Chapter 18 Intermission
She next woke back in her cell.
And she was clothed. Not her own, so no more pain pills. Instead, she had on a pair of sweatpants and matching top. The chill of her gray cell was greatly reduced by the clothes and she wondered why they'd bothered returning this little comfort to her?
Forcing herself upright, Kara began pacing from wall to wall, staggering at first until control of her limbs and a modicum of strength returned. When fatigue forced her to rest, she cautiously leaned back against the concrete wall and shut her eyes as she murmured a prayer.
"Lords of Kobol, what do you want from me?"
She let her head tilt forward to lean on her good knee and finally let the flashes of remembered agony she'd been fight since awakening roll through her. Dread settled as a weight in the pit of her stomach, and the fear of being hooked up again, whether for more electrical shocks or…other purposes, mocked her feeble attempts at courage. As the perspiration from her pacing was replaced by the cold sweat of fear, she fought to ride out the panicky waves. She was frakkin' Starbuck after all. And Starbuck knew all about pain. She could deal with pain; her mom had made sure she'd had plenty of practice.
With a bitter twist of her lips, she pushed herself up and decided to stop whining to the gods about the mean Cylons and get her shit together.
Running both hands through her hair, she tugged at tangles, using the self-inflicted discomfort as a focal point. Anger and rage were her first line of defense, but it was shame and guilt that provided the bedrock of their foundation. This, Kara understood about herself. She also knew that the same emotions often pushed her to the self-destructive side of herself, including the hope-destroying despair that had marked so much of her time trapped in the apartment.
"Frakked either way. Nothing new there," she muttered into the cell's silence.
A tray was slid through the slot, and Kara's stomach growled. She frankly couldn't remember when she'd last eaten and, as she used her fingers to scoop the oatmeal into her mouth, she didn't know when they'd next feed her. After swabbing the last of the cereal from the bowl, she sat back with a satisfied burp. They'd been generous for a change. She could actually say she was full. Maybe because her stomach had just shrunk that much? Frak the reason. It was just a nice change not to have the gnawing hunger sapping what little strength she still had.
Satisfied, Starbuck allowed herself to rest, sprawling flat on the floor and staring up at the single light fixture. As she slipped into an exhausted sleep, her last thoughts were a prayer that the gods give her the strength to hold on a little longer.
[ I I I I I ]
From his spot at the prisoner's cell window, Simon jotted his observations on a chart, and then flipped it closed before speaking to his female companion as they started back down the long hall.
"She's recovering well," Simon said as he clicked the pen and tucked it away in a vest pocket. "The damages inflicted by Six appear to be temporary. Though underweight, I'd say another day of rest and she'll be sufficiently strong enough to resume interrogating," He came to a stop, forcing the Three beside him to halt also. "D'Anna, if you want Starbuck to be physically capable of fulfilling your designated role for her, you must keep her away from Six." He saw the full lips purse in thought as his companion considered his words.
"Yeah, I can see that," D'Anna agreed. "Starbuck seems to really get under a person's skin. For either good or bad," a pause, then, "I admit I find her quite… enervating." As her jaw tightened, Simon felt a chill that had nothing to do with the temperature in the hallway. "Looking forward to seeing how she likes my present." The woman's lips thinned in thought. "But you're right about our sister. I've pulled her from the Captain's interrogation. She was kinda…less than pleased, shall we say, though your report convinced the others it had to be done."
"Good." Relief must have colored his voice more than he'd intended as he saw D'Anna give him a sharp look.
"And what about you, brother? Have you become obsessed with her like our Leoben?"
"Of course not. I just find her a fascinating case. A contradiction of forces."
"Of course not," she parroted him, her smile mocking as she added, "Got under your skin, too. It's ok, brother. Guess it's good she'll be working for us soon. Hate to see her a focus for dissension within our ranks." Then, with a upward sweep of eyebrow, "Or more of one."
"What are you planning next?" he asked, curious yet uneasy for a reason he refused to contemplate.
"Well, got my surprise package, I'm thinking tomorrow's a good day to unwrap it," she gave a decidedly unpleasant smile, and then continued, "Doral was asking about drugs. Said to ask you about your store of hallucinogenic ones?"
Simon had already considered, and dismissed, the option earlier. But he knew he'd have to justify his rejection of that course of treatment. "I strongly advise against it. Just as Six poses a risk of breaking the subject's body, the only medications I have available are likely to break her mind. Reviewing Thrace's history, she already shows pronounced inclinations to instability," he said with a headshake. "The chances of a psychotic break are just too high. A shattered mind will render her as unusable as a crippled body."
"Suppose we'll have to bow before your expertise, Doc." D'Anna gave him a last cryptic look before turning to walk away from the room and its troublesome occupant.
As Simon followed his companion, his thoughts returned to the human and an internal voice mocked his own attempts at self-deception. D'Anna was right, Kara Thrace, with her medical history and documented exploits, had appealed to a protectiveness within himself he didn't understand. Deciding that it was just his medical programming, Simon forced his thoughts to other matters and picked up his pace, eager to leave the conflicting feelings behind him.