Title: "The Weight is a Gift"
Author: Lila
Rating: PG-13
Character/Pairing: Kara, with a little bit of everyone else
Spoilers: "Rapture" but veers AU with slight spoilers for "The Son Also Rises"
Length: Part II: C of III
Summary: Everyone has to grow up sometime, even Kara Thrace.
Disclaimer: Not mine, just borrowing them for a few paragraphs.
Author's Note: So when I say this story is running away with itself, I'm not even kidding because this section was supposed to consist of one part and at the rate I'm going it's turning into five! Eeek! I'm very excited to post this part because there's a scene that was the very first thing I wrote for this fic, the scene that inspired the whole thing, and it's nice to finally get to it after so much build up! Thank you to everyone for your wonderful support for this story. Given my initial nervousness, I'm starting to feel very at home in this fandom. I hope you enjoy.
SIX
Kara moves into her sixth month and moves out of the officers' quarters. Her bladder has turned on her like everything else, and she visits the head every hour, on the hour, all night long. The constant clang and scrape of the hatch drives the other pilots crazy and when two Pegasus recruits fall asleep during a briefing, Lee's had enough. A few days into her third trimester the Admiral calls her in for a private meeting and tells her he's moving her to her own quarters.
"The privilege is usually reserved for married couples," he looks pointedly at her bulging belly. "But I think we'll make an exception in your case. You'll want privacy now that you've entered the final stretch."
She smiles tightly, because she's never thought of her mess in Pyramid terms. "So that's what they're calling it these days." She picks absently at a loose thread on her ragged sweatshirt, and avoids the old man's eyes. The shirt fits tightly across her belly and the seams are bulging slightly, but it's the best she can do. Clothing in the Fleet comes in a limited supply while running for their lives, but it's even harder for a body that keeps changing. She grits her teeth against another unwelcome change in her life and finally meets the Admiral's eyes. "I guess I don't have a choice."
He smiles, tries to make it better for her. "It's only temporary, Captain. After the birth you can return to the officers' quarters and your old life." He pauses and something changes in his eyes, something almost angry. "Only a few months to go and it will be like it never happened."
She feels as if she's been slapped even though he hasn't touched her. It's his turn not to look at her and he ducks his head, but not before she catches the disappointment in his eyes. She stiffens, freezes inside, because it's like looking at her mother and feeling burning pain inch its way down her arm and slice into her knuckles with each wail of the belt against her skin. The thing in her belly kicks to life and she's reminded again of how grateful she is that the same pain won't be passed onto the next generation.
Her breathing quickens and her chest feels tight, thinking about the past and the ways she's avoiding it happening again in the present, and tells herself it's the crazy hormones making her eyes burn and her heart feel heavy. She ignores how normal it feels having the thing in her belly strike a steady tattoo against the walls of its home; she pretends her heartbeat doesn't skip the tiniest beat when that solid rhythm disappears for half a second.
She closes her eyes and thinks of something happy, anything happy, and sees her viper shooting through the tubes and the adrenaline thumping in her veins and the flash against her eyes when the raiders burst into flames. Only three months to go and the old man's prediction will be living, breathing life. She feels better already.
When she opens her eyes the Admiral isn't looking at her, but there's a guilty expression on his face and he sighs heavily. "I'm sorry, Kara. Is there anything you need?"
"For this to be over," she wants to say, but she just shakes her head, hair whipping against her face. It's getting long, the longest it's been since New Caprica, and without military regs forcing her to keep it back at all times it's beginning to creep past her chin and inch towards her shoulders. She's still getting used to the different length and pushes it behind her ears, drawing the hem of her sweatshirt to ride up over her belly.
The Admiral's eyes drop involuntarily and lock on the patch of exposed skin. It's like the day she told Sam and Lee, but different, because her belly was flat and taunt back then and it was all like a bad dream they could wake up from every day. Today her belly bulges and flexes as the thing inside beats an irregular rhythm against her skin. With the proof staring straight at them, there's no avoiding her living nightmare.
She and the admiral have never discussed his connection to the pregnancy, that it may or may not be his grandchild she's carrying, but with the truth exposed to the world he can't hide the wonder creeping across his face. He tries to hide it, because he knows how she feels about it all, but he can't quite hide the awe in his expression.
