus but the gods be damned if she allowed it to spill over into another day.
Suddenly determined to get over this pathetic unease, she turned on her side to find Gina had also turned, showing her back. Perhaps Cain should have read more into the terror, into the strangely cloistered woman usually so open, but Cain could only do what she knew how to do. She plowed through with a stubborn strength and folded Gina into her arms and held her tight. Could she tell Gina how much she worried for her, cared for her, without words?
Her heart swelled with warmth and her throat tightened. It pained her to see Gina so worried, so afraid, and Cain felt powerless. These problems you could not solve by lectures, chastising, or reprimands. So if she couldn't do any of these where could the solution lie?
Desperate for more of the intimacy they had once shared moments ago, Cain laid small kisses along the neck in front of her before nipping lightly at an ear lobe.
“It'll be better in the morning. I'll try not to wake you when I rise,” Cain breathed into Gina's ear.
A nod, a sigh, and a squirm backwards was all the reply Cain needed.
Happy now that at least some kind of a compromise was reached, Cain closed her eyes.
And just as she was drifting off to sleep she heard that familiar declaration, the one that was always spoken with such conviction, purpose, passion, and always as she floated away from consciousness.
“I love you.”
Cain smiled sleepily. A night wouldn't be complete without this.
“I know.”
Author: redknightalex
Pairing: Cain/Gina
Word Count: 5,783
Rating: PG-13
Summary: In a world where Gina isn't revealed as a Cylon when Pegasus meets Galactica, Admiral Cain has to deal with the consequences of governing the rest of humanity in her own unique fashion.
Disclaimer, warnings, and long author's note can be found at the beginning to Parts 0+1
Much Smaller Author's Note: This chapter took me pretty much all of the past two days and I'm certainly hoping future chapters won't be this hard. I've dealt with most of the back story and what's been changed. A lot of ground was covered in the process. I'm still not sure how it went from a 2,000 word chapter to almost 6,000...I just kept writing.
I'm pretty sure there are grammar mistakes and other editing problems. It's quarter past one on the US East Coast so I'm sure in the light of day I'll smack my head and wonder why I needed to post so late at night (or so early in the morning).
Overall, just enjoy. I probably won't get another chapter out for another few weeks. Between now and then I've got life (yuck) to deal with. Sigh. Oh well. Thankfully most of the next five or so chapters have already been planned out, more or less.
Chapter 2
Cain broke open the bottle of brandy Commander Adama had given to her right before she left Galactica. It was wonderful stuff and she greatly appreciated the gesture. It helped to quell the anxiety bubbling up within her as the more she thought about combining the fleets the more apprehensive she got. Ships were like families and, sometimes, mashing two families together didn't work out the way one would imagine. In the next few days she would have to go over the ships manifests, logs, and reports to determine who would work well in the two vastly different environments of either Pegasus or Galactica. She already had in mind a few of her own personnel that didn't thrive under her constant vigilance and demands and just might function more efficiently under the more lax control of Adama.
She understood that one approach to a solution, even her own approach, may not be what works best for everyone. Now, whether or not she acted upon it and helped others out with their problem (for she would have no issue following her own mandates) is, in large part, the product of living with another person.
Holding the two glasses of brandy in one hand she sneaked back under the covers. Gina relieved her of a glass, sniffed the liquid, and made a face.
“I can't believe you drink this stuff, it's horribly strong.”
Cain chuckled. “It took me years to really acquire a taste. My superiors loved to hand the stuff out at any opportunity. It was rather taboo not to drink.”
They clinked glasses before taking a sip. Gina made another, more annoyed and abhorrent look than before as she tasted the liquid.
“Ugh,” she groaned, “one sip is certainly enough for me, thank you.”
Cain gave her a smile, took the offered glass back, took another sip, and placed them both on her book stand. “That's alright, more for me to enjoy.”
She laid down on her back and pulled Gina close, directing the honeyed head to lay upon her shoulder. When their naked bodies touched once more she shivered slightly while Gina make a tiny noise of approval.
