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padmeonpaper2009-05-01 08:21 pm
padme_kenobi) wrote in padmeonpaper2009-05-01 08:21 pm
Entry tags:
Fic: "Collapse" (Battlestar Galactica, Kara, 1/1)
Title: Collapse
Author:padme_kenobi
Characters/Pairings: Kara genfic
Word Count: 758 words
Spoilers: Through S1's "You Can't Go Home Again."
Rating: PG
Summary: Some of Kara's thoughts as she makes her way back from the moon where she was stranded.
Author's Notes: Another Kara!muse fic, this one written for![[info]](https://stat.livejournal.com/img/community.gif)
libraryofwinds and applied to the fanfic50 prompt #016 Mind. The episode on which this was based has always been one of my favourites, and so it's only natural I'd eventually write a fic about it. :D
She's been looking forward to her collapse.
She's been looking forward to the moment when she can give up, when she can stop, when she can call it quits and allow others to make the decisions for once. Kara's sick of thinking in terms of life and death. She's sick of trying to find a way to do the impossible even though she considers impossible to be her middle name. But sometimes it's too much. Sometimes there's too much impossible. Sometimes the odds start to work against you no matter how you try to avoid them.
Socrata Thrace used to own a tea towel with a saying that her daughter has never forgotten. "When this is all over I'm going to have my nervous breakdown," proclaimed the towel. "I've worked for it, I've earned it and I am going to have it." Kara didn't learn much else from her mother - in fact, she can't think of anything else she might have learned - but she knows that much. Sometimes, your nervous breakdowns have to be earned.
And Gods know she's earned this one. She survived a crashdown that probably would have killed a lesser pilot, but only broke her knee. She dragged herself, knee and all, away from her Viper because hells, she had to go somewhere. Through a stroke of pure luck she found a downed Cylon Raider with breathable oxygen. (A good thing, Kara thinks, because her own oxygen gauge was sitting at zero when she stumbled on the monstrosity.) And her skills as a gifted pilot allowed her to work out how to fly it, and to take off from the desolate moon that would be her tomb.
Now Kara wants her nervous breakdown. She wants it badly.
She sets coordinates for Galactica's last location, knowing full well that her appearance in a Raider will ruffle some feathers. She'll be lucky not to get blasted out of the sky once they spot her on DRADIS. But luck is something with which Kara Thrace has never had a problem. She just hopes Galactica is still there to be found.
Her knee gives a desperate throb as she jumps into view, eliciting an involuntary wince and a muttered curse. That curse is the only respect she will accord the pain, because she's got bigger problems. A squadron of Vipers, flying directly towards her. Frak. This time Kara shouts the word, loudly and clearly. Frak, it's me! Don't frakking shoot!
The leader's Lee, she can tell that immediately from the flying style. She weaves to meet him, adding a couple of loops for emphasis and not touching the weapons controls. That alone, she knows, will get their attention. A smart Cylon Raider would start firing as soon as it jumped to within sight of Galactica. It's Cylon strategy, and it's good. But Kara's not a Cylon. She's not a Cylon and she desperately needs them to know that.
The lead Viper arms its weapons. Frak! Kara shouts again. Obviously she will need to be more explicit. She loops once more, twice, three times. Now she's directly under Lee and she can see his weapons have retracted. Clearly, he's puzzled. Good, Kara mutters to herself. Stay puzzled, Apollo. Stay puzzled.
She matches him move for move until he flips unexpectedly. But she's still on him. She upends the Raider just long enough for him to see the white letters chalked on the hull.
S-T-A-R-B-U-C-K.
Then everything changes.
Kara sighs with relief as the Raiders move into escort position, leading her in. She prepares herself for the inevitable decompression that comes with clanking onto the hangar deck. Somehow she manages to pop the hatch, slide out in a blizzard of organic liquid, close her eyes as five pairs of hands lift her and position her on a stretcher and an IV needle pokes into her arm.
She doesn't have her nervous breakdown. Not yet. Not while Lee's talking to her, not while she's joking about him giving her a shower, not while he caresses her cheek just before the orderlies speed the stretcher to sickbay.
No. It is when Commander Adama arrives, when her knee's been splinted and she's hopped up on pain meds and she sees forgiveness and thankfulness in every line of his face. It is when he bends to kiss her on the forehead, much as a father would do to a beloved daughter.