Her breathing quickens and her chest gets tight, thinking about the past and Zak spinning dreams about their future together, and she tells herself it's the crazy hormones making her eyes burn and her heart feel heavy. He'd talked about having an entire pack of kids and she'd gone along with it because she'd loved him enough to give him whatever he'd wanted. She ignores that it's a different world and a different brother that created this shot at life; she pretends it's anything but joy lurking within the Admiral's eyes.
"I'm perfect," she manages to say and drags her sweatshirt over the rise of her belly. She wants – needs – this conversation to be over because she can't stand the future she sees in the old man's eyes because the thing in her belly is going to people that love it and will protect it and will keep it safe. No one in her world – their world – can guarantee the same.
The Admiral looks sad as he escorts her to the new quarters, and the lines at his eyes and mouth seem more pronounced in the dingy light. He keeps glancing at her belly, safely covered by the too-tight sweatshirt, and his mouth quirks into the faintest hint of a smile when a foot or a flailing fist sends ripples across the fabric. He loses years from his face, and Kara thinks she's seeing the Admiral before Galactica and before the end of the world, and the bright, shiny things Lee claims don't exist. She ignores how her breathing quickens and her chest feels tight.
The light is still dim, but she thinks she sees tears in his eyes and broken dreams that rival his dead son's, but he keeps his resolve and brushes her hair back from her face and presses a kiss to her forehead. "Stay safe," the Admiral says when he tells her goodnight and she knows he isn't talking about just herself.
The hatch closes and she's alone for the first time in years. Her new quarters look remarkably like her old quarters, only there's a single bed where rows of racks used to be, and the clanging of the hatch seems to echo through the empty room. It takes her all of two minutes before she's gasping for processed air in the causeway. She takes on an extra shift in the CIC and watches the CAP dart across the dradis monitor and does anything and everything to avoid going back to her new quarters. It's Tigh who eventually sends her home, and she's too tired to protest even though it's barely after midnight, because the thing in her belly has sapped her energy along with everything else.
She brushes her teeth in the shared head, even though she has a private bathroom, because she's not ready to move her things and she likes the constant flow of pilots coming in between shifts. It makes her feel connected, even just barely, to her old world. When she finally gives into sleep, she can't remember a time when she's closed her eyes without another person breathing beside her. She waits for the ebbs and flows of the other pilots' breath to fill the space, or Sam's heart beating in time with hers down on New Caprica, or even Leoben's skin crawling presence filling the nooks and crannies of her prison, but there's nothing but painful silence filling the empty space.
She pulls her blanket tighter around her shoulders and burrows underneath, enjoying the crinkle of the fabric because it blots out the emptiness surrounding her. She peeks out and her eyes adjust to the rim of light peeking around the hatch's edge and the room is familiar in its accordance with military regulations, but she's never felt so alone in her entire life.
She breaths in deep, breathes out, practices the structured breaths Doc Cottle has been encouraging her to prepare for the day she doesn't want to think about, but it doesn't help. Without the others surrounding her, the air pumping in and out in time, she feels even less a pilot than she does logging shifts in the CIC. She feels tears pulling at the corners of her eyes and knows it has nothing to do with the hormones driving her crazy. She takes another deep breath and it doesn't help more than the last one, but she tells herself to get it together because she's Kara Thrace, and while she's never had to face it so directly, she's always been alone.
The thing in her belly kicks to life, and the thumping of its limbs feels a bit like pilots breathing in time with each other. She wraps her arms around her belly and it's a little like Sam holding her tight against his chest on a warm New Caprican night, and she feels the beat in her pulse match the rhythmic beat against her belly.
She slumps against her pillow and feels sleep tugging at the corners of her eyelids. She ignores the promises she's made and the decisions she's going to see through, and lets thing in her belly lull her into dreamland.
She wraps her arms tighter around her belly, a tiny foot or fist beating against her pulse, and tells herself she'll never be alone again.
-----
Kara doesn't realize how much of her life consists of other people until they're no longer a part of it. Doc Cottle revokes her gym pass and her exercise routine is limited to slow walks through the causeways. She still takes her meals intravenously and soon finds her only regular company is Doc Cottle and Gaeta. She's still helping steer the Fleet's course and she likes it because it means she's contributing, but it's slow going and it's boring and it makes her yearn even more for her life to be hers again.
She sleeps in her new quarters as ordered but she can't bring herself to clean out her locker and dress in private, even with all the eyes locked on her belly and pretending to look anywhere else, because she soaks up the pilot chatter and it makes her feel a part of it again, just the littlest bit, because knowledge is power and even if she can't play it helps just to know. She likes hearing about Racetrack breaking in a new recruit and Hoshi falling prey to nugget pranks and the little details that used to be her life.