Cain always liked holding Gina this way. There was no other feeling on the ship quite like it. She could smell that incredibly intoxicating hair, let it move through her fingers, and feel the whole of the other's body while still keeping a part of herself private. She could stare at the ceiling and think if she needed to while still remain connected to Gina. To Cain, it was the best of both the private her and the increasingly demanded open her she had with Gina.
And Gina was demanding, at least emotionally. She continually challenged Cain to open up, to let go, to identify everything that she was feeling. Was she angry at the pilots? Was she frustrated? At just the pilots or at herself as well? Most of the time, Cain found, she was mad at herself. Somehow she decided to shoulder everyone's responsibilities and failures, taking each small fault of each of her subordinates personally. Even if this drove her and her ship to new heights of perfectionism it strained her to breaking. Then, at the end of the day, she came home and let her companion pick up the pieces. Of course, each time Gina had to rearrange them, making them fit into places they had never fit into before. At times it was more strenuous doing the rearranging than the actual breaking.
It scared Cain to no end that she was frequently equating home with Gina, that the two were the same. Whenever she got back from a tough shift Gina was always there. She'd get off her computer, give the admiral a hug, and officially welcome Helena back.
She traced her fingers along Gina's arm sprawled across her stomach. The skin was soft under her finger tips and, if she did it just right, goosebumps would form and a low groan of approval heard.
When Cain really, truly, honestly thought about it, everything seemed to change after the attack on the communications relay over a month ago. She suddenly felt the weight of all the dead on her shoulders, of Gina's disapproving eyes upon learning the fate of her executive officer. It was hard to look at her and see the sadness revealed in those expressive eyes. But she couldn't look back now, she could only charge forward.
There were other consequences of the attack, the most important one being that Gina had changed. She became more attuned to Cain, as if Cain was the only thing worthy of her attention, the only thing she could ever focus on. Their relationship, which was working just fine before, seemed to have a deeper meaning to it, that it was suddenly more than it had been just a few days ago. In some ways this new attention from Gina unnerved Cain. For a week Cain didn't know what to think, how to act. She wanted to know what had changed in Gina, what had suddenly made her more dependent, until she realized she didn't care. Once she got over her initial distaste she found she enjoyed it, the greater intimacy this new relationship seemed to bring.
Could Cain feel her walls crumbling? Did it happen in one sure moment? Or was it gradual? Did Gina just have to smile and take Cain's hand to make the admiral disappear and the woman underneath it to appear?
And, more importantly, when did she stop caring? When did Cain no longer worry about putting on the face in front of Gina? When had being soft stopped feeling like such a bad thing? When had she become so vulnerable? When did it cease to matter?
Lt. Shaw also became more interested in Cain's personal life after the attack, which irritated her. Her officers didn't need to know about her personal affairs and, even if she was more inclined to let Shaw in than anyone else, she still didn't find a need for it. It had nothing to do with the normal operations of the ship. Even so, she didn't mind that Gina and Shaw would routinely work on the network programming together, the two worked well as a pair. There were a few times when Gina seemed more stressed out after their sessions, to a point where she was edging on the paranoia that seemed to creep up every so often in her dealings with Shaw. After a couple times of trying to deal with Gina's anxious mood, Cain got fed up and went directly to her officer the next morning.
She told Shaw, in no uncertain terms, that she needed to lay off on whatever it was she was doing to Gina that scared the woman so. Shaw had glanced up from her breakfast, looking Cain over, as if to find the answers written in her commanding officer's stance, her attitude. The admiral grew uncomfortable under such scrutiny, something she hadn't felt since her last board examination, but she needed an answer from this lieutenant and would put up with whatever it was that Shaw needed to do, as unorthodox as it may seem, to get it.
Time seemed to slow as admiral and lieutenant read each other's face. What was to be found in each pair of eyes, in each firm jaw? When had Shaw become so independent, so interested in the admiral?
Cain was starting to question what Shaw's real motives were when Shaw replied, “Yes, sir,” and the discussion had ended.
