Author's note: This is not a new story, but it needed some love and revisions. I adore this scene in BSG, It blew my mind away, and Leoben is yet one more of the sexy villains I love. :)
Interrogation
"Do you realise that I could kill you before they came back into the room?"
He leans forward; his ever-solemn expression is suddenly replaced by one of pure evil.
I think the shock is that much worse because of his whole new-age appearance, complete with clothes and his half-baked philosophy on gods, cylons, and man.
His eyes narrow as he continues with a voice that's suddenly dead cold.
"I could get to my feet… rip your skull from your spinal column… crash through that door… kill the guard… in less time than it has taken me to describe it."
I cock my head, refusing to let him see the flutter of fear in my heart. "Then why don't you?" I ask lightly.
He leans back, relaxes, smiles briefly, his eyes never leaving mine. "It's not the time," he whispers softly, his voice like a caress.
Right, you son-of-a-bitch. All talk…
I can't help but grin at his helplessness, feeling satisfied that he, the Cylon; the created killing-machine, is the one who sits defenseless, bound to hands and feet. Not me, the supposedly weak little human.
Suddenly, he tears his arms apart and the thick chains fall rattling to the floor. I gasp, but have no time to react as he toss aside the heavy metal table as if it's made of cardboard, propels forward, clasp his hand around my throat and push me all the way back to the wall.
I slam into the steel with a speed I hadn't thought possible. The back of my head takes the hit, but my attention is on his eyes that pierce mine, and the fact that I can barely breathe.
I can't tear my eyes from his. He looks at me with a calm, almost curious gaze and I get the feeling that he asks of forgiveness, or understanding.
He leans closer, his nose touching my cheek, our sweat intermingles, and I realize he smells. He smells like any human man would have.
Impossible.
"How does it feel to be the weaker, Kara? How does it feel to know that they can't help you, that you are at my mercy?" He nods at the guards at the other side of the door.
I hear them vaguely behind me, screaming orders, trying to get me out, to get me safe.
I can see how he revels in the fact that he's got me. My toes barely touch the floor. I'm not a small girl; I can't believe he's holding me with just one hand.
"You're so frakked," I mouth, unable to produce words.
He leans closer. "What was that?"
"You will be aired faster than it takes me to describe it," I wheeze, my mind spinning from the lack of air, my limbs burning for oxygen.
His cheek rests against mine. I can feel his warmth. He's hot, almost as if he has a fever.
His breath tickles my ear.
"I'll look you up, Kara. I can't die."
Then I can suddenly breathe. The marines have managed to break in through the other entrance. Even the two huge men have problems making him let go, and then it's like he decides to let them win, he throws his arms up and they tear him off me.
Our eyes lock one final time before they start beating him.
When he falls unconscious to the floor, I turn and leave the interrogation chamber.
My throat hurt, and I need a restroom.
Desperately.
The End.