When Kelly tells her that he needs the locker for a Pegasus pilot recently promoted to officer, she swallows the feeling that she's being replaced. The Admiral promised her – promised her – her old job when she gets back on her feet, and she's holding him to it. She knows it's temporary, because they need someone to pick up the slack as Lee veers closer to lawyer and further from security detail, but it still hurts. She throws an expert salute and nods her consent but puts it off as long as possible because cleaning out her locker means giving up the last vestiges of her old life and she isn't ready for that yet.
Kelly gives her a week before threatening to do it himself and it's Helo who finds her crying inside her locker the afternoon she gives in and cuts the apron strings and accepts that Starbuck the viper jock is just Kara Thrace the screw up. She's curled against the door, her shoulder rubbing against the damned photograph she hates but can't bring herself to get rid of either, and her forehead is pressed tight against the shelf filled with the gods who've chosen to ignore her. It's not fair, it's still not fair, because she's doing the right thing and making the right sacrifices and they continue to punish her. Athena watches her, olive wreath ringing her brow, and Kara looks to her for the answers but comes up empty handed.
She thought she'd timed it right, so she could get in and avoid an encounter, but there's a noise, and Helo's there. He doesn't say anything when their eyes lock in the mirror an inch or two above the photo of the Adama brothers who've caused her nothing but trouble, and she's too embarrassed and annoyed to do more than angrily brush tears from her cheeks.
She never wanted anyone to see her like this, broken and falling to pieces like a nugget her first time out. She has an image to maintain and a life to reclaim and it doesn't include crying in the locker room while everyone else is out living her life. Helo doesn't say anything about the tears or the agony in her eyes, but she thinks she sees pity in his and she can't take it because no one feels sorry for Kara Thrace accept herself. She's awkward, with the weight in her belly dragging her down, but she's still quick when she needs to be and her hand is at Helo's throat before he can draw his next breath. "You tell anyone about this, and I'll kill you, I swear to the…" her voice breaks on a whimper. "Just please, don't tell anyone, okay? It's the hormones. It's not my fault."
Helo gasps a little and prys at her fingers. "Think we can do this without my life on the line?" he asks and his fingers lock around hers and pull away from his throat to rest at their sides.
"You scared me," she says as a means of apology and straightens up to her full height to confront him. "What are you doing in here anyway? Don't you have private quarters to play house?" There's a bite in her question, and Helo frowns at her and she's about two steps away from pushing him away too. She tells herself to get used to it because Kara Thrace is nothing if she's not alone.
Helo watches her warily and rubs his neck. "I saw you come in here, and I was worried. I haven't seen you for weeks, Kara. I'm getting really concerned."
She sneers at him and for a moment she thinks she sees Starbuck looking back at her in the mirror. She slams the locker door closed and locks her gods inside, leaning back against it because it's getting hard resting all that weight on her feet and she needs the support. She can't keep going on like this. "I don't want your pity," she bites out and Helo crosses his arms across his chest and looks as if he's resisting the urge to roll his eyes.
"You haven't got it," he says and she blinks because she remembers having this same conversation with Lee a lifetime ago, before New Caprica and before the dance and before life got more complicated than either of them ever predicted. "Kara, I'm your friend," he continues and she feels the tears pressing against her eyelids because Helo is saying things Lee's said and doing things he should be doing if she only hadn't pushed him that one step too far. Helo picks up her hand and holds it in his and its steadying and comforting and she sags a little against it. "I've been through this before, remember?" His thumb is stroking gently across her palm and some of the tension in her shoulders eases a bit. "You'll be okay."
She laughs, but there's none of her Starbuck giggle in it. "Okay? Sure, Helo, definitely okay." She gestures to the swell of her belly and the body she doesn't recognize and the tears threaten to spill down her cheeks again. "Nothing is going to be okay ever again."
His fingers tighten around hers and he smiles. "I'm with you, Kara. You're going to get through this. I promise."
She closes her eyes and rests her head against her locker and the metal feels cool and familiar against her skin, because it's housed everything she's owned for as long as she's mattered. She remembers the day she burst into the locker room, confident and cocky and determined to get her way. She'd been the only girl in a batch of boys, but the male pilots had moved out of the mighty Starbuck's way to let her claim her space. "Kelly's making me clean out my locker."