During this time of turmoil Pegasus found the fifteen civilian ships floating in space. Cain asked for ship manifests and inventory reports from each ship. That day she placed them on the table in front of her and felt torn. She needed some of the people on board those ships, some with specialties that Pegasus was in dire need of, and their supplies were equally as important to repairing the Vipers and Raptors sitting dead in the hanger, except she couldn't take on fifteen ships that would just follow her, bogging her down. She need to loose that dead weight. To make matters worse, there were families on those ships, with innocent children that had never been asked if they wanted to be in this position.
Cain grew frustrated and slammed her fist on the sturdy glass. No one asked to be placed in this position, how were children any different? They just had to survive.
She reached into her pocket and found that familiar object she always kept there.
She survived.
Of course in the end it doesn't matter, couldn't matter, the Cylons would find all of them eventually and their pitiful existence as a human race would end. Why delay the inevitable? Sometimes she wondered.
Then Gina walked into Cain's world, into her thoughts, into her tactical decisions, and asked, politely, “what is it you're working on?”
Cain glanced from Gina to her reports and back again. Her decision became suddenly clear.
In three quick, sure steps she stood in front of Gina and grabbed her hands. She played with them, caressed them, feeling the small cuts and rough patches on the otherwise tender skin from working on the terminals in the CIC. She stared at those hands for a long, hard time, trying to form the words from the thoughts now screaming in her head.
And Gina, gods bless her, stayed quiet.
“Gina, I-” Cain faltered, the words getting stuck in her dry throat. “I can't loose you. I,” she glanced up, finding confused eyes, “I just can't.”
Gina smiled. “Then you won't. I'm not going anywhere. Where would I go?”
“No,” Cain shook her head. Why was it so hard to get these stupid words out? They were just words after all. “I meant-”
The room was suddenly filled with silence, with absolute clarity, as Gina pressed a knowing kiss against Cain's lips.
And Cain lost all her focus, all her determination when she felt those lips press sweetly against hers. She could feel herself shattering into multiple directions, some skittering all the way to the farthest corners of her quarters. Was Gina tasting the unsaid words, the unfelt emotions laying wait on her lips? Could Gina taste the fear, the uncertainty left there? Could Gina tell that Cain was at her own tipping point? Was this Cain's moment of change?
Cain didn't think so, hoped it wasn't while at the same time daring it to be.
Then she felt a warm, wet tongue flirt across her lips, hands moving to cup her face, and she could feel all those pieces rush back into place. Like sharp pieces of glass they drove into her, cutting her, making her gasp. And with that gasp a honey-sweetened tongue came waltzing in.
Thus they kissed, deeply, passionately, with Cain trying hard to understand all the things she felt at once.
She could feel a kiss, a tongue, a hand, a body. It lulled her gently with a Siren's song.
She could feel the heavy weight in her pocket. It kept her tied like a rope, a mast, chaining her to one spot as such sweet music was played against her mouth, her body.
Cain couldn't decided which one demanded more attention, which one needed her more. Nor could she decided which one she wanted, needed. Couldn't she have both?
With a last, gentle nip to Cain's lower lip, Gina pulled away only far enough to touch foreheads. Her eyes sparkled with a deep happiness. It made Cain's heart beat faster.
“I know,” Gina whispered. “I couldn't bear to loose you either.”
Could Cain really resist the smile that sprang up, unbidden, from Gina's face? Or suppress the glow that seemed to spread between them, connecting them, uniting them in one single emotion, one thought?It brought her reserves down, broke her defense, and all that was left of Cain was a raw side she couldn't remember ever feeling, ever knowing.
So what else could Cain do but speak with her heart?
Cain closed her eyes, gathered up her courage, and breathed out in one long exhale, “would you move in with me?”
She opened her eyes just as Gina pulled back, eyebrows razed to the ceiling.
Cain panicked, the sense of peace pushed aside. Frak, did she really just say that? Why must she loose so many higher brain functions when she stood so close to this woman? First she had lost all forms of speech but now too the total cognition of what she actually said? Dangerous.
“I mean, would you relocate to my quarters, so that we can accommodate more people? Your current quarters is rather spacious and when you spend all your nights with me anyway it just makes the most sense.”
Gina's eyebrows didn't move. “Relocate?”
“Yes, relocate.”
