The day we found New Caprica the fleet rejoiced. No more running, no more fighting. We could settle down, start our lives over. Yet a voice inside screamed that life was over.
So I play house. I force on the smile every day. Try to remember that once I was happy with him. Convincing myself little by little that conformity was the same as happiness. I lay beside him, restrained by him, and by this life. My body itches for action, for the fight or flight. My heart sings out for love.
In the heat of battle I could pretend. The excitement around me eclipsed me, made me believe we were more. Reminded me that I was more. So I take a walk every day to clear my head. To steal myself for the night ahead. Once again feel the freedom I once took for granted. The freedom to soar and to breathe. I dream of flying, but it's nothing more than a memory now.
I walk through the shanty town, rebuilding a world takes time it seems. Breathe in the refreshingly choking fumes of a fire. Walk past the shiny happy people, for whom this is paradise.
I stop suddenly. Close my eyes. And send out my thoughts to the gods. A silent prayer for a kindred spirit. I long to find the other person for whom peace strangles the last remnants of purpose from existence. Dream nightly of them, but their face is hidden from me. I wish to meet them on my daily walks. A glance between us conveying a deeper meaning. An understanding of the intolerable agony we both feel.
Despair sets in at the thought there might not be another that feels as I do. They all seem so contented here. All settled down, digging in and carrying on as though the war never happened. The fear is unbearable. Air suddenly so cold I cannot breathe.
Turning sharply on my heel, resolved to return to my tent. Then I see her. My prayers are answered in that single, all knowing, all understanding look. The moment passes, as all moments must. Her face returning instantly to its facade of happiness. But in those few seconds I know I am not alone.
Returning to Anders that evening, a genuine smile on my lips. He doesn't notice. I wonder some days if he even cares. I no longer do. That night as I lie with him in the cot, his hot breath on my face. His sweaty body above me, I am once more not there. But I am not remembering past glories and conquests. Instead I imagine her face. That look. And for now that is enough.
Later, in sleep, my mind is allowed to wander to darker thoughts, and deeper hidden fantasies.
The war ended. Peace ruled and the world settled down. I settled down. Started my life anew. Well started my life again. Without politics I could do anything. Teaching the new generation about their history will always be my calling. Keeping Hera close by working with Maya also helped.
It seemed only natural. Late nights marking. Staying after class to clean. One thing leads to another as they say. And I'm in bed with her. Nothing serious, keep it casual. Close but not close enough. Sex with the school ma'am, everyone's private fantasy. The companionship helped at first. Now it dulls the ache inside. Keeps the cold from my heart for briefer moments each time.
After we landed I felt I had a purpose. One even grander then leading them all through the war. Teaching enriched my soul. As the initial hope failed, I am left empty inside. Their smiling faces cut through me more each day. Unrestrained joy mocks me, silently.
One night, whilst lying beside her, the futility of this sham hit me. I realised that this is not life. The remnants of our lost culture cannot be re-established here. This is not where we belong. This is not where I belong. But I cling to it still. Hold on to her tighter each night. Longing for some of her warmth to fill me too.
The emptiness of my days now engulfs me entirely. Schedule each moment to keep the feeling at bay. Full day of class. Walk for a while after marking. Go home for food. Look for release with her. Return to my tent. Sleep. Repeat.
She knows I'm using her. I don't think she cares. I hope she doesn't.
And then my life is turned upside down. There is nothing remarkable about the moment which does this. No resounding bells. No momentous act. I leave the tent, and see her standing there. Face turned to the heavens. More open and vulnerable than I ever thought possible. She turns and I see her eyes. And suddenly I know. Her life is as empty as mine. Her actions as unfulfilling and her heart as without fire. I understand.
That brief encounter. That lost look. Her heart breaking expression. My soul goes out to her. And for a second I feel as though hers comes to me.
I don't leave Maya's tent that night. I lay there. One beautiful woman in my arms. Another in my mind's eye. I slowly drift into unconsciousness with her smiling eyes searching my soul.
I wake. Mind filled, for the first time, with a world of possibilities. Rising, I allow my mind to wander. Gone is the agony of loneliness. Replaced by hope. Desire for something as yet unknown.
Plans form in my mind as I go about my day. I have to see her. Have to get her alone. Talk to her. But what to say? What words has man formed that can truly express my thoughts? Can share the pain I have inside?
As always I leave the tent at sundown. Take the same route as yesterday. Eyes search the people around me. Search for her. Despair quickly sets in. Readily replacing the hope I foolishly allowed myself to feel. For a few sweet hours I had hope again.
I consider returning to him. But something inside me makes me pause. I try to force my legs to move. And yet my head tells me to wait. For what I do not know. So I stand there by the fire, waiting.
All I seem to do is wait here. A constant state of readiness, alert, anticipation. It is exhausting. I don't know what I've been waiting for. Maybe it was her. Perhaps this night, or at least the idea of it. The possibilities it whispers of.
I stand there. People move around me. Yet I am completely alone. Feel the loneliness engulfing me. The silence of my inner voice deafens me. Resounding, unending silence. Consuming my every thought.