Helo shrugs. "I heard you have a swanky new space all your own. I know you forget sometimes, but you're a girl, Kara. Isn't space for your shoes in your blood or something?"
She smiles at the joke and opens her eyes. "This is my home, Helo. When I give it up, there's nothing making me a pilot anymore."
He keeps holding her hand and brings it to rest over the wings pinned to his uniform. "You still have your wings. As long as you have them, you'll always be a pilot. You're Starbuck, Kara. You belong in the air."
"I don't feel like Starbuck anymore." She feels the tears at the back of her eyes again and it takes everything in her to keep them from spilling again. Hormones or not, she's spent too much time crying over things she can't change. "I don't know who I am at all."
Helo slides their hands over her waist to rest on her belly, right over the bump where her bellybutton pushes against her skin. "You're a mom, Kara, that's what you are. A mom who's gonna kick some serious cylon ass when you get back in your bird." She flinches, because he doesn't know about the choice she's made or the life that won't belong to her when the nine months are over, but he holds his hand tight, and the thing in her belly chooses the exact moment to kick. He's smiling at her and his eyes are warm and crinkle a little at the corners and it's the same expression she remembers him wearing the day in the hangar bay when he held his daughter for the first time. "You're not alone, Kara," he says and his hand pushes hers flat, so she feels it, every bit of the life she keeps safe.
This time, when the tears come she doesn't bother to hide them and she curls into his arms the way he cradled Hera. "I know you still think of yourself as Starbuck, but you can't do this by yourself. There's no weakness in accepting help." He pulls away and stares straight into her tear-clouded eyes. "You know that, right?"
She doesn't know but thinks she can maybe learn. She pushes her mother's voice out of her mind and buries her face in Helo's chest, listening to his heart beat steadily beneath her ear. He's the best person she knows, and if he can believe in her she thinks she can believe in herself.
The thing in her belly kicks again and they laugh together, because it's weird, and she pulls back to look in his eyes. "Thank you," she says and she means it because even if it's not what she wants, it's what she needs to do.
-----
Two days later Sharon appears at her door holding a torn and battered duffel bag, and Kara steps aside as best she can to let her squeeze by and into the private quarters. They're friends again, sort of, because they both love Helo, but Kara's still surprised to see her.
"Hi," Sharon says softly and her fingers twine nervously around the strap of her bag as she sits in a chair while Kara sprawls on her rack. "How are you feeling?"
Kara sits up and peers at the face her best friend once wore. Sharon's hair is pulled back but a stray piece keeps flipping across her forehead and into her eyes, just like Boomer's did a lifetime ago, and she's wearing the same smile that would turn from sympathetic to mischievous in a heartbeat, but she's wearing a wedding ring that didn't come from the Chief and there's a light in her eyes that's different from Boomer's. There's a peace in Sharon Agathon that Boomer only hoped to find, and it's admirable and unnerving all at the same time.
"I'm doing okay," Kara finally says and feels a little awkward in Sharon's presence, because they're not the same people they used to be and to make matters worse, the only clothes Kara can fit into these days is Sharon's husband's castoff sweatshirt with a tear down the shoulder seam.
Sharon looks uncomfortable too, but pastes on that sympathetic smile that makes Kara's heart clutch a little from remembering people and places and a life that no longer exist, and drops the bag on the bed next to Kara. "I brought you something."
Kara eyes her oddly, because she and Sharon are barely on speaking terms let alone exchanging gifts, but opens the duffel to reveal an assortment of clothing. "What's this?"
Sharon smiles and fingers a long-sleeved shirt. "Maternity clothes. Karl told me you're having trouble finding things that fit so I thought you might want to borrow some of mine." Kara sifts through the clothes, wondering where they came from and why Sharon is giving them to her. "It's not much," Sharon continues when an awkward silence starts to fill the room. "But I think they'll still help. There were a couple babies born on New Caprica, but everyone left everything they owned behind when they were rescued." She smiles to break up the silence. "I hope my second-hand stuff is okay."
Kara doesn't know what to say, so she uses words that don't come naturally for her and finds her the gratitude in her smile isn't forced. "Thank you, Sharon," she says, and Sharon reaches out to squeeze her hand in respsonse. They both freeze, their skin touching and melding together, and Sharon's hand is soft and warm under Kara's and so real that for a moment she forgets there are wires and circuits holding Sharon together under the layers of flesh and bone. She wants to pull away but she sees the hopeful expression in Sharon's eyes, the yearning to belong, and Kara understands too well so she holds on and squeezes back.
