Kara's still hazy, not feeling too much thanks to Cottle's drugs. She's a little shocked that she's on Galactica, in one piece, that she got the raider to fly, and that Hotdog actually made it back alive. But mostly, she's drifting in and out of sleep, lulled by warmth, familiar smells, and easy oxygen. People come and visit. Adama, Lee, and Gaeta, and once she thinks Helo comes too, but even with the drugs, she knows something's not right about that. Helo can't come and visit her. "Hey," she hears, and slowly, she turns her head. Boomer's looking down at her, half-smiling. "Hey." "I can't believe you pulled that stunt." She smiles, but her mouth feels loose, wet. She's probably drooling a little. "Can't believe they waited for me." Boomer shakes her head. "Yeah you can. They'll always wait for you." Yeah, and maybe they will. Before she can say anything, Boomer leans in, frowning. "You smell different." "Cylon guts. Sponge bath." There isn't much more to say. She'd like to see Boomer spend hours in one of those frakking things, and come out smelling like Caprican roses. "Hmm." She tilts her head, and her eyes don't quite look focused. "Was it alive? Inside?" "'Till I shot it down." Something's wrong with Boomer's face, but Kara can't put it into words. She just looks wrong, unknown, different. But then it passes, and her friend is smiling down at her, and leaning in close, closer. Kara's not expecting it – the brush of Boomer's lips across her own, the way Boomer's tongue licks, slow and careful, along Kara's skin. Kara's heart skips a beat, leaving her feeling empty and wanting. It's brief – seconds – and then Boomer steps back, licking her lips thoughtfully. Kara blinks. After a moment – a long moment, Kara swept up in watching pink lips and tongue move – Boomer says, "You taste like one of them." She almost sounds surprised. One of them. A cylon? "I'm not –" Boomer reaches out, her fingers pressing lightly across Kara's lips. "I can't believe you pulled that stunt," she says again, and then turns and walks away. * Sharon makes her 27th landing without damaging the undercarriage of the Raptor. Everything about the landing is smooth, almost effortless. It's a first, and she can't help the broad grin on her face when she steps out onto the deck. "Careful," says Helo, nudging her, "you're gonna blind someone with that smile." "You are such an idiot," she responds, laughing. "Hey, I'm just glad my ass isn't bruised from another of your landings." "Shut the frak up!" But she's still laughing as she punches him on the shoulder. And then Helo just fades into the background, because Starbuck is watching Sharon. Starbuck is walking over. She walks like she owns the deck, and she's focused entirely on Sharon. "Nugget!" Sharon hasn't been a nugget for a long time, but Starbuck makes her own judgments. "If I hadn't been watching, I wouldn't have believed you made that landing!" She slings her arm around Sharon's shoulder. "C'mon. I'm gonna buy you the best Ambrosia on this bucket." "So, what, you're going to get me some of the slop you picked up last leave?" Starbuck just smirks. "You're gonna wish that's what I have in store for you." She's smirking, sure, but Sharon can see something else there – almost pride, like somehow Starbuck is responsible for Sharon's landing, now that she's finally made a decent one. It makes Sharon feel slightly giddy, and she doesn't quite know why. But it's distracting enough that it takes her a few minutes to realize that Starbuck isn't steering her towards the pilot's rec. "What's going on? Where're we going?" "Ah, nugget, nugget, there are many places on Galactica you still don't know." Starbuck winks. "It's sad, really. But that's why I'm here. I'm going to show you the way." "The way." "Yep." "Starbuck –" She pulls back, stands her ground. She knows what's going to happen here. Some kind of little false celebration, maybe a mockery of a 1000th landing. And suddenly, she feels deflated, hurt. All the pilots will be there, ready to tease her, celebrate something that Sharon should just be able to do every single time. Naturally. Helo will be there, joining in. Starbuck will have seen to that. "Hey. Trust me. You trust me, right?" "Yeah, just like those knuckledraggers from the Atlanta trusted you last leave." What a frakking disaster that had been. A fun disaster, though, Sharon has to admit that. But Starbuck frowns. "No, seriously. Trust me." Sharon relaxes, just a little, enough that Starbuck can grab her and push her forward. "Hey –" A door opens. Lights come on. People grin, holding out glasses. Helo's front and centre. Frak. Starbuck turns to her, and says, "You did good, nugget. Boomer. We knew you could do it." And then she grabs Sharon by both shoulders, and pulls her in. The kiss is fast, hard, and almost over before Sharon realizes what happened. But it's long enough that someone has time to wolf-whistle in the background. When Starbuck pulls away, Sharon feels dazed, her lips tingling. "Boomer!" Starbuck yells, and the others echo. Sharon looks around, and they're still smiling. None