A Rush of Blood to the Head


"People like us know how to survive,

There's no point in living, if you can't feel alive.

We know when to kiss and we know when to kill

If we can't have it all then nobody will."

--Garbage "The World Is Not Enough"


DISCLAIMER: Not mine.

REVIEWS: How are my commas?


Four months ago: Day 62 of the Cylon Occupation or the Rescue of Many Hijacked Civilians from the Toasters

Well-laid plans often go astray. This is one of the almost completely infallible laws of the natural world, like what goes up must come down and we ain't nothing but mammals. This law certainly held true during the rescue of the purloined human settlers.

Members of the resistance had freed more than half the colonists from their crammed holding cells by the time the cylon backup arrived. A lot of backup. A whole frakkin' lot of backup. What started out a simple rescue attempt was about to very quickly turn into a lovely teatime firefight. Retreat was the only option. Well the only other option besides die looking like Swiss cheese and smelling just as bad besides.

While freshly liberated civilians and most of the resistance fighters scattered into the woods like startled pigeons in a park, Starbuck, Sam, and a couple other gun-touting rebels took up defensive positions and gleefully opened fire on the advancing metal heads. The cylon ranks returned the favor, lobbing bullets and artillery shells right back.

There's nothing like mortar explosions blowing walls of the building you're taking cover in to make you loose track of your fellow fighters. The rearguard, separated from each other by eager bullets and flying chunks of concrete, weaved slowly through the smoke and ruin of the building firing away all the time.

Starbuck couldn't see Sam through all the dust and chaos. She couldn't find her frakkin' husband anywhere, she couldn't see five feet in front of her face, she was pinned down, and to top it all off the toaster's were surrounding the building. Wait…scratch that. The real topper to the whole situation was the skin jobs including one of those frakking Leoben models leading the regular metal heads.

Starbuck shot a few more rounds and dove into the hallway where she'd last heard Sam. Hunks of debris flew around threatening to shave off limbs as Kara crept down the corridor. She could hear one of the other resistance fighters screaming in pain, not her husband though, thank the Gods. She figured if Sam heard the wounded combatant he'd try to help. So Starbuck headed that way. Unfortunately, the cylons had the same idea.

The screams of the wounded faded to nothing as Starbuck neared where she guessed the injured fighter was. As screams died so to did the screamer. Through the interior of the building polluted with darkness and gun smoke, Kara finally spotted Sam. Her husband was kneeling head bowed next to what Kara presumed was the newly dead body of one of her resistance fighters. Sam seemed to be stricken with nothing but a grim countenance, safe as houses. Or well safe as a house in the middle of a war zone. They had to get out of there fast.

Three things happened almost simultaneously. Kara reached out to her kneeling husband. Sam looked up, relief that Kara was still alive and unhurt evident on his face. The Leoben model leading the attack silently stepped out from the shadowed hallway, gun already raised and aimed. In one of those overly dramatic silver screen moments, time froze as if to say this can't end well. Sam unaware of the cylon at his back had eyes only for his wife. Starbuck, stopped mid motion, watched powerlessly, transfixed by the lethal movements of machine. Leoben never took his eyes off Kara as if the gun in his hand and who it was pointed at was of little consequence. A small smile played peacefully on his lips.

Time resumed to flow. Kara still moving forward reached Sam just as Leoben's finger hugged the trigger. Hot metal quickly evacuated the smooth barrel, penetrated air, and flew through skull. Scalp and bone and fleshy brain continued onward only to come to rest on Starbuck's face. Sam now clear eyed saw nothing and slumped over the cooling body of the resistance fighter into Kara's just arrived arms.

Leoben never took his eyes off Kara. A small smile lay peacefully on his lips as he watched her futilely attempt to keep Sam's bodily fluids from vacating his head, as she tried to scrape brain matter off her skin, as she violently sobbed and sweetly screamed.


Current Day: Six months after the Cylon Invasion of New Caprica

The blonde and the Boomer had been furious of course. Well the blonde more than Boomer. The former raptor pilot never seemed to get her feathers ruffled. After kicking Starbuck around for a while calling her a murderer and just generally letting their displeasure be known, the soft-shelled cylon bitches left.

Starbuck was a little surprised at the brevity of the punishment. Normally after killing one of the cylons the rest thought up some really cutting-edge new way to make her scream. And does it really count as killing somebody if they'll just be back in an hour?

The blonde cleared up the matter of Kara's reprieve with lovely parting words, "Don't worry. He'll be back in a short while. He said he had something special for you next time you pulled a stunt. God doesn't enjoy suffering..."

