TITLE:
Family
AUTHOR: Jaded PG
for mushiness
FANDOM: Battlestar Galactica
CHARACTERS:
Helo/Sharon
SPOILERS: Downloaded
SUMMARY: Helo has a glimpse of
happiness.
Disclaimer: Not my characters, not my universe, but
I've been told it's okay to play in this sandbox.
Feedback is greatly appreciated.
Family
This is happiness, Helo thinks, this is real happiness. Every cell in his body strains with screams of jubilation, and he thinks his heart might burst. He had forgotten what happiness felt like, hadn't even realized it had been gone from his life for so long until now, Sharon buried in the crook of his neck, the pressure of her body against his leaving now doubt of her love and her trust, and before them, tiny and frail, but impossibly perfect, their daughter, their Hera.
"I love you so completely," Sharon says, and Helo closes his eyes, drinks this in.
This is love, he thinks again. This is happiness.
Sharon lets out the softest of sighs, and her breath is warm against his neck. Helo feels an ache in his throat and swallows it back down, but he feels himself shaking. It has been so long since they have been able to be in the same room with one another, nevermind touching, but he doesn't need to remind himself how this moment needs cherishing. That's a given.
What needs cherishing, though, is this moment of privacy. Dr. Cottle was kind enough give them time alone with Hera, and for this moment he and Sharon are like any other couple, any other parents.
The realization hits him then, a burst like a covey of birds exploding into flight: This is his family. Hera is their daughter, and though not in name, he is Sharon's husband, and she his wife. Helo smiles at the pleasure of the thought because in his mind there has never been any other woman. Sharon Valerii and her dewy smile, who washed away the phantoms of every woman he had met and known before her or after.
It doesn't matter to him anymore what she isn't—isn't human, isn't real—because what matters is what she is: the love of his life, the mother of his child. He has loved her since he has known her, since probably always. It feels that way. And Hera—Helo knows he's loved her since even before she was conceived, since before she was even a thought.
He gathers Sharon closer. His fingers graze the soft down of her cheek. His other hand reaches out and touches the plastic incubator that safeguards Hera whose little lungs fight to breathe.
"This is my whole universe," he says. This is happiness. This is my family.