BSG fic: No Regrets (pg-13)
Title: No Regrets
Author: SabaceanBabe
Rating: pg-13
Word count: 1,111
Focus: Helo/Athena, Hera, Sam, Caprica
Spoilers: The Oath
Author’s note: Betaed by the wonderful mamaboolj; all mistakes and missteps my own. This was written for the Tainted Love Challenge at Kindreds (the prompt is the snippet of song below).
--------------------------------
Take my hand,
Take my whole life, too,
For I can’t help
Falling in love with you.
~Elvis Presley, I Can’t Help Falling in Love with You
---------------------------------
It wasn’t pain that woke him, for that had dulled to an aching throb at his temple that kept time with his pulse. No, it was a combination of things: voices, the hissing sibilants of whispered words penetrating the fog of unconsciousness like fingernails on a chalkboard; a small hand, not always gentle, patting and stroking and tapping at his shoulder like he was a family pet. And he was frakking cold. Colder than he’d ever felt in his life.
As Helo became more aware of his surroundings, the whispers began to make sense instead of being just so much irritating sound.
“Will he live?” a woman asked. He didn’t immediately recognize the whispered voice.
A hand, larger than the one still petting his shoulder, gently stroked his forehead. “I won’t let him die.” Sharon’s voice, just above his head. The patting grew faster, harder, just short of pounding him with an open hand. “Hera, baby, don’t do that.” Hera, then. The pounding stopped, her touch gone, the warmth from her hand already fading. But he didn’t want it to end, didn’t want that physical connection with his little girl to go away.
“If they come for us, how can you stop them?” The unknown woman again, her voice louder, her tone curious. Helo thought he should recognize the voice, but his head hurt too much to bother tracking down the memory that tickled at his brain.
“Maybe we can’t stop them, but we can still fight.” Anders? “I don’t intend to die easy.”
And then he remembered…
The sound of gunfire, distant, but coming closer. People shouting, screaming.
Helo had taken a step toward the hatchway, unsure now if he had intended to lock the hatch or peek out to see what was happening, but even then he and Sharon had been of one accord: keep Hera calm. She’d had too much of fear in her short life, she didn’t need any more.
“If they wanted us dead, they would have killed us already.” Sharon again.
“God has put us here for a reason. You, me, Hera… And Sam is one of the Five.” Helo knew who she was, but her name remained just out of reach.
Sam snorted a laugh and then groaned, and Helo thought he must have been injured, too. “Big frakkin’ deal. ‘s a frakkin’ joke.”
“It’s important, Sam. You’re impor-”
Sounding exasperated, Sharon cut her off. “None of that matters right now. We need to work on a way out of here, because even if they don’t want us dead, whatever they do want us for…”
“… can’t be good,” Sam finished the sentence for her.
For a time after that, there was no more talk and Helo drifted in and out of consciousness, the only constant his daughter’s resumed petting, rhythmic and soothing, which seemed to ebb and flow with his awareness. If the throbbing at his temple stopped, he might have been able to truly sleep.
“Your husband.” Again, that familiar voice woke him. She was closer than she had been before and she no longer whispered. “He’s human, the rest of us Cylon. Why is he here?” Caprica. Sharon called her Caprica. And that must mean that the cold, hard, bumpy surface on which he lay was the floor of Galactica’s brig.
“He’s here because of me.” Sharon’s voice was barely audible. She reached out and cupped his cheek, gently stroked his brow with her thumb. “It’s my fault.”
“He must wish he’d never met you,” Caprica observed coolly.
The patting turned into slapping, the pace frantic. There was a rustle of fabric and then the slapping abruptly ceased. “Hera, baby, stop. You’ll hurt Daddy.”
Helo struggled to open his eyes, but shut them again before he’d completed even that small motion when the lights sent a spike of pain through his skull. He tried to say something, but his voice wouldn’t quite work, so he cleared his throat with a cough that devolved into a gasp as he jarred his head, and tried again. “She’s not hurting me.”
Opening his eyes, forcing them to remain open, he tried to sit up, but Sharon wouldn’t let him. “Karl, please don’t try to move. You took a hell of a blow to the head.”