After a moment's hesitation the eyebrows returned to their normal, less intimidating position as eyes rolled. “Whatever you need to tell yourself at night, Helena, but I swear that sometimes you just make things more difficult on yourself.”
“Is that a yes then?”
“No, it's not a yes. It's an 'of course.'”
The peace, the sense of well-being, returned in full-force to Cain, who only smiled. A hug and several kisses later, Gina took to her quarters to retrieve her belongings.
It was settled.
The next day Cain issued several orders.
First, all civilians were to move from their ships to assigned quarters on Pegasus. It would be tight, it would be uncomfortable, but complaints were not allowed. If they didn't like it an airlock would be provided.
Second, all ships were to be searched for goods that would help the Pegasus in her fight against the Cylons. Everything from FTL drives to food to scraps of metal were included in the list and brought aboard.
Third, each ship would, in a matter of days, be stripped down to the outer hull for repair parts. Crews would work overtime to get this done and civilians with proper training would assist. Cain wanted to leave nothing but skeletons hovering in dead space for the enemy to find.
Four, the civilians needed to understand that this was a battlestar operating in a time of war. She was the commanding officer and her word was the end of the line. All they needed to know was that her word was divine, there was no higher authority than her. And, most importantly, she held their lives in her hands and would not hesitate to cut any of them short if the need arose.
Five, each civilian needed to find some job that would increase the efficiency and productivity of Pegasus. Cleaning and organization were assigned to the elderly and young. All able-bodied men and women were drafted into either the Marines, the air group, or other departments on board. Selection into which group would be based on prior qualifications and the needs of the battlestar. There would be no choice and they would excel.
To Cain these were all reasonable orders and could be easily met if everyone put their mind to it. When she told these to the group of civilians as they boarded, some were not happy. They wanted autonomy, independence. They were citizens of the colonies and they were entitled to a greater respect than this!
So ungrateful, Cain realized. Civilians didn't understand war, they never would. Autonomy, independence, were luxuries only found in peace. She understood this, understood war, and wondered briefly if taking them all in was a good idea.
The clamor grew until even her voice could not be heard over the roar. She calmly placed a blank into her pistol and fired it above the crowd's head. Silence reigned.
“I do not care how you feel or what you think. This is how it is going to be. If any of you disagree and want out, I will provide you with a means to get back to your ship to wait out for Cylons there. Any takers?”
A dropped sheet of paper feel to the hanger floor. The sound was deafening.
Cain furrowed her brow, thinking, biting the inside of her lip. She thought of home, of Gina, of what led her to this conclusion, this course of action. “I advise everyone to look around you and say your prayers tonight. Be thankful, be oh-so-very thankful that you at least have each other.”
With that Cain turned to her right and told Shaw, “get them settled. Use your own judgment when problems arise. I don't want to be disturbed about this, I have a lot of assignments to make.”
Shaw nodded, gave a salute, and Cain walked back to the CIC where Fisk waited with the manifests of people and supplies on each ship. It would be a long night.
Cain shifted in bed, stretching her back a little. Was Gina asleep?
Cain took the arm she was playing with and turned it around. She moved her fingers along the slightly wrinkled pads, along the contours of the palm. She learned the curves of the veins all over again before heading to the wrist, to the elbow. She swirled her finger inside the joint before moving back.
She thought of those unsure times when Gina had moved from her quarters and into theirs. Cain had been nervous about what it meant to share your quarters with some else, at least officially. Of course the whole ship knew, much to Gina's delight, yet Cain still kept a tight lid on the gossip that went around in the corridors. She may have to compromise on a few things but privacy and authority would not be, could not be, on that list.
It was when Gina moved into Cain's quarters that she was given an order, the first one in years: leave the admiral at the hatch. And Gina made sure Cain kept that promise. Cain could talk about work, about problems, issues, but she could never act the admiral. They've had this contract for over a month now and she's been pleasantly surprised as to how neatly it worked. There were a few slip ups, particularly one time when Cain had had enough of the slow moving repairs of the Vipers after the comm station attack.
That night was one of the worst in recent memory, coming just a week after Gina had relocated. Cain, already furious, ran through the hatch only to trip on one of the new chairs Gina had set up.
