Her first dream came after the endless day of over two hundred jumps. In it, she was running through the cold, clammy rain with Karl at her side. They raced pell mell through the clinging undergrowth, flightsuits glistening damply. He stopped, freezing utterly with one hand half raised to urge her stillness. Beside him, Sharon fought to temper her ragged breath as they listened to a crashing through the forest ahead. Screened by the heavy woods, Sharon and Karl watched the Cylon patrol pass away to the northeast. They remained motionless ten further long, painful minutes before Helo dropped his hand and they made their way south and west. As she stumbled in the dimming light, he held her steady, squeezed her hand and smiled.
Sharon woke to the cold, impersonal confines of her bunk on the Galactica and wished that she could feel Helo's comforting presence in more than dreams.
Her second dream of Helo came after she had finally given in and cleaned out his locker. His box of lollipops was safely stowed in the back of her locker, his uniforms returned to the quartermaster, his books shared among the other pilots and his few family photos stowed on the shelf in her bunk. Sharon stared at the picture of Helo as she drifted off to sleep, so she wasn't surprised to see that same face in her dreams.
"Sharon," he urged, "we have to go to the city." Karl was leaning forward, gently grasping her upper arms, coaxing her to return his gaze.
"I don't want to," she said, reluctantly meeting his eyes. "Helo, can't we stay in the wilderness, out of the city? It's dead."
"Sharon, we're running out of supplies. We need shelter, food, maybe we can find some other people, follow the signal. . . . Come on, you can do it." He grinned the way he always did at the end of a long patrol or a double shift, a little "buck me up" half-smile that was usually punctuated by a lollipop.
She forced a smile. "You're right, but only as long as I'm with you. I couldn't do this on my own."
Helo turned to make his way down the dusty hillside above the deserted suburban streetscape, holding her hand as she followed him down. "I don't know, Sharon. I think you'd do better than you give yourself credit for." His eyes constantly scanned the horizon for any sign of Cylons as he led them out of the open, between houses, constantly moving towards the city centre. Sharon tried not to notice how warm and comforting his hand was around her own.
When she woke from the dream, the hand that had been holding his was warmly wedged beneath her pillow.
Her relationship with Galen had become more and more fractious. Every time she looked into his eyes, she saw the doubt she knew lay in her own. The charges and sabotage, the bomb in her Raptor: was someone targeting her or was she targeting herself? Reluctant as she was to sleep, not knowing if she was behind these strange acts, she also felt compelled to sleep. Because in sleep came those dreams of Helo. She closed her eyes and willed sleep to come quickly.
The safe room was cool and dim, filled with enough supplies to last them for months, even more medicine. They'd taken advantage of the generator-powered shower to each wash away the worst of the smell and grime. With flightsuits drying across shelves, they were stripped to nearly nothing: Karl in a towel around his waist and Sharon in a sweatshirt she'd found, large enough to cover her completely in cozy warmth.
"I can't believe it."
"You've said that a thousand times," Sharon elbowed her ECO as they both sat; backs against bags of supplies, spooning down freshly heated stew with real vegetables and flavour. "Stop marveling and start eating, Karl, or I'll finish your bowl as soon as I'm done with mine."
He chuckled and returned his attention to his stew, openly savouring each mouthful with exaggerated sounds of pleasure. Sharon couldn't stop herself from watching him so relaxed and happy. He glanced over at her. "What?"
Sharon shook her head with a smile. "Nothing. Just happy, that's all." She wished this moment could last forever.
It was painful to wake in her empty bunk in the nearly deserted pilot quarters.
Sharon stumbled back into the quarters and mechanically unfastened her uniform jacket. When it missed the hook and fell to the bottom of her locker, she didn't bother to pick it up. She just sat down on the bunk, wrists lying helpless on her knees. It was over. How could it be over? How could Galen do this? What was she going to do? Sharon felt adrift on the Galactica, disconnected, out of sync with everyone around her. Galen had been her anchor and now he was cutting her loose. She prayed she would reach safe harbour. She prayed for dreams.
"Be careful, Sharon."
She tried to turn, to reassure Helo that she was fine, but every movement was slow and agonizing. Despite herself, she groaned and opened eyes to see Karl's face, close above her, sympathy apparent. "Here," he urged, pressing a tablet into her hand and then slowly lifting her head towards a bottle of water. "An analgesic. It'll help."
Sharon obediently took the medicine and lay back. She heard Karl snap the medkit closed and stow the supplies. Then she felt him ease down beside her. They lay sheltered under sweeping branches in dim light: was it dusk or dawn? Sharon didn't know and didn't want to waste the energy asking.
"Take it easy," his voice advised from behind her right ear. She felt him easing up behind her, gently encircling her in his arm, sharing his warmth. Despite the pain, she didn't know when she'd felt safer.
Sharon tried to work as much of the time as she could, but it was hard, avoiding Galen on the flightdeck and her friends in the rec room. She didn't feel like making small talk or encouraging the rooks. Crashdown was good as an ECO, but as soon as they were on the deck they went their separate ways, which suited Sharon fine. No more messy attachments. Her abandonment of Helo still struck her hard at the oddest moments. While her dreams were usually a pleasant diversion from the reality of her grind, she had to accept them for what they were: dreams. Just dreams. Only dreams. So she whispered to herself as she lay in her bunk, willing herself to sleep.
Her breathing came harshly and her pulse raced as they crouched behind an abandoned building. Harsh sunlight beat down upon her back with a blistering heat while she waited for Karl's signal. Then they were racing across the open field to a new patch of woodland. This looked promising: a gentle highland slope away from the city where Cylon patrols seemed too close for comfort. They scavenged some more supplies from an empty house along the rutted country road: canned and dry foods from a pantry and, surprisingly, two thin survival blankets from a wealth of camping supplies. Grinning like idiots, they headed out for the highlands. A night in the rough didn't seem so bad with fresh supplies and something on which to sleep.