And with that little open-ended statement Kara was alone again. While the cylon God might not get off on pain, the cylons sure seemed fond of it.

Half the time Kara couldn't figure out what the frakkers wanted with her. Simon was easy. He wanted her to have a baby but he settled for an ovary. The blonde seemed intent on converting Starbuck…the hard way. As a kid, Kara thought Sunday school had been agony but this method was the real deal. Nothing like a little grueling torture to make pagans renounce their beliefs. Not that Starbuck would ever denounce the Gods. Leoben frakked with her head on that ship, knowing things no one should know and giving away nothing. Judging from some of the looks he gave her Kara thought Leoben wanted to her to have a baby too…his baby. Starbuck couldn't tell if he wanted to frak her over or just plain frak her up.

A disturbing wet whistling sound disturbed Kara from her equally disturbing thoughts. She glanced around at what she could see of the bleak room, pathetically only able to lift her head a few centimeters off the floor. It was several tense minutes before Kara realized it wasn't some unseen cylon creature but her own breathing. The comparatively mild beating must have broken some ribs and sent them careening into a lung. Funny she didn't feel it before.

With this newest injury in a long, long, long line of injuries, Kara decided to take stock of her situation. She was being held by an unknown number of enemy forces in an unspecified location for an unidentified reason. There was a good chance anybody that might have tried to free her thought she was dead and the one person that wouldn't have let her supposed demise stand in his way was dead himself. Sam was dead; she still wiped her face reflexively every time she remembered it. The fleet was jumps away by now. And the resistance could barely keep itself afloat. Rescue wasn't likely.

She was severely dehydrated and malnourished. She had numerous broken bones, cuts, bruises, burns, lesions, scrapes, scratches, contusions, and now a punctured lung undoubtedly filling up with blood making it a real bitch for her to breathe. Of course it could be worse. The blood loss must really be catching up with her 'cause Kara didn't remember ever being an optimist before.

And then it got worse, proving once again that Starbuck is never wrong.

Leoben stormed into the room like, well, a storm. And for the first time since entering this Gods forsaken hellhole, Kara was glad. That smile, that superior little smile Leoben kept plastered on his frakking face all the time was gone and she was the one that scratched it out. She'd been close, she knew. Close to turning that little sliver of wood on her own veins and putting an end to it all but not anymore. Now Starbuck just laughed and laughed and laughed. Well, with the lung thing going on the laugh was really more of a bubbling wheeze sound but the sentiment was the same.

Leoben recognized Starbuck's rasping laugh for what it was…unrepentant defiance and quite possibly a skosh of cabin fever. In all the weeks the viper pilot had been locked up here, Leoben had never once got upset even after the countless times Starbuck had fought, attacked, and killed. He'd never shown even a little bit of anger when he hurt her or she hurt him. The cylon just smiled and accepted sure in the end that he would win. She was only human; she couldn't fight forever. Or so he thought.

The laughter seemed to inflame the normally serene cylon beyond all reason or perhaps beyond all programming. Leoben hurtled further into the room not even bothering to shut the door. And really what was the point of keeping the door locked anyway? Starbuck could barely lift her head much less make a getaway.

Rage oozed off him in waves, polluting the room, pooling in his eyes and on his twisted lips and flared nostrils. When he reached her drained form on the floor, Leoben gripped her painfully by the arms and easily lifted her into the air. With him literally holding her up, they were now face to face.

"We've been very patient, Starbuck, I've been very patient," Leoben stated coldly and quietly, "but you just don't learn. You and your quick little hands keep getting into trouble. Well, now we'll have to do something about that won't we."

As he said this Leoben slipped one heavy hand down her arm and pulled her own hand up between them to eye level. He softly stroked her fingers and instead of that stupid little smile put on a rabid smirk. Kara couldn't help it, she started to panic a little.

"We'll take care of those troublesome hands. And maybe then you'll learn. I can't be stopped. We won't be stopped. Not even by you."

With the last word, Leoben let go of her other arm keeping her hand trapped in his own and allowed her aching body to hit the unforgiving floor. Using the hand he'd been caressing, the cylon jerked her across the cement to the open door.

Kara didn't know why she was surprised. Of course, he knew this. He knew everything else about her, why wouldn't he know this? The inkling of panic converted quickly into unadulterated terror. But as feeble as her body was Kara wasn't going to go like the lamb. She twisted and bucked, dragged and pulled to no avail. Leoben carefully held her fingers in the doorway and in one swift motion slammed the door shut.