“Where the frak did this come from and why is it in the middle of my frakking quarters?” Cain yelled the moment she regained her precious balance.
“I brought them from my old quarters,” Gina said, appearing from the doorway that lead to their private bathroom. Her hair was wet and all that covered her tall body was a thread-bare towel. “We talked about this, you said I could keep the table and chairs up for my network programming.”
Cain thought back to that conversation and recalled in perfect detail exactly what she said.”I remember, Gina, however what I said was that you could put the folding chairs up some of the time. I just don't want permanent chairs in my quarters, do you understand?”
Gina crossed her arms, not amused. “I fully understand that, however, these are not your quarters anymore, these are our quarters now, Helena. And, in our quarters, we have chairs so that I may contribute to the well-being of your battlestar and your crew. Now, do you understand?”
Cain couldn't respond, the anger at Gina's nerve, Gina's insubordination, stung her to the quick. And she knew then that if she didn't leave, if she didn't find some way to channel her growing ire, that things would only get worse.
However, Cain did not flee her quarters, an admiral never runs with her tail tucked between her legs, she just changed direction. She turned sharply on her heel, opened the hatch, and walked briskly to the CAG's office. She had an overwhelming desire to dissect the pilots in their weekly inspection which had, until now, been put aside for the sake of time and expediency. That, she realized, was unacceptable.
Perhaps Lt. Shaw would like to accompany her.
Hours later Cain returned, her anger cooled. Gina was already asleep, she saw, and the chairs were still there. She made a face, thinking. It was a good thing she had to leave the Admiral at the door for this was one battle she could not win.
And the Admiral did not lose.
But it seemed obvious that Helena could.
Cain felt a tug at her hair, bringing her back to the present in a rush.
“What's going on?” Gina whispered softly.
Cain turned to look at her and sighed. “A lot.”
“I meant other than the obvious.”
“Other than the fact that for the next few weeks, perhaps a month, I'm going to be bogged down with little personnel details?” Cain felt a twinge of emotion and turned to look at the ceiling. If Gina saw it she knew she'd have to explain it, have to think about it, and it was late. Couldn't she just forget about emotions even for a little while with this woman? “I hate it.”
“But you're good at it.”
“I know.”
A chuckle brought Cain's focus back. “You find this funny?”
Gina shifted, sitting up a little to lean on her elbow, her eyes staring directly into Cain's. “I have a feeling that your crew is not on your mind at this present moment and, if it is, I've done a very poor job of providing you with a satisfactory celebration for the night.”
Cain rolled her eyes. “Your celebration was more than satisfactory, have no doubt about that.”
When Gina smiled brightly Cain lowered her eyes.
“Then what's really on your mind? You seem so far away. Come back.”
“I just wonder, sometimes, how it is exactly that I got here, with you, like this.”
Gina's smile faded into a frown. Could she read the unspoken qualities Cain's mind always ran to? How could Cain get so weak, so soft, so vulnerable? And should she just quit while she was ahead?
“Like how,” Cain continued, uncharacteristically mumbling, “did I ever equate my quarters, my home, with you?”
“Well, I did move in after you brought on those civilians from that rag-tag fleet we found a few months ago. You said it was to conserve space seeing as I always seemed to stay over in your quarters anyway.”
Cain murmured in agreement. “It was the logical choice.”
Gina laughed lightly. “I'm sure it was. You called it 'relocating' if I remember correctly. But I can see right through you Helena.”
“You have special glasses now? I think I'll have to confiscate them.”
“Either way,” Gina continued, ignoring the last spiteful remark, “it makes sense that you'd now think of me when you think of being home, in your quarters. I'm here too and I don't have much to do other than work on that new program I'm developing.”
Was this a piece of fleshy bait Gina was dangling in front of her mouth? Could she really divert the conversation from her to Gina? It was worth a shot.
“How is that going?”
“It's absolutely horrible,” Gina began, flopping back down on her side. Her tone had taken on a certain edge and Cain knew a rant was coming, her goal achieved. “I can't believe how many back-doors I found in the original code. I know I told you a rough estimate after the attack but it just keeps growing. I'm starting to wonder if I shouldn't just completely rewrite it. It would be a bear to do except everything is just...ugh, it makes me want to cry sometimes! Or laugh. It's so horrible that I just want to laugh. Perhaps both at the same time.”
