Pressed Palms by Rosie
Summary: Cally feels guilty. She hurt the last person she ever wanted to. But now things are starting to change between them, and the one thing she's always wanted is what scares her the most. A Cally/Tyrol fic.
Disclaimer: I don't own Battlestar Galactica (duh), and these characters are not mine. But I do own these words. Please don't copy in whole or in part w/o my permission.
Under The Wing
"Cally get that panel off now!"
"But Chief, shouldn't we wait for the engine to cool a little?"
"We have to get to the relays before they fuse. Get some gloves on and open it up."
"Sure thing, Chief."
A fried engine. Cally's least favorite problem. How the hell did Kat manage to burn it up so hard? She pulled on some thermal protection gloves and ducked under the wing of the smoking Viper. She unscrewed and popped off the panel on the underside. A wave of heat and a thick puff of smoke greeted her, blackening her face.
Cally coughed and sputtered as the abrasive fumes entered her lungs. Frak. Should've worn a mask. Waving the smoke out of her face, she reached into the engine to fish out the few delicate parts that were so prone to melting. Her eyes watered and stung from the smoke and she had to close them and look away, navigating only by feel. The smoldering belly of the Viper started to burn at her sleeve.
Reaching her destination, Cally realized she was too late. What should have been two smooth metal rods were now rough and twisted. Perfect. She hoped to the Gods they had some replacements.
As she pulled her arm out in defeat, Cally heard something distinctly snap. A few crumbled parts of hot metal scattered out onto the floor.
She felt something sharply burn at her chest. There were tiny, hot, shattered fragments of metal all over the floor, and one in her jumpsuit.
"Frak!"
Cally cried out in a scream of shock. The red-hot fragment singed through her clothes pressed up against the skin of her torso. She ripped open the front of her jumpsuit and frantically fished for the intruder. She pulled off the top of her suit and shook it and rubbed her hands over her stomach. A small, black piece of metal fell out of her shirt and onto the floor.
"Cally!"
The Chief and a few others rushed over to her aid.
"Are you hurt?"
"I don't think so," she said, examining her stomach.
"All right," said the Chief as he turned to face the others. "You guys get back to work."
The crewmen returned to their duties as the Chief kneeled down beside her under the wing.
"What happened?" he asked with a genuine tone of concern.
"Something fell into my suit. Just burned a little."
Cally's tank was bunched up around her chest. The Chiefs eyes migrated downwards to the bare skin of her stomach. He noticed a discolored patch of skin on her left side. Lumpy and disfigured. The trademark scar of a bullet wound. He knew she had been shot, but frak, he hadn't expected to see that.
Cally felt his eyes on her and quickly pulled down the tight fabric of her tank. Exposed. That was the last thing she wanted the Chief to see. Evidence of her near-rape. Oh Gods, rape. An unwelcome chill ran its way up her spine.
She shifted her eyes to the floor and twisted her fingers in the hem of her shirt.
"Souvenir from the Astral Queen," she said, her tongue dripping with anger and embarrassment.
"Shit, Cally."
The Chief couldn't seem to find any other words. He rarely saw the Specialist out of her orange jumpsuit, let alone the gruesome scar on her naked stomach.
Cally broke his silence.
"Yeah... Well this engine's burnt to hell. Should let it cool off before we go back in and figure out what to replace."
She stood up and zipped the front of her suit. Cally rolled her eyes as an obviously furious Kat dashed towards her from across the deck.
"What the frak did you do to my Viper!"
Kats voice rose progressively higher.
Cally had to restrain herself from saying something she'd regret. Kat wasn't the type of person she wanted to aggravate.
"Nothing. Engines fried. Melted, burnt to a crisp."
"Well aren't you going fix it?"
Kat shoved her hands on her hips and glared at Cally in expectation. Ugh. Typical asshole pilot.
"Cant. Its still too hot."
"Then get some coolant in there!" She yelled in an almost shrill voice.
Cally wasn't sure, but she thought she heard Kat mutter "Frakking tech" under her breath.
"Look, I don't know what the frak you did to this engine, but I think its safe to say its gonna be out of commission for a while. Okay? You think you can handle that?"
Kat breathed heavily through her nose and shifted her weight back and forth. With a final "Frak you," she departed, kicking over a crate of spare parts as she went.
The Chief got out from underneath the Viper and stood behind Cally, placing a warm hand on her shoulder.
"You sure you're all right?"
"Yeah, Chief. I'm fine."
"Good, 'cuz I need you here. You're the best I've got."
She'd heard him say it before, but that didn't make her feel any less pleased.
"Can't have you off and getting injured again, got that?"
He then went on to call her "Specialist Lazy", just for good measure. Cally laughed.
"I've been shot, burned……what's next? A near-drowning in the shower?"
"Now that's not even funny."
She wasn't quite sure whether he was being serious or not. The Chief grasped a hold of her eyes with his. What was there? Was it fear?
Cally pulled her hands inside her sleeves and looked away.
"I better get back to work," she said timidly.
Cally had lied. She was hurt. No way she was going back to sickbay though. She'd just run the burn under some cold water later. Gods it stung. Cally had been absolutely mortified that the Chief had seen her scar. Ugly thing. But at least she still had both ears. Oh...that was not something she wanted to remember, the taste of a man's ear. Now she would have to brush her teeth extra hard too. And the way the Chief had looked at her, scanning her, reaching. Couldn't hide from eyes like that.
He might see her guilt.
A/N: Keep those reviews coming! And special thanks to Jest'lyn Tal for pointing out an error. I will fix it as soon as possible )