Helo ficlet
for blue_crow who wanted somebody's first time on a basestar, and for rebelliousrose who wanted Helo to look for the bathroom on one. This is not a happy story despite that. Helo and some Cylons. R for the violence. Wordcount: ~500.
This is taken from a Helo fic I've been meaning to write forever, BTW. But I doubt I'll ever make it, it was just too hard to pull off.
So this was what it was like to meet the in-laws.
Karl felt a hysterical giggle coming up. A Simon had shoved him into a cell using the superhuman strength that he associated with slim female arms and fragile looking shoulders, and they hadn’t even bothered taking a Centurion along. The better for it- the sight of them had been sending Karl into states of cold panic ever since Caprica. He wasn’t up to fighting anybody anyway. All his body felt bruised, sharp or numb or quiet pains throbbing a counter beat in his kidneys and his ribs and his crotch, and the image of Sharon, shot between the eyes on a beach of a beautiful tylium planet, vividly edged in his vision.
She wasn’t dead forever, of course. But seeing that and knowing that were two entirely different things, he was learning right now.
“My wife will so kick your ass,” he managed, finally noticing that they were now standing in front of him in silence, the lackey Simons and the Cavil who’d given the orders, and the Doral who was looking at him with a disturbing kind of greed in his eyes.
He wasn’t even in a real cell, Karl noticed now. Maybe it was because they didn’t have any, he thought. It was just another room like the hallways they’d dragged him through, dim blue tubes illuminating it softly, four walls and no furniture and certainly no bucket.
If I had come to meet dad, I’d be staying here too, he thought, still threatening to laugh, imagining Sharon opening her eyes in the tub she’d talked about, standing up and walking out without ever blinking, not acknowledging the bloody hole on the brink of her nose.
“You wouldn’t mind showing me the bathroom, would you?” he tried for a quip, laughter boiling up and mixing with coughs, the taste of blood on his tongue at once.
Instead of answering, one of the Simons kicked him in his broken ribs. The world exploded in pain.
“Can I have him?” the Doral asked in a tone fit for inquiring about the weather, very sophisticated indeed.
“Absolutely,” Cavil said. “Just don’t make him scream. I don’t want the Simons disturbed in the labs.”
Karl was fighting to clear his vision, trying desperately to get back on all fours.
He knew that Sharon would come, it was just a matter of time. He knew that nothing would stop her from saving him because that was exactly what he’d do if he was her. Nobody else on Galactica might trust her. He did.
Still, for a second he really wished that he wasn’t the only guy left who had in-laws.
He prayed there would still be something left for Sharon to save once she arrived.
This is taken from a Helo fic I've been meaning to write forever, BTW. But I doubt I'll ever make it, it was just too hard to pull off.
So this was what it was like to meet the in-laws.
Karl felt a hysterical giggle coming up. A Simon had shoved him into a cell using the superhuman strength that he associated with slim female arms and fragile looking shoulders, and they hadn’t even bothered taking a Centurion along. The better for it- the sight of them had been sending Karl into states of cold panic ever since Caprica. He wasn’t up to fighting anybody anyway. All his body felt bruised, sharp or numb or quiet pains throbbing a counter beat in his kidneys and his ribs and his crotch, and the image of Sharon, shot between the eyes on a beach of a beautiful tylium planet, vividly edged in his vision.
She wasn’t dead forever, of course. But seeing that and knowing that were two entirely different things, he was learning right now.
“My wife will so kick your ass,” he managed, finally noticing that they were now standing in front of him in silence, the lackey Simons and the Cavil who’d given the orders, and the Doral who was looking at him with a disturbing kind of greed in his eyes.
He wasn’t even in a real cell, Karl noticed now. Maybe it was because they didn’t have any, he thought. It was just another room like the hallways they’d dragged him through, dim blue tubes illuminating it softly, four walls and no furniture and certainly no bucket.
If I had come to meet dad, I’d be staying here too, he thought, still threatening to laugh, imagining Sharon opening her eyes in the tub she’d talked about, standing up and walking out without ever blinking, not acknowledging the bloody hole on the brink of her nose.
“You wouldn’t mind showing me the bathroom, would you?” he tried for a quip, laughter boiling up and mixing with coughs, the taste of blood on his tongue at once.
Instead of answering, one of the Simons kicked him in his broken ribs. The world exploded in pain.
“Can I have him?” the Doral asked in a tone fit for inquiring about the weather, very sophisticated indeed.
“Absolutely,” Cavil said. “Just don’t make him scream. I don’t want the Simons disturbed in the labs.”
Karl was fighting to clear his vision, trying desperately to get back on all fours.
He knew that Sharon would come, it was just a matter of time. He knew that nothing would stop her from saving him because that was exactly what he’d do if he was her. Nobody else on Galactica might trust her. He did.
Still, for a second he really wished that he wasn’t the only guy left who had in-laws.
He prayed there would still be something left for Sharon to save once she arrived.