[fic] footprints on the other side
Mar. 26th, 2008 06:05 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bantha_fodderFootprints on the Other Side by Pen
BSG, PG. Lee
Yeah, I don't know. Prompted by that promo picture.
Thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
annavtree and stars_like_dust, and to pxl.
***
He wakes, explosions behind his eyes and Kara's voice in his ears. He shakes his hands, looks at the indent his nails have left, pressed into his flesh. He flexes his toes, and is halfway to reaching for his blues before he remembers he's reaching for his suit, instead.
The room is still unfamiliar, and though it's been his for weeks now, he still stretches a little to miss the metal chunk missing from the pilot bunkroom floor, and he still ducks his head to avoid bumping it on the rack that's no longer above him.
The buttons of his shirt are tighter than his flightsuit ever was, and he blames the fit of the neck on why he has trouble breathing.
He pushes the final button into place; steps out to face the world.
**
He watches Baltar's hands as Baltar talks; he believes what Baltar has to say, but he doesn't trust him, and it shows.
"You see." Baltar pauses for the part where 'Captain' used to be, and the silence lengthens. Lee fills in the space with his own words, traitor and cylon and the things that Baltar won't say hanging in the air between them.
"No, I don't think so," Baltar says, continuation of a conversation he's having with someone else, and Lee rolls his eyes.
He keeps watching Baltar's hands.
**
He passes Roslin, and she dips her head in acknowledgement. He sees his father in her eyes. "Mister Adama," she says, after a moment.
He blinks, tries the name once again on his tongue. "Ms Roslin," he returns, and the smile she gives him is the same one he watched her perfect for the press over the last year.
He thinks of others absent, never so quiet, never so perfect, and keeps on walking.
**
He stands by the corridor, his hand on the doorframe. Even from ten metres away he can pick out her photo, her bright hair and her laughing smile.
The photos cover more of the corridor now and Lee wonders if how much further they can go before there is no one left to pay respects and light candles in honour of those who have died. The ones he is working for.
For those who have not yet left him behind.
**
He snaps the collar into place; smiles.
**
She says, "Lee," and he wonders if he's been eating enough, sleeping enough, missing too much, that he's hallucinating now.
**
He leaps out of the viper, wraps his arms around her and laughs into her hair. Her breath is warm on his ear, and he feels her heart beating beside his, through their flight suits, through their skin, through every thing.
"I really did go to Earth, Lee," she says, ruining it for him. "I mean it."
"Shut up," he says, holds her close.
It's the last thing he says for a while.
**
He wakes, Kara's voice echoing and the world tilting with explosions. It takes a moment for the smoke to clear, for Lee to reach for his flight suit and realise that it's nothing more than a dream, that he's not dead and just like before, neither is she.
**
He passes Dee in the corridors; she brushes past him, and he tilts his head away. "Mmm," he murmurs; half greeting, half absence, and keeps on walking by. She wraps a hand around his wrist, and he looks down, confused; it's the most contact they've had in days.
"Don't be stupid, Lee," she says, no expression on her face.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Lee says, and keeps on walking towards the brig.
Lee lies.
**
He steps into the brig, looks at her familiar figure through the bars. So many things to say, he knows, so much space between them, but as he opens his mouth she looks up at him, and he smirks instead.
"Just like home," she says, wraps a hand around a bar.
"Do you remember that bar fight on New Caladonia," he says, like they're not separated by the days and the weeks and yet another frakking return from the dead.
"I remember your really shitty upper cut, and that beautiful shiner you sported for weeks."
"It was your present to me," he says; steps up to the bars.
"I'd do it again in an instant," she whispers; reaches through the bars and kisses him.
**
"Nice suit," she says, later, as he tucks his shirt back into place.
He grins.
**
He walks, finds himself listening again. He listens to the voices through the corridors and the heartbeat of the ship, pulsing through his feet. He examines the curve of the corridor and the decking beneath his feet, and he starts, surprised, when he's queried as he steps on board.
He breathes the air of Galactica; wonders that it never changes, that it remains constant.
He thinks about Kara.
**
Helo rests a hand on the banister; taps twice. "Apollo," he says, like nothing's changed, like they're going to keep walking, find a triad game to crash. "Is Starbuck going to be fine?"
"Of course," Lee says, and for once, he wonders if his confidence is in Kara, or himself.
**
He smoothes his lapel into place; enters the court room. His father stares at him, his face lined and implacable. As they exit, Roslin passes by; leans into his father's shoulder and whispers, and his father's face never changes, not once.
He hears the whispers, of Cylon, and Starbuck, and he straightens his papers.
**
In the distance, he hears a gunshot, and he wonders, angry, why do people keep discharging firearms in space? before he starts to run.
**
She's fine, of course she's fine, and he hates her.
**
He steps into the brig. "You've been to Earth," he says, voice dull, before she can open her mouth.
"That's what I told you, in the vipers."
"And now everybody knows." Lee's voice is quiet, thick, and he doesn't know how he's containing all his anger in these short, sharp words. "And now you've returned from the dead, and everyone says you're a Cylon, and you just can't keep quiet for a half a second."
"They're not that bad," she says, and his mouth tightens into a straight line, and for once, she drops into silence. He wonders what she's seen, what she knows, that she can think such a thing, but he shakes his head, clears his thoughts.
She leans back from the bars, taps her hands on the table. "I don't think," she starts.
"No," he replies. "You never do."