"Tell me, Kara, how are you really feeling?" Sharon asks, hands still holding tight, and Kara's been asked the question before and she has a stock answer all prepared, but with Sharon watching her with Boomer lurking in her eyes she's finding it hard to hold it together. When she doesn't answer, Sharon tries again. "Kara, I've been through this myself. If you ever want to talk, I'm here for you." She squeezes Kara's hand again to let her know she means it. "I understand what you're going through."
It's a like a dam breaking inside because Sharon might be the only person who really, truly knows. The Admiral has stood by her and Sam won't let go of her and Lee still loves her and Helo has supported her, but none of them really know what it's like to be her. She tries to remember when Helo turned up alive with Sharon in tow and she'd thought she was losing her mind because her friend was supposed to be dead and Boomer was too, and suddenly they were both alive and happy to see her and one of them wasn't even human. She remembers the joy in Helo's eyes when he told her about the pregnancy and the disgust welling up in throat and the silent pleading in Sharon's eyes to let her live because she might have destroyed Kara's world, but her baby was innocent. She drops a hand to her own belly, the hurt in Sam's eyes and the betrayal in Lee's flashing through her mind, and smiles at the thumping pressing against her palm. "I'm really scared," she manages to say. "Really, really scared Sharon. I don't know what to do."
Sharon smiles back and there's an ease, a serenity in it that never belonged to Boomer, and she's finally in a comfort zone because unplanned pregnancies are something she knows well. "Yeah," she sighs. "I know the feeling. Where I come from," she continues and Kara resists the urge to bark an angry retort because it's not like she's just from Aerelon anymore. "We don't know anything about babies." She moves her hand away and folds them in her lap, her fingers twisting around one another so her ring catches the light and she rubs it against her thumb like a source of strength. "When they told me to get pregnant, it was like any other mission. I didn't expect to fall in love in the process."
Kara's confused, because she thought that was the missing ingredient. "But I thought you said you need love – "
"I'm not talking about Karl," Sharon says and the smile starts creeping back over her face. "I'm talking about Hera. At first, it was just a pain in the ass. I couldn't keep anything down and I was tired all the time and I didn't understand what the big deal was. We had our downloading process, so I didn't see the need to go through all that. Then one day, I felt this little flutter deep inside." She looks at Kara knowingly and Kara remembers the feeling, sees Lee's eyes glaze over when he pressed his hand against her belly and the thing inside made its presence known. "I didn't realize what a pregnancy meant until then. I didn't realize that there was a new life growing inside me, a part of me, and it was up to me to keep it safe. I don't think I knew what love was, unconditional, endless love, until that moment." She looks deep into Kara's eyes and Kara has to resist the urge to flinch because she doesn't see any of Boomer there. "It had nothing to do with being a cylon either. It had to do with being a mother. It creeps up on you when you're least expecting it, this deep love that overwhelms you and drives you and won't let you go. It's okay to be afraid, Kara. It's okay to make mistakes. It's the love that will see you through."
Kara blinks because she isn't looking at Sharon, she's looking at Athena, and she suddenly realizes how fitting the call sign is for her newfound friend. "That's the part I'm afraid of," she whispers, and it has nothing to do with the guilt or the promises she's made, but the things she hates inside herself. "What if I can't love it?"
Athena glances down, at Kara's hands locked tightly over her belly. "You already do." She glances at her watch and grimaces, stands up to leave. "I'm late for my shift, but I'm glad we had the chance to talk. If you need anything – anything – just let me know."
Kara nods wordlessly because she isn't ready to talk, and barely notices when Athena wraps her arms around her and pulls her in for a hug. "You'll be okay," she echoes her husband and it's eerie watching her, because she wears her former friend's face and laughs the same laugh, but she's an entirely different person.
Kara looks at herself in the mirror after Athena leaves and feels a bit like a different person herself. She wears Starbuck's face and laughs her laugh and even smiles the same cocky grin, but she feels the thing in her belly shift and something she barely recognizes shoots spears through her chest and clamps around her heart. It's different than the early days when she wore Zak's ring, or the long months she thought Sam was dead, or standing in a field and freezing her ass off and never feeling more alive while shouting declarations with Lee. It's new and it's scary and it doesn't go away.
Promises be damned, she doesn't think it ever will.
