Fandom: Battlestar Galactica
Prompt: Come closer, look deeper
Kink: urgent sex, first time.
AN: Thank you very much to my betas, resolute and onlyonechoice! The fic is set during the episode The Road Less Traveled, and may be considered a "deleted scene". Especially if you're a K/L shipper like me. Therefore, spoilers up to Season 4, episode 5. The title and the quote are from Vertigen's Recoil.
I want to strangle the stars for all they promised me.
When the marines brought Leoben to her quarters, Kara knew that they didn't have much time. They'd never leave him alone with her, not for long--someone would protest. Sam, probably, with his righteous indignation and his stupid belief that she was worth following, worth loving, worth anything at all. Leoben is in shackles and she has them taken off, barely noticing the marines' slight hesitation as they comply. They leave her alone and she faces Leoben across the cramped confines of her cabin, this man--this thing--who has been her victim and her tormentor both.
The last time she saw him, he'd been dying of radiation poisoning in Galactica's hold. She remembers the red of his shirt, how bright it had seemed amongst all that dimness and death. His fair skin, pale and sweaty when he'd smiled so painfully at her. I'm happy to see you.
She remembers New Caprica, vaguely; she thinks of it in colors like she does everything else, red for his blood spilled over and over, blue for the little girl's eyes, yellow for the fear sick like death in her mouth. But Kara has other things to think about, other colors that burst like dying stars behind her eyes, and she doesn't think about Leoben's lies or a little girl's voice saying Kara, Kara for more than a moment.
When she closes her eyes she hears the signal humming, fainter now than it was at first, dancing tantalizingly close and then dashing away when she tries too hard to listen. She started painting because she thought it might help to distract herself, might make the sound come back loud and strong and sure. But she can't paint anything but the planet and the star and the comet, over and over, and if the way to Earth is somehow hidden in the thick paint she can't find it. The colors stain the bulkhead of her cabin, smeared across the dirty grey walls in reds and blues and white.
Leoben is staring at her like she's some kind of avenging angel, some kind of prophet. He's talking but Kara can't concentrate on words, only hears the timber of his voice, drenched in the assurances she's losing by the hour. He could be giving her the way to Earth and she wouldn't know what the frak he's saying. Her skin feels tight, slow; it feels like her body is moving two seconds behind her mind, has felt that way for days now. Kara knows somewhere deep down it's because she's not sleeping or eating, but she doesn't take a break, doesn't bother to eat with her crew.
My crew. They want to put me out of the airlock or leave me here, crazy Starbuck, doesn't know what she's doing, it's a trap, she's a Cylon, we should kill her--
Kara crosses to Leoben and slaps him hard across the face. It takes a few seconds to feel the sting in her hand. "I don't know how to find it," she says, and her voice is a rough, torn thing. "I can't see it anymore. I can't." She puts her hands on him, touches him, feels the warmth of his skin against her fingertips. She feels like she's spinning out of control, crazy, and his eyes are calm and green, green, and has she used green, is anything green, does she know what's green other than Earth's forests and the promise of life?
There is no life here. Kara grabs him and pulls him to her, kisses him hungrily. "No one believes me," she growls against his mouth. "No one frakking believes me." She can taste certainty in his kiss, can drink it like ambrosia from his lips, and she thinks she could devour him just for that.
"I believe you," he says, his hands coming up to grasp her face. "I've always believed in you. You are the light in the darkness, you are the angel God has sent to us." He stares at her, intent, and his voice is almost desperate. "You must find your center, your axis, on which the world inside you spins."
"I'm not an angel. I'm nothing. I'm frakking crazy." She's heard this from the crew, in the whispers they're no longer bothering to hide. She can't meet Leoben's eyes, hers shift and touch around the room; the painting, her bed, the charts scattered around her desk. Nothing holds her interest for longer than a few seconds at a time, and the music sings soft and sinister in her head. Kara twines her hands in his hair and yanks his head down to her. "Make it stop. Make it stop." She pauses, her mouth so close to his that she can taste his breath. "Make me see."
