Note: This was written for the Stages of Love challenge on Livejournal, Round 2, "An Exploration of a Relationship through the Five Senses." This is for Prompt 5: Taste

Battlestar Galactica is the property of those who own it, not me.


The Most Precious Gift of All

Helo carries the small box against his body, taking care to watch his step at the hatchways so he doesn't drop it. There are few people in the corridors, of course, so he's not likely to bump into anyone, but he still keeps a wary eye out for anyone who might be running around the corners.

Galactica feels like the museum ship she was intended to be, before the attack. Fewer than one hundred crew are now aboard, barely enough to keep routine maintenance going. Helo himself has been bumped to bridge watch officer, since there is now only one daily CAP, and that is run from Pegasus. He doesn't flatter himself that he does the job as well as Gaeta, but at least he can watch the Dradis and plot a jump if he needs to. It's not that different from the Raptor.

Despite his new position, he still keeps the CAG's quarters, preferring to be closer to the launch bay, just in case. When the enemy comes, the flight might need a Raptor ready to go. So he doesn't have too far to walk with his box.

With his free hand, he enters the access code on the outer hatch and pulls the door open.

Sharon is there, in the door, and she smiles at him.

All thoughts of war melt away at the brightness, and for just that moment, she is all that he knows. He's seen her at the doorway of their quarters for several months now, ever since Adama released her to house arrest under Helo's parole, and yet every time he finds her there, it's a new miracle.

She rises to tiptoe and lifts her face in expectation. His mouth finds hers with the ease of precious familiarity. Her lips are not a machine's, no matter what anyone might believe, and she tastes of minty mouthwash and the faint hint of caramel.

He pulls back and raises his brows at her, teasing, "You ate one of the candies, didn't you?"

She tries to look innocent, but fails miserably, "Who me?" Then she giggles. "Can't put anything past you, can I?" She stands aside, taking his hand and pulling him across the threshold.

He pulls the door closed and holds out the box. "Here, I, uh, acquired this for you. It's much better than year-old candy, I promise. Be gentle," he warns her, when she takes it.

She curls her feet under her on the sofa, box on her lap, and pats the seat next to her. He sheds his uniform jacket, and joins her. "Go on, open it."

"What's the occasion?" she asks and then gives him a slanting, rather smoky look. "And what am I going to have to give in return?" Her near hand touches his knee and slides up his thigh, and his jaw tightens at the sudden warmth.

He takes her hand and laces her fingers with his, "It's actually next week, but I couldn't wait. One year since we met."

She has a little frown on her face that melts away into a look of surprise. "It is. I hadn't realized. One year."

"While I can't say that I wish things hadn't happened differently for us," he admitted, thinking of Hera and months of separation. Sharon leans against him and puts her head on his shoulder, and he wraps his arm around her. "I can say that I'm glad we found each other. And I wouldn't trade these days with you for anything."

Her voice is soft. "All through those dark times, I thought I didn't need you.. But I did. You saved me, Helo. You've saved me so many times, when anyone else would've given up a long time ago.. God wasn't there, but you were. You still are. You're the very best of humanity."

He snuggles her close and kisses the top of her head. "And you are the very best of Cylon-inity."

That draws a snort and she pulls back, to repeat in amused disbelief, "'Cylon-inity?"

He shrugs, grinning, "Whatever. Open your present." He nods toward the box and she unties the string and lifts the lid.

She gasps with delight. "How? How did you get these?"

Reaching inside, she lifts out a strawberry with delicate touch and holds it up. It is perfect and dark red, and there is another just like it in the box.

"It seems wrong to destroy something so beautiful," she says, cradling it in her fingers.

"Go ahead," he tells her with a smile. "It'll only spoil if you don't eat it."

She holds it up and nibbles off the tip. Her eyes close in bliss. "It tastes like summer," she whispers and offers it to him. The berry is sweet, but it's more fun to watch her eat it.

He picks up the other berry and feeds it to her, bit by bit. Then he leans forward to touch his lips to hers, and tastes the strawberry in her mouth. She presses against him, and her hands find the bottom of his tank-top and pulls it up. Her hands are warm on his bare back. He leaves her mouth to press kisses on her jaw and cheek and to suck on her earlobe, before kissing her under the ear enough to make her moan.

Her scent is familiar and intoxicating, and her skin is like whipped cream. He intends to taste every smooth inch of her and celebrate the day they found each other.

In between wordless mews of pleasure, she says the words that he lives for, every day.

"I love you, Helo."


CODA

Sharon can feel them. Her people have found the fleet.

Only a moment later the red alert starts to flash.

She runs to command, to Helo, and races into the room. Only Adama and Helo are there. Helo's busy, plotting a jump, and her gaze meets Adama's.

For just a moment, she sees the doubt flicker in his face; the wonder if finally she's going to betray them. She waits and does nothing.

Then, very mildly, he tells her, "Miss Valerii, take your post."

She nods once. Helo lifts his head to meet her eyes, and gives her a distracted smile of welcome.

She sits down at the comm station and a warmth spreads through her. As dire as the situation is, she has to smile. For the first time in a very long time, she feels a part of a greater whole again.

Even as the ship takes her many light-years away from her people, Sharon Valerii, Number Eight, is home.


Please let me know if you enjoyed the story! Thanks for reading.