SEVEN
Her seventh month begins and she can't sleep. Athena tells her its normal over lunch one day, their legs swinging together against the metal gurney in the sickbay, because it's hard to find a comfortable position when she's carrying what feels like half her body weight in her belly and she's still hitting the head every hour, on the hour.
"Learn to nap," Athena advises. "The last thing any of us need is you acting crankier than usual."
They laugh at the joke and it's nice to feel included again. Athena and Helo have been pushing her and she's been making occasional trips to the rec room for a game of Triad. Lee's sign still hangs and there's still the smell of stale smoke in the room, but no one pulls out a cigar or even a flask of Ambrosia while she's around, and Helo's stern gaze keeps the gossip to a minimum. She's too tired to protest or let Starbuck out, and tries to enjoy herself while someone else fights her battles.
She takes Athena's advice and reduces her shifts in the CIC. Gaeta doesn't need her as much and even without the pilots' progress steadily chirping in her ears, she doesn't miss it nearly as much as she thought she would. The thing in her belly keeps her busy, and she finds herself spending more time feeling a foot or a flailing fist punch against her skin than she ever did worrying about how she could save what was left of the world.
But she still can't sleep.
She tosses and turns as best she can, but one night she's had enough and sneaks onto the observation deck to stare at what used to be her life. They're moving through free space and the stars twinkle and shine and she presses close so her nose is up against the glass and wonders if one of them is earth and the bright, shiny futures Lee doesn't believe exist. Everything looks so innocent, so peaceful and when a flicker of red catches her eye her breath freezes in her chest before she realizes it's only a cloud moving across the face of an unknown planet. She breathes out and laughs, because she still thinks like a pilot even though she hasn't been in a viper for months. She waits to feel the hole in her heart spring open as she watches the CAP zip by and it hurts, it does, but she rests her hands on her belly and the burn eases.
There's a noise behind her and she expects to see Helo's concerned face waiting for her, but she turns and finds herself staring at Cally instead.
She doesn't see much of her these days, because they never had a real relationship before, and she's never on the flight deck anymore, and thinking back she's not sure she's ever had a conversation with the woman that didn't have to do with viper maintenance. Cally's wearing her pajamas and her hair is messy, and she doesn't look all that different from Kara because she's cradling her son in her arms the way Kara keeps her arms locked around her belly.
"Hi," she whispers, shifting her son against her shoulder and grimacing a little under his weight. The kid has to be almost a year old, and Kara's never realized it before, but with twenty pounds of weight dragging her down, how tiny Cally really is. Her arms tighten around her own belly because she'll never have the chance to find out for herself what it's like to balance that weight.
"Hi," she says in return and Cally's expression shifts into a nervous smile.
"I didn't mean to bother you, but Nicky's been having trouble sleeping and Galen needs his sleep so we come in here sometimes until he settles down. We can go if you'd like." She glances past Kara, at the vipers and stars dueling in blank space, and Kara keeps her face blank against Cally's questioning look.
"No," Kara says. "It's not like I own the deck. You should stay."
Cally still looks nervous, but she comes down the staircase and stands next to Kara, her sleeping son drowsing on her shoulder. "It's beautiful, isn't it?" she asks and with the moonlight falling across her face she doesn't look much older than a teenager. "It's hard to imagine earth is out there somewhere," she says and there's a hopeful, naïve note in her voice that matches the expression on her face.
Kara stifles a laugh, because the thing in her belly has proven that there are no guarantees in life, and it's hard to believe through the Admiral's lies that there's something better waiting for them. "Maybe," she concedes. "Maybe not. Doesn't mean we're going to see it though."
Cally presses a kiss to her son's forehead. "I believe we will. There has to be something better out there than this."
"You don't like saving the world?" Kara asks and there's some of Starbuck's sting in her words, and she's reminded why she's never spent much time in Cally's presence. The girl is as whiny and irritating as she remembered, and she can't begin to understand what the Chief sees in her.
Cally shrugs. "I got into this to pay for dental school." Kara glares at her, but there's a teasing light in Cally's eyes and Kara's shocked she has as sense of humor. "I don't mind my job, and I like making a contribution, and I like saving the world." She brushes her son's hair off his forehead and the teasing light in her eyes fades into something else. "But I need to believe there's something else out there." She looks away from her son and right at Kara. "You know the drill: get up, save the world, go to sleep, and get ready to do it all over again. Nicky deserves more." She eyes the bulge of Kara's belly. "They all deserve more. Sometimes I wake up and I don't want to do it anymore, because what's the point? Every time I fix a viper there's three more in its place and another pilot to scrape off the wings. Then I look at Nicky and he doesn't know any of that, and I keep my fingers crossed that he never will." Cally looks out at the vipers dogfighting and the stars twinkling. "It's gonna end someday, you know? I keep doing my part so Nicky's there to see it."
