Once In A Lifetime Opportunity
VISIONS
They'd beaten the Cylons despite being out-numbered and won themselves a whole asteroid made of tylium ore, enough to power the whole fleet for the next few years. They'd gambled everything, and won: sitting ducks in a Cylon shooting gallery no more. Life had triumphed over evil chrome toasters.
So no wonder the CIC dissolved into cheers, whoops and clapping, a blur of men in uniform pounding the Dradis screens, slapping each other's backs, and punching the air. She stood motionless, wearing her second-best suit and her civilian high heels, and Lt. Thrace, in her full-dress uniform, broke Presidential protocol and actually embraced her -
A heartbeat later, Kara - Lt. Thrace - Kara - twisted her strong pilot's fingers in her hair, kissed her so hard she couldn't stand upright any longer, nothing to do with being naked, well, naked except for high heels, so she twined her legs round Kara and pulled her sweaty body down with her onto the cold perspex Ops table, where they -
Dear Lords of Kobol, Kara Thrace's perfect breasts.
A heartbeat later, she was standing motionless, wearing her second-best suit and her civilian high heels, and Kara Thrace, in her full-dress uniform, stood a good foot away, apologising, not meeting her eye, and looking ever so slightly flustered.
If the complete lack of reaction of all the men in the CIC, especially of Gaius Baltar, was any guide, then, no, she and Kara Thrace hadn't just frakked ecstatically on the backlit Ops table, several times over.
Yet their love-making felt as real, as true, as when she had seen the serpents numbering two and ten glide over her hands in the press call. Or the prescient images of an earlier dream, uncannily foretelling to her the fate of the humanoid Cylon whom they'd executed.
All of this has happened before; all of this will happen again.
She pulled herself back from the uncanny images and acted like a normal person, that is, like every other person celebrating like crazy in the room. She remembered to thanked Lt Thrace politely for her tactical efforts before warily returning the younger woman's embrace. She was surprised when the real Kara hugged her back, hard, and they clung to each other for a long, long moment.
On her way back to Colonial One, she reckoned there were three things she had to remember. One, everybody knows chamalla extract causes hallucinations. Two, besides, Kara Thrace is almost young enough to be your daughter. Three, keep telling yourself that.
SCREW-UP
Kara Thrace ignored Lee Adama's mostly-pulled return punch and went back to re-arranging the innards of the Cylon raider. She was convinced that somehow she could fit an auto-pilot in there. Sending the Cylon raider back to nuke its own had a certain appeal.
More appeal than telling Lee the real reason why she'd slept with Gaius Baltar.
And that was, she'd frakked the Vice-President to take her mind off not frakking the President.
Sure, there were lots of other reasons. Boredom. Curiosity too: was he better at sex than he was at cards? Getting the frak out of the way so Dr Zip-Up-Your-Pants would quit leering at her and leave her alone, yeah, that was a factor. Something physical to wash away the rising tide of tension around unrest in the fleet that kept them watching for Cylon traitors, guarding all of their backs against Zarek and his murderous pals, something that wasn't a bar-fight. Something to reward her for putting on a dress.
Yeah, all of that.
Kara scowled at inexplicable Cylon gizzards that smelled like a latrine: frak's sake, there's got to be a way to make this work.
Only it hadn't turned out to be a great way to waste some time. For one thing, Mr Vice President had been better at cards. So she - well, she'd ended up calling out Lee's name. Not that she wanted Lee, himself. She'd been pretending it was Lee she was in bed with because the guy was the exact opposite of Baltar. Maybe something to do with being Zak's brother too, and she'd genuinely loved Zak.
And, well, he was a guy.
Not - you get the picture.
Now, when frakking the President got to be on her mind, Kara couldn't say.
OK, she could.
Kara stopped glaring at the jumble of living tissue: how about you teach me how you work?
It was right there in the CIC after her gamble to capture the tylium refinery had paid off, the first time she threw her arms round Laura. She'd intended it as a purely social gesture, but as soon as she held the older woman in her arms, all she could think of was pressing her body hard up against Laura's, naked, somewhere far away from the CIC, their hot wet bodies arching and rocking together until the end of ecstasy.
This was completely different from being drunk and not being able to keep her hands off that major from - from - wherever she'd been from. Not least because she'd turned out a total bitch the morning after, and Kara really didn't appreciate Lee throwing that little episode in her face in the hanger with the deck hands around.
This time Kara's fantasy had been a revelation so intense, so real, she'd found it hard to break away and remember to apologise for violating protocol by actually touching Madam President.
Just as well Madam President had no idea what was going on inside Kara's head, which was what she was really apologising for.
Or what had been going on most nights and spare moments since.
For that she mostly blamed the second time she'd held Laura Roslin in her arms, the time when to her surprise, the older woman had returned her first embrace, hard, and they had clung to each other for a long, long moment.
Kara let herself wonder, What if -?
Her mind opened to consider all the possibilities.
Meanwhile, the pilot in her realised that she didn't need to have the Chief's pile of junk in the Cylon raider after all, and then Laura Roslin sent her kid PA to get her.
Yes sir, Madam President, whatever you want.