When Boomer looks at Caprica, she wonders if Caprica knows how much she looks like an angel.
Of course, there's the fair skin, the perfect complexion, the pale hair in curls, but that's not really what Boomer means. Every Six has the same skin, the same hair, and none of them compel her the way Caprica does. No, what's really beautiful about her is the edge of distant pain, the shadow of grief over her face. The darkness about Caprica makes the light that much more potent, that much more searing.
Boomer plants her feet against the solid concrete of the balcony where she stands alone, a battle with gravity that somehow gravity seems to be winning.
Caprica has been in love. She's been in love, and she's lost that love, just like Boomer, and sometimes it's more than Boomer can stand knowing that they are the only two Cylons in the universe who've experienced that horrible perfection.
Boomer remembers the way Tyrol's body felt against hers, the anticipation inside her stomach before every tryst, the stab of excitement every time she saw him.
Boomer puts a hand against her stomach, and she wonders why she can't summon up that emotion, the feelings for Tyrol that before would overflow her veins and her heart and her mind. She looks up, and the sun is setting against the clouds, red and gold in the fading nuclear holocaust.
She thinks of what Caprica would look like with a halo, like the paintings she'd seen in books as a girl, and the thought makes her half-smile, an expression that morphs too quickly into a grimace. She didn't learn about angels when she was young; she never was young. It was only a part of her programming, and the memory that curls inside her is fake.
Boomer's not sure anymore where to draw the line between programming and feelings. And, honestly, she's not even sure if it matters, because she has to live with both of them. Forever.
Her hands slide against the railing of the balcony, the metal dragging warmth away from her palms, as she leans over the edge watching the line of shadow creep up the building below her. The night brings with it a chill, and she feels the flesh along her arms grow cool in the breeze.
She imagines being warm – projects it – and suddenly she is, barefoot and in the sand, the heat from the day radiating up around her, as the setting sun shines off the ocean in the distance.
Caprica would belong here perfectly, she thinks, a dress fluttering in the breeze, feet in the wash of the waves. So, Boomer waits here.
Eventually, the sun dips below the waterline.
Fingers curl around her hand, and Boomer turns.
She's back on the balcony, the sun behind the trees, and Caprica smiles at her. "Lost in thought?" Caprica asks.
Boomer doesn't smile, but turns out to the emblazoned clouds. "Just watching the sunset," she responds, trying to ignore the ache inside her.
Caprica drops her hand, and Boomer feels a strange sense of loss. "It's beautiful," Caprica says, following Boomer's gaze.
"Yeah." Boomer's voice is raspy. The two of them are alone, so alone.
"Are you all right?" There's gentle concern in her tone, but Boomer can't seem to tell if there's anything more. "Sharon?"
Her memories of Tyrol seem like they're in black and white, maybe sepia tones, and the knot of loss in her throat isn't for the memories themselves but for the color and life that used to be in them.
"Sharon."
Caprica's voice cuts across Boomer's thoughts. "I'm lonely," Boomer says, and her voice breaks, and Caprica draws her close in, all in the space of a heartbeat. Boomer presses her face into Caprica's shoulder, feeling the spread of warm fingers across her back, and suddenly the night doesn't seem so cold.
Boomer's not sure which one of them moves first; she just remembers, like snapshots, the loosening of Caprica's arms, the delicate brush of noses, the acute moment of hesitation, drawn out for a breath, two – and then the first brush of lips together, sending a thrill up Boomer's spine.
Caprica has uncertainty written all over her, like she doesn't know what to do, like she doesn't understand this. Boomer does, though, all of the sudden, and she wonders how it could have possibly taken her this long.
Boomer slides a hand to Caprica's neck and pulls her down again, opening up this time, coaxing Caprica in, and she feels a flush rise in her neck as their tongues touch.
Caprica breaks the kiss, and pushes Boomer back against the railing. "I had no idea," she breathes, and she attacks Boomer's mouth, seizing. It's an incredible wave of passion, and all Boomer can do is hook an arm beneath Caprica's. She feels dizzy, and something hard and tight is loosening inside her.
Boomer feels a twinge, and she's hot, she's so hot for Caprica right now.
Caprica moves down to Boomer's neck, biting. "Let's," Boomer groans, "take this inside."
In bed, it's a tussle between them, so much in the here and now that it breaks everything Boomer has built up. But, somehow, she doesn't mind, because it's Caprica, the one person in the universe she can let in without fear. Caprica doesn't want to get hurt either.
"Don't leave me," Boomer grasps as Caprica's fingers twist inside her.
Caprica presses a chaste kiss to her mouth. "I'll never leave you," she murmurs, and Boomer, choked, cries out in orgasm.
In the growing dark, Caprica holds Boomer close until they both slip into unconsciousness.