Kara thinks she sees a little of what Cally's describing in the endless expanse of space, fresh air on her face and a breeze ruffling her hair and the warm weight of the future cradled in her arms. The promises she's made seem to melt away and even though Lee's assured her that bright, shiny futures don't exist, when has she ever let him be right without a fight? "It's a nice dream," she tells Cally because it is a dream, and either way it's never going to come true, because she's made a promise and when this is over she's climbing back into her viper and the bright, shiny future might be waiting but not for her.
"Maybe some day it will be a reality." Her son stirs in her arms, and Cally whispers against his forehead and croons in his ear, but he's wide awake and whimpering. "He's hungry," Cally explains. There's a bag over one shoulder, but she can't reach it with the baby in her arms, and she holds him out to Kara. "Do you mind holding him?" she asks. "Just for a second, until I get his bottle."
She doesn't have much choice, so she takes him between her palms and hoists him on her hip like she did Kasey so many months ago. He's heavy, but she's used to added weight, and he's warm and soft and smells like the future when she breathes in. He curls into her side and drags a hand through her hair, catching his fingers in the strands moving closer to her shoulders. "Ouch," she whimpers and Cally glances up worriedly, but she pulls his hand out of her hair before she loses any. His palm is tiny compared to hers and amazing that one day he'll grow up and be bigger than she is. She peers at him in the moonlight, and he has Cally's chin but the Chief's eyes and she can't help but wonder what the thing in her belly will look like. She imagines Lee's eyes and her nose, pictures Sam's mouth and his ears, and pushes the thoughts out of her mind because she'll never know for sure because she won't be there when it grows into itself.
Cally taps her shoulder and there's a plastic cup in her hand, and she's watching them with a gentle expression on her face. "You're good with him," she says and hands the cup to her son. He sucks on the top and grins at his mother and they both laugh at the look of complete bliss slipping across his face.
Kara watches the way Nicky watches his mother and it's enough to make her keel over, seeing the love reflected in their eyes. She wonders what it's like for someone to love her that much, to believe in her so completely, and decides it's better that she'll never know because she can't bear to let another person down because she's Kara Thrace and that's what she does.
She hands him back to his mother and he twines a hand in Cally's hair and she winces and pulls at his wrist. "Easy, Nicky. Mommy likes her hair." He doesn't let go, but he loosens his grip and Kara enviously watches the easy rapport between them. "How are you feeling?" Cally asks and Kara gives her the stock answer.
"I'm doing okay."
Cally smiles. "It's hard the last few months. You can't see your feet and everything's swelled up like a balloon and you just want your body back." She hugs her son close. "Then it's over and you get one of these and it's all worth it."
Kara just nods, because her decision isn't public knowledge and she's enjoying herself too much to tell the truth and disappoint someone else, even if it's Cally. "We'll see," she concedes.
"I have some off-time tomorrow," Cally says and Kara is confused because she doesn't know where this conversation is going. "There aren't a lot of moms on Galactica and Cottle's a good doctor, but he doesn't really know about the other side of the things."
"Okay…"
"You should come by, hang with me and Nicky for a little while. He isn't a newborn, but I can show you what it's like to take care of a baby." There must be something mean in Kara's eyes because Cally shrinks back a little and the smile starts to fade from her face. "It's just an idea. You don't have to come…" she trails off but Kara isn't paying attention because she's still looking at the love in Nicky's eyes and wanting it for herself.
"No," Kara interjects because she can't stop wondering if she can have the same thing. "I'd love to come."
Cally looks surprised, but she pushes her mouth back into a smile and shifts her son on her hip. "Great! I pick Nicky up from daycare at 15:00. Come by any time after then." She glances down at her son and his head is lolling against her shoulder and the cup is forgotten in his hand and he's finally asleep. "I better get home. We'll see you tomorrow?"
"Sure," Kara says and has to rip her eyes away from the future sleeping in Cally's arms.
She turns back to the stars and tries to see what Cally sees, squints to prove Lee's wrong, because maybe bright, shiny things exist out there after all.
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