Flawed
by Charis
Disclaimer: Battlestar Galactica and all associated characters belong to people who are not me. I'm just borrowing.
Notes: For the first challenge at bsgflashfic on LJ: alternate universes. So not what I set out to write for this challenge at ALL. Ten- or fifteen-minute fic, therefore very rough.
"Thy will be done," Six murmurs. Her hands are warm on either side of Baltar's head, her grip strong - too strong. He tries to catch her eye, but her gaze is on some far-distant point and she does not see him. Suddenly he is cold, afraid in spite of the sunlight streaming warm and fierce into the room.
She smiles down at him then, full of mercy and compassion, but there is something odd about her, an edge he cannot quite make sense of. "This model has a flaw, Gaius," she says, the faintest sadness in the slow, almost lazy words. Her fingers make soft circles on the skin of his throat; her voice is music to his ears, but not the kind to soothe jangling nerves. He wonders belatedly if he should struggle, but his limbs are heavy and he cannot bring himself to that effort. "I must be without blemish."
He wets his lips nervously, unable to look away now. Flattery comes easily, "What flaw could a woman as beautiful as -"
"Shut up, Gaius." It is terse, clipped - worrisome.
Suddenly he knows, and though he tries now to fight, it is too late. He is trapped by the press of her slender, delicate hands and the weight of her gaze, adoring and furious all at once.
And then -
(Sudden clench, twist. Press of fingers deep into soft skin. Sharp, sickening crack of things strained beyond hope of redemption. Cries of horror, shock, dismay echoing in outward ears. "He's not breathing!" and "Dr Baltar! Can you hear me, Doctor!"
(Something hot and salt trickling across his lips, but no one his crying. He knows the tears are not his.)
... darkness.
- finis -