That is when Kara Thrace has her nervous breakdown.
She's worked for it, she's earned it, and she's going to have it.
Author:
padme_kenobiCharacters/Pairings: Kara genfic
Word Count: 758 words
Spoilers: Through S1's "You Can't Go Home Again."
Rating: PG
Summary: Some of Kara's thoughts as she makes her way back from the moon where she was stranded.
Author's Notes: Another Kara!muse fic, this one written for
libraryofwinds and applied to the fanfic50 prompt #016 Mind. The episode on which this was based has always been one of my favourites, and so it's only natural I'd eventually write a fic about it. :DShe's been looking forward to her collapse.
She's been looking forward to the moment when she can give up, when she can stop, when she can call it quits and allow others to make the decisions for once. Kara's sick of thinking in terms of life and death. She's sick of trying to find a way to do the impossible even though she considers impossible to be her middle name. But sometimes it's too much. Sometimes there's too much impossible. Sometimes the odds start to work against you no matter how you try to avoid them.
Socrata Thrace used to own a tea towel with a saying that her daughter has never forgotten. "When this is all over I'm going to have my nervous breakdown," proclaimed the towel. "I've worked for it, I've earned it and I am going to have it." Kara didn't learn much else from her mother - in fact, she can't think of anything else she might have learned - but she knows that much. Sometimes, your nervous breakdowns have to be earned.
And Gods know she's earned this one. She survived a crashdown that probably would have killed a lesser pilot, but only broke her knee. She dragged herself, knee and all, away from her Viper because hells, she had to go somewhere. Through a stroke of pure luck she found a downed Cylon Raider with breathable oxygen. (A good thing, Kara thinks, because her own oxygen gauge was sitting at zero when she stumbled on the monstrosity.) And her skills as a gifted pilot allowed her to work out how to fly it, and to take off from the desolate moon that would be her tomb.
Now Kara wants her nervous breakdown. She wants it badly.
She sets coordinates for Galactica's last location, knowing full well that her appearance in a Raider will ruffle some feathers. She'll be lucky not to get blasted out of the sky once they spot her on DRADIS. But luck is something with which Kara Thrace has never had a problem. She just hopes Galactica is still there to be found.
Her knee gives a desperate throb as she jumps into view, eliciting an involuntary wince and a muttered curse. That curse is the only respect she will accord the pain, because she's got bigger problems. A squadron of Vipers, flying directly towards her. Frak. This time Kara shouts the word, loudly and clearly. Frak, it's me! Don't frakking shoot!
The leader's Lee, she can tell that immediately from the flying style. She weaves to meet him, adding a couple of loops for emphasis and not touching the weapons controls. That alone, she knows, will get their attention. A smart Cylon Raider would start firing as soon as it jumped to within sight of Galactica. It's Cylon strategy, and it's good. But Kara's not a Cylon. She's not a Cylon and she desperately needs them to know that.
The lead Viper arms its weapons. Frak! Kara shouts again. Obviously she will need to be more explicit. She loops once more, twice, three times. Now she's directly under Lee and she can see his weapons have retracted. Clearly, he's puzzled. Good, Kara mutters to herself. Stay puzzled, Apollo. Stay puzzled.
She matches him move for move until he flips unexpectedly. But she's still on him. She upends the Raider just long enough for him to see the white letters chalked on the hull.
S-T-A-R-B-U-C-K.
Then everything changes.
Kara sighs with relief as the Raiders move into escort position, leading her in. She prepares herself for the inevitable decompression that comes with clanking onto the hangar deck. Somehow she manages to pop the hatch, slide out in a blizzard of organic liquid, close her eyes as five pairs of hands lift her and position her on a stretcher and an IV needle pokes into her arm.
She doesn't have her nervous breakdown. Not yet. Not while Lee's talking to her, not while she's joking about him giving her a shower, not while he caresses her cheek just before the orderlies speed the stretcher to sickbay.
No. It is when Commander Adama arrives, when her knee's been splinted and she's hopped up on pain meds and she sees forgiveness and thankfulness in every line of his face. It is when he bends to kiss her on the forehead, much as a father would do to a beloved daughter.
That is when Kara Thrace has her nervous breakdown.
She's worked for it, she's earned it, and she's going to have it.