He meets her eyes; she shrugs, and he turns away.
She doesn't call him back.
END
BSG, PG. Lee
Yeah, I don't know. Prompted by that promo picture.
Thanks to
annavtree and stars_like_dust, and to pxl.***
He wakes, explosions behind his eyes and Kara's voice in his ears. He shakes his hands, looks at the indent his nails have left, pressed into his flesh. He flexes his toes, and is halfway to reaching for his blues before he remembers he's reaching for his suit, instead.
The room is still unfamiliar, and though it's been his for weeks now, he still stretches a little to miss the metal chunk missing from the pilot bunkroom floor, and he still ducks his head to avoid bumping it on the rack that's no longer above him.
The buttons of his shirt are tighter than his flightsuit ever was, and he blames the fit of the neck on why he has trouble breathing.
He pushes the final button into place; steps out to face the world.
**
He watches Baltar's hands as Baltar talks; he believes what Baltar has to say, but he doesn't trust him, and it shows.
"You see." Baltar pauses for the part where 'Captain' used to be, and the silence lengthens. Lee fills in the space with his own words, traitor and cylon and the things that Baltar won't say hanging in the air between them.
"No, I don't think so," Baltar says, continuation of a conversation he's having with someone else, and Lee rolls his eyes.
He keeps watching Baltar's hands.
**
He passes Roslin, and she dips her head in acknowledgement. He sees his father in her eyes. "Mister Adama," she says, after a moment.
He blinks, tries the name once again on his tongue. "Ms Roslin," he returns, and the smile she gives him is the same one he watched her perfect for the press over the last year.
He thinks of others absent, never so quiet, never so perfect, and keeps on walking.
**
He stands by the corridor, his hand on the doorframe. Even from ten metres away he can pick out her photo, her bright hair and her laughing smile.
The photos cover more of the corridor now and Lee wonders if how much further they can go before there is no one left to pay respects and light candles in honour of those who have died. The ones he is working for.
For those who have not yet left him behind.
**
He snaps the collar into place; smiles.
**
She says, "Lee," and he wonders if he's been eating enough, sleeping enough, missing too much, that he's hallucinating now.
**
He leaps out of the viper, wraps his arms around her and laughs into her hair. Her breath is warm on his ear, and he feels her heart beating beside his, through their flight suits, through their skin, through every thing.
"I really did go to Earth, Lee," she says, ruining it for him. "I mean it."
"Shut up," he says, holds her close.
It's the last thing he says for a while.
**
He wakes, Kara's voice echoing and the world tilting with explosions. It takes a moment for the smoke to clear, for Lee to reach for his flight suit and realise that it's nothing more than a dream, that he's not dead and just like before, neither is she.
**
He passes Dee in the corridors; she brushes past him, and he tilts his head away. "Mmm," he murmurs; half greeting, half absence, and keeps on walking by. She wraps a hand around his wrist, and he looks down, confused; it's the most contact they've had in days.
"Don't be stupid, Lee," she says, no expression on her face.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Lee says, and keeps on walking towards the brig.
Lee lies.
**
He steps into the brig, looks at her familiar figure through the bars. So many things to say, he knows, so much space between them, but as he opens his mouth she looks up at him, and he smirks instead.
"Just like home," she says, wraps a hand around a bar.
"Do you remember that bar fight on New Caladonia," he says, like they're not separated by the days and the weeks and yet another frakking return from the dead.
"I remember your really shitty upper cut, and that beautiful shiner you sported for weeks."
"It was your present to me," he says; steps up to the bars.
"I'd do it again in an instant," she whispers; reaches through the bars and kisses him.
**
"Nice suit," she says, later, as he tucks his shirt back into place.
He grins.
**
He walks, finds himself listening again. He listens to the voices through the corridors and the heartbeat of the ship, pulsing through his feet. He examines the curve of the corridor and the decking beneath his feet, and he starts, surprised, when he's queried as he steps on board.
He breathes the air of Galactica; wonders that it never changes, that it remains constant.
He thinks about Kara.
**
Helo rests a hand on the banister; taps twice. "Apollo," he says, like nothing's changed, like they're going to keep walking, find a triad game to crash. "Is Starbuck going to be fine?"
"Of course," Lee says, and for once, he wonders if his confidence is in Kara, or himself.
**
He smoothes his lapel into place; enters the court room. His father stares at him, his face lined and implacable. As they exit, Roslin passes by; leans into his father's shoulder and whispers, and his father's face never changes, not once.
He hears the whispers, of Cylon, and Starbuck, and he straightens his papers.
**
In the distance, he hears a gunshot, and he wonders, angry, why do people keep discharging firearms in space? before he starts to run.
**
She's fine, of course she's fine, and he hates her.
**
He steps into the brig. "You've been to Earth," he says, voice dull, before she can open her mouth.
"That's what I told you, in the vipers."
"And now everybody knows." Lee's voice is quiet, thick, and he doesn't know how he's containing all his anger in these short, sharp words. "And now you've returned from the dead, and everyone says you're a Cylon, and you just can't keep quiet for a half a second."
"They're not that bad," she says, and his mouth tightens into a straight line, and for once, she drops into silence. He wonders what she's seen, what she knows, that she can think such a thing, but he shakes his head, clears his thoughts.
She leans back from the bars, taps her hands on the table. "I don't think," she starts.
"No," he replies. "You never do."
He meets her eyes; she shrugs, and he turns away.
She doesn't call him back.
END