Cain imagined a crying and laughing Gina. It was ridiculously adorable.
“There would probably be lots of hiccups and sobs too,” Gina continued as Cain turned to face her. “I'd be so embarrassing that you'd have to put me in the brig until I calmed down.”
“I wouldn't throw you in the brig. At least not for that. I'd consider it though.”
“Is it the crying or the laughing part that is the offense?”
“I'm not amused.”
“Alright, then don't be amused. Really though, what would I have to do to be thrown in there?”
Cain flashed her a disapproving look. “Not much. Do you want to go there? I don't need an excuse, I'll have you know. I send crewmen and captains alike into the brig on a whim.”
Gina took a stray piece of dark hair and twirled it around her fingers. “So I don't want to go there, I just like to tease you. But, if you did throw me in the brig, would you visit me?”
“Visit you? The brig is not a place to socialize. It's a place to reflect on what you've done wrong and be punished.”
“You'd visit me.”
“Don't be so sure.”
“I'm sure.”
“Visiting would not be an issue. I hear Lt. Thorne has taken a liking to the brig, especially when civilians are brought in for some minor infringement. I'm considering moving him there on a permanent basis if the civilians continue to be a problem. He would always keep you company.”
“Thorne? I don't think I like him.”
“No, I don't think you do. In fact, didn't you run into him the other day and said he was a 'chubby-'”
“chubby, bald walking doorstop you wouldn't be able to move with a Raptor tugging on his coat tails. I remember him now.” Gina made a face. “No, I think I'll skip the brig this time around.”
A moment of silence. It sounded hollow.
Then Gina mumbled, “he doesn't even salute right.”
Cain laughed, loud and hard. Gina was right, Thorne never could give her a proper salute. It always came off limp. She'd have to correct it next time she saw him.
Once she had composed herself, she brought her hand to Gina's face, made a circle on her cheek with her thumb, and kissed her gently.
“You're right. You are absolutely right. Next time I'll correct him.”
“And tell him it's from me?”
Cain smiled. “And tell him it's from you.”
The smug smile she got in return was masked by a yawn. Perhaps it was finally time to rest. Today had been an exhausting day, even if she'd never admit it. Tomorrow only promised to be even more tedious. A meeting with Adama and Roslin was scheduled for 1200 hours and a more thorough inspection of Galactica after that. Then, once she returned to Pegasus there would be more dossiers to look over. Of all the things she should have done tonight sleep was at the top of the list.
Except, she thought, she wouldn't feel this damn good.
Cain rolled over on her back to keep Gina from seeing the warm and positively gooey smile that glued itself to her lips. She needed something to distract her, to put her mind on anything else.
There were times, much like this, that Cain felt guilty to be so happy. How could one be guilty and happy at the same time? Moreover, how could happy bring up feelings of guilt? She knew why, knew how, she just didn't understand why she couldn't let one of them go. Couldn't she just feel happy instead of guilty and happy? She'd settle for just guilty if that's all she could get. Happiness was something she still didn't believe she deserved.
Her smile was gone, replaced by the same somber thoughts that plagued her time and time again. When would she be done taming her ghosts, her demons? Would she ever be? Should she ever be?
“I talked with Commander Adama and, well, President Roslin at length before coming back to Pegasus.” Cain sighed. “He told me some of his stories, how they escaped the Cylons, found the President, and a few other odds and ends. There's a lot more he hasn't confessed to but his logs will be in my office by tomorrow afternoon so I can go over them in detail. I have a feeling his command needs a bit of restructuring.”
“Really?”
“Of course. He's got his son as CAG for one. He'll be the first transferred.”
“He still has his son with him?” Gina perked up, running her arm back over Cain's stomach. “I think it's lovely.”
“So do they, I imagine. Still, too much of a liability.”
“Alright,” Gin shrugged, “you're call.”
