Chapter 12 Disassembled

The Eight model once known by the callsign 'Boomer' put a hand over her mouth to hold back the gasp as she took in Starbuck's battered body.

During the first weeks of the Occupation, Sharon had carefully avoided the general human population, not wanting to risk running into anyone she might know from her former life. As the colonists' initial fear lapsed into sullen unrest and a human Resistance movement began striking at the Cylons' newly built installations, the ex-Raptor pilot had grown frustrated that the refugees weren't even trying to give peace a chance. She, Caprica and Leoben had worked so hard at convincing the other models that co-existence was possible, and now the building insurgency was threatening that shaky truce.

Then yesterday she had overheard a Six and Three discussing the detainees. Starbuck's name had caught her attention, and Sharon had managed to get close enough to listen in on the heated discussion. She quickly realized that they were arguing over the methods being used on the Colonial officer. The Six was defending one of her model that was in charge of Kara's interrogation. The Three, D'Anna, was impatiently explaining that their sister was letting Starbuck get to her on a personal level and losing her objectivity, and that the repeated beatings of the prisoner were risking all of D'Anna plans.

Sharon had edged out of sight when the pair turned in her direction, but she'd overheard enough. She had hurried to the nearest bathroom and been violently ill, visions of what the Cylon probably had been doing to her friend causing her to heave until her stomach ached. Splashing water on her flushed face, Sharon had looked up at her reflection. Brown eyes darkened as she reminded herself that she was a Cylon—and had no friends among the humans any more.

Knowing that she should just forget what she'd heard, Sharon had tried to keep busy for the rest of the day. Yet, as she closed her eyes that night, memories of shared laughter around a Triad table with the intense blonde pilot fed the guilt she had been trying to bury since accepting her place among her fellow Cylons.

Now, standing in the rank-smelling cell, guilt and disgust twisted her features as she stared at the beaten woman at her feet. Kara, torso bare save for the sports bra, was a canvas of colors. Bruises in various states of healing were painted across her skin…and then there was her back.

Fighting down the nausea, Sharon forced herself to look at the raised welts that pinked the pale skin from neck to hipline. There was no blood, but whatever had been used had also left two rough-hued streaks of abraded skin from Kara's right clavicle to the opposite floating rib. It didn't take but a moment to see what D'Anna meant, Starbuck looked like she'd been worked over by a mob, and from the sounds of her raspy breathing, there was the possibility of internal damage, too.

As Sharon dropped to her knees beside the still form, bereavement tightened her chest. She reached out a tentative hand and gently brushed aside the dirty hair to reveal a face soaked in despair. Casting her gaze up and down the all too human body before her, she felt tears dampen her own face at the travesty that had been done to her fiery friend; it looked like her brothers and sisters had finally succeeded in breaking Kara Thrace.

"Frak, what've they done to you?" she said without thought to her words, everything inside decrying the sight before her.

The wet eyelashes twitched, then slowly blinked open to stare bewilderedly up at Sharon. Boomer felt her chest clench tighter at the confirmation of her friend's defeat. The green eyes, usually so vibrant with defiance or devilment, were sunken cavities of suffering now.

Sharon closed her eyes and fought the swirling emotions that demanded she run from the cell to either demand Kara's immediate release or flee to the basestar and pretend she'd never even gone to the prison in the first place. She knew that neither option had much chance of success. The other models weren't likely to listen to her, a single Eight they already viewed as compromised by the humans, they'd just brush her protests aside as foolish sentimentality. And as for hiding away…it was far too late to unsee Kara's pain. Sharon faced her limited options as she stared down again at the blonde. It didn't matter what Kara felt, Sharon's memories insisted that this was her friend in need of help.

"Frak it, Starbuck, you can't just give up," she hoarsely whispered, having to swallow repeatedly to force even those few words past the constriction in her throat.

She saw Kara lick cracked lips before her low voice murmured, "Why not?"

Why not? Why should she continue resisting when it obviously cost her so much? What right did Sharon have to demand that she prolong her suffering? Feeling angry sobs threatening, she ground her teeth and dug her fingernails into her palms. They were all so frakked! This wasn't what she wanted when she'd convinced the others to occupy instead of destroy the colony on New Caprica. Her Cylon brothers and sisters claimed they were outraged over the treatment of Gina aboard Pegasus, yet they thought nothing of doing similar to their own prisoners. Just how were Cylons superior to their creators when they seemed so determined to copy the worst traits of the human race?

Sharon had no answers for any of those questions. She was just another cog caught up in the wheel of this cycle of things. Either she did her part or got crushed beneath the weight of events she had no control over.

"I don't know, Kara," she gently said. "You just can't. Can't give up." The words were hollow of reason yet heartfelt. Sharon dug into her pants pocket and pulled out four white tablets. They were all she had to offer. She held up a pill and said, "This can ease the pain. I wish… Frak!" she choked to a stop, clamping her hand around her tiny bit of penance, took a breath then forced herself to continue, "I-I just wish I could do more."

As Starbuck shifted onto her side, Sharon heard the pained moan that she couldn't completely suppress when she moved. The green eyes moved from the tablet Sharon was once again holding out, up to meet her gaze. Her eyes were still filled with despair, but now there was a slight edge of desperate hope shading them with gold flecks.

"Kill me," Kara said, her tone smudged with conflicting needs.

Sharon jerked back as if struck. "Starbuck, you can't…I-I-I just—," she protested, breaking off as she saw her friend's barely held composure splinter.

"Just shoot—"

As Sharon abruptly stood, Kara broke off and her eyes closed briefly before opening again and seeking Sharon's. "Boomer, please…" the plea this time lay Kara's savaged spirit open to her one-time friend.

"Look… I can't. They'll box me, and I…I'm sorry, Kara, but I can't," Sharon said, fear and shame twisting her face into a grimace. Then her lips thinned as anger rose within her. She hadn't asked to be a Cylon. Damn it, she hadn't asked for any of this.

This wasn't her fault!

She abruptly stood and strode to the door, about to put her hand on the sensor pad when she remembered the pills she still grasped in her palm. Turning her hand over, she opened it and stared down at the white tablets. Sharon's other hand stole down to the sidearm at her hip and she shut her eyes as her hands closed about each of the objects. Allegiances and friendships. Needs and demands. Hope and despair. They all vied for a soul she wasn't even sure she possessed.

Spinning on her heel, Sharon returned to kneel again by Kara, forcing one of the pills into her hand and closing it around the small succor. She shoved the other three into the front pocket of Starbuck's cargo pants. Refusing to meet the green eyes again, the woman once known as Boomer turned her back and walked away.