Pressed Palms by Rosie
Summary: Cally feels guilty. She hurt the last person she ever wanted to. But now things are starting to change between them, and the one thing she's always wanted is what scares her the most. A Cally/Tyrol fic.
Disclaimer: I don't own Battlestar Galactica (duh), and these characters are not mine. But I do own these words. Please don't copy in whole or in part w/o my permission.
Prologue
She'd never admit it, but Cally sometimes felt guilty for killing, no, "shooting" Sharon. Just a little. And not because she felt like a murderer (after all, you cant kill a Cylon), or because she had spent a month in the brig (it was kind of nice actually). It was the look on his face. The look on his face as he held her and tried to comfort her and pressed his hand to her stomach to stop the bleeding. The look of agony as the Cylon's head had fallen limp and its eyes faded. Cally had shot the Commander's would-be assassin and most considered her a hero for it. But not him. Cally's only regret was that she had caused him pain.
She only joined the military to pay for dental school. It really was a "last resort" decision. Her family could no longer support her and despite already having two jobs at the age of eighteen, she couldn't manage to pay for college. She really was a pacifist at heart. The thought of holding and shooting a gun absolutely disgusted her. The only people she knew with guns were the ones that would hit you and rape you and steal your car. That's why she went into mechanics. Rather be covered in oil than blood. Metaphorically of course, but Cally didn't want to put herself in the position where she might one day have to make the decision to take life. Either way, she wasnt looking foward to becoming a part of the military machine.
Then she met him, and suddenly a career in the military didn't seem so bad. He had insisted she call him Galen. Guess some people just don't like formalities. But she never felt comfortable hearing that name roll off her tongue. Cally felt like she didn't deserve to say it. Standing in his warm presence and hearing him laugh, she wanted to say it, "Galen". But she was oddly scared. She was afraid to speak his name as though she would be scolded for insubordination, even though he had insisted upon it. Instead she took to calling him "Chief".He had once expressed to her his confusion over the pilots' callsigns. He was never quite sure how to address them. He laughed at the fact that he now had one of his own. It made her insides glow. What a wonderful feeling it was, to make the Chief laugh. Her Chief.
But he was frakking a pilot, a lieutenant, a gorgeous, exotic woman. Cally could hardly compete with that. It really was just a fantasy. After all, she couldn't even say his name. Cally had no choice but to be content with their lighthearted, platonic relationship. She was okay with that though. Not like she was madly in love with him or anything. Just mildly infatuated. And as much as she wanted to hate Sharon, somehow she couldn't. The lieutenant had always been so kind to her, unlike the vast majority of pilots. She never once raised her voice. In fact, the only time Cally could remember hearing Boomer shout was at the Chief moments before they had a good frak in the back of some storage room. The pilot made him happy. Cally could live with that.
But then they ended the relationship and Sharon shot herself. Then she shot the Commander. Then Cally shot her. She justified that it wasn't really "killing". You can't kill a machine. But the pain in the Chief's eyes made it real. Cally threw up in the brig that night thinking not of the blood dripping on the floor or the lifeless body staring blankly at the ceiling, but of the look of absolute horror on his face. Cally had put it there. She had no regrets about killing the Cylon traitor, only that she had caused such a violent pain inside of the last person she ever wanted to hurt. The Chief wasn't the same after that. He seemed hollow. He wouldn't look at her anymore. It was agony for her, but Cally knew she deserved it.
After Kobol, the Chief started talking to her again. His laughter was dry and forced, but at least he was laughing again. She wanted to wrap her arms around him and tell him she was sorry. She had once told him that she wasn't. "I'm not sorry I shot her," she had said. Cally wanted to apologize for everything else. "Galen," she would say, "please forgive me."
Now Cally stood with her hands pressed to the cold metal of a Vyper wing, staring down at him as he messed about with some cables. He squinted his eyes in concentration then stuck his arm out asking for a wrench. She handed it to him as she mouthed the words "I'm sorry," even though she knew he couldn't see her.
A/N: Well, first BSG fanfic. You like it so far? Please R&R. I'd love to hear your comments.