Kara Thrace is afraid of Bill Adama.
It might as well be tattooed on her arm in invisible ink: permanent, hidden, stinging. It is always with her, even before she met the man. As soon as Zak got drunk enough on cheap beer to talk about his father in depth, Kara's been afraid.
Old Man Adama's never had a reputation for violence…well, he's never pulled time for violence, she amended. There's rumors that anyone who hurts someone close to him will have hell to pay, though, and that's what scares her. It feels strange, being scared of someone like that. Kara's generally fearless. It's been her particular cross to bear.
She hadn't been afraid of her mother, or her teachers, or the law, although it wasn't for their lack of trying. She faked her first ID when she was fifteen, leaving home and crashing with friends and strangers as she worked a few nights pulling beers one place, a few nights dancing at another.
By sixteen she could do some card-counting and hustling; enough to buy her a bike and get the hell out of Delphi. She headed to Caprica City, confidence battling fear in her heart. She had been existing from day to day, boosting wallets here, getting in on a Triad game there, when she finally got a legit job: grease monkey and go-fer at a shady-looking garage that ran a chop shop in the back.
By eighteen Kara had a two room apartment where the utilities worked most of the time, a better bike…and a boyfriend. A good guy, sweet as he could be, and mostly law-abiding. Not usually her type, but he had the bluest eyes she'd ever seen, and he acted like there was nothing wrong with her. She liked that about him and hated it at the same time. Sweet but blind was a dangerous combination, and the sweet parts kept threatening to lull her into thinking this could work.
Zak Adama made her feel loved and smart and competent. He trusted her. Knowing this made her perversely reckless, made her drink too much, made her do stupid stuff to push him to open his eyes. It didn't work: he invited her to be around his family, his brother, his club uncles and their old ladies.
She hated it.
There were too many rules, too much protocol. She tried hard to blow it, to take things to a level where Zak would be told to drop her. She swaggered and smart-mouthed, picked fights with others, made even more of a drunken jackass of herself than usual when she got the chance. Zak kept sticking up for her, taking her to his house, rolling them together on his big wide bed until she didn't want to fight him anymore.
She caved for good the day Lee Adama came looking for his brother's help and found Zak too sick from a summer cold to ride. Against her better judgment, Kara volunteered to help the short-handed Lee and a few others hijack a transfer truck full of high-dollar goods.
She figured she'd be good at it. She hadn't counted on how good it would make her feel, like she'd found her true calling. The brashness of it, the close calls, the daredevil riding and feinting was like moonshine being shot straight into her veins. She was walking on air when she parked her bike and strode into Adama Automotive like she had every right to be there. She'd even gotten a smile from Old Man Adama himself, along with a dark glower from his Sergeant at Arms.
That's when the real learning had started. Lee began to throw her a tip now and then about fitting in with the life. Kara made sure she was by Zak's side when Helo offered up guidance and patient instruction. She had started to ask a question or two, butting in when Zak fell silent, and Helo had seemed happy to answer
She found herself poring over hand-drawn maps, identifying cut-offs and hiding places. She was careful not to go to the same person too often for schooling, and kept to the shadows when men gathered by the fire barrel to warm their hands and plan out loud.
Once in a while, there would be secrets whirling around the club that felt…different from the smuggling and boosting and heists that were the usual business of the MC. That kind of change in atmosphere made her fingers throb at the broken places, made her cajole Zak away from whatever he was doing and grab their bikes and ride. No one ever objected…and now that she thought about it, the last time she and Zak disappeared like that, the perpetually hostile Tigh seemed almost relieved as they headed out of the lot.
Kara would take Zak to the flats outside of Caprica City and work on maneuvers, both on and off their bikes. He could ride well enough. Nothing wrong with his skills there. But mapping routes on the fly while being pursued, shaking a tail…there was something missing. The terror-fueled instinct to get away, the adrenaline edge that fear gave a person on the run…that didn't come together for Zak.
Late at night, when he'd want to cuddle and kiss her after they'd frakked, it would come to her sometimes, what his problem was. Zak hadn't had enough fear in his life. He was too optimistic, too trusting, too sure things would work out. His edges had been blunted by too much safety.
On the nights she let herself think about this, she knew he shouldn't follow his father and brother into Outlaw life. He idolized his family, though, and cherished his Tauron heritage. He'd adopted his father's beliefs as his own. He was so sure there was a place waiting for him at the heavy carved table…and Zak wanted it so much, she could taste it on his tongue when they kissed.
She thought she could get him there, maybe. His instincts weren't great, but most of the time, he could follow her directions, follow her lead. Soon, something big would come along, she thought. Something big enough to be his chance at proving himself. If she could just take over his body, his hands, his feet, his brain for a day, let him get a feel for split-second decisions, he could do it.
She would try harder, she told herself. Drill him more, try and get through to him the abilities that came to her as naturally as drinking a cold beer on a hot day. Maybe if the club let them work together on a job, his skills would improve. She could ask around, see if one of the lesser MC members had something coming up that Zak could handle with her help. If Zak could be successful, show them he did have the chops, she knew Bill would fast-track him into becoming a new member. She hadn't been around when Lee patched in, but Bill didn't strike her as a man who would let an Adama wear the "Prospect" cut for long.
Zak would be so happy! The thought made her smile. She envisioned him in the Tauron Outlaw colors, his cut a newer version of his dad's, waiting to be marked with the signs of his life.
And if he failed, if he got arrested, or hurt…she pictured Bill Adama, grieving, angry, features like the side of a desert cliff. She thought about all that anger turned towards her, holding her responsible for encouraging his son. It was a mental picture that always made her restless, made her reach for liquor or weed or Zak's body to block those thoughts.
Kara Thrace is in love with Zak Adama. This was carved into her heart.
Kara Thrace is afraid of Bill Adama. That was carved into her gut.
The day was coming when she'd find out which was stronger, and a refrain of "love conquers all" kept looping through her mind, terrifying her with its tempting false simplicity.