“Yeah, no kidding.” Nearly overcome by nausea, he lay back down, his head in Sharon’s lap. Maybe if he concentrated on something else, he could push down the queasiness. Sharon gently stroked his hair, something he normally loved, but right now it just hurt. He reached up and took her hand in his, brought it down to lay flat on his chest, but even as her caress stopped, Hera’s began anew, her little hand smoothing the fabric of his sleeve. “We’re in the brig, aren’t we?” he asked Sharon.
“Yes,” she replied, her eyes shadowed.
“Mutiny?”
A scuffing, scraping sound from a few feet away, and at the same time Sharon shifted, her muscles suddenly tense. No doubt she and Sam were both remembering Demetrius, as was he. Sharon’s hand balled into a fist in his. “Yes. It has to be. Adama would never have ordered this.” There was a wealth of bitter emotion in that last word and Helo tightened his grip on her hand.
“You’re okay? You and Hera?” Gage’s parting shot echoed in his memory and he felt that same white-hot rage begin to rise.
Sharon must have seen it in his face. “Hush, Karl. We’re both fine. They didn’t hurt us.”
Before either of them could say anything more, the sound of boots on metal drifted to them from the corridor outside the brig, quickly followed by the sound of keys rattling just beyond the outer hatch. Helo saw Sam out of the corner of his eye as he pushed himself up from the floor, using the wall to steady himself. There was a rustle of fabric closer to the cell door as Caprica stood, one knee on the cell’s only cot and one stiletto-heeled foot on the floor. She had her other sandal in her hand, like a weapon.
“He must wish he’d never met you…”
The outer hatch opened and Sharon went very still. Helo reached up, ignoring the pain, to awkwardly cup a hand at the base of her skull, forcing her to look at him.
“Baby, I’ve never been more glad to have met you. I have no regrets. Whatever happens, don’t ever forget that.”
“I love you so much, Karl Agathon,” she whispered and they both turned to face the cell door. Hera’s small fist closed over Helo’s thumb as two Marines entered, a manacled Saul Tigh in tow.
Author: SabaceanBabe
Rating: pg-13
Word count: 1,111
Focus: Helo/Athena, Hera, Sam, Caprica
Spoilers: The Oath
Author’s note: Betaed by the wonderful mamaboolj; all mistakes and missteps my own. This was written for the Tainted Love Challenge at Kindreds (the prompt is the snippet of song below).
--------------------------------
Take my hand,
Take my whole life, too,
For I can’t help
Falling in love with you.
~Elvis Presley, I Can’t Help Falling in Love with You
---------------------------------
It wasn’t pain that woke him, for that had dulled to an aching throb at his temple that kept time with his pulse. No, it was a combination of things: voices, the hissing sibilants of whispered words penetrating the fog of unconsciousness like fingernails on a chalkboard; a small hand, not always gentle, patting and stroking and tapping at his shoulder like he was a family pet. And he was frakking cold. Colder than he’d ever felt in his life.
As Helo became more aware of his surroundings, the whispers began to make sense instead of being just so much irritating sound.
“Will he live?” a woman asked. He didn’t immediately recognize the whispered voice.
A hand, larger than the one still petting his shoulder, gently stroked his forehead. “I won’t let him die.” Sharon’s voice, just above his head. The patting grew faster, harder, just short of pounding him with an open hand. “Hera, baby, don’t do that.” Hera, then. The pounding stopped, her touch gone, the warmth from her hand already fading. But he didn’t want it to end, didn’t want that physical connection with his little girl to go away.
“If they come for us, how can you stop them?” The unknown woman again, her voice louder, her tone curious. Helo thought he should recognize the voice, but his head hurt too much to bother tracking down the memory that tickled at his brain.
“Maybe we can’t stop them, but we can still fight.” Anders? “I don’t intend to die easy.”
And then he remembered…
The sound of gunfire, distant, but coming closer. People shouting, screaming.
Helo had taken a step toward the hatchway, unsure now if he had intended to lock the hatch or peek out to see what was happening, but even then he and Sharon had been of one accord: keep Hera calm. She’d had too much of fear in her short life, she didn’t need any more.