of those smiles are mocking, not even Starbuck's. "A hell of a landing," Starbuck murmurs, and hands her a drink. Sharon takes it and laughs, joyful. * Air fills her lungs, cold and harsh, and Kara gasps in shock. She resists the urge to curl into herself, instead concentrating on breathing carefully, deeply. It feels awkward, like something her body has to get used to. She breathes, in and out, and gradually becomes aware of other things. The air is cold, but she's warm, surrounded by something viscous. Someone is holding her hand. Something else is moving in the background. There are shapes around, indistinct, and she blinks her eyes rapidly, wiping at them with her free hand. "What the frak?" She manages to gasp out, when breathing starts to feel natural, normal. "Doc? Commander?" The hand holding hers clenches briefly, and Kara turns her head towards the contact, expecting Lee or Helo, or anyone other than the person – the thing – that she sees. Sharon smiles down at her. "Welcome back, Kara. We've missed you." Back? "Get your hands off me, you frakking –" But before she can finish, it all comes back to her in a rush – a misjudgment, too many hours flying, sluggish controls that she'll have to yell at the Chief about, crashing into an asteroid. The memories leave her gasping again, thrashing in the warm liquid. "Frak. I'm –" dead, she wants to say, but already she knows that she can't really die. Somehow, it's not an entirely new feeling. Stil. "Oh, frak, you've got to be kidding me." Sharon's hand strokes across Kara's forehead, slowly, repetitively. "It's OK. You're with us again." No, Kara thinks. "You did so well. We're so proud of you." No. Please, no. "And Kara?" Sharon leans down, and Kara tries to shrink back, even though she knows there's nowhere for her to go. "We love you." The kiss on her forehead is light, brief, loving. It feels human, and warm, and kind. Kara wants to scream. * "You're drunk," Sharon says, and there's no doubt about it. Starbuck is drunk. Again. Stinking drunk. Almost falling-down drunk, except that this time, she has Sharon next to her, holding her up. "Yep!" Starbuck laughs, and it's messy and wet sounding. Sharon grins, even though she suspects that later, she won't just be holding Starbuck up. She'll be cleaning up one frak of a mess. At least Starbuck's hair is too short to have to be held back while she wretches. "You're killing your liver, you know." Starbuck shrugs, and asks, "You got a place around here?' Yeah, she does. It's small, but it's home, and she doesn't usually bring anyone home with her. "Don't you have your own place?" But even as she asks, she's turning them both towards the direction of her building – down wide streets, past a few ornamental trees here and there. "S'a hole." Somehow, Sharon isn't surprised. They make it to her place, stumbling through the halls with too much noise, and Sharon's glad she won't be around long enough to have to deal with bitching neighbours. Starbuck starts laughing while Sharon is fumbling with her lock – maybe she's had one too many herself – and she just keeps laughing when the door opens and Sharon shoves her inside, flicking on a light. Starbuck stops laughing as she gets a look at the place. "Frak, Valerii. How d'you afford a place like this?" Sharon shrugs, and this is one of the reasons she tries not to bring people here. She could lie, but it's not worth it, and Starbuck probably won't remember in the morning anyway. "There was insurance. From Troy. For my parents. I didn't know what else to do with it." She remembers that time – grief, loss, disbelief, all followed by money handed to her with false sincerity, hollow sympathy. The insurance woman, blonde and statuesque, had looked like she was acting a part. Turning, she sees Starbuck watching her, frowning. "That's a sad story." The words are flippant, enough that Sharon's tempted to sock Starbuck in the mouth, just once. But Starbuck's tone isn't flippant at all, and it's enough to stop Sharon's hand from clenching. Instead, she looks away and says, "Yeah. We've all got one." She's heard about Starbuck's. They all have. After a moment, she turns back to Starbuck, now half-sprawled on the floor. "Come on. You want the head?" She holds out her hand. "Yeah," Starbuck says, reaching up. Her hand is warm and hard, with the same flight calluses that Sharon has. For a moment, it's disorienting, like Sharon is holding her own hand, but then Starbuck is gripping tighter, levering herself up. She loses her balance, falling forward, and for the second time of the night, Sharon is holding her up. But this time, her arms are around Starbuck's waist, inside her ratty leather jacket. This time, one of Starbuck's hands is hot against Sharon's back, and Starbuck's breath is warm on her neck. Sharon's heart rate jumps, once, twice. "Frak," she mutters, and Starbuck says something unintelligible. mouth moving on Sharon's skin. "What?" Starbuck lifts her head, and Sharon is grateful for the bit of space it affords her. "I said, not on the first date, lieutenant." And there it is again, her heart