Leoben moves and shoves her back against the wall, his hands going beneath her tanks, sliding against her stomach and up towards her breasts. Kara needs a bath, she's filthy, but she doesn't care about anything except for his hands on her body, his thigh between her legs as he anchors her to the wall. She's trying to take his shirt off but she gives up when her fingers are too clumsy to get the buttons off, digging her nails in his neck and settling for letting him undress her instead.
He tries to take his time, to explore her body and memorize the curves of her breasts with his fingertips. Kara allows it for a few seconds, before her nerves oversensitize and she can't stand it anymore; the touch against her skin feels like needles pricking a thousand places all at once. She grabs at him again by the hair and snarls, "They'll be back soon. Hurry," her hands going to his belt. There's a half-remembered dream in there somewhere (hands battling hers away, Leoben's body above hers, paint smeared on his temples) but she doesn't pay attention, she just pulls at the thick leather strap and struggles to get his pants off. It takes a few seconds before they're out of the way, and then her hand closes around his cock, hard and ready.
Leoben is pulling at her clothes but he stops when she touches him, gasping, his head thrown back as he's lost in momentary pleasure. Kara kicks her heel against his spine and hisses "hurry the frak up," barely recognizing the sound of her own voice. Leoben touches his fingers to her lips, saying "find your center and you will see God's plan," before he deftly unbuttons her pants and pushes them down her hips. He hooks his arm under her leg and yanks it upwards, throwing her off-balance. She feels him pressed against her for half a second and then he's inside of her, the angle all wrong and painful and the wall cold against her naked back.
She doesn't care. She closes her eyes and the colors swirl together, the music is louder and softer in turn, and he's kissing her like he's dying. She feels all of it, the drive of his body, his hands grasping roughly at her shoulders. She opens her eyes when she hears something in the hallway; footsteps, a low murmur of voices. She stares at Leoben, who is watching her, all bright-eyed intensity like a hawk. She watches the way his eyes constrict, the green of his irises narrowing into a thin band circling the black. She's whimpering from the roughness and the urgency of this, the thing she swore would never happen, the thing she always thought she'd die before she'd allow.
I did die. Never say never, Thrace.
The pleasure of it swirls together behind her eyes and she can't see shapes, just the pulsating shift of light as the red turns to blue turns to yellow turns to white. She's surprised when she comes, when her body tenses and shudders and finally breaks. Kara pulls him against her and buries her head in the space between his neck and shoulder, and puts her hand on his waist, the place where she'd shoved a knife deep inside. She rubs her thumb over the spot and Leoben shudders against her in response. Kara kisses his neck, sucks at skin once pierced by the blunt edge of smooth wood, and murmurs something against his skin that might be I love you or I hate you or thank you, or some convoluted amalgamation of all three, which is exactly how she feels. He puts his hand in her hair and pulls her head away from his neck, and Kara watches him come with an expression torn between agony and joy on his face.
When it's over she rests against him for a moment, breathing deep, as the image of the stars and the comet resettle itself into the familiar pattern, as the music fades and tickles at her memory like a dream. Kara puts her hands on his arms and feels strangely like she's going to cry. "I feel like I'm going crazy," she whispers against his shirt, which is half-unbuttoned and streaked with dirt and dried blood.
Leoben tips her face up to his and smiles at her, his fingers tracing soothing patters against the curve of her cheek. "Now you understand what I mean, when I say to know the face of God is to know madness," he says, and kisses her temple. "It is a hard burden to bear, Kara. I know, believe me. And you are carrying the hopes of all of us within you, trapped in the tides of what must come. Let the righteousness of your path fill you, let it wash away doubt."
"You never did make any frakking sense," Kara mutters, pulling back, running a hand through her sweaty hair. They dress in silence, and she does feel better; more centered, maybe, more connected to things that are real. She picks up the paintbrush and crosses the room, staring at the colors on the wall with renewed determination. "I know I can find it. I know it. Come over here. Help me."
"I believe you," Leoben says quietly. "I always have. You just have to look deeper into the void, and you will find what you seek." He stands next to her, puts his arm around her waist, steady and sure. Kara raises the paintbrush to the wall and he reaches up and wraps his fingers around her wrist, guiding her, anchoring her to the present. Kara takes a deep breath and closes her eyes, and paints, seeking the future in shapes, seeking Earth in the chaos.