“If they wanted us dead, they would have killed us already.” Sharon again.
“God has put us here for a reason. You, me, Hera… And Sam is one of the Five.” Helo knew who she was, but her name remained just out of reach.
Sam snorted a laugh and then groaned, and Helo thought he must have been injured, too. “Big frakkin’ deal. ‘s a frakkin’ joke.”
“It’s important, Sam. You’re impor-”
Sounding exasperated, Sharon cut her off. “None of that matters right now. We need to work on a way out of here, because even if they don’t want us dead, whatever they do want us for…”
“… can’t be good,” Sam finished the sentence for her.
For a time after that, there was no more talk and Helo drifted in and out of consciousness, the only constant his daughter’s resumed petting, rhythmic and soothing, which seemed to ebb and flow with his awareness. If the throbbing at his temple stopped, he might have been able to truly sleep.
“Your husband.” Again, that familiar voice woke him. She was closer than she had been before and she no longer whispered. “He’s human, the rest of us Cylon. Why is he here?” Caprica. Sharon called her Caprica. And that must mean that the cold, hard, bumpy surface on which he lay was the floor of Galactica’s brig.
“He’s here because of me.” Sharon’s voice was barely audible. She reached out and cupped his cheek, gently stroked his brow with her thumb. “It’s my fault.”
“He must wish he’d never met you,” Caprica observed coolly.
The patting turned into slapping, the pace frantic. There was a rustle of fabric and then the slapping abruptly ceased. “Hera, baby, stop. You’ll hurt Daddy.”
Helo struggled to open his eyes, but shut them again before he’d completed even that small motion when the lights sent a spike of pain through his skull. He tried to say something, but his voice wouldn’t quite work, so he cleared his throat with a cough that devolved into a gasp as he jarred his head, and tried again. “She’s not hurting me.”
Opening his eyes, forcing them to remain open, he tried to sit up, but Sharon wouldn’t let him. “Karl, please don’t try to move. You took a hell of a blow to the head.”
“Yeah, no kidding.” Nearly overcome by nausea, he lay back down, his head in Sharon’s lap. Maybe if he concentrated on something else, he could push down the queasiness. Sharon gently stroked his hair, something he normally loved, but right now it just hurt. He reached up and took her hand in his, brought it down to lay flat on his chest, but even as her caress stopped, Hera’s began anew, her little hand smoothing the fabric of his sleeve. “We’re in the brig, aren’t we?” he asked Sharon.
“Yes,” she replied, her eyes shadowed.
“Mutiny?”
A scuffing, scraping sound from a few feet away, and at the same time Sharon shifted, her muscles suddenly tense. No doubt she and Sam were both remembering Demetrius, as was he. Sharon’s hand balled into a fist in his. “Yes. It has to be. Adama would never have ordered this.” There was a wealth of bitter emotion in that last word and Helo tightened his grip on her hand.
“You’re okay? You and Hera?” Gage’s parting shot echoed in his memory and he felt that same white-hot rage begin to rise.
Sharon must have seen it in his face. “Hush, Karl. We’re both fine. They didn’t hurt us.”
Before either of them could say anything more, the sound of boots on metal drifted to them from the corridor outside the brig, quickly followed by the sound of keys rattling just beyond the outer hatch. Helo saw Sam out of the corner of his eye as he pushed himself up from the floor, using the wall to steady himself. There was a rustle of fabric closer to the cell door as Caprica stood, one knee on the cell’s only cot and one stiletto-heeled foot on the floor. She had her other sandal in her hand, like a weapon.
“He must wish he’d never met you…”
The outer hatch opened and Sharon went very still. Helo reached up, ignoring the pain, to awkwardly cup a hand at the base of her skull, forcing her to look at him.
“Baby, I’ve never been more glad to have met you. I have no regrets. Whatever happens, don’t ever forget that.”
“I love you so much, Karl Agathon,” she whispered and they both turned to face the cell door. Hera’s small fist closed over Helo’s thumb as two Marines entered, a manacled Saul Tigh in tow.