jumping. Sweat breaks out on her forehead. "Starbuck –" "Boomer." "You're really drunk." Starbuck grins, her eyelids dropping slightly. "But not <i>too</i> drunk." And then she's kissing Sharon, and it's as wet and messy as Starbuck's drunken laughter was. Wet, Starbuck's tongue licking out across Sharon's lips; messy, her mouth trailing brief lines of kisses across Sharon's jaw. Starbuck's hands are holding Sharon close, and now it's Starbuck keeping Sharon upright. It's Sharon who feels drunk, out of control. She pushes away, stumbles back until she's pressed up against the kitchen counter. Starbuck follows her, not quite letting go of her waist, and settles easily, getting one leg between Sharon's, rocking her hip slightly. Then they're kissing again, and this time Sharon leans into it, her hand sliding down the back of Starbuck's pants. Starbuck's mouth moves – from Sharon's lips, to her neck, back to her lips, down to her collarbones. When her teeth graze Sharon's skin, Sharon leans back, arching, and holds on tighter. Eventually, Starbuck pulls away, and Sharon's almost gasping. She drags in a deep breath and pushes herself up. She licks her lips – they taste like Starbuck, drunk, and hot, and human. That makes her frown, unsettled, because of course Starbuck tastes human. How else would she taste? She pushes the thought aside, one hand stroking across Starbuck's stomach. "You sure you're not too drunk?" Starbuck steps back, shakes her head back and forth, hard, fast, and then looks at Sharon, grinning. "Absolutely." Sharon smiles, feeling almost shy, which is frakking stupid considering she just had her hand down Starbuck's pants. "Good." * The jumps back to Kobol take time, leaving Kara pacing and frustrated. It's worse because she's not doing the flying this time, even though she'd argued for it. But Sharon insisted they didn't have time for Kara to frak with the heavy raider. "Trust me," she'd said. "Fat chance," Kara had replied, but she'd let it go. For now. Now, Helo's crashed out on the floor of the raider's hold, lucky bastard. Kara wishes she could sleep like that when it was Helo's turn on watch. But she can't, and it makes her even more antsy. "How much longer?" Sharon sighs. "I told you. Eight jumps. We've done five. Figure it out." The snap in Sharon's tone is so familiar that Kara almost forgets herself, almost laughs and smacks Sharon on the shoulder. Sharon, so quiet and uncertain sometimes, could be a real bitch when she got focused. Everyone on Galactica had known that, even Chief Tyrol. "Frak," she mutters, "especially Tyrol." Sharon's head jerks up. "What?" Speaking to herself. That isn't a good sign. "Nothing." Shrugging, Sharon turns away, and Kara can't help but watch her. She tells herself that she's watching Sharon the way she would any other quasi-prisoner. The same way she'd watch Zarek, if he was on Galactica. But it's more than that, and she knows it. She can't stop watching the way Sharon stands, the familiar way she walks and holds herself. Kara knows that body, knows the way Sharon can handle herself in a fight, or in a card game. Kara's body wants to relax around Sharon – an old friend, another pilot. Part of home. When Kara looks at Sharon, she wants to nod, or smile, or talk about flight maneuvers. But she can't, and she'll never be able to relax around Sharon again. "You ever going to stop staring?" Sharon's voice is flat. "Nope." Sharon's shoulders slump, briefly. "You want to at least talk to me then? This is boring as frak for me too." Her hands clench. "And I'm nervous. About getting there." "Software." Kara says. "You're really open-minded, you know that?" You destroyed my home, Kara wants to say, but there's no point in arguing with software. But maybe you can frak with it a little bit. "You know, our Sharon? She kissed me once. After I brought back the raider." "So?" "So, did you know that?" Sharon shrugs. "It doesn't work that way. I have the same core memories, but I don't know more recent events." "So you don't know why she did it?" Another shrug. "Maybe she liked you." Kara thinks back – the planet, the raider, the pain meds when she got back to Galactica, Sharon pining after the Chief – and shakes her head. "Don't think so." The memories around the kiss are still fuzzy, they probably always will be. But she remembers the words, after. "She said I tasted like one of them. I figured she meant a cylon. I still reeked from being inside that thing." She looks at Sharon, the rigid way she's holding herself, the tilt of her head, the clench of her jaw. Sharon looks human, real, warm, but everything about her is a fake. "But now I wonder." Sharon doesn't answer, doesn't look at Kara, or over at Helo, who's still asleep. Kara shakes her head. There's going to be hell to pay when they get back to Galactica, but for now, she can almost make herself believe in a truce. |
| Pairing:
Starbuck/Sharon Rating: PG-13 Words: About 2550 Spoilers: Slight spoilers for both seasons. Summary: The kiss is hard, fast, and almost over before Sharon realizes what happened. AU in some places. |