My BSG story
Apr. 18th, 2005 04:06 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dangermousieI posted it a long time ago on the yahoolist, but I thought I wanted to have it on lj, so slightly modified, here it is. Oddly enough, it is not Kara/Lee because there is no way I could write as well as a whole bunch of k/l writers. This is Six, and Helo/Boomer.
Spoilers for up to Ep 6 of S1.
Mechanical
I. Six.
She likes watching him.
She likes to watch him ask for help. He flounders, looking desperate and she likes it. She likes his weakness. It makes him invincible. You cannot break someone who always bends.
She likes to watch him talk to himself, to her (she isn’t sure which is which any more, either), muttering around corners in a strained, emotional voice. She likes to watch him suffer. It reminds her they are different. That he is human, weak, unique.
She likes to watch him following women with his eyes. Lt. Boomer (sometimes she wonders if she left in him a taste for Cylons), Lt. Starbuck (sometimes she wonders if she left in him a taste for blondes), any woman between sixteen and sixty (and then she knows he has always liked all women, any woman. Before her, after her, during.)
She likes him when he denies God, because it means she gets to try harder.
Sometimes, she isn’t sure what she is. A mechanical tracer implanted in his brain? A figment of his imagination, an invisible reminder of his guilt? She doesn’t know any more. It doesn’t matter. She is real to him and so she is real to herself.
She likes watching him.
II. Boomer on Caprica
Helo sleeps, exhaustion marking every visible surface and plane of his face. She is fascinated by the concept. What would it be like to feel tired? Terrified? In love? He is all three at the same time. She can tell. She can tell by his ragged breathing, harsh even in sleep. She can tell by the way his eyes dart everywhere as they wander across the maze, by the way his fingers twitch on his gun. She can tell by the way he looks at her when he thinks she is not watching: hopeful, puzzled, intense.
She is not really Sharon Valerii, his friend and pilot. She has never flown with him, joked with him, ate with him, been with him. Not before Caprica. Not on the ship he speaks of, the mechanical refuge of his dreams. The other Sharon did all that. Somehow it bothers her.
She has reported to Six that Helo is a good man. But can men be good? Can they be good according to the Cylon standards? He is a good man, whatever that means, any definition.
He came back for her. She ponders the thought. He tucked her in, he cooked her toast and he came back to rescue her from the Cylons, unaware of the irony and the setup. Frightened, alone, hopeless, he came back for her. Helped her on her feet, kissed her on the forehead. She can still feel that phantom kiss. His voice soothed, his hands shook. Her hands shook too.
Maybe the Cylon designers did too good a job with her.
What would it be like to feel tired? Terrified? In love? And she realizes she knows.
Spoilers for up to Ep 6 of S1.
Mechanical
I. Six.
She likes watching him.
She likes to watch him ask for help. He flounders, looking desperate and she likes it. She likes his weakness. It makes him invincible. You cannot break someone who always bends.
She likes to watch him talk to himself, to her (she isn’t sure which is which any more, either), muttering around corners in a strained, emotional voice. She likes to watch him suffer. It reminds her they are different. That he is human, weak, unique.
She likes to watch him following women with his eyes. Lt. Boomer (sometimes she wonders if she left in him a taste for Cylons), Lt. Starbuck (sometimes she wonders if she left in him a taste for blondes), any woman between sixteen and sixty (and then she knows he has always liked all women, any woman. Before her, after her, during.)
She likes him when he denies God, because it means she gets to try harder.
Sometimes, she isn’t sure what she is. A mechanical tracer implanted in his brain? A figment of his imagination, an invisible reminder of his guilt? She doesn’t know any more. It doesn’t matter. She is real to him and so she is real to herself.
She likes watching him.
II. Boomer on Caprica
Helo sleeps, exhaustion marking every visible surface and plane of his face. She is fascinated by the concept. What would it be like to feel tired? Terrified? In love? He is all three at the same time. She can tell. She can tell by his ragged breathing, harsh even in sleep. She can tell by the way his eyes dart everywhere as they wander across the maze, by the way his fingers twitch on his gun. She can tell by the way he looks at her when he thinks she is not watching: hopeful, puzzled, intense.
She is not really Sharon Valerii, his friend and pilot. She has never flown with him, joked with him, ate with him, been with him. Not before Caprica. Not on the ship he speaks of, the mechanical refuge of his dreams. The other Sharon did all that. Somehow it bothers her.
She has reported to Six that Helo is a good man. But can men be good? Can they be good according to the Cylon standards? He is a good man, whatever that means, any definition.
He came back for her. She ponders the thought. He tucked her in, he cooked her toast and he came back to rescue her from the Cylons, unaware of the irony and the setup. Frightened, alone, hopeless, he came back for her. Helped her on her feet, kissed her on the forehead. She can still feel that phantom kiss. His voice soothed, his hands shook. Her hands shook too.
Maybe the Cylon designers did too good a job with her.
What would it be like to feel tired? Terrified? In love? And she realizes she knows.