A hand on my shoulder shocks me. Reflexes, dormant for months take over. Fight or flight. Turning with a speed that surprises even me. I face her. The familiar cynical yet caring look in her deep brown eyes. Eyes that smile, such a sad smile. Looking deeper, there's something more. Emptiness. A kindred suffering.
No words are shared. We simply stand there, communicating volumes in silence. Yet this silence is soothing. A comfortable silence. Unspoken words softening the loneliness we both feel.
I take her hand. Question her wordlessly. Know the answer without a sound.
She leads me back to the school tent. And we sit sipping tea. Still without words. Exchanging glances over the rims of china tea cups. Briefest glimpse of civilisation in this desolate place. Hot sweet liquid runs down my throat. I am reminded of that other time. Of meetings in the President's office. Of the dignity of her every movement. Even then, those words left unsaid were more important than those spoken aloud. But in this place, in this moment, words cannot be uttered for fear they would ruin this. Whatever this is.
To break the silence seems sacrilegious. Any noise might make this real. And in its surrealism it is more real than anything we have shared before. With each other or anyone else.
She sips from her cup. A slow delicate action. The grace in such a simple motion overcomes me. All I want is to reach out and touch her. But that is another lie. I want so much more than that. I came to this place not knowing what I was waiting for. Only knowing I could not find it anywhere but here. With her. In her eyes. Such eyes. Conveying more in a single glance than any poet could convey in a thousand stanzas.
I reach out, slowly and tentatively. Afraid for a second that my hand would not connect with flesh, but air. The perfection of this moment in a sea of despair seems more than I deserve. More than I could hope for.
But my hand does connect. Her skin is softer than I remember. And with that touch, a true smile graces her lips, reaching to her eyes. The room is illuminated with that smile. My heart warmed. Hope refreshed. Though I know not what I hope for. Perhaps that this moment will never end. That I never stop touching her. Or that I remember this smile. This moment in time, forever. For this is a smile that can bear one through the darkest of nights. The coldest of days. The loneliest of times.
Her smile melts me inside. My heart does not skip a beat, but my breath catches once more. I am lost.
When a relationship ends, any relationship, it is quiet. The arguments are long since over. Every word of anger has been thrown. The sorrow has been expressed. And the end comes silently.
It does not sneak up on you however. It looms on the horizon. The inevitable end to the journey. No one is surprised when it comes. Though it hurts, it is expected and seen from a distance. As though a supernova is expanding in the sky above your head. It can be terrifying to know what is coming. But eventually acceptance takes hold.
As I turn to leave I see the glimmer of sadness in his eye. I feel a pang of guilt. But there is no loss. There is only relief, and an almost palpable sense of joy.
She knows it is over. It was over long ago. The instant family dissolves like a vacuum packed ration. All that remains is the bitter after taste.
I don't mean to sound harsh. But this place breeds harshness like other places breed gardens.
I loved her once I think. If not loved, then could have loved. Another time, and another place we could have been happy. But in this place, at this time. It cannot be. The feelings it once invoked within me have long since faded. The end came swiftly. But it was not a surprise.
I stalk across the square that night. Mind focused entirely on her. I reach her tent and knock. Engrained old habits still observed even in this place.
I push aside the door flap and walk in. She sits, hands wrapped around a cup of tea. Slowly raising the cup to her lips. Sipping the sweet liquid as though it was the essence of life itself. I stand mesmerised by the simple act.
My eyes drift over her body. I take her in. Adsorb every inch of her frame. And I think of doing body shots off her naked form. I quash the thoughts, knowing there is no alcohol left.
I walk towards her. Take the cup from her hand and find the tea is cooling quickly.
Taking her hand she stands. I cup her cheek, looking deep into her eyes. Our eyes lock, I send out a silent prayers to the gods for her. For this.
I indicate for her to lie upon the table. Take a moment to place soft kisses upon her lips whilst hands work on undoing her shirt. As flesh meets air it is also met with lips and teeth. Once the offending garment has been removed I reach for the cup.
Slowly dripping the sweet liquid upon her soft, milky skin. I reach down and lick the tea from her skin. The bitter taste juxtaposed with the sweetness of her flesh. Soft moans elicited with every motion of my tongue.
Moving down her torso, lapping the liquid as I go. Eventually meeting the place where fabric interrupts my expedition. Again the offensive fabric is removed and I continue my mission. Eventually reaching the area which peaks my interest.
When her fingers enter any doubt subsides. As though there is either her or them. Gods I want her inside me in their place.
Each slow, almost arduous motion brings me higher. Feeling with every passing moment more emotional than I have in months. In years.
All at once the feelings culminate. I do not stand on the edge before crashing down. I am higher than the edge, and fall. Crash down hard. Moaning, thrashing, a mess of limbs.
I look into her eyes. In that moment there is nothing else. There was no war, there is no resettlement. There is just this. Just us. The fight has left me.
She lies beside me. The serenity on her face suggests a release akin to mine. Lying there upon the table. Silence in a mad world. And over a radio from some distant tent comes a soft song. Lulling me swiftly and gently into a peaceful sleep.
iWhen the day is won
When the war is over
Well this city's cold
And I could use a friend/i