“It is,” Cain thought back to her earlier conversation with the commander. There was something else he said that kept nagging at the back of her mind, taunting her with unknown knowledge. “Adama says they have a Cylon on board.” Ah, that was it. “Supposedly they look like humans now.” A stiffening in Gina's shoulders brought Cain's attention back. “Oh, I'm not sure if I believe them, I'll have to see it for myself before I make any conclusions. He claims that valuable information has been...what's the matter?”
Gina's body was frozen, unable to disengage from the locked grip she had on Cain. Her legs were tensed as if she were ready to flee at any moment yet her hands held on tightly to warm flesh like she never wanted to leave. Cain tried unsuccessfully to get Gina to loosen up by taking one of her hands. It wouldn't let go.
“Hey,” Cain whispered, bringing her hand instead to cup the face once so full of happiness, “it's alright. She's in a holding cell monitored by guards at all times.”
Gina's eyes darted away from Cain's worried expression. “It's not that,” Gina began, her voice breaking.
Cain didn't understand, couldn't understand, so for a few moments she watched the emotions play across Gina's face. It unsettled her and a rising panic flooded through her. She had never seen Gina look like this, act like this. Even after the attack on the colonies, the raid on the comm station, and the subsequent boarding by centurions Gina had never looked so scared. In fact, she looked absolutely terrified.
Then Cain saw moisture start to well up in those eyes she'd come to adore. Would tears start to roll down Gina's face? Cain didn't think she could handle that. What should she do? What should she say? Was she expected to offer comforting words? Was it any different than comforting a fellow soldier who had just lost a mate? She could handle that just fine, and had many times, but when it was someone who shared your bed that started to cry....
“Do you,” Cain started before stumbling on her words. She was still wrestling with the idea that she wanted to say them, much less mean them. “Do you want to tell me about it? What's,” a held breath expelled grudgingly, “bothering you.”
Cain didn't know if it was her own discomfort at the whole situation or some other, internal workings that made Gina relax. She felt the muscles, the hands, loosen their hold and the steady feel of warm breath resumed against her breast.
Gina looked up and gave her a shy smile. “No, I'm ok.” A pause, allowing Gina to collect her thoughts. “It's just, ah, scarey, I suppose. C-Cylons, as humans? Who's left to trust?”
“I know, it's hard to get a grip on it,” Cain replied with a similar smile. “I'm sure that we'll all be able to deal with this new paranoia. Galactica did and I sure won't let them get the upper hand on me in anything. It'll work out, I promise.”
It didn't seem to convince either one of them and they drifted off into an uneasy silence. The clock ticked lightly beside Cain. Glancing over she saw it to be 0200. She needed to be up in three hours to be ready for the morning rounds she intended to make before the morning watch. There was bound to be plenty of crew members still hung-over or, worse yet, sleeping. After seeing some of the activities going on last night she had a strong desire to put her foot down and reorder her ship. One night here and there wouldn't hurt the productivity of Pegasus but the gods be damned if she allowed it to spill over into another day.
Suddenly determined to get over this pathetic unease, she turned on her side to find Gina had also turned, showing her back. Perhaps Cain should have read more into the terror, into the strangely cloistered woman usually so open, but Cain could only do what she knew how to do. She plowed through with a stubborn strength and folded Gina into her arms and held her tight. Could she tell Gina how much she worried for her, cared for her, without words?
Her heart swelled with warmth and her throat tightened. It pained her to see Gina so worried, so afraid, and Cain felt powerless. These problems you could not solve by lectures, chastising, or reprimands. So if she couldn't do any of these where could the solution lie?
Desperate for more of the intimacy they had once shared moments ago, Cain laid small kisses along the neck in front of her before nipping lightly at an ear lobe.
“It'll be better in the morning. I'll try not to wake you when I rise,” Cain breathed into Gina's ear.
A nod, a sigh, and a squirm backwards was all the reply Cain needed.
Happy now that at least some kind of a compromise was reached, Cain closed her eyes.
And just as she was drifting off to sleep she heard that familiar declaration, the one that was always spoken with such conviction, purpose, passion, and always as she floated away from consciousness.
“I love you.”
Cain smiled sleepily. A night wouldn't be complete without this.
“I know.”