Wounded Wing

by MSerrada

NOW a WIP - AU beginning the first day of the Occupation of New Caprica. Kara's experiences over those 4 months is much more traumatic than anyone realized, and her people on Galactica have to deal with the aftermath. Very Dark fic, especially early on, but I like light endings. Trigger Warnings!

38. Chapter 38 Routines

Chapter 38 Routines

Kara had a run-in with Kacey and her mother when the other woman showed up in the pilots' bunkroom saying that her daughter had been asking after her. Barely able to even look at the bright-eyed child, Kara had made it clear to the woman that she didn't want to have anything to do with them.

Sleeping continued to be a problem. Every night she woke in a cold sweat, fists clenched in the twisted sheets and gasping as she tried to ground herself back in the present. Sometimes she remembered the dreams, usually those were framed by pain and fear. At other times, the images faded so quickly back behind the curtains that blocked sections of her memories that she was just left with the acidic taste of loathing and an abiding aversion to remember whatever it was she'd locked away.

After the first week of listening to her bunkmates grumble about her rousing them with her nightmares, Kara fell into a new routine. Rather than join the others in the rec room after a shift at Viper maintenance, she'd return in the late afternoon to her bunk and sack out for a few hours, knowing that she'd likely have some privacy while the others were off eating dinner and finding whatever recreation they could on the battlestar. With that privacy, at least she was sure not to wake anyone if—when—the nightmares roused her again. The sounds of their returning in the early evening invariably woke her, and she'd spend about an hour pushing around a late dinner before heading over to the rec room for a night filled with cards and booze.

Those nights when Colonel Tigh joined the game, more than alcohol spilled from their lips as Starbuck's and Tigh's bitterness splashed onto those gathered in the room. Always the last to leave the table, Kara would then head off to the gym furthest from the crews' quarters and workout until exhaustion and alcohol had numbed her enough that she could sprawl out on a workout bench and sleep a couple more hours. So far she'd managed to drag herself up early enough each morning to quietly return to her bed before reveille.

Kara knew she wasn't fooling anybody, but at least this way people could pretend, and she wasn't disturbing the sleep her crewmates needed to do their job. Last thing she wanted was to know that any pilot was flying CAP exhausted because she'd kept them up at night.