Well, this is basically my idea of what happened after "33"- directly after. I don't know, maybe they're a little too out of character. I reallydon't care. All breeds of reviews are loved- the nice ones that sit in your lap and look pretty as well as the big mean ones who maul your head. Cheers, kids.
-
She couldn't sleep.
It was stupid, really, she hadn't slept in DAYS, she should be sound asleep right this very moment, like most of the other pilots on the Galactica. But, she wasn't. She was walking the still, quiet hallways and corridors, grateful for time alone with herself. Well, it was more like pacing, but she had never liked admitting that she was nervous enough to pace. So she was walking. And thinking, she was thinking a lot. Indeed, she was so intently submersed in her own thoughts that she didn't notice his presence behind her until he came very close to her, whispering in her ear, "Kara?" His breath tickled her face and the back of her neck. She jumped.
"Ah, frack, don't DO that to me."
"Well, I wouldn't have to if you weren't flying on autopilot."
"Sorry."
"Don't be - you should be asleep, anyway."
"So should you."
And she knew she didn't have to apologize, but she did. She slowed a little, letting him walk beside her in the stillness, exchanging words. They were just words, and part of her missed them altogether. He was right, she WAS flying on autopilot, she wasn't focusing - but that was forgivable. She knew he would forgive it, so she didn't apologize.
"Oh, I don't need to sleep - why aren't you sleeping? You need to be sleeping."
"Quit worrying - it's the stimulants."
"Uh huh."
"Yeah - strong frack, you know?"
"But that's not why you're not sleeping."
"No, but it's probably a contributing factor."
"So, why aren't you asleep again?"
"Gods, give it up, I'm fine."
"No you're not."
He was right, she knew he was right. She knew a lot of things, really. Half of them were about flying Vipers. The other half were about him. Like, for instance, she knew that she knew him better than almost anyone. She knew that he was her best friend ever, the only person she allowed as close ad she did. And, knowing that, she also knew she couldn't lie to him, one thing she regretted at times. But, then, he couldn't lie to her either, so she guessed it was somewhat of a fair deal.
"No, you're right, I'm not."
"Knew it."
"Yeah yeah."
"What's wrong?"
"Oh, nothing really... Just a little bit of a mass genocide, nothing to worry about. Don't cry over spilled milk and dead pilots, I always say."
"Kara..."
"Sorry."
"Don't be."
She had crossed a line. She knew she had, but he disregarded it. It was funny, sometimes she wasn't sure if she liked how everything was always okay with him or not. Like that comment. That comment had brushed him the wrong way with her harsh tone, bitter and sarcastic - his shoulders had slumped for just the briefest of moments, just enough to let her know that he was hurt, too. He'd sighed in that minute way that told her he didn't want her to know he was hurt, but he was. She knew, though. She had known all along. You didn't know someone like him for as long as she had known him and not know. You just knew, all the time, about everything, you knew. She knew.
"Well, I am, and don't tell me it's okay."
"Okay. Fine. You crossed a line. It was inappropriate."
"I know."
"Okay."
"Okay."
She had no idea where they were going. They were just going, their strides crisp and trained, the walk of real military pilots - if you overlooked the pall that hung over them, tugging their shoulders and faces down. Was it grief or was it fatigue? Even she couldn't say. There had been too much happening over the days. Too much. There was too much worry, too much pain, too many clouded situations, murky water that held no solutions.
"What are you thinking about?"
"I dunno."
"Yes you do."
"How do you know?"
"I know you too well, Kara."
"Damn you."
"So - what are you thinking about?"
"I'm tired."
"I told you you needed to sleep."
"No, not like that... I'm tired of this."
"This?"
"Yeah, THIS. Everything. THIS this."
"Me too."
"I know."
And she really was, she was tired of all of it - all the death, all the uncertainties, all the CRAP that came up, the cylons and their stupid 33-minute attack schedules, everything. She was tired of it all, and she knew he had to be too - maybe he was even more tired of it than she was. He had, after all, been suddenly thrust into an unfamiliar leadership position with unfamiliar pilots under his command, more of them going out than coming back. She knew he was tired. He had to be. Even though, mythically, he was god of art, beauty, wisdom, sunlight - still, she knew he was tired. He wasn't a god; he was just a mortal with a god's call sign. She sighed. This was too hard, playing constant guessing games over the next attack, wondering whether or not you would be alive to see the next morning. It was all too hard.
"It's hard."
"Read my mind."
"As always."
"Yeah."
"But it is."
"I know, I know it is."
"The hardest part is the not knowing."
"You mean the fact that when we go out again, one of us could die?"
"That too."
"Well, if it happens to be me..."
"It won't be, don't you dare say that."
"Hey, I'm just saying - if it happens to be me, I always loved you. Always will."
"I know."
"Not that it will be me or anything. Or you either."
"I love you too, Kara, but... Let's hope we don't have to be saying this."
"Oh, we do. This is war, you don't tell each other 'good luck,' you tell each other 'good hunting.' We have to be saying it. Trust me."
"I know, I know. I know. I just don't want to be having to."
"I know."
"It's hard."
Somehow, they'd gotten back to her cabin. She didn't know how. But that was forgivable. They stopped, looking at each other for a long time. It was hard, it was all hard. After a bit, he held out his arms, wrapping her in warm safety. She stopped thinking, surrendering to the moment, the feel, the touch. This part was hard, too, even though it was so easy. It was hard because she knew that someday one of them wouldn't be coming back. Then, there would be no more late-night talks when everyone else was asleep, no more refuge, no more anything. She knew that he had thought the same, was probably thinking it right then with her, and she realized that everything she knew was confirmed in him. If he should suddenly not come back - she would be lost. This thought made her cling tighter than before, squeezing her eyes shut against the world. At length, she spoke again, resting her head on his shoulder, eyes still closed.
"Lee?"
"Hmm?"
"You know, I have no idea what I'd do if it was you."
"Well, you don't have to think about it - I'm not planning on getting myself killed."
"I know, but it's war. You don't plan. You... pray."
"I know."
"I don't know what I'd do."
"Stop it. You would be fine, but it's never going to happen, so you don't have to worry."
"Oh, it'll happen someday. Maybe it'll be me and not you. Who knows. Would you know what to do? Honestly, would you?"
"No. I wouldn't. But it's never going to-"
"It will, I know it will - and so do you."
"I know."
"It's war."
"I know."
"You know, thinking about it, I'd probably do something stupid, like... suicide."
"Stop it, I'm serious."
"So am I."
"I know."
"You can't ever let it be you, okay?"
"It won't be me, Kara, trust me. I'm not planning on getting myself killed."
"Good."
"I do love you. But it won't be me."
"So do I, and hopefully it won't be me either."
"I know."
It was hard.