Soon they were setting up camp. Karl chatted about his academy days while he inventoried their supplies and served up a cold, but filling dinner. Sharon laughed at all the right moments while she trimmed some branches for padding and watched the dark, scudding clouds with one eye, hoping the everpresent rain held off just once. Soon they were replete, the supplies were packed away and, as darkness settled, Sharon found herself shivering.
"Hey," Karl's arm curled around her shoulder and held her close. "Cold?"
"No. No, just tension," she whispered and leaned her head on his shoulder. His fingers came up to play with her hair, pulling loose strands away from her face and she sighed.
"Relax," he advised and she grinned, leaning closer to him.
"I am! Can't you tell?"
His hand drifted from her cheek to the back of her neck, rubbing gently. "Still feel pretty tense to me."
Sharon leaned back, eyes closed, savouring the moment and the comfort it brought. Only a sense of added warmth made her open her eyes, to see his face close before her. "Sharon," he breathed. Without volition but also without any hesitation, her lips parted and her hand reached up to the nape of his neck, pulling his head to hers. "Karl," she responded, before their kiss made further words unnecessary.
Waking life was a constant drain on her now: Sharon responded to others mechanically, which only made her cringe the more. Mechanical. Cylon. Was she? The doctor's amazing Cylon detector had said not, but she wasn't sure that Dr. Baltar wasn't crazy, or lying, or both. Only in dreams did she feel truly alive and truly human. But dreams came harder these days as her sleep remained light and fitful. She'd begged the doctor for a pill, just one, to help her sleep. He'd puffed silently on his cigarette, eyeing her closely, before leaving the room to return with a small, blue tablet. "Take this now and let me know tomorrow if it hasn't helped. One good night's sleep can do wonders if it isn't anything more serious."
Sharon nodded and grimaced as the bitter pill slid down her throat then made her way back to quarters. Carefully she stowed her uniform, slipped into her bunk and pulled the curtain closed. With the blanket pulled close over her shoulder she turned her back to the room and willed sleep to wipe everything away.
She blinked her eyes open to see Karl's face just above hers: a question clear on his expression. Her smile was broad and genuine.
"Sharon?"
Her hand reached up to trace the line of his jaw up to his ear. "Yes."
His answering smile was brilliant as he pushed her down and she pulled him close. His lips were warm upon hers, coaxing hers open. Her hands were busy sweeping from his hair to his shoulders, then around to the front fastenings of his flightsuit. "Hey, careful. I only have one!"
"Yeah, right," Sharon growled against his mouth as she jerked the suit open. "Then help me or face the consequences, mister." She felt his grin and then his hands swept hers aside and flicked the suit open, shucking it off his torso in one swift move. Sharon was busy, herself, tugging at the cuffs of her suit.
"Let me." Then his hands were at her shoulders, carefully spreading the suit open. Sharon was already impatiently working at his undershirts, pushing them up and over his head. She wrinkled her nose. "A bit ripe, don't you think?"
"You're one to talk," he teased, grabbing a handful of her tanks. "Guess we're giving each other a mercy frak so our clothes can air out."
Sharon grinned back, shaking her head. "You talk too much, Karl." Her flightsuit was down to her hips now and her expression grew serious as she saw the intensity of his regard.
Slowly she shoved her suit the rest of the way down her legs. She shucked her boots, all the while holding his gaze. When she reached for her tanks, he had settled into absolute stillness. She slipped them off and cast the last of her clothes aside. As he lay back on their improvised bed, she covered his face with kisses and his hands cradled her close against him.
Her gasps sounded loud in the quiet of the woodland dusk. He said her name, repeatedly, as they came together and as she rode above him. All the time, his eyes were on her face, his hands caressed her and she felt, even after the end of the world, as if she had finally found a home.
Doc Cottle smiled as she reported in the next morning. "Did you a world of good, that pill?"
"What if I need some more?"
He laughed. "From the looks of it, you're fine, Lieutenant. Go off and get back to work. If you start having problems with sleeping again after a few more days, then we can talk. You have to be careful with sleeping pills. They can give you strange dreams. Disorient you if you're not careful. Bad news for a pilot."
Sharon tried not to let her disappointment show as she left. The sleeping pill had helped her not only to have a good dream – honestly, an amazing dream – but she'd slept right through the night. She hoped that the doc was right and she was fine now.
Cheery and chipper, she made Crashdown's life a misery as they ran CAP with the rookie pilots, feeding him one annoying joke after another until Dee begged them both to cut the chatter. Even afterwards, Sharon felt good enough to enjoy a game of Triad and tease her fellow officers before finally falling into her bunk.
Her last dream came somewhat strangely: she was running as in many other of her dreams, but this time, she was running alone. Where was Helo? Was he lost? Was she chasing him?
But she sensed this run wasn't for Helo, but for something else. What else, she didn't really know. Her dream self was mute on this point. Sharon raced silently until she came upon a clearing in the woods. Two people were waiting. Words tripped out of her mouth without any cognizance as Sharon took in the dream scene that was rapidly transforming in her mind. Even as the sun above Caprica stayed golden bright in her visioning, a horrible betrayal darkened her perception.
She sat up in her bunk, panting as if she had, in reality, run that race. Skin beaded with sweat she stretched out a hand in front of her and regarded it with fear.
It was just a dream, wasn't it? Her fears and guilt manifest: that's what they said dreams really were. Nothing else. Nothing more.
She couldn't be a Cylon, could she?